Season 3 chapter 33
The Ashes of Wollondaik
The military purge had officially reached the district of Wollondaik, located deep within the borders of SDC. The cobblestone streets of the once-vibrant commercial sector were now completely choked with pulverized brick, burning storefronts, and the terrified screams of the scattered populace. The DI'an military vanguard was sweeping the area with zero restraint.
In the center of a ruined, smoke-filled intersection, a tiny, terrified little girl was wandering blindly through the devastation. She couldn't have been older than six. Her face was covered in thick black soot, tears streaking through the grime as she desperately called out for her parents.
Through the thick haze of burning rubber and diesel exhaust, a DI'an infantry soldier spotted her.
His eyes were cold, entirely devoid of humanity. Following the ruthless, unhinged orders of the purge, he didn't see a lost child; he saw a target of the state. He raised his heavy, steam-pressured service rifle, resting the cold iron stock against his shoulder. He perfectly aligned the iron sights with the little girl's head.
His finger squeezed the heavy trigger.
BANG.
The gunshot echoed violently against the ruined buildings. The heavy, armor-piercing bullet violently exited the iron barrel, spinning through the air at a terrifying, lethal velocity. It cut through the thick black smoke, completely distorting the air around it, a piece of industrial death flying straight toward the crying child.
Millimeter by millimeter, the bullet closed the distance. It was a fraction of a second away from impact.
Suddenly, from the blind spot of the smoke, a man casually stepped in front of the girl. He didn't dive. He didn't scramble. He just stepped into the line of fire and raised his bare right hand.
CRACK.
The heavy-caliber bullet struck directly into the center of the man's open palm. But it didn't pierce the flesh. Thanks to the terrifying, biologically anomalous density granted by the Limitless prototype serum running through his veins, the kinetic energy of the bullet was instantly completely absorbed. The heavy lead projectile flattened violently against his skin, fragmenting into useless, jagged pieces of scrap metal before harmlessly dropping to the cobblestones.
The soldier lowered his rifle, his brain completely failing to process the physics of what he had just witnessed. His eyes went wide with sheer, unadulterated terror.
"What the hell is happening?!" the soldier screamed, his voice cracking as he backed away. "Who the hell are you?!"
Kniya Anderson stood over the shattered bullet, his incredibly expensive tailored coat completely untouched by the debris. He looked up at the terrified soldier, and a massive, chaotic, arrogant smile spread across his face. He was about to deliver an absolutely legendary, terrifying corporate monologue.
BANG.
The soldier's head snapped violently backward. A hollow-point bullet tore straight through his iron helmet, instantly shutting off his brain. The soldier collapsed backward onto the rubble, dead before he hit the ground.
The Theological Debate
Kniya's arrogant smile completely vanished. He slowly turned his head, his face twisting into pure, unfiltered rage.
Stepping out from the burning ruins of a local bakery was Malesh Bulwadi. He was holding a smoking, custom-machined pistol in his right hand. In his left hand, he was holding a broadsheet newspaper, casually skimming the columns. He was wearing an immaculate charcoal suit and his signature, highly expensive dragon-themed tie.
"There was absolutely no need for you to do that, Malesh!" Kniya yelled, waving his hands in the air. "I caught the bullet! I was having a cinematic moment!"
Malesh carefully folded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm. His face was a mask of perfect, exhausting, deadpan logic.
"Okay, Kniya. I acknowledge your dramatic intent," Malesh stated, his voice completely monotone. "But I did not want you to become the hero while I am standing here reading this heavily biased, scientifically inaccurate article regarding theological atheism. The author's premise is entirely flawed."
"I don't give a shit about your article!" Kniya screamed. "You ruined my entrance!"
"Furthermore," Malesh continued, entirely ignoring Kniya's screaming. "We did our part. But honestly, Kniya, I do not think you would have ever been able to shoot that soldier, primarily because you forgot to draw your gun. I saved the day. Tactically, I am the hero here."
"Absolutely not, you fucking idiot!" Kniya roared, pointing a furious finger at his business partner. "I stopped a bullet with my bare hands! You just shot a guy who was already having a panic attack!"
Malesh let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh. He adjusted his dragon-themed tie.
"Kniya, we should not use cuss words in front of a kid," Malesh reprimanded smoothly. "It severely disrupts their biological and psychological development."
The Sucrose Protocol
Both billionaires slowly looked down. The little girl was staring up at them, completely frozen. Her large eyes were wide with shock, but she had stopped crying, mostly because she was entirely bewildered by the two wealthy lunatics screaming at each other over a fresh corpse.
