Chapter 43: Professional Presentation
The late afternoon sun slanted through the canyon-like streets, painting the glass towers in molten gold. Karn stood on the sidewalk, loosening his tie (not his usual silk one, but a serviceable navy stripe Pete had worn earlier). He watched Pete emerge from the revolving doors of the Aethelgard Biotech spire. Pete walked with a new kind of stride – not the hesitant shuffle of a Red Tag, nor Karn’s own effortless glide, but something purposeful, grounded. Confident. He still wore Karn’s spare suit, the charcoal wool hanging just a fraction too loosely on his broader frame, the shoulders needing an extra press. But he wore it well.
"You," Karn stated as Pete reached him, a slow grin spreading across his own face, "are a goddamn miracle worker." He clapped Pete on the shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath the borrowed wool. "Zephyr this morning? Flawless. Aethelgard just now? You didn't just pitch, Pete, you conducted a goddamn symphony. Their CEOs practically sprinted to their keyboards to email Sean. Thursday? Unprecedented." He shook his head, genuine awe mixing with fierce pride. "I knew you had it. But this… this is next level."
Pete flushed, ducking his head slightly, but a smile tugged at his lips. The bunny-ear energy of yesterday was still there, simmering beneath the surface of professionalism. "Just followed the strategy, Karn. The one we built." He adjusted the unfamiliar knot of the tie. "And the suit helped. Felt… less exposed." He didn't mean just physically.
Karn chuckled. "The suit suits you, farm boy. Seriously. Ready for dinner? I think we both earned a steak the size of your head."
"Lead the way," Pete agreed, falling into step beside Karn. The weight of the day’s triumphs sat warm in his chest, a stark contrast to the morning’s pre-presentation jitters. They walked towards the upscale district, the city’s hum a comfortable backdrop.
They were just passing the grand entrance of The Regent Hotel, its marble facade glowing softly, when a voice cut through the ambient noise. "Karn Thorne! As I live and breathe!"
A woman emerged from the hotel’s revolving doors, radiating effortless authority. Mid-forties, sharp bob of platinum hair, eyes the color of flint. She wore a power suit that probably cost more than Pete’s monthly salary, and a smile that was both welcoming and calculating. Victoria Vance, CEO of Nova Forge.
"Victoria!" Karn’s charming, boardroom-ready smile snapped into place. He smoothly intercepted her handshake. "Fancy meeting you here. Escaping the corporate war room?"
Victoria’s laugh was a polished chime. "Hardly! We’re deep in it. Off-site strategic retreat. Whole board and executives are sequestered right upstairs in the Azure Suite." She gestured vaguely towards the upper floors of the hotel. "Endless coffee and existential dread, you know the drill." Her sharp eyes flicked past Karn, landing on Pete. There was a flicker of surprise, swiftly masked by polite inquiry. "And who's your associate? New protege? He certainly fills out a suit."
Karn’s hand landed possessively on Pete’s shoulder. "Victoria Vongola, meet Pete Riverton. Pete, Ms. Vongola, the formidable captain of the Nova Forge starship." He paused, a beat of theatrical gravity. "And actually, Pete here is the man you should be talking to. He’s the architect behind the proposal we were planning to present to you later this week. The one your Acquisition VP’s been buzzing about."
Victoria’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "The Zephyr-Aethelgard mastermind? This young man?" Her gaze swept over Pete again, reassessing, the surprise giving way to intense interest. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Karn, darling, you are full of delightful surprises today. We're just about to break into the final session before dinner. Half the board is practically vibrating over the rumors of this proposal." She turned her laser focus fully on Pete. "Mr. Riverton, would you and Karn consider gracing us with a preview? Right now? Spare us another hour of budget projections? I promise excellent catering leftovers."
Pete froze. Right now? In Karn’s suit, with no laptop, no slides prepped for Nova Forge specifically? He felt the familiar prickle of anxiety, the phantom sensation of kneeling naked, the absurd weight of fluffy ears. He glanced at Karn, silently screaming Help! Karn’s smile never wavered, but his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on Pete’s shoulder.
