Justice of the Supreme War God

Chapter 26: Done Deal PART 1

"You are out of your mind," he said. "You have completely lost —" he shook his head, turning to Reynolds with his hands spread wide, the gesture of a man inviting a room to share in something self-evident. "Carter. Carter. Are you watching this? This man — this man who showed up to a corporate headquarters in what I can only assume is a suit he found — is standing in your conference room telling you he's going to text the CEO of Iron Hands." He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose as though the situation was producing a physical sensation. "I almost respect the confidence. Almost."

Reynolds said nothing. His pen was still in his hand. His expression was the careful neutrality of a man reserving judgment, which was not quite the same thing as belief.

Marcus looked at Reynolds.

"Your full name?" Marcus asked.

Reynolds blinked. "Carter James Reynolds."

Marcus nodded once, looked down at his phone, and began typing.

The conference room watched him do it.

It took approximately forty-five seconds. Not a long message — his thumbs moved with the unhurried efficiency of someone composing something brief and specific. He read it back once, made one small adjustment, and sent it.

"Done," Marcus said, and put the phone back in his pocket.

The silence that followed had a specific quality — the quality of a room that is waiting for something to either happen or not happen, and is aware that the answer will resolve the afternoon in one of two completely different directions.

Liam broke it first.

"Nobody," he said, very deliberately, "is going to fall for that." He looked around the table with the reinvigorated confidence of a man who has watched a bluff reach its conclusion. "There is no text. There is no CEO. There is no connection." He turned to Marcus directly. "You walked in here with a nice story and you've run out of story. So —"

"Honestly," said one of the Steel Holdings attorneys, adjusting his collar with the mild contempt of a man who has decided the meeting has run past its useful length, "I have to agree. Mr. Hayes, I don't know who let you through the lobby or what you imagined was going to happen in this room, but this is a professional environment and you've wasted enough of everyone's —"

"You don't belong here," the second attorney said flatly. "Whatever this was, it's finished. We have a contract to sign."

"This is embarrassing," the first attorney continued, gathering momentum. "Genuinely. A man with no credentials, no corporate standing, no verifiable connection to anything he's claiming, walks into a formal signing and expects to be taken seriously." He looked at Marcus with the clean, uncomplicated dismissal of a man who has sorted the world into categories and knows exactly which one applies here. "Security is a phone call away. I'd suggest you make a graceful exit before we make it for you."

The second attorney nodded. "Agreed. This circus needs to end."

Liam spread his hands in the satisfied gesture of a man whose corner has just been argued competently by someone else. "Carter," he said, turning to Reynolds with the warm finality of wrapping up, "I think we've all seen enough. Let's —"

Reynolds's phone lit up on the table.

Not a call. An email notification — the specific, visible flash of something arriving with a priority flag. Reynolds looked at it the way people look at phones in meetings when they're trying not to — the involuntary downward glance that the eyes make before the professional instinct catches up.

He looked away.

Then he looked back.

He picked it up.

The table waited.

Reynolds read. His posture changed — a gradual, unmistakable shift, the physical adjustment of a man receiving information that is rearranging the furniture of his afternoon. He read it again. His chair scraped back as he stood, and he stood quickly, with the sudden forward energy of a man who has made a decision and is already three steps into executing it.

"What?" Liam looked at him. "What is it? What's —"

Reynolds was already moving around the table.