Post by Bass on Jun 28, 2020 10:31:55 GMT -8
Late night, calmness, the echo of cicadas and the hoots of owls. Sat on the edge of his mattress was the Black Heart Namekian, derived from the mutant demon spawn brought forth by the treacherous King Piccolo. A lot had happened in recent times, all stemming to a source of tragedy coming from the arson against Momentum Financial. In the weeks that passed since that time there'd been a lot on Bass's mind. The days just seemed to flow by as he struggled with ideas bouncing around his head. The arson was putting corporate in an extremely tough spot, and without a miracle donation from a much richer source they'd have to default and go bankrupt.
So that put Bass in the precarious position of deciding the fate of an entire business. Not just his branch, but corporate as a whole. If he pulled some strings and made the choices to bring them above water he might just be able to pull it off. Though therein lied the real issue of wanting autonomy from the corporate grip. Of course, the play Bass would likely go with was one of the smarter one. Use the bargaining chip to ones advantage. Since his branch outperformed the others so much, it coming back was a high priority of corporate. Though they just didn't have the funds or the space to relocate workers. Not to mention the success was based off of the regional market of the Southern Islands. Most employees that worked there cared for each other, and that drove up productivity.
Though Bass technically had been paying the costs for the property, the renovations, and over the time he'd worked there and had been pooling his earnings back into the business he'd gotten a big enough share in the company to actually have a good amount of pull. He was in a position to make the final decision about the property. He could sell it off for a big boost for opening up a new branch in another place on the Southern Islands, or he could continue to struggle with reconstruction costs due to the PR hit he'd taken with the recent media exposure. His identity as a Demon Clan Namekian was just about public knowledge now, and people were left to make decisions about how they perceived him based just off what they knew most of the time. If they actually would've met him, maybe that could have changed things- and those that did were the only reason he still had some people to turn too. Coworkers, clients, associates, and even rivals.
There was a sort of love hate relationship between the two businesses. The streets were hard in the blistering heat under the sweltering summer sun. Both of them in previous times would have people out going door to door to market their respective products. One existing led potential clients to learn of the other, in the end while that split clientele it also gave the type of product they were offering more reach. If only things remained as they were, life was smooth before a metaphorical boot kicked it sky high. Now the Namekian accountant had to juggle the falling pieces. Plotting out the concept of his approach, it was a peaceful takeover of corporate through majority shares.
The one option was to restore the current branch, depleting corporate dollars to deathly low numbers. Though the alternative was selling off the perfect property for a business of that type. Deep within the heart of commercial South City, stuff that buildings aside would still fetch an amazing price. Investing that property cash-out into building a new branch in a different area of South City would allow them to save Corporate zeni in the long run. Tapping the back of his pen on the paper, Bass sighed.
If they found a less competitive area of the city and just put in the extra effort to reach the heart of the city, they could make it work. Maybe... It was a far safer bet than trying to restore their current property. Not even the half-assed insurance payout would even begin to cover the amount of zeni they needed. Capsule tech isn't cheap, the Namekian was understandably envious of the company that could swim in Zeni in that moment, nothing particularly new.
Closing a drawer and dropping his pen on the page, he laid back and got some shut-eye.
Early the next morning, the telephone rang on Bass's nightstand. Reaching over he lazily grabbed it, pulling it over to his ear.
"Unh?" He grunted, exhaustion written in his tone. Coming from the phone was an energetic representative. It made him roll his eyes.
"Hello! This is Blazey calling from Velocity on behalf of my branch manager. Am I speaking with Mr. Bass?"
There was a delay, before the Namekian replied.
"Eeeyep. Look, uh..." There was another pause. "Nevermind, what do they want?"
More than happy to oblige his question, the cheery voice continued.
"Glad you asked! My boss would like to personally share his sympathy regarding the recent criminal actions taken against your branch. As one of our main competitors, he's disappointed that things are turning out the way that they are. That being said, you must understand that-"
Bass cut her off. "Yeah, I get it. Let's set a meeting, don't cheap out on the buying price. Market price, no less."
A brief silence, a surprised stutter before she responded. "Of course. My manager had already outlined their available times. How does today at eleven in the morning sound? Come visit us at Velocity South City, we'll have the meeting there. Please bring anything you might deem relevant to the discussions. We from Velocity look forward to this meeting. Bye bye now."
The phone's dead tone started to play, and then Bass unceremoniously clattered it back onto the mantle in which it had rested prior to the call.
Hours later, and the Namekian in his classic white dress shirt, black dress slacks, shiny dress shoes and blue tie to bring it all together walked down the streets with a jacket draped over his right wrist and a suitcase in his other hand. Checking his watch, it looked like he'd make it there about five minutes early at this rate.
WC: 1,047
MWC: 1,047
Tag: Rhuba