"Victoria," Karn said smoothly, "that’s incredibly tempting. And bold." He turned to Pete, his voice lowering, layered with challenge and absolute confidence. "Pete? You’ve conquered two dragons already today. Think you have one more siege in you? Nova Forge… they’re the trickiest. But you know their pressure points better than anyone." His eyes held Pete’s, willing him to see the truth in it. "Right now? Off-the-cuff? That’s where legends are made." He paused, letting the dare hang in the air. "Or… we go eat steak."
The challenge, the trust burning in Karn’s eyes, cut through Pete’s panic like a knife. He remembered the Nova Forge files, the hours spent finding the cracks in their armor, the thrill of the strategic dismantle. He drew a deep breath, squaring his shoulders in Karn’s slightly-too-big jacket. He met Victoria Vongola’s expectant gaze. "Ms. Vongola," Pete said, his voice steady, clear, devoid of the rural lisp he sometimes fell back on when nervous. "We’d be honored to present. Lead the way."
Victoria Vongola’s smile became genuinely radiant. "Excellent! Follow me, gentlemen! Prepare to be impressed, Nova Forge!" She swept back towards the hotel entrance, leaving Karn and Pete momentarily alone on the sidewalk.
Karn leaned close, his voice a low murmur only Pete could hear. "Remember the Vespera mining fee vulnerability. Hammer that. Their CFO sweats bullets over it. And Pete?" He squeezed his shoulder again. "You’ve got this. Just like the penthouse. Just like Aethelgard. Own the room."
Pete nodded, the phantom bunny ears perking up with determination beneath his carefully combed hair. "Got it. Vespera. Own it." He followed Karn through the revolving doors, the plush, perfumed air of The Regent enveloping them.
The Azure Suite conference room was everything Pete expected and dreaded. Starkly modern. A vast, polished obsidian table reflecting the cold glare of recessed lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying sunset view. And seated around the table, a dozen pairs of eyes – sharp, skeptical, powerful, belonging to Nova Forge’s board and top executives. The air crackled with the fatigue of a long meeting and the sudden, unexpected buzz of Karn Thorne’s arrival with an unknown young man. The seating was subtly stratified: Purple Tag lanyards clustered at the head near Victoria, while a couple of grim-faced Red Tag assistants sat rigidly near the door, their eyes firmly fixed on their tablets.
Victoria took her seat at the head. "Everyone, a thrilling interruption! Allow me to introduce Karn Thorne, of course, and his colleague, Pete Riverton. Mr. Riverton is the architect behind the acquisition strategy that’s causing such a stir. They’ve graciously agreed to give us a preview."
A murmur rippled through the room. Skeptical glances landed on Pete. Who was this kid?
Karn stepped forward, effortlessly commanding attention. "Thank you, Victoria. Gentlemen, ladies," he acknowledged the room with a nod. "Pete Riverton has spearheaded our integration strategy for the Zephyr-Aethelgard consolidations. His insights on Nova Forge’s unique position… well, they’re what convinced us this is the path forward. Pete?" He gestured Pete towards the open space at the front of the room, near a large, blank monitor. "The floor is yours."
Pete walked forward. The borrowed shoes felt slippery on the polished floor. The suit sleeves covered his wrists, but he could feel the cool metal of the leather collar Karn had buckled on him just that morning – a grounding weight beneath the starched collar of Karn’s shirt. He stopped, turned to face the expectant, intimidating faces.
He took a breath. Vespera. Own the room.
"Thank you, Ms. Vongola, Mr. Thorne," he began, his voice clear and strong, projecting effortlessly to the back. No notes. No slides. Just him, the suit, and the strategy burned into his brain. "Nova Forge stands at a fascinating inflection point. Dominant in terrestrial fabrication, yes, but the future is shifting." He started pacing slowly, deliberately, his gaze sweeping across the faces. He talked about market trends, about the consolidation happening in their sector, about the strategic gaps Zephyr and Aethelgard filled. He spoke with the calm authority Karn had drilled into him, weaving a narrative that was both compelling and subtly threatening. He saw the CFO, a hawk-faced man, twitch slightly at the mention of supply chain diversification.
