A/N: For Crown of Winterthorne, as a bribe for more of her AMAZING Westworld 2x3 fic.
A/N2: Title from the song by Stars
A/N3: Always, always thankful to Ro for beta reading and friendship. You are amazing.
A/N4: Okay, here's the deal. Writing is tough, especially for me. Over the years I've been lucky to have incredible people support me and tell me how much they enjoy my work, but I've also had those comments and reviews that just completely derail me and make me wonder why the hell I'm doing any of this or why I'm enough of an idiot to think anyone would even care.
So, no, this is not an update on any of the many WIPs I have going, and if you don't enjoy this fic then I am sorry.
But if you do, even a little, I cannot express how much it means to me to see that someone took the time to leave a review. Even if that review is "thanks" - it has a HUGE impact.
ALSO: THANK YOU SO SO SO SO SO MUCH to everyone who has left a review for this on and AO3. I seriously… I LOVE you all and am so so so grateful. I know I don't always respond, but I am just… I'm so very very happy every time I see one and I feel SO good about this story and I'm so happy people like it and just… thank you. Thank you.
A/N5: POVs are going to switch back and forth between Duo and Zechs. Might be two chapters in each or just one, depends on the pacing.
Warnings: angst, language, violence, sex, death, blood
Pairings: 6x2, others…
Midnight Coward
Chapter Nine
The conference room was Zechs's favorite part of the office suite that MIG occupied on the forty-sixth and forty-seventh floors of a building in the financial district of Manhattan. The view was breathtaking, the corner of the room offering not just a look of the bay, Ellis and Governor's Islands, but of the spires of other towering buildings in the district and beyond.
It was one of the reasons Zechs had chosen this suite over the others Petra had shown him. The view from his own office was of the bay alone, and both views were about as far from the dusty, red sprawl of emptiness that he had been faced with every day on Mars as possible.
He could look out of these windows for hours.
Except, of course, that he rarely had hours to devote to such pursuits.
Then again, considering that the meeting Petra had finally been able to arrange with the KV board had been slated to start fifteen minutes ago, there was every chance Zechs would have the time now.
It had taken a week of dodged calls until Petra finally cornered the KV CEO into agreeing to this.
Zechs knew better than to have any expectations, knew that KV had made it very clear even before the attempt on Zechs's life that they had hesitations about the acquisition.
Hesitations that Zechs had been more than happy to assuage before. But now - now, he was just irritated.
The tardiness of the board was doing nothing to alleviate that irritation, and Zechs started mentally revising the MIG offer. He would make it more lucrative, would go around the board and get the workers to vote on it, and he would ensure that the board got tidy little sums and were voted out. Maybe the workers would like to vote in new board members.
Zechs had done that with LMI, and the employees had been thrilled with the arrangement, managing themselves with very little input from him, and achieving results that proved self-governance was, in fact, feasible.
He was just about to step out of the conference room and tell Petra to get the president of the KV worker's union on the phone when she stepped into the conference room herself.
Her lips were compressed, never a good sign, and she held the door open for a single, balding man with olive skin and a suit that was somehow both too large and too small for him.
The man's shoulders were clearly more narrow than the jacket, and the shoulders sloped downwards in an unnatural, comical angle. The torso of the jacket, however, strained to remain closed over the man's girth.
He clearly did not wear bespoke suits.
It always baffled Zechs when he encountered members of the elite who wore poorly-fitted clothes - what were they possibly spending their money on that didn't allow them to buy properly-fitting clothing?
"Sir, Mr. Vadala is here to see you."
Diego Vadala, the CEO, who had ousted the co-founder of the company, Alex Kaddour, just fourteen months ago.
Zechs raised an eyebrow.
"You seem to be short a few board members," he pointed out.
His mild tone had Vadala scowling. He looked over at his shoulder at Petra, as though trying to signal for her to leave.
Petra looked at Zechs, who nodded, and she closed the door as she stepped out of the room.
"The board couldn't make it. This is just a courtesy, Merquise. Considering all of the effort you've gone to and… well, the unfortunate situation you find yourself in, we decided we owed you this much."
