The next few days passed in an eerie calm.
Well, calm if one ignored the occasional visits from the police.
Their purpose was clear: to investigate the deaths of Campbell and Charles. But Nolan had grown increasingly adept at handling their questions. Each time, he managed to appear calm, confident, and above suspicion, giving them nothing useful.
In the spare time he carved out for himself, Nolan split his focus. Part of it went toward training his body, forging strength and endurance to match his ambitions. The other part, however, was devoted to absorbing new knowledge knowledge granted to him by the mysterious System.
The System Store was filled with treasures.
He scrolled through the catalog, eyes glinting at the endless list of advanced technologies:
SAR-01 Combat Robot, from Kill Command, valued at 1.3 billion Tech Points.
SAR-02 Combat Robot, also from Kill Command, worth 1.7 billion.
AMP Mk-6 Amplified Mobility Platform, from Avatar, 3.5 billion.
APU Exoskeleton Combat Unit, from The Matrix, 4.2 billion.
Sentinel Machine Octopus, from The Matrix, 4.2 billion.
Predator War Armor, from Predator, 5.7 billion.
T-800 Terminator, from The Terminator, 15 billion.
Red Queen AI, from Resident Evil, 17 billion.
Crimson Typhoon Jaeger, from Pacific Rim, 20 billion.
Vanguard-Class Titan, from Titanfall, 57 billion.
Mechagodzilla, from Godzilla vs. Kong, a staggering 137 billion Tech Points.
And beyond those were technologies so advanced they demanded hundreds sometimes thousands of billions of points.
Nolan shook his head. Such things were little more than fantasy right now.
The higher the tier, the more complex the requirements became. It wasn't just the technology he'd need to replicate; it was the materials too. And materials varied drastically between worlds.
Take Mechagodzilla, for example. The catalog listed it at 137 billion points, but the reality was far harsher. Even if he purchased the schematics, Earth's existing resources were utterly insufficient. He'd be forced to buy the necessary exotic materials directly from the System Store, multiplying the cost to astronomical levels.
For Nolan, such purchases were out of reach for the foreseeable future. As for the even more advanced technologies, he half-joked to himself that even if he sold the entire planet, it still wouldn't be enough to cover the price.
Still, the dreaming fueled his determination. One step at a time.
The calm days were short-lived.
While Nolan was busy training and planning, Mors had been making moves of his own.
The Irish mob's financial handler wasn't one to sit still. He wanted Nolan gone permanently and he wanted it done quickly. Delay meant danger.
Nolan, however, played his role well. His responses were always ambiguous. He neither agreed to the mob's demands nor rejected them outright. It was a deliberate tactic, stringing Mors along, sowing impatience.
And it worked. Mors' patience was fraying by the day.
Finally, after nearly two weeks, Simon Phillip Nolan's trusted ally within the company paid him a secret visit in the middle of the night.
"Boss," Simon said quietly, eyes flicking toward the door as if expecting spies. "Everything is ready."
Nolan's lips curved into a smile.
"These past weeks, those bastards have been nothing but a headache. You've done well, Simon. In our new company, you'll have all the space you need to spread your wings."
Simon returned the smile, though his eyes betrayed a cautious hope. "I hope so. Who doesn't want to move forward, after all?"
"How much liquid capital do we have?" Nolan asked, shifting to business.
Simon let out a weary sigh. "I've already arranged the purchase of equipment we urgently need. It cost us around 340 million dollars and most of it is near-obsolete tech that other corporations were about to scrap. On top of that, we'll need an entire team of employees and research staff. Without them, we can't even begin to operate. So the real question isn't how much we have left it's how much more we'll need just to get this company running."
Nolan frowned slightly. He was the chairman in name, but Simon had handled almost everything over the past month. Nolan knew the limits of his expertise he was a technophile, not a businessman. He wasn't Tony Stark.
Still, he gave a reassuring nod. "Don't worry. I'll make sure we sell Rock Technologies for a good price."
Sure enough, only two days later, Mors and the board once again summoned him to a meeting.
Predictably, their "theme" hadn't changed.
"Nolan, I'll say this one last time," Mors declared, his tone dripping with menace. "Rock Technologies isn't something you can hold onto anymore. Even if you could, the company won't survive. There are thousands of employees depending on us. With all the scandals surrounding you, our reputation is in ruins. If you don't cooperate, we'll be forced to take… unpleasant measures."
Nolan's eyes sharpened, fixing Mors with a cold glare.
"I've heard this lecture so many times I could recite it myself. Yes, I know many of you have unsavory connections. I don't want things to spiral into a fight to the death. But don't expect me to just hand over my stake. People die for money; birds die for food. As long as you don't push me, we can negotiate."
Mors blinked, then froze. His instincts told him something had changed.
He's softening. He's willing to deal.
The corners of his mouth curled upward into a thin smile. "Then let's talk numbers. How much do you want?"
"Ten billion dollars," Nolan said flatly. "Transfer the money, and I'll walk away tomorrow."
The room fell silent.
Mors' face twitched. "You can't be serious."
Ten billion. For a collapsing company like Rock Technologies, it was absurd. Even if they sold the company outright, it wouldn't fetch that much. To pay Nolan that figure would be to bankrupt themselves on the spot.
Nolan smirked. "No? That's disappointing. I thought the Irish mob was rich. Fine. Let's call it five billion. That's still a fair price for Rock Technologies."
"Two billion," Mors snapped, his voice tight. "That's all your shares are worth."
Nolan studied him for a long moment. From the desperation flickering in Mors' eyes, he knew this was the man's ceiling. Any higher, and the mob's fragile finances would collapse.
"Fine," Nolan said at last. "Let's hope your funds arrive quickly."
"Of course."
Only once the meeting adjourned did Mors allow himself a breath. He felt gutted.
Damn Nolan Lock. The bastard knew how to negotiate. He'd anchored high, forced Mors into haggling, and somehow maneuvered him into paying the exact amount he'd been trying to avoid. Two billion dollars. Even the Irish mob couldn't conjure that overnight.
He glanced at the other board members. Their faces were sour, tight with frustration. None of them dared speak out, though. Mors' connections were far too dangerous.
As Nolan stepped out of the conference room, a genuine smile spread across his face.
Everything was finally falling into place.
By the time Mors realized that Simon had already stripped Rock Technologies bare, it would be far too late.