Rewriting My Billions: Boss of the Hidden realm

Chapter 6: Dragons, Doritos, and Accidental Cyber-Terrorism

I unlocked the heavy glass doors to the fourth floor of Sterling Plaza, pushed them open, and immediately coughed up a cloud of dust. 

The space was massive, easily ten thousand square feet of prime downtown commercial real estate. It also looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the Clinton administration. The carpet was a tragic shade of faded mustard, and dead fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead like a bad horror movie. 

Below our feet, a constant, low-frequency hum vibrated through the floorboards. 

"Ah," I said, flipping a light switch that did absolutely nothing. "Home sweet home."

Gideon stepped into the room, holding the lapels of his new thrift-store suit tight against his chest. He looked around with deep, profound disgust. 

"Boss," Gideon said, wiping a thick layer of grime off a nearby reception desk with a single gloved finger. "This isn't an office. This is a tomb. And I know tombs. I’ve slept in nicer ones in Prague."

"It’s one dollar a month, Gideon," I reminded him, dropping three massive cardboard boxes of cheap computer parts onto the floor. "And we have a killer view of the financial district."

"The floor is vibrating," Gideon complained, his silver eyes darting around. "It’s making my fangs itch."

"That’s Richard Sterling’s server farm on the third floor," I said, ripping the tape off a box. "He built it right under us. It’s loud, it runs hot, and it drives away normal corporate tenants. But we aren’t normal."

I looked over at Damian. 

My new Chief Financial Officer hadn't said a word since we left the asylum. The moment we stepped into the office, he dropped to his hands and knees. He pressed his ear flat against the mustard carpet, closing his amber eyes. 

"I can hear the data," Damian whispered, his raspy voice vibrating. "So much data. Moving like a river of gold."

"Get up, Smaug," I said, tossing him a tangle of black power cords. "I need you to build a rig."

I had spent almost every penny of the $5,000 System reward at a discount electronics warehouse on the way here. I bought four cheap desktop towers, three oversized monitors, and the fastest commercial internet router I could legally purchase without a corporate license. 

Damian scrambled up from the floor. He didn't walk; he sort of prowled over to the boxes. He looked at the cheap plastic keyboards and budget monitors. He let out a low, rumbling growl. 

"This is trash," Damian hissed, holding up a mouse by the cord like a dead rat. "You want me to conquer the digital realm with plastic garbage?"

"I want you to make me a million dollars," I countered, crossing my arms and staring him down, letting my boss aura fill the dusty room. "When you do, I’ll buy you a supercomputer cooled by liquid nitrogen. Until then, you work with the plastic garbage."

Damian glared at me. His amber eyes flickered. For a second, the air in the room actually got hot. 

I didn't blink. I didn't back down. I just held his gaze. 

Slowly, the heat dissipated. Damian gave a begrudging nod of respect. Dragons were creatures of hierarchy. You either dominated them, or they ate you. 

"Fine," Damian grunted. "But I have demands."

"Name them."

He pointed a claw-like finger at me. "Cool Ranch Doritos. The family-size bag. And two liters of Mountain Dew. The green kind. If you bring me the red kind, I will burn this building to the foundation."

I stared at him. "You’re a mythological beast of destruction, and your hoard is junk food?"

"Gold is heavy," Damian snapped. "And it tastes terrible. Bring me the chips, Boss."

Twenty minutes later, I returned from the corner bodega. 

Damian had already transformed the corner of the office. He dragged three desks together into a tight circle, barricading himself in a fortress of cheap monitors. He snatched the bag of Doritos from my hands, ripped it open with his teeth, and poured a pile of chips directly onto the desk. 

He didn't just eat them. He arranged them. He stacked the triangular chips into neat, organized little pyramids, guarding them with his forearm like a dragon hoarding treasure. 

He cracked open the soda, took a massive gulp, and let out a loud, echoing burp. 

A perfectly formed ring of gray smoke floated out of his mouth, followed by a bright orange spark that fizzled out on the carpet. 

Gideon, who was busy trying to dust a swivel chair, froze. He stared at the wisp of smoke drifting toward the ceiling. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes wide with absolute horror. 

"Boss," Gideon whispered, pointing a trembling finger at Damian. "The IT guy is combusting."

"He's fine, Gideon," I sighed, pulling up a chair. 

"He just breathed fire!" Gideon hissed, backing away toward the door. "Is he a fire hazard? Because if I get burned, I don't heal right! Do we have a fire extinguisher? Can we claim him on our insurance policy?"

"Nobody is claiming anyone," I said, clapping my hands together to get their attention. "Sit down. Both of you. It's time to go to work."