Zechs arched an eyebrow, and gestured for Vadala to take a seat.
The other man did so, huffing slightly and looking even more uneasy as Zechs moved to the side table that held coffee, tea and an impressive array of sugar-drenched baked goods.
"Can I get you anything?" The question, the tone and the bland look on Zechs's face made Vadala even more uncomfortable, and Zechs had to fight a smirk.
"No, no. I-"
"I insist. After all, we planned to host an entire board." Zechs looked around the empty conference table. "And I would hate for all of this to go to waste. Coffee or tea?"
Vadala just stared at him, mouth open and eyes wide.
Treize had taught Zechs this particular trick.
Only a few years older than Zechs, Treize still battled against the idiotic notions that his age meant he should defer to anyone over thirty. He used to host little soirees in the officer's mess halls or Michelin-quality restaurants. He would invite whatever military or political figures were currently in the way of his plans and insist on serving them himself. The image of Treize Khushrenada, decorated Specials pilot, ruthless politician and thorn in the side of Romafeller and the Old Guard, serving his enemies and detractors tea had unsettled everyone. And Treize had used that to his advantage, keeping them off-guard and making it very, very clear that he was superior to everyone his icy glance touched.
Zechs held up the pot of tea and arched an eyebrow.
Vadala remained mute, but he shook his head in the negative.
Zechs gave a careless shrug, and instead loaded a small plate with an assortment of sweets and set it down in front of Vadala.
"Please," he waved at the plate.
Vadala looked from it to Zechs, watching him finally sit down in the chair across from him.
Zechs crossed his legs and folded his hands together.
"Now," Zechs said with a smile, "just what situation is it that you think is so unfortunate?"
"The, uh, the… the dead boy."
Zechs pretended at enlightment.
"Ah. Yes. That was unfortunate." The papers hadn't said a word about Nick's death being an attempt on Zechs's life. He wasn't sure if he was grateful or resentful of that. Instead, the story came off as some kind of tawdry brothel feud. It was an insult to Nick, and Zechs had already instructed Petra to start shifting resources and slowly start buying shares of the News and Herald.
"I fail to see how that impacts our business ventures," he added.
Vadala pulled the plate of sweets towards himself and started to rip the streusel into small pieces. Flakes scattered across the table in front of him.
"It's… well, it's a little unseemly for KV to be considering a merger with a man who…" Vadala trailed off.
Zechs arched an eyebrow and made an encouraging gesture.
"For a man who what?"
"Frequents a brothel," Vadala finally hissed.
Zechs nodded and looked out the windows again. The sun was setting towards the west and the sky was streaked with orange and lavender.
"It is, perhaps, not as discreet as an escort service. I've considered going that route - inviting talented, clever-tongued companions into my home to service my needs but, well… I'm rather picky about who I invite into my home. And I've never felt the urge to hide any of my needs. Then again, perhaps this unfortunate situation should open my eyes to new possibilities."
Zechs turned away from the windows and looked at Vadala. He had decided to take a bite of the streusel, and there was a smattering of crumbs on his chin and lips.
"Tell me, which escort service is it that you use?"
Vadala stared at him.
"What? I- I would never- ever-"
"It seems you go back and forth between a handful of services - Eros, Chloe, Valentine. Do you have a favorite?"
Vadala's face started to turn a brilliant shade of red, and he coughed once and then again before dissolving into a fit of hacking.
With an irritated sigh, Zechs rose to his feet and poured a glass of water. He set it in front of Vadala, who gulped it.
"You, you think you can blackmail me?" Vadala sputtered.
Zechs sighed.
"I know I can blackmail you. I had, however, wanted to enter into this partnership as equals. MIG can do great things for KV, and your company will further expand our portfolio and set up a foundation for great, mutual success.
Vadala managed to regain control of himself.
"No, that's not possible."
Zechs arched an eyebrow.
"Not possible? I assure you, unless you've falsified your profit reports, I can certainly turn KV into a multi-billion credit generator and secure contracts in several colonial zones."
