2023-10-20: Hyphenate
- Log: 2023-10-20: Hyphenate
- Cast: Banagher Links, Wong Lee (NPC), Alberto Vist (NPC)
- Where: Von Braun City
- Date: U.C. 0097 10 20
- Summary: After the Rainbow, life goes on, leading Banagher Links to places even stranger than the Resonant Plane beyond time. Finding a balance between his heritage and his ideals will be more complicated than ever, now that he has been crowned Chairman of the Vist Foundation and majority stockholder of Anaheim Electronics.
Within an empty room with a table, Alberto Vist sat with his legal counsel. His hands were not cuffed, despite the fact he was being held in a jail. He'd been a cooperative, model prisoner the whole time. There was nothing malicious about him rolling on his Aunt Martha, he simply told prosecutors over and over that he wished to take responsibility for his actions.
And thus, was he offered a plea deal. No prison time. A hefty fine. Community Service. It was a good deal, 'too good' he thought, as he sat sedately in his blue suit, with his ascot. It felt less like taking responsibility, and more like away with murder. A function of his privilege, and a bigger fish in his Aunt Martha.
When the prosecutor entered, flanked by someone in a Cathedra uniform, Alberto gave him a curious look, but didn't say anything, as the Prosecutor sat down, opening his brief case. "Thank you for coming today. I know we were trying to offer you the best deal possible but, circumstances have changed."
Alberto's Legal Counsel, an elderly man, looked at the prosecutor with a certain displeasure, "How so?" The other man cleared his throat, then looked sideways at the man with him, "Cathedra has requested a significant alteration of terms, based on the acquisition and restructuring of Anaheim electronics. In part, as they feel my office was being far too lenient."
The other man, with his hands laced behind his back, calmly stated, "After a legal audit of your testimony, and the evidence, it is clear that the original plea bargain would offer you untoward influence upon Benerit Group company interests going forward. To speak plainly, we have no intention of allowing a criminal of your magnitude to simply go back to the lifestyle they are accustomed to."
"And what /bearing/ does that have upon the law?" Alberto's attorney asked, as the man calmly stated, "I was being plain with our motivations, our audit revealed numerous charges that were being improperly applied. As such we have done our due diligence in /informing/ them of these errors."
The prosecutor cleared his throat, "We'll submit the relevant motions soon enough. However, it is necessary to alter the plea agreement. While I have the specifics in writing, the broad strokes are that you'll be required to step down as both an executive of Anaheim Electronics, and the head of the Vist Foundation. You will forswear all claim to your inheritance, save for the Summer home your father kept on Side 6." Again the Prosecutor looked at the man from Cathedra, and the other man continued where he left off- "And you will acknowledge Banagher Links as Cardeas Vist's son, in writing."
Alberto's lawyer was all but shaking with rage, his tone livid, "Do you truly believe we will accept these /outrageous/ terms? Where did either of you go to law school!? You think the judge won't have you sanctioned for-" He was stopped, by the touch of Alberto's hand upon his.
Alberto Vist looked forward at the prosecutor, and simply asked, "Where do I sign?" As his attorney leaned over and whispered, "Don't be a /FOOL/! This will never stand up to any scrutiny-!" Alberto glanced at him, then as the prosecutor picked up the pen, he began to sign, "You're not the first person to call me a fool, and perhaps all of you are even correct..."
He smiles tiredly, as he puts the pen down, "... but not for the right reasons. After the things I saw? After what she showed me? Returning to business as usual just feels... empty." And as he stared at his hand, his right hand, still feeling the phantom weight of a gun, he rubbed it, as if examining it for gun residue, or blood...
"My hands are... not suited to hold that kind of power."
As he laid it back down on the table, he actually managed a smile.
"Some new blood? Might be exactly what the Vist Foundation needs."
-=-=-
It was just one of many messages that Delling Rembran received on a daily basis, save that it was marked with PRIORITY.
'Alberto Vist has accepted the terms of the updated plea agreement.'
