empire

1 | the very best timing

THEY WERE GOING far too slow for his liking.

"Floor it."

"Y–yes, sir!"

The car wheezed a bit, gave a small jump, and then zoomed off faster than before, buildings, trees and New York city's skyline swimming past in a blur.

Victor Kim's hand tightened into a furious fist, his nails digging into his palm to form painful crescents. The silver Cartier Santos on his wrist, a precious memorabilia his father was remembered by, struggled to hold its form as the corded muscles in his arm moved. But given his current predicament, Victor couldn't care less about the man's wrist watch when he was facing the risk of losing his dad's company.

Yes. Kim's Weapons Systems, the largest arms manufacturer in today's American market that Victor had been working on expanding to his mother's native country like his father had dreamed of, stood at the risk of taking a fall, today. A fall that would demolish its foundation and ruin Victor and his father's legacy, forever.

And it was all courtesy of the company's very 'able' lawyers who had stepped into the court today to take care of an extremely trivial lawsuit. Because instead of getting rid of the charges and getting away with the bare minimum compensation like Victor had hoped would happen – like it always did happen – they were somehow roped into discussing an old, buried case that could really destroy everyone involved if it spun out of their hands. And given how this was brought about, Victor was really starting to suspect the sturdiness of said hands, too.

As soon as he had gotten the news of what happened at the court, delivered to him by a stuttering intern the law firm's CEO had put up to the job, Victor had left his office to drive down to the firm and have a word with the man himself.

L&N law firm's CEO and senior partner, Dave Milton, had been hired as the KWS's legal advisor by Victor's father, some twenty-five years ago, when the guy had been fresh out of law school. Victor's father had created L&N for the guy, which was now a place brimming with the most corrupt and cunning lawyers of the country, flourishing with success borne out of the hefty donations it received from the company Victor now led, and the resulting fame that came from legally representing such a massive conglomerate.

And what was this fucker giving the company in return?

Victor released a grunt of frustration at his thoughts, running a hand down his face in fury. Lifting his head to look out the window, his shoulders eased a bit from their hunched up state when he realized they'd entered the neighborhood.

And then he was bounding out of his Lexus before it had even fully stopped in front of the sparkling building full of shitty people. He didn't pause as he tore through the entrance hall, making people jump left and right to step out of his way, didn't even slow down as he shouldered his way into the elevator and made everyone else empty it with a sharp glare – only coming to a halt when he was finally at the top-most floor of the building and outside of the automatic doors, waiting for them to sense his presence and part, his glare unwavering at the two frozen figures he saw past the glass.

When the doors finally gave way, his steps were as calm as his head was in turmoil; and he sized Dave Milton's pathetic form up and down with derision. He was an average looking white man, five feet something, gray-ish eyes and blonde-ish hair.

"S–sir," he began with a wince, eyes following Victor when he kept circling Milton without a word. "I... I can explain..."

Could he? Victor halted, tilting his head to take in the sweat beading on Milton's forehead and the slight tremble in his hands. The man was scared shitless. He couldn't explain shit.