"No," Vadala ground out. "It's not possible because we've already agreed to another merger. The documents were signed yesterday morning."
"A merger with whom?" Zechs demanded, his voice soft and deadly, the voice that all of his subordinates knew to fear.
Vadala shrank back in his chair for a moment, but then straightened.
"Noventa Fundamenta," he managed to breathe.
Zechs felt a spike of anger, and he forced himself to sit back and appear calm.
"Indeed? And just what did Sylvia Noventa offer you that I did not?"
"It's- it's not about the offer," Vadala stuttered, his bravado apparently spent. "She's- Her company is in line with our values. We- we have investors to think of and-"
"Investors that will be delighted to learn of your patronage to the various young women of our grand city," Zechs murmured.
Vadala paled.
"I have a family!"
Zechs rolled his eyes. That clearly hadn't stopped the man from engaging in acts that he himself deemed to be debauched. In Zechs's mind, they deserved the truth. Then again, perhaps they were already aware of what a spineless man their paterfamilias was.
He wouldn't, of course, bother with taking the blackmail public. Not at this date. There was no immediate gain for him, and as much as it might give him a moment of petty revenge, it served no greater purpose. Restraint, Zechs had learned after years on Mars, was crucial.
Still… he made a mental note to have Petra send Mrs. Vadala a few data files.
"Well, I do hope your family is as comfortable with the values of Noventa Fundamenta as you are."
Zechs rose to his feet, and Vadala stared up at him.
"You… you won't say anything? You won't leak-"
"Mr. Vadala, you did, indeed, do me a great courtesy by coming here in person. Please, extend my congratulations to Ms. Noventa on adding KV to her portfolio. I wish the both of you all the success in the world. So long as it doesn't compare to mine," he added with a sharp look.
Vadala was still seated, still staring.
"Perhaps you would care to pack up a few of those on your way out?" Zechs suggested, and waved at the treats. "Be my guest."
He left the room, going against the courtesy that demanded he wait to see the other man out.
Zechs didn't want to spend another minute in the obsequious hypocrite's company now that it wouldn't benefit him.
He left the conference room and strode down the hall to his office, keeping his stride measured and his face neutral.
More lessons from Treize, who had always found it so easy to know what Zechs was thinking and had warned him time and time again not to let his anger take the lead.
Zechs should have learned to listen to him sooner.
Petra sat at her desk in the reception area in front of Zechs's office. She looked up at his approach, accurately judged his mood, and frowned.
"They said no," she guessed as he walked past her and into his own office.
"They accepted a deal from Noventa Fundamenta," he corrected, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He gestured towards Petra with the bottle and she inclined her head. He poured a second for her and passed it over.
Petra made a face.
"Send over a gift basket to the brat. Offer her my congratulations."
Zechs hadn't met Sylvia until after the war, though he had long-been familiar with her family. He had made the mistake of underestimating her three years ago, when she beat him to a merger with a colonial freight transport company. Ever since then, he had kept an eye on her and, more often than not, found that NF was his main competitor for mergers and acquisitions.
"Yes, sir." Petra took a sip of the whiskey in her hand.
"And find out what she's looking to do next - it's getting tiresome to have her keep pursuing my leads."
Petra nodded.
"Of course. There were a few calls during your… meeting."
Zechs sighed and downed his whiskey in one swallow, revelling in the smooth toffee aftertaste.
He sat down on the leather armchair across from his desk.
"Who?"
Petra didn't need to consult any notes. She had a nearly perfect memory, something that had once disconcerted Zechs, but that he now valued immensely.
"Trevor Shaw, the nano-tech graduate student from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology called again."
Zechs had to roll his eyes. The boy was nothing if not determined.
"He needs to learn social skills," Zechs muttered. He had met the boy at a conference, had been stalked by him for three days before finally agreeing to look over some of his research proposals. He was brilliant - the ideas solid - but he was very, very enthusiastic. And young. And naive. And perhaps there was some not-insignificant part of Zechs that resented the boy for being able to be a socially-inept science devotee.
