Malkor Grom, the head of the Crimson Abacus Syndicate, slammed a fist onto his expansive jade desk. The delicate teacup beside his datapad rattled precariously as it almost toppled over
Outside his office window, the neon-drenched sprawl of Sector Sigma-9 glittered. It was the territory his Syndicate bled profit from daily. Usually, the view filled him with a sense of grim satisfaction. But tonight, it was fuel for his mounting fury.
"Incompetence!" He roared with his voice amplified by subtle vocal modulators. It echoed through the opulent, crimson-and-black office.
"First, some upstart ghost-lender starts poaching our potential bondsmen with cheap Qi tricks right under our noses. Then, the bounty turns up nothing but whispers and dead ends. And now…"