"And then," Pete continued, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping a fraction, inviting them in, "there's the Vespera question." He paused, letting the name hang. The CFO actually paled. "Your exclusive reliance on their rare earth minerals… it’s not just a cost vulnerability, gentlemen. It’s an existential choke point. Vespera’s recent… internal restructuring… signals uncertainty. Massive uncertainty." He detailed the rumored instability, the potential for export restrictions, the cascade effect on Nova Forge’s entire production line. He saw board members exchange worried glances. He painted the picture of collapse without Nova Forge joining the consolidation Karn’s company offered. He didn't pitch; he diagnosed. He prescribed.
He owned the room. Karn watched, arms crossed near the window, a fierce pride warming his chest, almost distracting him from the subtle problem. Pete moved with focused energy, gesturing to emphasize a point, turning to address someone specific.
Pete moved with focused energy, gesturing to emphasize a point, turning to address someone specific. His explanation of the Vespera mining consortium’s instability wasn't just numbers; it was a vivid picture of logistical collapse painted with precise, chilling strokes. He saw the hawk-faced CFO, Henderson, blanch further, fingers tightening around his pen until the plastic creaked. "The ripple effect," Pete concluded, his voice dropping to a resonant near-whisper that filled the sudden silence, "wouldn't just halt production lines; it would fracture your market confidence irreparably within six months." He let that hang, the weight of the unspoken alternative – Karn’s consolidation offer – thickening the air.
He scanned the room, meeting eyes that were now wide with dawning alarm rather than skepticism. The earlier fatigue had evaporated, replaced by intense, focused attention. "Our proposed integration," Pete continued, shifting gears seamlessly, "isn't merely a safety net. It’s a springboard." He outlined the collaborative supply chain diversification, the shared R&D potential, the economies of scale that would make Nova Forge not just stable, but dominant. He spoke for ten more minutes, weaving the threads of vulnerability and opportunity into an undeniable tapestry of necessity. As he delivered the final point about streamlined market penetration, his gaze swept the table one last time. Flawless. Professional. Utterly convincing.
"Thank you for your time and attention," Pete said, his voice firm yet respectful. He paused, a flicker of that earnest farm boy visible for just a second beneath the polished exterior. "I do apologize briefly," he added, a touch of formality returning, "for the unconventional timing of this preview." He pulled Karn’s spare phone from his suit pocket, unlocked it with a swift tap, and clicked send on a pre-drafted email. "Ms. Vongola," he stated clearly, "I've just sent you a comprehensive file. It contains the full presentation notes, detailed collaborative plans, and the finalized budget estimates we discussed." He slid the phone back into his pocket, the movement crisp. Vongola’s own tablet chimed softly. She glanced at the screen, her sharp eyes scanning rapidly, a slow smile spreading across her face as she absorbed the sheer completeness of the document. "Received, Mr. Riverton," she confirmed, her voice laced with genuine appreciation. She tapped her screen a few times. "And forwarded to all present." She looked up, her expression shifting to polite command. "If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Riverton, we'd appreciate a moment to confer privately with Mr. Thorne."
"Of course, Ms. Vongola," Pete responded instantly, giving a small, professional nod. He didn't hesitate, didn't glance at Karn for reassurance. He simply turned on his heel and walked calmly towards the suite’s heavy oak door, the borrowed suit jacket moving cleanly with his stride, the phantom weight of the hidden collar beneath his shirt the only reminder of his other reality. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him out of the room he had just commanded.
Inside the suddenly hushed suite, all eyes turned to Karn. He pushed off from the window frame where he'd been leaning, a model of composed observation. He walked the length of the obsidian table, his polished shoes silent on the plush carpet, moving with deliberate grace towards the center of the room, the exact spot Pete had occupied moments before. He stopped. Smiled. The air crackled, thick with unspoken questions and the electric charge of a deal hanging in the balance. Karn stood where Pete had stood, the architect of the strategy momentarily absent, leaving the executor to navigate the aftermath.
Karn stood where Pete had stood, the architect of the strategy momentarily absent, leaving the executor to navigate the aftermath. The silence stretched, thick as the espresso in the untouched cups littering the obsidian table. A dozen pairs of eyes, sharp with the residue of Pete’s devastating analysis, now fixed on Karn, awaiting the Purple Tag verdict.