"Yes," Petra agreed, her voice devoid of inflection, but Zechs could read the censure in her eyes.
He was hardly one to talk about social skills.
"What does he want? I've already offered him an internship for this summer. Don't tell me he wants to start early?" Zechs did not want to deal with a puppy nipping at his heels in addition to everything else.
Petra's lips twitched, but she got herself under control quickly enough.
"No, just a tour of the facilities. He's on some sort of break next week. He would also like to ask you a few questions. Some sort of interview to fulfill a course requirement."
Zechs gave her a look that made it very clear how he felt about that request.
"Shall I tell him you are available on Wednesday?"
"If you must."
"Eszter Sipos also called."
That got Zechs's full attention. The brothel madame very rarely sought him out. She had insisted, at the start of their arrangement, that she wanted Zechs's reputation and his capital - not his opinions on how to run her establishment.
"Is there a situation?" He was almost afraid of her answer.
"I'm not sure. She wouldn't tell me anything."
Zechs sighed and nodded. He would have to call her back immediately.
"Anything else?"
She finished off her glass of whiskey and collected his empty glass as well. She set them on the bartop for the cleaning staff to deal with later.
"Intira Parthong finished her background checks."
Parthong had been with Zechs in White Fang, had found herself sent to Mars, and had made it clear on multiple occasions that she was more than willing to lay down her life for Zechs after he saved her from a lifetime on that distant rock. An L1 native, she had been an Intelligence Officer with the Alliance before joining White Fang, and she was one of the most emotionless, brilliant people he had ever met.
"And?" Zechs had asked her to check out all of their people after Peter and his unknown connections to the vor.
"Leo, the doorman at your apartment, apparently had a few run-ins with the law when he was a juvenile. The court records are sealed, but Intira has them if you want to look them over. Several of the boys at Adonis have slightly more complicated backgrounds than they led us to believe. But she said no one raised any flags."
"Peter didn't raise any flags," Zechs pointed out.
Petra nodded and bowed her head.
"She is working with Abdul to set up… interviews with the boys from Adonis."
"She needs to be gentle with them," Zechs felt the need to say.
Petra nodded again.
"She understands. She will also interview the guards working with Abdul, and she wants you to consider bringing on three new guards at the brothel and adding two full-time bodyguards to your retinue."
"I already have a bodyguard," Zechs pointed out. Three men, all vetted by Parthong personally, rotated shifts to keep watch over him. He had begrudgingly agreed with Parthong that he needed full-time protection after the incident with Horvat, but he drew the line at allowing the guards into his apartment, his offices at MIG or LMI. They could maintain a perimeter outside and they could escort him around the city, but he wasn't an infant in need of having his hand held.
"Intira thinks a larger force will present a stronger deterrent."
Zechs snorted.
"Intira thinks I'm incapable of defending myself against a papercut."
Petra allowed herself to smirk.
"I doubt that is the case now, sir. Not after what happened last week."
"Hm. Tell her no."
"Very well. What about upping security measures at the LMI facility?"
Zechs frowned. There didn't seem much point - Horvat had made no attempt to acquire information from Zechs before charging into the brothel room and attempting to kill him.
"No, there's no need to concern the employees."
Petra nodded.
"Very well. Oh, and Mark Walters sent over a thank you note."
Zechs felt his lips twitch.
"Did he now?"
"Yes, sir. I have it, if you would care to read it?"
Zechs shrugged.
Petra left the office, returning only a moment later with a cream envelope in her hand.
It had been opened, which was the practice they had agreed upon years ago when Zechs had had to deal with a great deal of unwanted personal correspondence after returning from Mars.
Mark's penmanship was elegant and precise, the few words he had included in the note succinct.
I am grateful that I could assist you, and if you have any need of my services in the future, it would be my pleasure.
"Shall I arrange for him to-"
"No," Zechs sighed. Mark had been enjoyable, had been a pleasant way to spend the evening, and hadn't offered Zechs a single complaint or disappointed look when he thanked him for his company and sent him on his way just after midnight and several hours of sex. But Zechs didn't make a habit of forming relationships with those who worked for him, or around him.
