Hitting Bottom - Second Wave, John, Angus, Conall and Etain Options

[adamu]

Angus
Friday 8/1/70 20:07:02

Ringgggg!

The bell sounded the first round and Troll Heavyweight Champion (Unenhanced) Toshio Kameda came out swinging. Angus "Rocky" Smith was almost immediately on the defensive. The first round was always a confused haze until he got into his groove. Unable to get on the offensive, he kept his gloves up and tried to ride the storm out - but he already knew what he needed.

As always, he'd had to jones it out through the 48 hours leading up to the fight so he could pass the piss test, but once he weighed in he was home free - except that Skinny, Doc, and Bruno were always right there by his side all the way into the ring. But his ploy always worked - they lace up the right glove and then, after the wrapping was all signed and while his left hand was still free he would go take one final leak - made perfect sense - he naturally wouldn't want no one holding it for him - and while in the stall he would secrete the pain killers in the lacing on the back of his right glove, high up on the wrist and where it was always right up by his face when he was covering. Then, IF he needed the help - and of course he always hoped he wouldn't - like, it was a LAST resort - all he had to do was bury his face in his wrists while he was covering up and snarf the pills.

So here he was taking a beating in the first round as usual, but he knew help was close at hand.

John
Monday 1/20/70 19:37:40

Clink
Champagne spilled everywhere as executives toasted and aides scurried to rescue the reams of newly-signed documents from the sloshing liquor. The Expectation of Privilege clauses, the fee schedules, the Due Diligence affidavits, Breach Failsafes, contingency clauses and contingencies on the contingency clauses. Compliance agreements. Several thousand pages in all, signed now by all the principles and sealing the single biggest retainer in the history of John Francis Fitzalan-Howard's firm. What a mouthful. Of course he didn't call the firm that - he'd left the names of the original partners on the letterhead - Rouis, Falcao & Smith. It would impress the ignorant, and those in the know would, well, they would know. John's name wasn't out in the open anywhere, just as he was now much more likely to appear in a lecture hall than an open court of law, but his advice was worth gold to men who measured gold the way mere mortals measured flour.

Of course, Bertram Scudder was hardly one of those men - the corpulent fellow approaching the podium was merely a figurehead at the helm of what at the moment was little more than a shell company. But John had just signed a deal to propel Scudder's little stewardship, the Appalachian Alliance, to the top of the heap. The soon-to-be king of North American mining started to speak -

"Ladies and gentlemen - it is with great pleasure that we conclude our arrangements with possibly the one legal genius on the planet capable of clearing the myriad regulatory obstacles to our great endeavor. Messrs and Mmes, I give you John Francis Fitzalan-Howard!"
John smiled and waved politely. Fat bastard was already drunk. Had no one told him how much I hate the spotlight?
"And truly the obstacles before us are substantial. Navigating the vagaries of the primeval anti-trust legislation still lurking on the books of both the UCAS and CAS; weathering complaints from NAN fanatics not content with their own half of the continent, but wanting to meddle in ours; not to mention the environmentalists, determined to undermine efficiencies of production and supply that can add to the livelihood of millions, all for the sake of the imagined health problems of a handful of hillbillies." FOOL!!! John thanked the gods no media were present. Don't mention those issues AT ALL!

Scudder went on and on, and for the most part what he said was perfectly true - uniting all the mining interests of the Appalachian Mountains under the NeoNET umbrella would lead to tremendous scale merits, employ tens of thousands, and generate capital which would generate greater economic well-being for millions. But the greater the potential relief of suffering, the more those who made their livings fanning the flames of discontent and suffering came slavering after the prospects of a fat target. That was where John came in.

The speech was followed by a dizzying array of conversations - all of which John had to keep straight in his head. He hated that part - he always had SO VERY MUCH to juggle in his head. But such was the security profile of some of the men here (who were they kidding, the women were window-dressing) that even he was not allowed any sort of recording device, and an obvious aide would have indicated weakness.

He took a moment to thank his trusted right hand and firm CFO Kip Chalmers, a son-in-law of one of the old founders. Incredibly bright and quite trustworthy, he had relied on Kip to supervise production of the bulk of the contracts. This was a big night for both of them.

And of course a moment with Miles. Everything Lanier said had multiple meanings. Just his presence at the signing bespoke the importance NeoNET placed on the whole endeavor. "How's the health, John?" Not much subtlety there - they both knew what he meant. "Listen John, I want you to know that you will anything, ANYHING you need on this project. Here is my personal commcode. Anytime, John." And he held the handshake just long enough - "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." Translation - no screw ups, and if you do there'll be no excuses. Zero tolerance for failure.

The idea of zero tolerance from Miles Lanier - the thought alone spoke volumes.