Season 3 chapter 34
The Jute Sack of Sugar
Before Kniya could further justify his vandalism, the sound of heavy, dragging footsteps echoed from the smoke-filled alleyway behind them.
Stumbling into the clearing was Salesh. As the fourth-largest corporate shareholder on the planet, he possessed an unfathomable amount of liquid capital. Yet, true to form, he was currently wearing a faded, completely ruined button-down shirt and cheap trousers that made him look like a homeless vagrant. Slung over his shoulder, causing him to sweat profusely and pant for breath, was a massive, incredibly heavy burlap jute sack that looked like it weighed forty pounds.
"Well, Salesh, you took a lot of time," Kniya complained impatiently, stepping forward and holding his hands out. "Now give it to me."
Salesh groaned, handing the massive sack over to Kniya with a heavy, crinkling rustle. Thousands of brightly wrapped, premium imported candies and toffees spilled slightly from the top of the burlap opening.
Malesh stared at the massive sack of concentrated sugar, his analytical brain immediately flagging a dozen long-term medical liabilities.
"Kniya," Malesh stated, turning a judgmental glare toward his partner. "Are you going to give this girl a lot of diabetes and a huge health problem for her entire life? The sucrose concentration in that sack is a medical liability."
The little girl put her hands on her hips, looking up directly at Malesh.
"Actually, you can't have 'a lot of diabetes,'" she corrected loudly. "That is grammatically incorrect. It is a chronic medical condition. You either have diabetes, or you don't."
Kniya froze, the heavy sack digging into his shoulder. He slowly turned his head to look at Malesh, and a massive, deeply obnoxious grin spread across his face. He pointed a finger at his business partner and burst out laughing.
"Ha! You sound uneducated, you absolute idiot!" Kniya cackled, completely thrilled. "The great logical billionaire just got grammatically destroyed by a six-year-old! Highly embarrassing! Your syntax is garbage!"
Malesh did not yell back. He calmly adjusted his cuffs, looking at the little girl with pure, clinical approval.
"Her grammatical correction is entirely accurate, Kniya," Malesh stated, completely deadpan. "My phrasing was biologically and mathematically flawed. I accept the correction."
"Whatever, nerd," Kniya grinned, hoisting the heavy sack higher. "The candy is for everyone! Let's move to the shelter."
The Bamboo Shelter
The trek through the devastated streets of Wollondaik was a grim, apocalyptic march. The DI'an military had left the district in ruins. Shattered glass, burning armored vehicles, and massive craters littered the asphalt.
They finally reached the extraction point. It wasn't a heavily reinforced concrete vault or an underground military base. It was a massive, temporary makeshift shelter cleverly camouflaged in the rubble. Kniya, Malesh, and Filoska had painstakingly built it themselves out of thick bamboo sticks, woven layers of straw, and broad leaves to hide the survivors from the military drones sweeping the sky.
Malesh pulled back a heavy curtain of woven leaves and stepped inside the dirt-floored shelter. Huddled inside were dozens upon dozens of soot-covered, terrified, shivering children who had been pulled from the wreckage.
Malesh looked at the massive crowd of surviving children. He let out a long, heavy breath of genuine relief.
"Ha. Finally," Malesh stated. "We saved the last of them. There were a huge amount of kids in this town. The extraction logistics were a nightmare."
The little girl tugged sharply on his jacket sleeve again.
"A huge number of kids," she corrected loudly. "'Amount' is for uncountable nouns, like water or sand. Kids are countable. You can literally count them."
Kniya aggressively dropped the heavy jute sack onto the dirt floor. He spun around, pointing a furious, trembling finger at her.
"I am going to leave her back in the fire! I swear to God!" Kniya yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "I will carry her back to the military myself! She doesn't stop talking!"
"Her linguistic analytics are flawless once again, Kniya," Malesh sighed, rubbing his temples to fight an incoming migraine. "I accept the correction. Again."
The Candy Lords
Kniya marched to the center of the bamboo shelter, commanding the attention of every single terrified child in the room. With a dramatic, aggressive heave, he lifted the massive jute sack and violently dumped it upside down.
Thousands of brightly colored, premium wrapped candies rained down onto the dirt floor like a waterfall of pure sugar.