He did not bother sending acknowledgement to the brief blurb. It was not a small matter, but it did not require any further attention. Instead he busied himself examining Anaheim Electronics' restructuring plan.
The man did not smile, but he briefly contemplated the irony of that man being subjected to the influence of a Newtype teenager.
-=-=-
"Banagher! Email! Banagher! Email!"
Now well enough to have been moved back to his own quarters on Magallanica, Banagher looks up from his datapad. "Hmm? Thanks, Haro. Let's see what it is..."
Switching apps, Banagher taps on the newest message in his inbox. As he reads, his eyes grow wide. Shell shocked, he began to text message Leina, along with an attachment.
>Do you think this is real?
Missed call after missed call notification suddenly appeared, causing him to go goggle eyed at the sheer number of them. -=-=-
"So you see, Mister Links, your claim to leadership is ironclad." Several men in suits sit across a table from Banagher, in one of Magallanica's nicer meeting rooms. "The leadership of the Vist Foundation may only be passed down to a direct family member. Now, with your half-brother legally recognizing you, and your aunt indefinitely... otherwise engaged, you are the only viable candidate."
"Um," says Banagher. "What does -- this all mean for me? I don't know how to run a company. I was in school to learn engineering. I've never even thought about how to run a business."
Not to mention one with such a checked history. With what the Vist Foundation has done to Banagher personally, and the people he loves, it feels like a slap in the face to be asked to /serve/ the company now.
Another suited man speaks up. "If I may, Mister Links. Your studies at Anaheim Electric are yet another reason you would be a good fit for Chairman. It will make the Vist Foundation appear more grounded! You clearly know the company inside and out for having started as a humble engineering student."
"There would be very little in the way of day-to-day responsibilities. You can rely on the board of directors for that." A third man, in yet another suit. They all look so similar. "Just make a few appearances, shake a few hands, and collect a /generous/ paycheck."
Banagher looks down. He's terribly under dressed for this meeting. He didn't exactly bring his suit to the Ra Mari II, leaving him with only a nice pair of jeans and the fluffy hoodie Leina gave him last Christmas. Out of his depth and nervous, Banagher fidgets in his seat.
"...can I think it over for a few days?"
-=-=-
It's strange, standing at the head of a boardroom, holding the sharp gaze of so many powerful men and women. This is nothing Banagher was ever prepared for.
But then again, has he been prepared for anything he's faced?
"The Vist Foundation has used a cover of art dealing to get away with illegal activities since its founding." Banagher's voice is firm. Despite how out-of-place he feels, he's thought long and hard about what he wants to say to these people. "It's committed atrocities, and destroyed countless lives. That ends now."
There is no response from the board. Banagher feels a trickle of sweat fall down the back of his neck, absorbed into the fabric of the suit Leina gave him, a lifetime ago. The thought of her -- of what the Vist Foundation did to her -- steels Bangaher's resolve.
"I intend on letting the Foundation continue in an official capacity as art dealers. It's a worthwhile pursuit, and it will open doors for our new main objective."
A breath. A second's pause. They're not going to like this.
"Charity." Banagher continues before anyone can interrupt him. "There's no way we can ever make up for all the suffering we've caused, but we're going to do everything we can. I've outlined a number of priorities to focus on as we go forward, namely revitalizing Colonies that have fallen into poverty and disrepair."
Various alert sounds can be heard from the board members' phones and pads. They've each been emailed a copy of Banagher's plan at exactly the right moment. Mentally, the young man thanks Haro for his assistance.
Now, to see how the board responds.
...
Each second the silence stretches out for, the urge to say more grows more powerful. Did they not understand? Maybe if he explained a little more clearly, or found the right words...
"I think I speak for all my colleagues," A lean man in a terribly expensive suit speaks up. "When I say how /impressed/ we are, Mister Links-Vist, with your kindness and generosity. It's a hopeful sight for someone in your generation to have such... pure motivations."
And with that, the man begins to clap. A beat later, his fellow board members join him. Banagher's heart leaps at the applause. They really liked his ideas? He thought this would be way, way harder. The young man begins to smile, but as he opens his mouth...
