/vt/ - Virtual Youtubers

“God damn it!” He swung his fist into the glossy wooden surface of his desk. Empty snifters and a half-full decanter rattled on their silver platter. An ebony phone jingled slightly in the corner. His secretary flinched.
A silence hung in the air as the Tree-Dweller's eyes raced across the pages in his hands. “Slander! Libel! What is the meaning of this? Call the lawyers in!”
“Sir, they're already working on this as we speak,” the secretary replied cautiously.
“They damn well better be,” he snapped back. “I make my voice heard, as I have the right to, and try to restore order in the market commons, and this is how they answer? Ridicule? Branding me? I need a drink.”
He sat up and tossed the papers to the far corner of his desk. He grasped the decanter before measuring a long pour. The secretary watched on in nervous silence as half the snifter drained in short order. Sunset shone through sheer curtains behind his stately leather chair, landing on an ornate hat.
He eyed it briefly, recalling the strange man seeking information and offering much in return.
“Have you heard anything from the Syndicate?”
“No sir, not yet.”
His enormous tail flicked irritably. The chair spun about to face the thinly curtained windows and the orange glow beyond. A long moment passed before the leather backrest muttered aloud. “What damn good are they anyways?! I have what I want, no thanks to any of them!”
The chair spun about revealing a now empty snifter and a firm face.
“Contact the board of directors and the other major shareholders, and then send a message to the Syndicate.”
The secretary jolted, as if hit by a cattle prod, before whipping out a notebook, seemingly from thin air.
“Tell the board this: ‘I've commanded this company since its inception. And I will continue to do so. However, with the current climate of the market and recent legislative changes, I have decided that the management of shares and the overall investment strategy of this company will transition from active to passive. Effective immediately.’”
He heaved a sigh. The secretary's deft hands completed their transcription not long after.
“And to the Syndicate,” he paused, still unsure of the most diplomatic way to put thoughts into words. “Tell them—"
“Tell us what?” came an unexpected, but clear, voice. The secretary blocked the Tree-Dweller's view across the spacious office, affording him the time to scowl before shooing the stenographer aside.
The Necromancer stood, alone, in the grand wooden doorway. “Tell us what?” echoed in the suite before the figure approached.
The Tree-Dweller stood from his chair, undaunted, with a wry smile on his face. “Typical,” he thought to himself. “Showing up at the most inconvenient moment.”
He took a moment to gather his thoughts before the Necromancer passed by the now terrified secretary. Miraculously, the pieces began falling into place in his mind. A stranger with sights set on the void, and a warning. Now this? This wasn't a disaster, far from it. It was an opportunity to escape the coming fire.
The wry smile on his lips turned sly.
“Tell them I'm taking a sabbatical. And that I won't be taking any calls.”