NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, 08:27 GMT
"...plans to improve the infrastructure of your company whilst championing the incredible invention and innovation that's already underway at clobbir. Our plans to reinvigorate the importance of proper conduct throughout these walls will scare those repeat offenders into submission, improving efficiency for each worker and allowing them to..."
Danny fought back the urge to yawn as the regular legal men in black spouted their waffle, sending off line of line of their dull, preplanned pitches. None of the technical suit jargon was absorbed into his mind and he honestly didn't care much; this was his third meeting of the like in just over five hours and his body was holding onto his floating consciousness by a thread. He didn't even make an effort to seem interested, his head firmly planted into the seat of his palm whilst his ringed third finger idly scratched the meagre patch of black hairs resting on his chin. He scratched an itch on his abdomen underneath his plain white tee, minding out for the still moist salsa stain nearby that he'd got on the plane coming over only a few hours back. The finger food on the table in front of him, hors-d'œuvres to be exact, looked tantalising. But no, apparently he wasn't allowed to actually eat in front of his hosts. "It's just good manners," his business partner had said.
The suits didn't seem to notice though. All three of them sat at the other end of the long glass table, their hands steepled into one another like evil dictators from cheesy pulp-fiction movies that Danny'd used to watch with his dad. He cracked a small smirk thinking of the memory. Two of them were your usual megacorp lawyer type, relics with sunken eyes and grey hair with varying degrees of male pattern baldness. The third though was a sight for Danny's sore eyes and he found his eyes straying towards her whenever his head began to loll. She reminded him of teachers that he'd become accustomed to on the Hub, with preppy round spectacles, clear skin and luscious black-brown hair pulled into an elegant ponytail. She'd dressed formally but with some freedom, wearing a silk pantsuit that give off an air of seriousness while allowing Danny a pretty clear view of her unrestrained D-cup breasts beating in rhythm with her breathing.
In any other situation Danny would've just enjoyed taking the not-so-occasional glance at her. He genuinely believed it was quite unfortunate that she had to be here at a time when he was bored. In another one of the infinite universes out there she could've been spared. For it only took a moment for him to activate the power stirring in the recesses of his mind and channel it upwards, through each and every nerve and synapse, and out through his eyes. A small discharge of energy shot out from his eye sockets, nothing major enough to disrupt anyone but sufficient enough to accomplish what Danny was going for.
The woman continued her pitch, oblivious to the fact her voice had dropped considerably and a prominent Adam's apple had formed in her throat. Her black ponytail had been sucked back into her scalp, the needlessly expensive ponytail holder that'd been holding it in place rendered useless as the colour was drained out of her hair and a shiny bald patch appeared on the crown of her head. Next came her chest. Her bust heaved and wobbled as they were yanked inwards, their nipples flattening and their areolas thinning as her torso morphed into a measly masculine shape. He grinned as he took in her new form, the knowledge that she and her cohorts were completely oblivious to his swaps being very surreptitious indeed. For extra fun he exchanged her and the man on her right's (who now possessed a full head of hair and a succulent new set of pipes) interests and mannerisms. Her feminine posture quickly soured as she gained the gait of an aging man in his 60s. The plastic smile she'd worn across her face had disappeared as she gained an unbothered disposition.
Danny was about to apply the finishing touch, a virile middle-aged cock courtesy of the the other suited man in attendance, when he suddenly he felt a sharp kick to the shin from under the table. He yelped girlishly, calling the suits attention towards himself. He blushed and waved them off to continue before turning his head clockwise, a scowl set across his face. His beautiful Korean-looking business partner beside him didn't even acknowledge his reaction. Rather her face remained stoic, her buxom lips set into a thin line while her stormy grey eyes looked on in deep concentration. Her delicate right hand with intricate tattoos etched across its fingers drummed a menacing march on the table.
"What was that for, Gin?" he whispered to her under his breath.
"Focus and pay attention, Daniel. This is important," she hissed. Her voice was laced with a menace Danny was all too familiar with.
Believe it or not, before they'd become business partners and inadvertently created an exciting tech startup (with Danny's computational prowess and her dependable ability to force people into submission) that bought and sold fashionable wear online, Ginko Shimabukuro as she now called herself (or Ginny as she now went by after years of people butchering the pronunciation)- used to be known as another name; the Entity (I know, sounds so ominous), a being that transcended time and space itself and lived only to create chaos as part of an ancient brotherhood called the Trait Thieves. Though it'd been years since he'd- no, she'd- surrendered her powers to Danny to live a normal, boring human existence, he still questioned why any sane being would do such a thing. To go from a dark and gloomy 'creepy cloak guy' to an equally dark and equally gloomy alt-punk chick didn't seem like much of an upgrade.
"So," the suited woman finally spoke in her bellowing new baritone voice once all three had concluded their pitch, "Mr Bronson, Miss Shimabukuro, what do you two think?"
Ginny opened her mouth to speak but Danny swiftly interrupted her, slapping a coy grin on his face as he said, "Really loved the presentations, really awesome, the bar charts and those spreadsheets, wow! Unfortunately for you and your bosses, who, might I add, didn't even care enough to meet us in person like we'd agreed, wherever they are, I'm sorry to say that we at clobbir aren't really interested in your brand of management or the direction you want to take the company. I'd love to say we'll deliberate on the decision but I'm almost completely certain that your offer is dead in the water by this point, at least in my head."
A silence fell across the room. Ginny's mouth had dropped to the floor. Danny laughed to himself as he rocked his chair back and grabbed a handful of the food on the table and stuffed it down his gullet. "What do you think, Ginny?" he asked. No response came. He chuckled cheekily as he pushed the bowl closer to the others in attendance.
"How about the hors-d'œuvre, huh? Marvellous stuff aren't they?"
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