"Mr. Wang, the board is waiting," the holographic assistant chirped, its smile a perfect, soulless curve of light.
Jack turned away from the floor-to-ceiling window framing Neo-Sparta's Acropolis skyline, swiped the projection aside, and let his gaze linger on the Wang BioTech product line shimmering above his matte desk. Twelve stubborn minds needed convincing today. They were twelve relics clinging to their seats since his father's era, all poised to fight him over reallocating funds from stagnant divisions to military R&D. The real obstacle, though, would be Noah. A part of Jack hoped, absurdly, that his brother might simply... not show up.
He adjusted his jacket, which was tailored from the hyperfine wool of gene-edited sheep, woven so tightly it felt like liquid under his fingers, and strode toward the conference room. The hallway swallowed his footsteps, all soundproofed opulence and corporate sheen.
At the doors made of faux-wood with laser-etched filigree, because real timber was extinct, L-09 waited. Lucas. Head bowed, platinum hair catching the light, his unnervingly translucent blue eyes fixed on the floor.
"Noah's here?" Jack snapped, not bothering to look at him.
"Yes, Mr. Wang."
Jack waited for Lucas to open the door, then strode into the conference room with deliberate confidence. The board members sat stiffly around the absurdly oversized table, while Noah prowled like a caged panther along the floor-to-ceiling windows. Jack cleared his throat and greeted them in that smooth, calculated tone he reserved for these performances.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
"Mr. Wang," the board murmured in unison, bobbing their heads like obedient puppets.
Noah didn't nod. He just scowled darker, a storm cloud lingering at the edge of the room.
"I trust you've all reviewed the proposed budget allocations for next quarter."
Another round of synchronized nodding. Jack moved to the display screen, pulling up sleek charts and graphs with a flick of his wrist. Twelve pairs of eyes followed him like satellites. Noah remained rooted in the far corner, arms locked behind his back, his silence louder than any objection.
"As you can see," Jack began, "our current social initiatives consume nearly forty percent of expenditures." The screen bloomed with infographics showing pastel-colored pie charts masking the brutality of the numbers. "Anpassen 3.0, bio-prosthetics, Glassing victim rehab. All noble causes, yes. But let's be frank: these are charity, not investments."
He paused, letting the data sink in.
"Now look at Veira's numbers." A new slide: military contract growth, sharp spikes in red. "Their defense sector share has more than doubled. Kór Biosystems? They're wiring spec-ops teams with neural combat interfaces. And us?" Jack's voice dropped to a razor's edge. "We're playing doctor for the destitute."
The words hung in the air, thick as smoke. Director Crane adjusted his glasses, the overhead lights glinting off the lenses.
"Jack, Wang BioTech bears partial responsibility for the Glassing epidemic. If we want to salvage our reputation, we must maintain at least basic medical support."
Jack's gaze flicked to Noah, who was still a shadow in the corner, before landing back on Crane with icy precision. "Director, I share your concerns. But reputations aren't saved by bandaids. They're saved by dominance." He tapped the display, and new schematics bloomed: Project Archangel for neural drone uplinks and Project Ark for bioadaptive weaponry, their profit projections were a siren's call. "Seventy percent of social projects budget reallocation. The neuro-interface gap won't stay open forever. Shareholder returns double in eighteen months."
He watched the numbers work their magic. Pupils dilated. Throats cleared. The board was already mentally spending their bonuses.
Then Noah moved. Silent until now, he swiped his own report onto the screen behind Jack and a cascade of counter-data dropped. His voice was soft, lethal:
"Pretty graphs, brother. But social programs aren't expenses. They're insurance," a flick of his wrist: projections of lifelong subscription models for bio-prosthetics, locking in high-net-worth clients. "Cancel Anpassen 3.0, and Veira Dynamics will scoop the patent void. They're already close."
Jack's jaw tightened. "Then, let's hope they don't acquire the key ingredient," he shot back a sharp glance at Noah. Lola Kane hung unspoken between them. "Anpassen's a money pit. Always was. And the lawsuits? They are just endless."
"With all due respect, Noah, Jack is right," interjected Director Abercrombie, head of the company's legal affairs. "Ever since the Glassing was linked to the first Anpassen serum, we've done nothing but fend off lawsuits from victims."
"That preserves our reputation," Noah cut in with an icy tone. "We're willing to acknowledge mistakes."
"Technically speaking," Crane added with an apologetic smile, "it wasn't the company's mistake as a whole."
Noah didn't dignify that with a response.
"If Wang BioTech becomes synonymous only with warfare, who will buy our elite implants? The clients in Helios Heights will shift their loyalty to Kór in a heartbeat. Their trust ratings are already higher." To prove his point, Noah pulled up consumer loyalty charts—Kór Biosystems now leading Wang BioTech by several points.
After a brief silence while the board members weighed their arguments, Director Abe, head of finance, tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the table's touch-sensitive surface.
"Dr. Wang, your points are rational," she conceded with a polite nod. "But the military tech market is growing at seventeen percent annually, while the social sector stagnates at three. It's dead weight. Your brother is right: Veira and Kór are carving up our potential niches. If we don't adapt, we'll be pushed out."