"With that said, I move we proceed with the agenda for the day. All those in favor?" All the seated men and women raise their hands, and the lean man nods. "First of all, the issue of our assets on Industrial-7..."
Hollow, bitter realization slowly dawns on the young man. They were just humoring him. They never had any intention of moving forward with his ideas. Slowly, Banagher takes his seat, the humiliated pounding of his heart drowning out the voices of the board members.
It won't be that easy to ignore him, Banagher vows to himself. He'll grind the entire Vist Foundation to a screeching halt if that's what it takes to change things.
-=-=-
Staring up at the ceiling, Banagher spins in the chair. His chair, he supposes. In the middle of his office, behind a desk that is almost certainly worth more money than the apartment he and his mother shared in his childhood.
Really, the office itself is probably as large as that run-down apartment. Though all of Martha Vist-Carbine's belongings have been cleared out before Banagher arrived, he feels as if her ghost remains. Casting his gaze around the office, he can almost picture the hateful woman. Pacing on phone calls, looking out the grand floor-to-ceiling windows...
"Ugh." Banagher mutters, swiveling his chair back around to face the door. He's going to have to bring in White Base posters or something to exorcise Martha's memory.
Banagher doesn't have long to wait before a polite knock announces his next visitor. "Come in!" He calls, then winces. Is that what you're supposed to say to a secretary?
"Mister Links-Vist." A primly dressed woman, her hair pulled back into a conservative bun, opens the door and bows lightly. "Your 2PM meeting is here."
With a slightly awkward smile, Banagher nods. He's told her before she really doesn't have to bow or anything, but she insists... "Thank you, Ms. Sato, um. Please show him in."
Another bow, and the secretary steps away, returning with Banagher's guest. Standing, Banagher extends his hand to the newcomer, trying to offer a friendly smile.
"Thank you for coming to meet with me today. I know you're busy." Banagher sits back down, encouraging his guest to take a seat in front of his desk. "I wanted to talk to you about my ideas for Anaheim Electronics moving forward."
He learned the hard way how difficult it is to present radical change to a board room. Maybe starting with an individual will be better?
"Cathedra has banned the production and research of Psychoframe technology. Psychoframe tech made up a lot of Anaheim's current research and offerings, so we obviously need to find something new to offer, especially with becoming a part of the Benerit Group."
Banagher taps at the top of his desk. It comes to life, showing the outline of the young man's plans. Various schematics spread out across the screen, joined to a central concept by lines of green light. Curiously, all the schematics offered seem to be...
"Civilian craft. Designed for everything from search and rescue to construction to exploration." Banagher says, proudly. "There's hardly anyone working on non-weaponized mobile suits in today's market, but the need for them is pretty constant. If we put the money that would've gone to Psychoframe R&D toward innovations in the civilian sector, I think we could really make a difference."
Learning from his failure with the Vist Foundation's board, Banagher has tried to angle his pitch at least /somewhat/ toward profit. In reality, he couldn't care less about making money. If he had his way, he'd shut down all weapons manufacturing today, but there's too many company bylaws in the way.
It's only when his guest speaks that Banagher might realize, that he never took a seat. The new CEO of Anaheim Electronics stood in an immaculate lavender suit, his hair parted to the side, and there was a scowl upon his face more and more that he spoke.
Banagher might get the sense that he failed some test, a test he didn't know was being conducted, when he began to speak to him first about his proposals without simply being quiet and listening to the man.
"Civilian craft." He echoed, clearly annoyed, "Yes I do imagine that would be your proposal, seeing as your actions have brought this company so very low. I believe in coming in person for such matters, but I can see already I won't be staying for long." His eyes were steel as they pierced into Banagher, "I can imagine you feel you worked very hard on everything you just recited to me, believing you could make it worth my while. You, the Newtype Child, who fell into a top of the line mobile suit of one of our most secret projects. Certainly your 'rebellion' against your family and the Federation Forces must have made you feel powerful."
