Magnificent Magnus Mace

Crashing the Party

Heavy bass from The Onyx Club vibrated the floorboards, rattling teeth within a two block radius. Here, the wealthy elite came to forget consequences existed.

​Tonight, the VIP mezzanine, a floating glass balcony overlooking the massive dance floor, was reserved strictly for one name. Sterling.

​Trent Sterling sat comfortably on a velvet throne, a magnum of vintage champagne resting in a silver bucket right beside him. He looked exactly like a prince holding court. His arm rested heavily over Jennifer Hayes. She sat very stiffly next to him, nervously nursing a cocktail she had not tasted in twenty minutes.

​"To our glorious future," Trent shouted loudly, raising his crystal glass.

​"To the future," roared Jaxon Steele and Tyson Blake, clinking their heavy glasses together so hard that golden liquid sloshed onto the expensive carpet.

​Jennifer forced a tight smile. It did not reach her eyes. She kept glancing anxiously at the entrance, acting as if she expected a ghost to walk through the doors.

​"You need to relax, babe," Trent whispered, leaning in extremely close. His breath smelled strongly of expensive alcohol and peppermint. "You made the correct choice today. Look at this incredible view. My father is passing the new city zoning laws tomorrow morning. The Sterling construction empire is going to double its net worth by Friday. You are standing on the winning side. No more instant ramen. No more walking in the rain."

​"I know," Jennifer murmured softly, looking down at her hands. "I just feel completely terrible about the way we left him. He was bleeding in the mud. We should have called an ambulance."

​Trent scoffed loudly, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "He is resilient like a cockroach. Besides, he desperately needed a severe reality check. Poverty is a terminal disease, Jennifer. I just gave him the necessary vaccine."

​Before Jennifer could form a response, a heavy hush fell completely over the lower dance floor. It started near the main entrance doors and rippled upward rapidly, a massive wave of silence that entirely drowned out the music.

​Trent frowned deeply, leaning his upper body over the glass railing. "What exactly is going on down there? Did the DJ pass out?"

​Then he saw him.

​Walking slowly through the parting crowd of designer dresses and tailored suits was a lone figure that absolutely did not belong in this building. He wore muddy, ruined jeans. His shirt was torn violently at the shoulder seam. His face was heavily bruised, with one eye swelling rapidly into a nasty shade of deep purple.

​Magnus Mace walked with a strange, terrifying calm. He did not look at the confused dancers. He looked straight up. He stared directly at the glass balcony. He stared at Trent.

​"There is absolutely no way," Jaxon laughed nervously, pointing a thick finger down at the floor. "Is that the campus trash? Did he seriously follow us all the way here?"

​"He definitely has guts," Tyson sneered. "Or he has severe brain damage from the beating we gave him."

​Trent twisted his face into a tight mask of pure annoyance. He snapped his fingers sharply at the floor manager. "Claude. There is a stray dog wandering around downstairs. Get him out of here. Right now."

​Claude looked over the glass railing, saw Magnus, and his face paled slightly. "My deepest apologies, Mr. Sterling. The front security team must have fallen asleep. I will handle this intrusion personally."

​Magnus was already standing at the velvet rope of the VIP stairs when Claude successfully intercepted him, flanked closely by two massive security guards.

​"Sir," Claude said, his voice dripping heavily with professional disdain. "You are trespassing on private property. Turn around and leave."

​Magnus did not stop moving. He took a deliberate step around the manager.

​"I said stop right there," Claude signaled the guards aggressively. A man roughly the size of a vending machine stepped directly in front of Magnus.

​"Get out of my way," Magnus said quietly. His voice cut cleanly through the ambient noise of the silent club like a razor blade.

​"You are heavily intoxicated," the large guard grunted, reaching to grab the torn collar of Magnus.

​"Do not touch me," Magnus warned, his eyes flashing.

​"Or what?" Trent shouted loudly from the balcony above, grinning widely. "Or you will bleed all over his nice suit? Let him up, Claude. Let the campus jester come up and entertain the court."

​Claude sneered in disgust. "Fine. Go on up. Make your pathetic beg for mercy."

​Magnus walked up the illuminated glass stairs. He reached the VIP section and stood exactly five feet from the leather table where his former girlfriend sat. The smell of expensive perfume and spilled champagne was incredibly suffocating.

​"Magnus," Jennifer whispered, standing up very quickly. "What are you doing here? You are bleeding everywhere. Please, just leave."

​"I came to settle the tab," Magnus said quietly, his eyes locked entirely on Trent.

​Trent smirked widely. "You could not afford a single glass of tap water in this zip code, let alone the tab for this table. This single bottle of champagne costs more than your entire life. You are nothing in this room. You are just a stain on the carpet."

​Magnus reached slowly into his wet pocket.

​"Careful," Tyson mocked loudly. "He has a deadly weapon. Probably a discount grocery coupon."

​Magnus pulled out his severely cracked smartphone. He turned his head and looked directly at Claude. "Who owns this building?"

​Claude blinked rapidly. "Mr. Silvano owns the Onyx Group. And he is far too busy to deal with a street rat like you."

