The Tycoon's Odyssey

In fact, despite his determination, Evan wasn't particularly enthusiastic about space travel. But he felt that it was necessary to begin preparation since it was better to take initiative and act now rather than staying passive and allowing others to come and strike first.

Evan shook his head, clearing the lingering thoughts, and looked around. "We've wasted enough time," he murmured as if reassuring himself. Then, with a steely resolve, he turned to Aurora. "What's the situation outside?"

Aurora's response was immediate, her tone calm and measured, the way it always did in times of crisis.

[Sir, the status update isn't promising. Next Gen is facing severe setbacks. Over seventy of our global offices have been shut down within the last two weeks. Nearly twenty thousand employees have resigned and while another fifteen thousand remain, their morale is low. Losses are mounting into the billions, and the strain is beginning to ripple across the industry.]

[Macrosoft has been hit hard by association, with smartphone sales plummeting and stock values slipping under pressure from Pears and Youkou, who have launched a targeted campaign and public sentiment has turned sharply negative. People are blaming you and Next Gen for recent disruptions. Online, the narrative has spiraled into attacks on your leadership, decisions, and even your ethics.]

Evan's eyes narrowed as he listened to the report. Each statistic adding weight to the reality of their situation. He knew the world wouldn't go easy on someone like him. And yet, the thought didn't deter him—it merely sharpened his focus.

"And what about BrewHeaven?" he asked, shifting his attention.

Aurora then projected a screen and started her report.

[BrewHeaven is also suffering. Numerous stores have been forced to close due to shortages and supply chain issues. However, this has had an unexpected effect.]

[Millions of customers are missing the tea and coffee BrewHeaven provided. For a few days, they flocked to Sunbucks, creating an intense but temporary surge in sales. But soon, they realized Sunbucks' products don't compare to the effects of Spirit Vitalizing tea. People have started to feel restless, almost like they're slipping back to their old, uninspired, pre-BrewHeaven selves. Thankfully, Spirit Vitalizing tea isn't addictive, or we'd be witnessing mass chaos in Indra."]

Evan absorbed the details of each report, his expression unwavering as he processed every detail. Losses, opposition, betrayals—all these things weren't something he hadn't prepared for—he had anticipated them. His eyes sharpened and a glint of determination surfaced in his eyes as he leaned forward, his voice a low murmur.

"And this is only the first phase of their attack," he mused. "They'll soon begin testing our defenses. And when it won't satisfy them, they won't hesitate to send in Superhumans. Naval warships and submarines are already positioned along the borders, trying to ensure we don't escape."

He rubbed his chin, a thoughtful resolve crossing his face. Despite the grim report, a glint of something unbreakable lay in his gaze.

But Evan was far from worried.

"Aurora," he said, a hint of amusement in his tone, "I think we've had enough rest. It's time to shift gears and move forward."

A sinister smile played at the corner of his lips as his resolve crystallized. "We've gathered all the evidence we need, haven't we? Let's throw it all out. It's time to take the reins in our control."

Aurora's voice rang with clarity and agreement.

[Yes, Sir. It's time we implement Code Annex and take over.]

"Exactly," Evan said, his voice carrying a quiet menace. "It's time to start the farce."

_____

The whole of Indra seemed to be in uproar. Across the sprawling cityscape, lights flickered in homes and offices as unrest spread, but one bachelor apartment stood particularly still in the heart of the commotion.

Harris, a news anchor with a reputation for zealously chasing headlines, stumbled into his dimly lit apartment after a grueling day.

Normally, his lifestyle afforded him a certain indulgence—he'd often spend the evening with an escort or drown the monotony in luxury or both. But tonight, exhaustion claimed him, and all he wanted was something to revive his spirit.

He made his way to the kitchen, hunting for his usual late-night energy kick. After rummaging through the cabinets, he finally sighed in frustration.

"Damn! Life has gotten bleak without tea from BrewHeaven," he muttered.

The government's crackdown on Next Gen was an open secret, something everyone speculated about. And being someone who'd often spun narratives and pointed fingers at companies and officials alike, Harris felt the irony; he now understood the irreplaceable boost BrewHeaven's drinks had provided. It had become the fuel that kept the nocturnal workforce alive—and now, he felt the loss more keenly than ever.

"Work is work," he muttered, grimacing as he settled for a cup of lackluster coffee. With heavy steps, he trudged over to his couch, cup in hand, and switched on the television, all while his eyelids were barely open thanks to the exhaustion.

But the moment the screen flickered to life, he blinked in confusion and his grogginess seemed to have evaporated into thin air. His fingers froze midair, the cup hovering halfway to his lips.

A video was playing—one he had never seen before.

In the footage, Amit Sharma, the high-ranking government minister, stood in a dimly lit office. His face was etched with greed glimmering under the low light. He glanced around cautiously before turning to a subordinate.

"Make sure the money moves discreetly this time. Wire it through the offshore accounts, and tell the contractors to keep quiet. If they speak up…" Amit's voice trailed off, a sinister smile curving his lips. "They won't be around for long enough to regret it."

The screen cut to black, only to jump to another scene of Amit Sharma, but this time in a different setting. Amit was seated at his desk, talking to a colleague with a hard, calculating gaze.

"The protesters… handle them however you see fit," his voice was cold, devoid of any empathy. "False charges, intimidation, even force if needed. I don't want anything disrupting my plans."

Harris felt a chill prickle down his spine. His trembling hand reached for the remote, wanting to change the channel, desperate for something familiar to break the unease building in his chest.

But when he switched on to the next channel, another video began to play.

Now, a roundtable of ministers sat in a dimly lit room, their faces grim and determined. Harris leaned forward, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, his heart pounding in his chest.

One of the ministers leaned forward, his voice a low murmur. "Next Gen's technology could reshape the world," he said. "We can't let them keep it under their control. We need to dismantle their operation and take what's valuable. By any means necessary."

Another minister nodded. "If we seize their assets and tech, we'd be unstoppable. People will understand in time."

Harris's hands trembled violently, and the coffee cup slipped from his grasp, shattering as it hit the floor. He felt a surge of horror, a gut-wrenching realization wash over him as he stared at the screen, his eyes wide open.

"What… what the fuck is this?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

Little did Harris know that he wasn't the only one who was seeing these broadcasts.

All across Indra, people were watching these videos in stunned silence, the shocking revelations unfolding before them like a fevered nightmare. For Harris, and for countless others, this night would be one they could never be able to forget.

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