Damian didn't look away from his screens. His fingers were already flying across the cheap plastic keyboard at a speed that shouldn't be physically possible. It sounded like a machine gun going off in the office. 

Gideon hesitantly took a seat, keeping his chair at least ten feet away from Damian’s snack-fortress. 

"Here is the master plan," I said, leaning forward. "Richard Sterling thinks he's a genius because his father handed him a multi-million-dollar logistics company. Sterling Logistics moves fifty percent of the freight in this city. But I know their secret."

"They're over-leveraged," Damian mumbled through a mouthful of Doritos, his eyes glued to the scrolling green code on his screen. 

"Exactly," I grinned. "Their routing algorithm is a bloated, outdated mess. Their delivery trucks waste thousands of hours a week sitting in traffic. In my past life... I mean, from my research, I know that Richard is trying to sell this broken software to Apex Logistics tonight at a charity banquet."

"So we walk in and bite them?" Gideon asked hopefully. 

"No biting," I groaned. "We build a better algorithm. We crash the banquet. We prove to the Apex CEO that Sterling's software is garbage, and we pitch our own. We steal Richard's biggest client right out from under him."

"Easy," Damian rasped. 

The machine-gun clacking of his keyboard suddenly stopped. 

Damian hit the 'Enter' key with a dramatic, aggressive smack. A weird, sinister grin stretched across his face. 

"What did you just do?" I asked, a sudden pit forming in my stomach. 

"You said Sterling Logistics has a bloated system," Damian chuckled, his amber eyes reflecting the glow of the monitors. "You were right. Their firewall was practically made of paper. So I burned it."

The room went dead silent. 

Below our feet, the low, steady vibration of the massive server farm suddenly spiked. Then, a loud, mechanical *whirring* sound echoed through the floorboards, followed by a series of heavy, metallic *CLUNKS*. 

The vibration completely stopped. 

"Damian," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Tell me you didn't just hack the servers downstairs."

Damian popped a Cool Ranch chip into his mouth. "Hack is a strong word. I prefer the term 'digital aggressive negotiation.' I injected a self-replicating loop into their mainframe. I didn't steal anything. I just locked every single door from the inside and threw away the key."

Gideon stared at Damian, completely aghast. "You broke into their servers? Just for fun?"

"It was very fun," Damian nodded. 

"Damian!" I yelled, jumping out of my chair. "We are a legitimate business! You can't just cyber-attack a Fortune 500 company on our first day!"

"Why not?" Damian asked, genuinely confused. "They are the enemy. The enemy's fortress was weak. I burned the fortress. This is how war works."

Before I could explain modern federal cyber-security laws to a mythological reptile, a sound went off in my head. 

It wasn't the usual cheerful *DING* of the System. 

It was a blaring, deafening *ERRT! ERRRT!* like a submarine diving alarm. 

The blue holographic screen exploded in front of my face, flashing a blinding, violent red. 

[CRITICAL ALERT! CRITICAL ALERT!]

[Illegal Activity Detected: Class-A Corporate Cyber-Terrorism.]

[Karma Debt Spiking: 10%... 30%... 50%!]

[System Directive Violation: You were ordered to be a Good Boss. Running a criminal hacking syndicate violates ethical constraints.]

[PENALTY IMMINENT.]

I grabbed my hair, my heart hammering against my ribs. "No, no, no, System, wait! It was an accident! My CFO is a lizard, he doesn't know any better!"

The red text shifted, flashing a countdown clock. 

[Grace Period Granted.]

[Host has exactly 12 Hours to generate $1,000,000 in CLEAN, LEGAL revenue.]

[If Quest is failed, Karma Debt will hit 100%. Host's brain functions and all financial assets will be frozen indefinitely.]

[Countdown: 11:59:59]

The screen vanished, leaving me staring at the dusty mustard carpet, breathing heavily. 

I had twelve hours to make a million dollars completely legally, or the System was going to turn me into a vegetable. 

I looked up. Gideon was dusting his lapels, pretending he hadn't just watched me yell at thin air. Damian was casually stacking another pyramid of Doritos. 

"Alright," I said, my voice cracking slightly. I cleared my throat, forcing the dominant CEO persona back to the surface. "Change of plans. Damian, you have two hours to code the most flawless, perfect logistics algorithm the world has ever seen."

"Two hours?" Damian scoffed, blowing a small smoke ring. "I can do it in forty-five minutes. But I'll need more Mountain Dew."

"I will buy you a swimming pool of it," I promised, grabbing my jacket. "Gideon. Get ready. We're going to a billionaire's banquet tonight. And we are going to steal an empire."