The Dinner Incident 1
Aldrich sat in the cushiony confines of a luxury private airjet. It was ARMA Black-grade, the color designated for specialty commissions based manufacturing for higher end clientele. ARMA was leagues behind Imugi as far as the higher end of their tech went, but the thing about ARMA was that it had no real pride.
It did not care whether it sold to the lowest beggar or the richest wealthmonger. It tried its best to satisfy both. Granted, there was such a thing as stretching yourself out too thin, and if ARMA had focused on trying to satisfy everyone on every socioeconomic rung, it would have failed long ago.
ARMA succeeded because it knew how to hedge its bets for expansion. It knew when to fill in power vacuums at the right moments.