Massive Disaster II-21 (Patreon)

Massive Disaster II-21The New Abraham Administrative Tower was the kind of thing you built when you wanted people to remember exactly who owned this place. Not just the tallest building in the colony; it was the building. More than a statement or a reminder, the entire thing was a throne pretending to be an office. Zedd had never decided if he respected the sheer unmitigated flex of it or just found it exhausting.

The elevator ride up was too quiet. Not that it was weird for Kai Leng to be silent—Zedd was pretty sure the guy could stand motionless for eight hours without blinking if the job called for it—but the whole place had that don’t-touch-anything-unless-you-own-it atmosphere. He tapped his fingers against his thigh, watching his reflection flicker in the steel walls, the faint blue glow of his aviators catching against polished metal.

He ran through the conversation in his head. David would start friendly but firm, that whole I’m-only-telling-you-this-as-a-courtesy tone he did so well, respecting your autonomy but still encouraging you to go along with him like a permissive father. Zedd would push back just enough to keep it interesting. It was always something of a game with David—not chess, not even poker. 

The doors slid open.

The executive floor was the same as always—sharp lines, cold whites, everything arranged just so. Not minimalist. Minimalism meant lacking things. This was control, designed down to the millimeter. The receptionist barely looked up as they passed. Zedd was a known quantity.

David’s office stretched across the entire eastern face of the building, floor-to-ceiling windows swallowing the skyline, the whole city sprawled beneath him like a painting. He stood with his back to them, hands clasped, posture deliberate but just natural enough that you had to wonder if he practiced it. 

Probably did. I know I do.

"Zedd," he greeted, voice smooth, pleasant, like he wasn’t about to deliver bad news. "Punctual as always."

Zedd strolled in, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Hard to be late when can fly over the groundtraffic."

David turned then, smiling that just-polished-enough smile. The kind that said he was happy to see you, but not in a way that mattered. "A small advantage of efficiency." His gaze flicked to Leng, standing just inside the doorway, silent, unreadable. "And I see your new security chief is working out."

Zedd dropped into the chair across from the desk, letting his posture go loose and casual enough to be a choice. "He does the job."

David’s smile didn’t really move, but something shifted anyway as his face lost some good humor. "Yes. About that." He eased into his chair, folding his hands on the desk. "I wanted to personally address the… incident. A failure of this magnitude is unacceptable. Particularly where you’re concerned."

Zedd waved a hand, half-dismissive. "Not your fault some off-world pricks thought I was worth nabbing."

David exhaled, slow, measured, just shy of a laugh. Not amusement. Something else. "Perhaps. But it happened. And worse… under my nose." His eyes flickered, just for a second, something steelier underneath the polish. "We've identified the contractor responsible for arranging their transport."

Zedd tilted his head slightly. "And?"

David didn’t blink or even break pace. "He’s been dealt with."

Zedd let the words settle between them, let the silence stretch just a little too long before a smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. "Dealt with?"

The silence stretched just a second too long. Not awkward, not quite, but hanging, deliberate.

"Sufficiently," David finally said, voice smooth as the glass of his windows. "Some matters are best handled quietly." His fingers twitched, and the holo-interface between them bloomed to life, casting the soft glow of a sector map across his desk. "But that's not why I asked you here today."

Zedd leaned forward, scanning the glowing markers that dotted the holographic expanse. He knew the pattern before David even said it—Victory Innovations’ expansion path, plotted down to the decimal. It looked good in motion, those little points lighting up like dominoes falling.

"Six new distribution agreements in the last month across three different colonies," David noted, the usual measured pride threading through his tone. "Three more manufacturing licenses pending approval. Victory Innovations is finally becoming a genuine interplanetary presence."

"For all of four outpost colonies, all in the Traverse," Zedd murmured, rolling his shoulders back. His head was still half elsewhere, still stuck on dealt with, but the numbers were enough to pull him in. Shen-Abraham plays decade-long games; pay attention.

"As planned," David agreed, voice easy, but there was something underneath it. He shifted the display, zooming out, the map shifting. Alliance space. Citadel territories.

Zedd already knew where this was going.

David continued like he didn’t just throw a shot across the board. "Your focus on colonial markets has been remarkably effective. The lack of eezo dependency makes your technology particularly valuable in resource-limited settlements." A pause—measured, intentional. "Though I wonder if you've reconsidered the possibilities in Alliance space, or even Citadel territories. The markets there are-"

"Saturated," Zedd cut in, voice flat. He barely heard David's next breath before he steamrolled on. "Controlled. Regulated to death by people who think a supply chain bottleneck is a natural disaster instead of some asshole in a conference room deciding they don’t wanna play ball." He exhaled sharply, waving at the projection like he could shove the entire idea out of the air. "No thanks."