Jack allowed himself a satisfied smirk.
"Dr. Wang thinks in idealistic terms. Reputation? Loyalty?" He shook his head. "The world moves too fast for long games now. After the serum debacle, we need to reestablish ourselves as a dominant force. Drones and neuro-interfaces will give us that edge."
The board members shifted uneasily in their plush leather chairs. Noah remained motionless, like a statue. Jack paced along the screen, already savoring the taste of victory.
"I'm not suggesting we abandon social projects entirely," he said smoothly. "I propose turning them from a weakness into leverage. Anpassen 3.0 will be for loyal clients only. Bio-prosthetics, bundled with Lyra-V, will be for full compliance control."
At the mention of Lyra-V, Noah stiffened, just as Jack had anticipated. A few directors exchanged uneasy glances, unfamiliar with the reference.
"Lyra-V?" the youngest among them, Mr. Newman, spoke up hesitantly. "But that's an archived project. It was terminated after the Cradle-1 incident."
"Of course, of course," Jack reassured, waving a dismissive hand. "We've retained some useful research, but that's not the focus here. Moving forward, clients will pay in full, in credits or services. Charity has its own budget, and it will stay contained."
"We will not be doing this." Noah's voice cut through the air like a scalpel. "It betrays Wang BioTech's core mission. Our brand stands for quality and safety. If we start blackmailing clients, they'll tear us apart, both in the streets and the courts. Need I remind you what happened in Lower Polza when Kór mass-deactivated implants for non-payment? Their stocks crashed while we profited, only because we stood by our clients."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"The time for softness is over, Dr. Wang," Jack nearly sang, his smile venomous. "The Glassing Plague was the result of your failure to control the situation. Now, I propose new rules: military contracts for profit, social programs for control."
Noah's jaw clenched hard enough to fracture bone.
"Call the vote."
Jack activated the tally program. Silent voting on personal screens took less than a minute. His grin widened at the landslide: nine to three.
"Excellent," Jack purred. "The new fiscal plan will be distributed by end of day. Now—let's discuss power allocations."
Noah was already striding toward the exit, shouldering past L-09. The blue-eyed subject barely dodging the door as it slammed shut behind him.
Drunk on yet another victory, Jack savored his lunch on the flower-laden terrace, watching the trawlers unload their cargo in the distant port. The genetically modified blooms around him wouldn't wilt for weeks. That was another small luxury.
Then the air shifted. A rich, heavy perfume announced her arrival before he even turned. Lucinda Veira. Her earth-toned eyes gleamed like polished amber, olive skin luminous in the afternoon sun. Without invitation, she settled into the chair the waiter provided, draping a linen napkin over the sleek fabric of her extravagant outfit. A slow, honeyed smile curled her lips.
"How are you, Jack?" her voice was velvet and smoke.
"Can't complain," he didn't look at her, keeping his gaze fixed on the cargo loaders crawling like ants across the docks.
"Have you considered my proposal?" Veira ordered a sand-brewed black coffee, the kind that could strip paint.
Jack ran his tongue over his teeth. Lucinda Veira had a knack for ruining his appetite. Her presence was like a rusty knife slicing through the pristine cake of his triumph.
"I've thought about it," he said coolly. "But I don't appreciate being rushed."
"Oh, darling." Veira took a loud sip of her coffee, smacking her lips. "I'm not rushing you. Just reminding you, the drone tender closes next week." She tilted her head, feigning sympathy. "You did just convince your board to pivot to military contracts, didn't you? Such a shame if, after all that effort, Wang BioTech still lost the big," a theatrical sigh. "All I need is enough of that Kane girl's DNA, and Veira Dynamics will… gracefully withdraw."
Jack swirled the wine in his glass, his smirk razor-thin.
"Veira Dynamics would just... surrender the market like that?"
"Oh, drones?" Lucinda waved a hand, her nose wrinkling theatrically. "So passé. Too expensive for disposable toys. But the serum?" She leaned in, her voice dripping honey. "Now that has potential."
"You think I'd just hand over the key ingredient?" Jack's knuckles whitened around the stem of his glass. "You already have the formula."
"Sweet boy," she purred, setting her empty cup down with deliberate care. "We both know it's useless without Kane's DNA integration."
A beat. The harbor wind carried the salt and stench of machine oil from the docks below.
"And why," Jack said slowly, "would you assume I can deliver her?"
Lucinda's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Jack," she leaned closer, her perfume cloying. "Out of respect for your brother's work, Lola Kane hasn't been disassembled for parts. Yet."
The unspoken truth hung between them: After Lola's betrayal of selling the serum prototype to the black market, Jack would've fed her to the shredders himself. But Noah's cooperation had a price.
"Two weeks," Jack took a sip from his glass.
Veira savored the moment, knowing she had him by the throat.
"Very well. You have two weeks."