"Send him something nice. Not too showy. He seems the restrained sort."
"I will. Would you like to sign the note, or shall I use the stamp?"
"The stamp."
Zechs sighed and rose to his feet.
"Connect me to Eszter, and then have my car brought around. I'll leave as soon as I've dealt with her."
"Yes, sir. Your reservations tonight are at Bouley."
Zechs nodded in acknowledgement, and walked around his desk and sat in the leather executive chair.
As Petra left the office, he turned to look out over the bay, to see twilight shroud the monuments dedicated to democracy and freedom.
After a moment, Petra called out to him.
"I have her on the line."
Zechs reached behind him to pick up the phone.
"Eszter, I hope you are well."
He heard the click of Petra hanging up, and Eszter made a noise of annoyance.
"Yes, and so do I," she murmured.
Despite the annoyances of his day, Zechs found himself smirking at her tone and words.
"Petra said you needed me," he couldn't resist goading her.
There was a moment of silence as Eszter no doubt bit back a few choice responses.
"Yes," she finally conceded. "Ever since the… incident, there have been some concerns."
Zechs wasn't surprised. He had been wondering about the fallout. A murder in a brothel, after all, wasn't the kind of thing that had a positive impact on profits.
"The regular clients are staying away?" he guessed.
Eszter snorted.
"Oh no, they've kept up their regular appointments, and we've doubled our waiting list for new clients."
Zechs frowned.
"What?"
"Your reputation. Everyone with delusions of grandeur wants to be part of your club."
Zechs rolled his eyes.
"It's hardly a club."
"No, but I do have some franchise opportunities to discuss with you later. The reality is that your patronage makes Adonis exclusive and desirable - as I've always told you. Your name in the papers, our name in the papers, has only increased your infamy."
"And the clients aren't afraid of being murdered?"
"No. The follow-up columns in the papers made it very clear that Nick's death was the result of a love triangle and a security guard in debt."
The tale made Zechs feel nauseous. But Parthong and Petra had come up with it together, had fed it to not just the Herald and the News, but to the handful of reputable news outlets who enjoyed printing a salacious article every once in awhile.
"The clients seem to think it makes everything more exciting." Eszter sounded judgemental, but not resentful. She was, above all else, practical. Adonis was hers, and while the boys who worked there were her source of income, they were not her children. She cared about them, but only to a point.
"Then what are the concerns?"
"The boys," she sighed. "Yesterday, there were two Preventers agents snooping around - that long-haired one from the wake and some fouled-mouthed little Asian thing. They've put everyone on edge, and they are afraid."
Zechs sighed. He couldn't blame them. Their place of work had been invaded by a professional assassin and one of their brethren had died.
"What do you want me to do? More guards are being hired to keep them safe. Do we need to give them raises?"
Eszter made a tsking sound.
"No, they simply need some assurances. You haven't been by since Nick died. Having you here would go a long way to soothing them. Speak to them. Remind them how much they worship you. Pick a new favorite."
Zechs's stomach rebelled at the very idea.
He had stayed away for several reasons, chief among them being a lack of desire to put any of those boys at risk with his presence. Until yesterday, he hadn't even felt particularly in the mood for intimacy of any kind.
"Eszter, need I remind you that Horvat was there to assassinate me?"
"No, you do not need to remind me," she growled. "But our boys don't know that, and our boys need you to convince them that what happened to Nick won't happen to them next."
Zechs swallowed against the bile in his throat.
Treize had been exceptionally good at inspiring the loyalty of his subordinates, had subconsciously and perhaps consciously taught Zechs the value of a kind word and a look of commiseration.
"Very well. The day after tomorrow. In the afternoon so that it won't interfere too much with business."
"Perfect. Do you have anyone in mind?"
Zechs closed his eyes against the unwanted image of Nick, naked and on his knees and grinning up at him.
"No," he rasped. "I don't care who you pick for me."
-o-