David studied him, the sharp gleam of interest barely masked. "The regulations also provide stability. Consistency. Protection."

"Control," Zedd shot back. "Look, I get it. I really do. The Alliance has their system, the Council has theirs. But you know exactlymwhat happens when you let those systems dictate how you operate. You built this colony outside their leash, I built Victory in the cracks they left behind. We both like to breathe, David." His fingers tapped against his knee, restless energy burning through him as he tried to keep himself calm. "I'm not interested in watching some committee strip my tech down, pick apart what they can weaponize, and bury the rest under a pile of compliance reports."

David’s expression barely shifted, but the approval was there, subtle as it was. "Independence suits you." A flicker of something wry in his eyes stood out as he shifted his head. "Though there are ways to navigate those waters without drowning."

"Maybe." Zedd shrugged. "But not yet. The Traverse is hungry for what we’re building. The Terminus will be next. I want to go where people need actual solutions, not—" he gestured vaguely at the glowing Citadel markets, "whatever that is."

David nodded once, like a poker player acknowledging a strong hand before folding. "Speaking of solutions," he said smoothly, fingers flicking over the display, "how is the new shielding technology progressing?"

Zedd let himself smirk. "You mean the project I haven’t officially told you about?"

David matched the smirk, reclining just slightly in his chair. "Officially, I have no idea what you’re working on," he said, tone the exact shade of amused deniability that made him a monster in negotiations. "Unofficially, Governor Shen-Abraham is very interested in advances that might improve colonial safety."

Zedd snorted. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"

"It is," David said, completely unbothered.

Zedd dragged a hand through his hair, still half-distracted by the mental gears grinding in his head, but this—the tech, the problem-solving—this was easier. "We’re still calibrating field harmonics, but the prototype tests are promising. Give me three, maybe four months, and it’ll be ready to roll out."

David leaned forward, and that was when Zedd saw it. The real interest. Not the business pleasantries, not the investment play, but the sharp, analytical fascination. Whatever else Shen-Abraham was, he got the work.

"Colonial defense should be less of an issue soon," Zedd added, adjusting the display himself, pulling up the sanitized version of the specs. At least, the ones that wouldn’t make David start asking uncomfortable questions.

David's gaze flicked over the data, sharp, quick, consuming. "This is... impressive, Zedd." No embellishment, no flattery. Just a statement of fact. "Barrier technology without eezo restrictions would change everything for outer colony security."

Zedd exhaled, half a laugh, half something else. "That’s the idea. The standard kinetic barriers are locked behind eezo supply chains, ridiculously expensive, and a bitch to maintain outside developed space." He flicked the interface, pulling up the core concept. "This system creates localized spatial differentials using modified resonance matrices."

David arched an eyebrow. "In English?"

"Makes space itself more resistant to penetration," Zedd deadpanned. "No eezo required, just precision engineering and good physics."

David leaned back, expression smoothing into something polished, something effortless, something that had probably been practiced in a hundred different negotiations before this one. "I knew there was a reason I gave you that house."

"One of many, I’m sure," Zedd said, voice dry, watching the way David’s fingers tapped once, twice, then stopped—controlled, measured. A habit or a tell?

David chuckled, just enough warmth to sell it. "Three new mining operations open in the Verge next cycle. The demand for V.E.S.T. systems will only increase."

Zedd hummed, tilting his head like he was considering the point instead of already knowing where this was going. "Good. Streamlined production. No more hand-built customs. Core systems only—environmental shielding, kinetic dampening, emergency life support. Functional, efficient, nothing extra."

David’s mouth twitched. "No more private drone-line assembly?"

"Not anymore," Zedd admitted, stretching lazily in his chair. "Even I can’t hand-build thousands of units."

There—just for a second. A flicker in David’s expression, subtle, but Zedd caught it. The kind of look that meant something was coming. Not just a topic shift, but something intentional. A prelude.

"I’ve had inquiries," David said, fingers steepled now, tone casual in the way only practiced people could pull off. "From mining interests. Regarding integration."

Zedd blinked, slow. "Integration."

David nodded once, tapping the holo display, shifting it again. "With eezo-based technology. There's interest in whether the V.E.S.T. systems could be modified to incorporate element zero components for enhanced adaptability."

And there it is.

Zedd didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t let the pause stretch too long. He let the words settle, bouncing them in his head, the implications twisting into place, forming something sharp-edged and inconvenient.

"Let me guess," he said, keeping his voice deliberately light, casual, like this was nothing more than another routine discussion. "Specifically the V.E.S.T.s?"

"Specifically the V.E.S.T.s," David confirmed, gaze steady, waiting.