"Mister..." the little girl whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched her soot-stained dress. "Why is your friend screaming so loud?"
"Because he is a psychopathic bastard who ruined my entrance!" Kniya answered aggressively, crossing his arms. Then, he suddenly remembered he was talking to a six-year-old and awkwardly forced his voice to soften. "Are you hurt? Are you safe?"
The little girl slowly nodded, though she took a tiny step backward. "You said a bad word. My mommy says people who say the F-word go to the burning place."
"Logically, we are already in a burning place, child," Malesh stated flatly, gesturing to the raging fires consuming the Wollondaik district. "But your mother's theological stance is noted."
The girl looked at the dead soldier, and then back up at Malesh. "Are you monsters? Are you going to shoot me too?"
"No. We are venture capitalists. It is significantly worse, but currently less lethal to you," Malesh replied in clinical approval. He reached his hand into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket and pulled out a single, brightly wrapped piece of strawberry candy. He leaned down and held it out to the girl.
"Here," Malesh said flatly. "A sucrose-based reward for surviving the military purge."
Kniya stared at the single piece of candy. His eye visibly twitched.
"What the fuck, Malesh?" Kniya asked in pure disbelief, instantly forgetting the rule about cussing. "You are doing this kind of thing? One piece? You think you can stop a war-traumatized child from crying with one goddamn candy?"
"It is premium quality," Malesh defended smoothly.
"I don't think one candy is going to do anything!" Kniya yelled, aggressively gesturing at the burning district around them. "Her town is on fire! You need to at least bring a sack! A literal jute bag of candies is what is actually required in this economic environment!"
Malesh slowly stood back up, looking at Kniya with absolute, deadpan disappointment.
"Kniya, a burlap sack of concentrated sugar will definitively cause early-onset diabetes," Malesh explained, as if he were talking to an incredibly stupid shareholder. "In the first place, it is a medical liability. Second of all, one piece is statistically sufficient to distract her primary sensory receptors and stop the crying process. I am being medically and financially responsible."
The little girl looked between the two billionaires, hesitated, and then quietly unwrapped the single candy. She popped it into her mouth. She immediately stopped trembling, sucking on the strawberry sweet while surrounded by the burning ruins of Wollondaik.
"It tastes like strawberries," the girl muttered quietly. "And smoke."
"See?" Malesh stated flatly, tapping his temple. "Absolute efficiency."
The Mission Completion
The thick, acrid smoke from the burning ruins of Wollondaik choked the air, but Kniya Anderson stood amidst the rubble looking like he had just closed a highly profitable corporate merger. He aggressively dusted a microscopic speck of ash off his immaculate, tailored coat and popped a fresh piece of mint gum into his mouth.
"Okay, Malesh," Kniya declared, casually spinning his gold-plated handgun around his finger before holstering it. "Our mission is complete, and hence, we saved the fucking day. Flawless execution. Total victory."
The tiny, soot-covered little girl standing between them did not look impressed. She unwrapped the single strawberry candy Malesh had given her, popped it into her mouth, and crossed her small arms over her ruined dress.
"You guys are so bad," the little girl scolded, glaring up at the two towering billionaires. "And you use basically wrong language all the time. My teacher says people who curse only do it because they don't have enough vocabulary words in their brains."
Kniya's arrogant smirk instantly vanished. His eye twitched violently. He hated being lectured, but being lectured by a six-year-old was a direct insult to his ego.
Without saying a word, Kniya smoothly drew his heavy, gold-plated handgun right back out of its holster, aimed it directly at a towering, half-destroyed stone monument across the plaza, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The deafening gunshot echoed through the ruined streets. A massive chunk of the stone monument violently exploded, raining dust and jagged debris down onto the cobblestones. The little girl flinched, covering her ears as the reverberation faded.
"I don't like little children speaking in between me when older guys are having an important conversation," Kniya stated coldly, blowing the smoke from the barrel of his gun and holstering it again. "It is incredibly bad for my operational focus."
Malesh, who had been quietly calculating the structural damage Kniya had just caused to the historical architecture, let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh. He adjusted his perfectly knotted, dragon-themed silk tie and glared at his business partner.
"Kniya, you shouldn't threaten young kids like that," Malesh reprimanded, his voice a flawless, robotic deadpan. "You should be really ashamed, Kniya. You are a fucking bastard."
Malesh paused, looking down at his own impeccably shined shoes. A rare look of profound, philosophical disappointment washed over his face.
"How well immersed we are into the foul language that we cannot even stop ourselves from using it," Malesh muttered, shaking his head. "It is a biological tragedy. The corporate sector of the DI'an Republic has completely corrupted our linguistic parameters."