Then, Victoria Vongola leaned back in her plush chair. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face, utterly transforming the room’s energy. "Alright, Karn," she said, her voice warm, losing its CEO edge, becoming almost conspiratorial. "Enough theatrics. Spill it. Who is that remarkable young man in your slightly-too-large suit?" She waved a dismissive hand towards the grim-faced Red Tag assistants near the door. "Relax, everyone. Close the official minutes. This is Karn Thorne we’re talking to. Family meeting rules apply."
The effect was instantaneous. Shoulders around the table visibly loosened. Postures shifted from rigid formality to relaxed interest. Henderson, the hawk-faced CFO whose pallor had deepened during Pete’s Vespera dissection, actually chuckled, setting his creaking pen down. Murmurs of recognition and familiarity replaced the tense silence.
Karn’s own posture softened, the polished executive mask dissolving into the easy confidence of someone among trusted allies. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of pure relief. "That," he said, pointing a thumb towards the door Pete had exited, "is Pete Riverton. And Victoria," his gaze locked with his former mentor, "he’s the reason we’re pulling this consolidation off. The only reason."
Victoria’s sharp eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Pete Riverton." Her tone wasn’t mocking, but deeply perplexed. "Why haven’t we seen him before, Karn? Titan sent buffoons to our last three cross-meetings. If they had someone like that…" She trailed off, the implication clear: Nova Forge would have signed months ago.
Karn’s expression turned serious, the warmth replaced by a cold, controlled anger. He leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the cool obsidian. "Because someone at Titan," he stated, his voice low and precise, cutting through the relaxed atmosphere, "has been systematically stealing Pete’s performance scores. For year. Every significant project he nailed, every complex problem he solved, someone else put their name on it. He got the one-digit nonsense tasks and the credit went to… well, the buffoons you met. He was stuck. Deliberately buried."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Henderson’s jaw actually dropped. "Stolen?" sputtered a senior VP. "That’s… that’s sabotage!"
"Exactly," Karn confirmed, straightening up. "His real potential? What you just saw with Nova Forge? That’s baseline for him. He handles multi-parallel complex workloads like breathing. Finishes four days' worth of high-difficulty tasks in one. Sees vulnerabilities like Vespera," he nodded at Henderson, who flinched, "that entire departments miss. He’s not just good, Victoria. He’s a once-in-a-decade talent." The room buzzed with disbelieving murmurs, executives exchanging stunned glances. "One of the most talented people I've ever encountered," Karn finished, the conviction in his voice absolute.
Victoria steepled her fingers, her gaze intense. "What’s being done, Karn? Titan can’t let this stand."
A slow, dangerous smile touched Karn’s lips. "This Friday. Everything stolen gets returned. Every point. Every credit. Every promotion he should have had. The culprit gets exposed. Pete walks out of Titan with everything that’s his." He met Victoria’s eyes, the unspoken message clear: justice is coming, and it will be public.
Victoria held his gaze, then nodded slowly, a predatory gleam in her own eyes. She understood. Titan was about to clean house, spectacularly. "Good," she said simply. Then she tilted her head, curiosity returning. "So why the performance today? Why not present yourself? This was your show originally."
Karn chuckled, the tension easing back into camaraderie. "Two reasons. One, because every executive at Titan with a shred of decency wanted Pete to have this moment. To shine on the biggest stage, doing the hardest work, proving his worth beyond any stolen points to the people who matter. It’s the ultimate strike back." He paused, a flicker of pride warming his eyes. "And two, because I’ve been… calibrating him. For a month. Carefully. Assigning increasingly complex tasks, pushing his limits, building his confidence back up after year of being told he was worthless. Zephyr? Aethelgard? Today?" He gestured towards the door. "That was the final exam. He aced it. Nova Forge was the PhD defense."
Victoria leaned back, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "Clever boy. Using us as the anvil to forge his reputation." She glanced at the others. "Well, gentlemen? Given Mr. Riverton’s… unique circumstances and undeniable presentation, and Karn’s assurance that Titan is rectifying its internal issues… do we need to reconvene formally to discuss the consolidation proposal he just emailed? Or can we skip to the part where Henderson stops sweating over Vespera?"