1 Prologue Pt.1

DING.

The elevator doors slid open to the sound of a digital bell, and a man in a lavish business suit stepped out into the marble-infested hallway.

Even though his clothes were made of the finest fabric money can buy, the man didn't give off a shred of elegance having his suit wrapped around his ridiculously oversized body.

Each of his steps was accompanied by a dense thump and a heavy breath as he strode down the busy hall on the highest floor of his skyscraper.

The people going around about their days noticed a tarp suddenly being draped over the atmosphere with the man's entrance. They greeted him with silent and revering nods, only to be utterly ignored.

He marched through the building with such pomposity it was as if he owned the place, but in the literal sense, that was exactly the case.

A neatly-dressed woman in light makeup caught a glimpse of the man. She pulled away from her conversation with a receptionist and walked toward him.

"There you are, Mr. Kimmons," the woman said, joining the man's stroll through the hallway.

"What do you want, Alice?" The man groaned in a deep, unpleasant tone.

The woman took out her phone from her pocket and pushes her red glasses up her slender nose ridge. "It's almost 9:15, sir, you soon have a meeting with delegates from the EPA regarding Kimmons Corp's environmental impacts."

"Cancel it," Mr. Kimmons said without batting an eye to his secretary.

"I am sorry, sir, but this is an impor-"

Mr. Kimmons stomped to a stop and snapped over to the woman beside him.

"Are you deaf?! Or do you women really just have shits for brains?! I said cancel it!" He bellowed, sending a jolt through Alice's body and everyone else around them.

The air seemed to have frozen.

"Y-Yes, sir…" Alice mumbled quietly and backed away.

Mr. Kimmons glanced around the hallway, causing the passersby to avert their gazes and continue on, pretending as if nothing had just happened.

No one dared saying a word.

Having taken a hit to his mood, Mr. Kimmons kept on making his way deep into the hallway, passing by packed conference rooms that were filled with constant chatter.

Every single person in this 81-floor building was busy at work. They had to be. After all, Kimmons Corporation reeled in a revenue of over 200 billion USD in the past year, and Mr. Kimmons was the reason behind the astounding success of his business empire, well, his father's twenty-million-dollar loan was.

Mr. Kimmons stopped in front of a closed door. Out of all the other doors made from exquisite mahogany in the hallway, this one was especially decorated.

The billion-dollar man fidgeted a little with his bright red tie while tensing up his facial muscles to form what resembled a smile. Slowly, he turned the doorknob and pushed it open to the other side.

Like the outside had suggested, the interior of this room was also luxurious. A crystal chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, illuminating the vicinity in a gentle, white light. Enormous TV screens were mounted onto the sidewalls and displayed ambient footage of running waterfalls. The ceiling and the walls themselves, along with the majority of this building, were plated in pristine white marble. If heaven had an entrance lobby, this would be an image to expect.

On the authentic Italian leather couches in the middle of the room sit three people, two men, and one woman. They were all past their prime with heads of silver, but one look at their general conduct was enough to make one realize that their age meant nothing to their statuses.

At Mr. Kimmons's entrance, the three of them stood up to offer handshakes.

"Good morning, Governor Mullins, Senator Harrison, Justice Kinsman. I am glad you've accepted my invitation," Mr. Kimmons greeted.

"Morning, Mr. Kimmons. This is quite a room you've prepared for us," the old woman said with a smile as strained as any one of them.

"Oh, but what is this compared to the Supreme Court under your rule, Justice?"

The four of them shared a reserved chuckle and took their seats.

It may not look it, but there was absurd power in this room.

Getting an audience with each of these three outside of the professional capacity would be difficult without personal connections, let alone arranging a meeting with all three, but connections were not something Mr. Kimmons needed to fret about. He was at a level where he could invite a governor, a senator, and a supreme court justice for a morning chit-chat without telling them the reason.

"Now," Mr. Kimmons began his speech, "I understand that your time is extremely valuable, so I will cut straight to the chase. My company has found a cluster of platinum group metal deposits, and I would like to make use of it."

The governor furrowed his eyebrows. "That's it?" He asked. "Well, buy it from whoever owns that land and take a go at it. Why do you need us? If it's more subsidized loans that you want, then I am sorry, I can't do that for you."

The governor said that, but he was well aware that Mr. Kimmons wasn't someone who waste their time. The other two were thinking the same thing. There was something else here.

"No, no no," Mr. Kimmons said while waving his hand and propping himself up on the couch, "I don't need money. It's the land that I want. You see, I can't simply buy it from whoever the owner is, because it's owned by the federal government."

"Federal land? Where is it?" The governor asked.

"Hishaabe."

"The Indigenous reserve?"

Mr. Kimmons nodded without saying a word. The room fell quiet, and the three government officials turned their heads to look at one another.

"You want to build a platinum mine on a reserve?" Senator Harrison asked, bewildered by what he heard.

"A platinum mine with a projected annual revenue of 2.5 billion dollars," Mr. Kimmons specified.

The room fell quiet once again.

Needless to say, 2.5 billion was not a number to be casually thrown around.

"Mr. Kimmons, you do understand that if we give you special privileges to operate on federal land, that would be collusion, yes?" The justice asked.

"Yes, fully."

"And that you could spark an outcry from the local community and the masses?"

"Yes, which is why I am asking you to take care of that for me."

"You are asking us to take a part in your crime?" Justice Kinsman scoffed. Being a judge of the highest court in the nation, she at least had some sense of morality.

"Yes, but of course, you won't be uncompensated," Mr. Kimmons said, "The estimated profit margin of the platinum mines should be around 25%, and I am willing to donate 0.2% of the profit to each of you per annual basis as a way to say thanks."

"And that works out to be…" Senator Harrison said.

"One and a quarter million," the governor mumbled, more to himself than to answer the senator's question.

Even the justice had nothing to say anymore.