​"Bring him down here," Magnus said. "Or I start breaking things."

​"That is more than enough," Claude snapped. "Security. Throw him out immediately."

​The guards moved in quickly. Magnus did not flinch. He simply lifted the cracked phone directly to his mouth.

​"Corbin," Magnus said clearly. "Execute the priority purchase protocol. The target is the Onyx Club. Pay double the current market value. The absolute condition is the immediate transfer of the property deed."

​"Acknowledged, sir," Corbin replied, his professional human voice projecting clearly from the phone speaker. "Transaction is processing now. Wiring twenty four million dollars directly to the personal offshore account of Mr. Silvano. Transfer is complete."

​The entire room went completely silent. Trent stopped laughing immediately. "What was that? A voice recording? Nice trick, Mace."

​Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the VIP lounge burst open violently.

​A short, balding man wearing a silk suit sprinted out. He was sweating profusely, his face a wild mixture of absolute terror and pure ecstasy. Mr. Silvano held his digital tablet tightly.

​"Where is he?" Silvano shouted frantically. "Where is the buyer? The banking notification just said the funds are verified by Vanguard Prime."

​Claude stepped forward, deeply confused. "Mr. Silvano? I was just removing this vagrant."

​"Vagrant?" Silvano looked at Magnus. He saw the cracked phone resting in the hand of the young man. Silvano completely froze. He practically slid across the floor to stop directly in front of Magnus.

​"Sir," Silvano gasped loudly, bowing low. "Mr. Mace. I did not know. My deepest apologies. The Vanguard Prime transfer just cleared completely. The club is yours. Please tell me what you need."

​Trent dropped his crystal champagne glass. "Silvano, are you completely crazy? He is a broke student."

​"Shut your mouth right now," Silvano hissed violently. "You are speaking to the new owner of the Onyx Group."

​Magnus pocketed his cracked phone. "Thank you, Silvano. I do not want the police called tonight."

​He turned slowly to face Trent. Trent was pale, looking exactly like a deer caught in the headlights. Jennifer stared at Magnus with her mouth slightly open, a dawning realization of what she had just thrown away hitting her.

​"You have a massive debt to pay," Magnus said, pointing a bruised finger directly at Trent.

​"I do not owe you anything," Trent stuttered loudly. "My father represents the city council. You cannot touch me."

​"You assaulted me," Magnus said. "I have two witnesses right here." He pointed specifically to Tyson and Jaxon.

​The two massive henchmen immediately took a large step back, raising their hands in total surrender. "Hey man, we just did exactly what he told us to do. We do not want legal trouble with a billionaire."

​"Traitors," Trent screamed.

​"I own the club security system now," Magnus continued coldly. "I have the perfect resolution footage of your little ambush in the parking lot. I can send it to the police. I can also send it to your father. By the way, Vanguard Prime just purchased your primary steel suppliers this afternoon. Your family leverage is entirely gone."

​Trent swallowed hard. "What do you want? Money? I can pay you."

​"I do not want your money." Magnus walked over to the private bar. He grabbed a white service apron and threw it directly at Trent. It landed heavily on his expensive Italian suit. "Put it on."

​"What?" Trent stared blankly at the white cloth.

​"The security footage disappears if you work the shift," Magnus said coldly. "Tonight. You are going to serve drinks to every single person in this club until closing time. If you spill a single drop, I will press charges and completely bankrupt your family."

​"You are insane," Trent whispered, tears of sheer humiliation welling in his eyes. "I do not serve people."

​"Then you can serve time in prison," Magnus said, pulling out his phone. "Corbin. Dial the police commissioner."

​"Dialing now, sir," Corbin replied clearly.

​"Wait," Trent screamed. He looked at Jennifer. She looked down at the floor. He looked at his friends. They had completely abandoned him. With violently shaking hands, Trent slowly picked up the apron.

​"Good choice," Magnus said. "Start with table four down there. They need a refill."

​Thirty minutes later, Magnus stood alone in the soundproof glass office overlooking the entire club. Down below, Trent Sterling was sweating profusely, wearing the cheap white apron over his ruined suit. He was carrying a heavy tray of dirty glasses, weaving awkwardly through the dense crowd. Freshmen bumped into him, and Trent was forced to bow his head and apologize.

​It was humiliating. It was brutal. And it was completely legal.

​"Sir," Corbin spoke clearly through the phone resting on the desk. "The financial transfer is fully finalized. However, there is a developing situation. Councilman Sterling is pushing a new city zoning ordinance tomorrow morning. He intends to seize Vanguard Prime commercial properties in the south district. He believes the trust is vulnerable."

​Magnus took a slow sip of cold water. "Let him push the ordinance. When he steps into the council chambers tomorrow, I want him to find out that Vanguard Prime just bought the entire city block his house sits on."

​"Understood, sir," Corbin said. "One last thing. Miss Jennifer Hayes is currently attempting to send a text message to your old number. She says she made a terrible mistake and wants to talk."

​Magnus looked down at the girl sitting completely alone in the VIP booth.

​"Block her number permanently," Magnus said without a single trace of hesitation. "And tell the driver to get the car ready. I have to check on Maya”