The kids gasped, their eyes going wide as the mountain of toffees settled.
"Yeah, this is really true now," Kniya grinned, his arrogant corporate swagger fully returning. He placed his hands on his hips, looking out over the crowd of orphans. "None of you are missing?"
The kids stared at the towering pile of candy, and then up at the two terrifying, soot-covered men holding heavy weaponry. For a moment, there was absolute silence.
Then, completely overwhelmed by the sugar and the sheer trauma of the DI'an military purge, the entire shelter of children raised their fists in the air and screamed in terrifying, unhinged synchronization:
"WE PLEDGE OUR FUTURE LABOR TO KAVILSON STEEL! ALL HAIL THE CANDY LORDS!"
Kniya's jaw dropped. A massive, deeply evil grin spread across his face. He looked over at Malesh, completely thrilled.
"Excellent," Kniya cackled, clapping his hands together. "I absolutely love the youth. The future of our workforce is highly secure."
The Corporate Orientation
The deafening, synchronized chant of the orphans echoing through the bamboo shelter slowly died down. Kniya stood frozen, a massive, evil grin still plastered across his face, absolutely thrilled by the sheer corporate devotion of a hundred traumatized children.
Malesh, however, simply crossed his arms. He looked at the kids, then at Kniya, his sharp mind immediately catching the discrepancy. He didn't sound like a walking calculator anymore, but his trademark cynical logic was as sharp as ever.
"Wait a minute," Malesh said, his voice flat, cutting through the excitement. "We just pulled these kids out of a burning rubble pile. How do they already know that you own Kavilson Steel?"
Salesh, who was still catching his breath from hauling the massive forty-pound sack across the ruined district, raised his hand awkwardly.
"I told them," Salesh admitted, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Malesh turned a completely deadpan glare toward the fourth-richest man on the planet. "What was the need of telling them?"
"Future laborers," Salesh shrugged casually, patting the side of his ruined, dirty shirt. "Very useful thing to have in the pipeline. I figured if we were saving them, we should at least do some brand networking. Establish brand loyalty early, you know?"
"Okay, okay! Stop, everyone!" Kniya yelled, clapping his hands loudly to get the attention of the murmuring crowd of children. "Quiet down! So, yes, this sack contains a huge amount of chocolates and toffees. But here is the executive ruling: everyone is only going to take one."
A collective groan echoed through the bamboo shelter. A few kids in the back began whispering to each other, completely ignoring the billionaire warlords in favor of normal kid stuff.
"I'll trade you my blue wrapper for your red one," a soot-covered boy whispered to his friend.
"No way, the red ones taste like real strawberries. The blue ones taste like cough medicine," the other boy whispered back, clutching his knees. "Do you think we can use the wrappers to make a kite?"
Malesh stepped forward to address the groaning crowd, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation.
"You are only taking one because you have to survive on this for one month," Malesh stated bluntly. "Rationing is the only way this supply lasts until the heat dies down outside."
Salesh frowned, looking around the makeshift bamboo walls. "A month? Why? Why isn't the government going to help them? There has to be federal relief funds for displaced civilians."
Kniya slowly turned his head to look at Salesh. His arrogant smile completely vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unfiltered, homicidal disbelief.
"Are you a fucking idiot, Salesh?" Kniya asked, his voice dripping with heavy, venomous sarcasm. He aggressively threw his hands in the air. "Oh, yes! Of course! The government will definitely support them! The exact same military that just drove thirty-ton tanks through their front doors and tried to shoot them in the head is going to come back tomorrow with warm soup and blankets! 'Sorry we failed to murder you all, here are some rations!' Isn't that a great idea, you idiot?!"
Salesh blinked, realizing the sheer stupidity of his question. "Right. The military purge. I forgot they were the ones who started the fire."
"You forgot the army?!" Kniya shouted.
"Actually," the little girl chimed in loudly from Malesh's side, tugging on his expensive suit jacket. "He didn't use a question word properly. He said 'Why the government is not going to help them?' He should have said, 'Why is the government not going to help them?' The verb goes before the subject."
Kniya squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a long, exhausted groan. "I am going to lose my fucking mind in this bamboo hut."