After letting that settle in, he told him simply, "Once, I knew another boy like you, who believed himself above the direction of others. But after he received proper 'Correction', he became a model soldier - with a wisdom and insight that even I came to respect in the exercise of his abilities for the greater good."
"But you? You - are no Kamille Bidan." Wong Lee drives home, as he inspects the cuffs of his suit, as if half expecting something, "And since you've learned nothing save how to tear this world apart at the seams for the sake of your own selfishness, then all of your 'gifts'?"
One last look, "Entirely undeserved. An utter waste in your hands." A deep pause, "Don't call upon me again. You've brought ruin enough to this company without me having to listen to your inane ideas."
The second his guest enters the room, Banagher's heart sinks. There's an aura about this man that promises... discontentment, perhaps. Adjusting himself in his seat, the young man continues with his proposal, speaking through the man's growing scowl.
Even if Wong Lee didn't make his annoyance clear in his voice, Banagher could feel it radiating from the man in waves. As Lee was quiet during Banagher's proposal, the young man stays silent as the new CEO speaks. A year ago, perhaps, his steel-tipped disappointment would have been enough to pierce Banagher's heart.
But now, it only bolsters his will. Banagher remains still, despite a slight frown on his face, determined to wait out Lee's tirade. It isn't until the older man drops a familiar name that Banagher reacts.
"You know Kamille?" He interrupts, golden eyes wide, allowing the flecks of green surrounding his pupils to take in the light in their odd, almost-reflective way. "Wait."
Correction. Model soldier. Banagher connects the dots, and his frown deepens. Slowly, he gets to his feet as well -- ignoring the fact that Wong Lee is the taller of the pair.
"Mister Lee." Banagher begins, keeping his voice soft. For as much as he wants to shout at this man, he recognizes that would only make things worse. After this meeting, he'll ask Kamille who the hell this guy is, but for now, Banagher needs Lee on his side.
"You're right. Dr. Bidan is an accomplished, incredible person. I don't know if I'll ever reach his level. I'm incredibly lucky to know him." A moment's consideration. "I'm inexperienced, and I did fall into this position by chance. I never meant for any of this to happen. All I ever wanted was to study."
Banagher's gaze is steady. Under the surface, his heart pounds. How can Audrey do this sort of thing every single day?
"But even so."
"This world has been torn apart long before I got to it. And it's not going to stop with me. We can cling to what used to be, or we can move forward. Cathedra, the Benerit Group, even the Federation, all think they can decide the future of this company, of this world."
Banagher gives Wong Lee an appraising look. "I'm not willing to just accept that. I don't think you're the type of man to accept their judgment either. If it were up to you, Anaheim would do whatever it takes to stay profitable. You've worked your way up the corporate ladder to have that power."
"But you don't have it." Banagher says, steel entering his own gaze. "I do. And you hate that, don't you, Mister Lee? All the power you've been chasing just fell into my lap." He looks down, tracing a fingertip along the edge of his desk. "Another Newtype Child with the keys to the kingdom."
A slight tilt of Banagher's head as he meets Lee's gaze again. "As majority stock holder, I have a lot of options. Especially with the Vist Foundation behind me. I /am/ powerful. I /am/ gifted... But I'm also inexperienced. I need to learn how to manage these things I've stumbled my way into. I need someone to manage Anaheim Electric while I do, and I need someone trustworthy to learn from."
"I was hoping you could be that person, Mister Lee. Especially seeing as you know my mentor. Personally, I think we have a lot to offer each other." Banagher smiles in that same polite, almost-sharp expression he's seen Audrey turn on negotiators. "But let me be clear. I'm not your soldier. If you ever try to 'Correct' me, or anyone at this company, I'll have you prosecuted."
"I'm willing to be your equal." Banagher offers. "Really, it's that, or I express to the other share holders how little /confidence/ I have in you."
"So..." The young Newtype sits back down in his chair. "Please sit down, Mister Lee."
Wong Lee doesn't answer him on knowing Kamille, it's apparent enough within his words. Certainly so, and he's about to turn and leave when Banagher says his name. While he's worked up enough to still do that, he stands and listens, fingertips clenching and unclenching in his left hand. The child deciding to speak now amounts to back talk for him.