Zedd shifted in his chair, stretching his legs out, all calculated ease. "Unfortunate," he said, deliberate, dragging out the word just enough. "But integrating eezo interferes with the kinesis matrix that makes them function."

David raised an eyebrow, slow, assessing. "Is that actually true?"

"Why would I lie?" Zedd countered, meeting his gaze head-on.

The silence stretched, not tense, just weighted, the kind of silence that meant two people were running numbers in their heads, doing the math, seeing how much of the truth was on the table.

David wasn’t stupid. He knew a deflection when he heard one. Knew Zedd well enough to recognize when he was holding something back. But he also knew better than to push too hard. That wasn’t how their game worked.

Zedd was telling the truth—just not all of it.

The base V.E.S.T. models, the one he was actually having be mass-manufactured? Yeah, integrating eezo would absolutely screw with the field harmonics, tanking performance, if not outright making the entire system useless. But the original prototypes, the ones he personally made for people? Those could be reworked. Not easily, not without gutting the entire internal structure, but yeah, theoretically possible.

Not that he’d let anyone get their hands on that information. Not while every second-rate corpo with delusions of grandeur was waiting for an opening to mass-produce and militarize his designs. Eezo was like oil. And nobody really wanted to fuck around messing with shit they couldn’t pass off as theirs or figure out how to make worthwhile.

So, no. Weaponizing his tech wasn’t the play. Not yet.

Not unless he controlled it.

Not unless it was on his terms. Like the Urdnot guy. And even he had been a one-off. And only because the old bastard was one of the few people in the galaxy he actually trusted to do the right thing. Or, at least, the right thing for Wrex, which usually worked out in favor of the people under his protection. A mercenary, yeah, but a responsible one. The kind people actually looked up to. A krogan whose name carried weight—not just in blood, but in the kind of respect that couldn't be bought.

Of course, that might’ve been the double payment talking. Hard to be objective when someone dropped a whole damn vault’s worth of credits into your lap.

David exhaled through his nose, a slow, almost amused sound. "A shame," he said, leaning back once again, every movement composed, deliberate. "I'm sure many would have found it quite useful."

"Yeah," Zedd murmured, adjusting his aviators. "I'm sure they would’ve." 

David finally nodded, his acceptance smooth, effortless, like he'd already factored this answer into his plans and was just waiting for confirmation. "Fair enough. Technical limitations are technical limitations." A flick of his fingers, and the holo-display collapsed into a neat geometric shimmer before vanishing. "I'll relay that to the interested parties."

Zedd said nothing, just studied him. The conversation wasn't over—David never actually let anything go, not when there was value in it. But he also knew when to shelve an idea for later, when to let an obstacle sit and fester until he could find a way around it.

Or until the other party stopped resisting.

"There is one other matter," David said, shifting just enough in his chair to signal a transition, folding his hands in that perfectly manicured way that meant the next topic was one he'd been considering for a while. "Less business, more cultural. An opportunity."

Zedd's brows lifted. "Oh?" He straightened a little, despite himself, because David didn't do non-business unless it was business under another name.

"We've been discussing ways to highlight New Abraham’s progress," David continued, voice smooth, practiced, but with the faintest thread of something weightier beneath it. "Particularly with the approaching anniversary of..." His lips pressed together for a second, expression shifting so subtly most people wouldn’t have caught it.

"The Slaughter?" Zedd supplied, casual, deliberate. "You can say it, I’m not gonna break."

David inclined his head slightly. "I wasn’t certain of your preference."

"It happened," Zedd shrugged, refusing to let the words carry weight. "Not saying it out loud doesn’t change that."

David took the out, nodding before smoothly returning to his point. "We’ve been considering how to frame the narrative. Not just survival, but growth. Advancement. A demonstration of what the colony has achieved." He let that sit for a beat, just long enough for the real pitch to land. "A showcase."

Zedd exhaled sharply. "An expo."

"An expo," David confirmed, watching him closely.

That got his attention.

He leaned forward, just a fraction, mind already running ahead. A public expo. A high-visibility event. Something that would push Victory Innovations from a barely-existing Traverse startup to something undeniably real on the galactic stage.

Something that would make them an even bigger target.

Not that it would immediately matter—his supply chains were still slow, production bottlenecked by the complexity of his designs, but his tech was already disruptive in ways people didn’t quite grasp yet. And if they didn’t get a real foothold before someone else did? He knew how that ended. You either became the next juggernaut or you got swallowed whole.

David's offer was calculated. He knew what this would mean, what kind of pressure it would invite. But Zedd wasn’t naive. He’d been expecting something like this the second he saw the kind of money that had been moving in response to Victory’s expansion.

Sixty million creds in under two quarters. An insane profit margin for a company his size, even if it was barely even a rounding error to a minor player like Shen-Abraham. I don’t care how fuckin’ big the galactic economy is. I don’t need to be making quadrillions of credits a year to be satisfied. 