The morning's victory now left a bitter aftertaste, tainted by the bile of his conversation with Lucinda. The heavy scent of her perfume lingered long after she'd gone. Jack tossed his napkin onto the table and stormed out of the restaurant in a foul mood. The terms of the deal with Veira forced him to shift from gleefully counting future profits to calculating compromises—or outright war with his own brother.
Just as Jack dared to hope the day couldn't get worse, Noah proved him wrong. The soothing silence shattered with the slam of doors and sharp footsteps, their mocking echo bouncing off the sterile walls of the hallway. Noah stormed into the living room like a black-winged omen. Jack's glass clattered against the marble coffee table.
Lucas sprang to his feet in one fluid motion from his spot on the floor by the sofa. Gone was his usual white synthetic suit, now he wore soft black trousers and a shirt. Noah's gaze swept over him, lingering on the fresh marks visible against pale skin, his expression twisting in disgust.
"Out," he snapped.
Lucas's eyes flicked to Jack for confirmation before he slipped away without a sound.
"The funding for Anpassen 3.0 stays unchanged," Noah declared, leaving no room for argument.
"The new budget was approved by majority vote," Jack rose smoothly, cinching his robe over his pampered skin.
"Take funds from other projects if you must, but Anpassen stays untouched!" Noah's voice cut like glass. "It's our only chance to give this city a future worth living in."
Jack edged toward the biolithic fireplace, putting distance between them.
"They already have Anpassen 2.0," he dismissed, deliberately separating himself from Noah's "we."
Jack embraced the fruits of modern science and medicine, meticulously maintaining his body in peak condition, yet his only augmentation was a discreet neural chip, designed to manipulate brainwave patterns in others when needed. By fortunate genetic lottery, his body exhibited minimal rejection rates, allowing safe implant use without Anpassen's crutch.
But where Noah had willingly traded flesh for circuitry – first out of necessity because of those failing childhood lungs, then by choice with each upgrade erasing more of his humanity – Jack clung to his biological purity. Noah preached bio-prosthetics as salvation; Jack saw only the coming collapse. But profit bought present comforts, and what use were tomorrow's utopias to a man who'd be dust?
"Anpassen 2.0 is just a stopgap," Noah said through gritted teeth. "The new version could reverse early-stage Glassing. We could end this epidemic."
Jack's half-lidded eyes burned with quiet malice. "Glassing is a poor people's problem."
"It's our problem! Our responsibility!" Noah's control finally snapped.
"Yours, Noah. Just yours." Jack's lips curled into something too sharp to be called a smile.
Noah flinched as if struck.
"You let the subject become more than that," Jack continued, each word a dagger. "You brought her into your lab. Your work. Your bed. And your greatest sin is that you let her into your head."
"You're one to –" Noah's furious gesture took in the door where Lucas had vanished.
"Oh no, no, no, little brother." Jack's laugh was ice cracking. "There's a difference between pleasure and weakness. Lola was your weakness. She stole your research, and you still defend her. That vulnerability cost us a fortune."
The silence between them roared louder than any argument.
"Since we're discussing weaknesses," Noah said, his voice now eerily calm, "let's examine yours."
A holographic projector flickered to life on the coffee table between them. In the dim firelight, the recording played with brutal clarity: Jack entangled with a flawlessly modified woman, her enhancements visible even in the grainy footage. As the scene progressed, Jack's expression darkened. When passion crossed into violence, he merely smirked. But when the cleaning crew wordlessly disposed of the broken remains, Jack finally looked away in disgust.
"So what now?"
"Shall we show this to the board? Investors? The public?"
"Oh Noah." Jack paced the room, laughter dripping with contempt. "We both know you'd never tarnish the company's image." He pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. "The mission! The legacy! Imagine," his voice turned to mock horror, "the CEO of Wang BioTech, a freaking monster!"
"Don't you–"
"You're holding weak cards, little brother."
"You will keep Anpassen funded, Jack." Noah's pallor stood in stark contrast to the black of his clothes, his eyes burning with quiet fury.
"You're not very convincing," Jack even allowed himself a chuckle.
"I trust you remember those neuro-interfaces you're so eager to sell to the military aren't fully operational yet," Noah replied evenly. "And I can halt their testing at any moment."
Jack's handsome face twisted with hatred for just an instant. Noah left him to stew in his helplessness. The door clicked softly shut behind him. Jack swept the projector off the table, the one endlessly replaying his vice, and crushed it under his heel.
"Lucas!" Jack barked.
Lucas stepped into the living room soundlessly at the summons.
"Mr. Wang?"
"Find Voss. Tell him I want that Kane whore in my hands by week's end."
"I could retrieve her myself," Lucas offered, his voice deferential.
"What did I just say?" Jack's tone turned dangerous.
"To locate Voss and relay your message."
"Then why the hell are you questioning orders?!"
"I assumed you required Lola Kane."
"You're not here to assume."
"I could–"
"You couldn't! What use are you to me if that little bitch fries your implants? Deliver the message to Voss. And stay away from Lola. Understood?"
"Yes, Mr. Wang."
Jack collapsed onto the sofa, exhaustion lining his face. Lucas lingered by the door, awaiting further instructions.
"Go. I don't want to see anyone today."