But still he listens, because he is a child with so much power - undeserved within his eyes. On this battlefield, he should never be allowed this much leverage over an adult.
His eyes subtly widen at what he says, before they narrow, as he speaks of the power that /Banagher/ has, that Wong Lee doesn't. Which jabs the point of a needle straight into the wound.
"You think I don't see you?" He says with a sense of accusation, disgust, "Pretending to be polite, proper, but offering only veiled threats. You're just another upjumped thug, brazenly waving around your power like a child who picked up a sword."
"Profit." He gives him a disgusted look, "You stupid, stupid child - profit was always a means to an end. You understand so very little, judging us by the fallen Empress and her lickspittle, and never realizing it was your /father/ who sat in that chair before you."
His gaze is like flint, against the steel of the atmosphere of this room.
"You tore down everything he built, in your foolish little rampage, believing you were carrying out his /will/. All the while chasing the skirt of the Zabi Princess and that Ashta chit with no care whatsoever for the ideals that he entrusted to this company."
It's impossible for him not to think of Judau in this moment, he was always chasing his little sister too without a care for his responsibilities.
He gestures sharply with a hand, "Do you think HE wanted this to happen to this company? And then after you left nothing but smoldering ashes behind, you point the torch that burned it down at ME and plead ignorance on how to use it."
A dismissive wave of his hand, as he turns to leave, making for the door, "By all means, try to throw around your weight at the board during investor meetings - see where that gets you. But I won't be indulging your selfishness again on my personal time."
Opening the door, a single hand grasps his lapel as he looks at him, "As if I needed any more proof of your immaturity. If you had even the smallest inkling of responsibility or shame you'd be /begging/ for my 'correction' right now."
Banagher holds onto his temper, his patience, through much of Lee's rant. He doesn't mind the insults, or the comparisons to his father, not really. It's nothing he hasn't heard before. Cardeas Vist's deathbed repentance may have proven his love of his son, but that doesn't absolve the man of his earlier decisions. If Banagher is tearing down Cardeas' work, it's for the best.
…but Wong Lee chooses to turn his vitriol to the women in Banagher's life, and the young Newtype's face darkens. Despite his smaller stature, a sort of intensity radiates from him, psychic pressure growing as Lee mentions Audrey, then Leina.
Perhaps Banagher would like to emulate Judas Ashta in this moment. Jumping onto his ludicrously expensive desk and punching Wong Lee in the jaw is /extremely/ tempting.
"Mister Lee." Banagher's voice is extremely soft, a contrast to the near-palpable anger swirling around him. "I'll – ask politely. Keep my girlfriends' names out of your mouth. If you're determined to see me as a destructive, antagonistic force…"
Green-flecked-gold eyes bore into Wong Lee. Banagher's mind whirls with Possibility, with the sheer weight of his experiences. Has he really endured so much to be treated this way by some coward businessman? Fae noises reach his ears, the siren-song of the Resonant Plane.
Banagher cuts himself off, taking a breath. No. He won't sink to Lee's level. The pressure in the room eases.
"...I guess we'll see which of us is right, in the end." Staying seated, he continues. "I won't be calling on you again."
With one last barb, Lee leaves the room. Banagher sinks down in his chair. He's still, and silent, for long moments, before standing and walking to the back of his office. A drawer is opened – Banagher pulls out his old, battered Anaheim Electronics Industrial College jacket. With a sigh, he lets his suit jacket fall to the floor, replacing it with the familiar old jacket.
"That really could've gone better." He mutters to himself, looking out through the enormous windows over the cityscape before him. The jacket is comfortingly worn, and though the smell of ash never quite washed out, Banagher takes comfort in its presence. "I'm really in over my head now…"
If Wong Lee won't serve as Banagher's mentor, where else can he turn? Slowly, the young Newtype presses his forehead against the glass pane. He needs someone who won't try and take advantage of him. Someone less caustic than the awful man who was just present. There must be someone else…