Zedd rolled his jaw, considering, but he already knew what he was going to say. "I’ll think about it."

David smiled like that was the answer he was expecting. "Of course. No pressure."

Liar.

— o — o — o — o — o — o — o —

The lab was quiet when Zedd stepped inside, the low hum of cooling systems and active holo-interfaces filling the space like white noise. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it across the back of a chair as he moved toward the main workbench, barely aware of the motion. His thoughts were still back in that office, still circling the implications of an expo, still running through the angles.

Zedd huffed, dragging a hand through his hair as he pulled up his active schematics. The holo-table bloomed to life in front of him, bright blue light spilling across thai face as the design he’d been fine-tuning for weeks hovered in front of him—thin glowing pathways snaking through its structure, resonance matrices layered into the core, a marriage of physics and engineering that shouldn’t even be possible under normal conditions.

Not the shield project he’d given David a glimpse of. Something else.

His fingers moved through the projection, adjusting, tweaking, shifting components with the ease of muscle memory. The logic of the work was grounding, a counterbalance to the noise in his head. The expo could wait. Right now, this was what mattered. This was what made sense.

"ADAM," he called, already dragging a set of calculations into focus. "Run another simulation on the phase transition sequence. Focus on the molecular memory retention during reconfiguration."

The holo-interface flickered, calculations rolling across the display as ADAM responded in that clipped, ever-efficient tone. "Executing now, boss."

Zedd exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Good.

For now, that was enough.

"Running simulation," ADAM confirmed, like he had all the patience in the universe. Numbers cascaded down a side display, flickering fast, too fast for Zedd to track all at once. Not that he needed to. The nanomachines were responding—no, adapting. Holding memory patterns through complete disassembly, reconstructing like nothing had happened. Like they'd always been that shape. Fuck, that’s—

"Boss."

He twitched. "What."

"Update on your search parameters."

His brain skipped a beat, lagged, caught up. "What search?"

"The Steven Grant Rogers query." ADAM waited, like he knew Zedd was about to pretend he hadn't forgotten. "Three days ago."

Zedd flexed his hands once, cracking his knuckles. "Right. Okay. Yeah. Hit me."

"I have processed 40-60% of relevant databases," ADAM went on. "Higher completion rates for recent records. Lower for historical ones beyond 150 years."

"That much already?"

"Humanity’s extra-solar population has expanded to over thirty billion individuals, boss," ADAM replied. "The names provided are statistically common. One hundred and seventeen thousand, six hundred and four potential matches identified."

Zedd stopped. Blinked. "One hundred thousand—"

"One hundred and seventeen thousand, six hundred and four."

"Jesus."

"The search continues," ADAM continued, unbothered. "Preliminary cross-referencing with military and governmental records has yielded clustering effects."

Zedd exhaled sharply. "Clustering."

"Correct. North American terrestrial origins. Spikes in military service records spanning multiple generations." His fingers went still. Something twisted, deep in his chest. Military service. Across centuries. Consistent. A pattern.

That wasn’t nothing.

His pulse ticked up, too fast. His brain wanted to do something with that, wanted to make a connection that wasn’t there. That couldn’t be there.

What if he’s out there?

The thought punched through him. Hard.

No. No, that was stupid. If he existed—he didn’t—he’d be everywhere. Documented, publicized, known. He wouldn’t be a footnote in a buried database, wouldn’t be lost under a pile of six-figure name matches.

Right?

"Keep digging," Zedd said, voice clipped. "Flag anything weird. Physical anomalies, combat stats that don’t make sense."

"Understood," ADAM confirmed. "Filtering accordingly."

Zedd barely heard him. His hands moved on instinct, pulling the schematics apart, shifting layers of the holoprojection, but his brain was somewhere else.

His eyes flicked left, drawn without thinking.

The scanner pulsed softly, blue light reflecting off the vial in its cradle. Zedd inhaled sharply, like he’d caught himself staring. His fingers had moved, just slightly, like they were about to reach for it.

He flexed them, exhaled slow. Captain America’s legacy. 

David wanted an expo. Wanted Victory Innovations to step into the light, show the galaxy what human ingenuity could do.

Fine. He’d give them a show. A real one.

One they wouldn’t forget.

One that—if this universe didn’t have a super soldier yet—

Might just make one.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

5k Words (100 FP)FAIL: Enlightenment (1000 FP) [Assassin's Creed] {Knowledge - Mundane}: "You now recall some of your Precursor knowledge. Create items capable of running off nearby brainwaves, lasers that can incinerate a grown man in a second, vaults that last megaton-range damage—all with the appropriate materials."

Forge Points: 700