Page 116 of The Sterling Acquisition
Dante spotted a cardboard box on the floor next to the entertainment center, overflowing with plastic cases containing what looked like dozens of old movies. Some were part of box sets, others were random titles scattered about like someone had been collecting them for years.
“Pick one that looks interesting,” Dante said, gesturing toward the collection
The genuine excitement in Orion’s voice as he crouched down to examine the movies did something dangerous to Dante’s carefully maintained priorities. Here they were, fugitives from multiple corporate powers with a deadline hanging over their heads, and Orion was enchanted by a box of obsolete entertainment like a child discovering treasure. Dante wanted to protect that feeling, to create more moments where Orion could simply enjoy something without looking for threats or ulterior motives.
“I have an idea,” Dante said, making a decision that was probably tactically unsound but felt necessary, “Let’s stay here for a day. Before we finish blowing up our lives completely.”
Orion looked up from the DVD player, eyebrows raised. “A whole day?”
“A whole day. We’ve been running on adrenaline and desperation for too long. We deserve it. You deserve it. And,” Dante gestured toward the television. “I’ll show you how to use one of those. And maybe we can come up with some contingency plans for when everything goes to hell.”
The smile that spread across Orion’s face was radiant. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Stopping here was probably the kind of tactical error that would get them both killed, but if they were going to die as fugitives from corporate justice, they might as well enjoy their last day before executing the second phase of their plan—the part that required them to stage evidence of their deaths convincing enough to fool corporate recovery teams.
“First,” Dante said, dropping his pack and testing the structural integrity of the terrifying green couch, “we figure out what passes for entertainment in pre-digital media. Then we plan how to disappear from corporate surveillance.”
“In that order?” Orion asked, already exploring the shelves next to the television.
“Absolutely in that order. Priorities, Orion. We’re criminals now—we might as well enjoy it.”
Chapter forty-two
Domestic Interludes
Dante
WatchingOriondiscovertheancient DVD player was proving to be more entertaining than any of the media scattered throughout the cardboard box could have been. The man approached decades-old technology with the same focused intensity he’d once reserved for calculated acts of defiance, as if understanding the basic mechanics of disc insertion was a matter of tactical importance.
“What about this one?” Orion asked, holding up a case featuring two people photographed through what appeared to be a soft-focus lens and an alarming amount of optimism.
“Corporate propaganda designed to convince people that relationships involve witty banter instead of biological imperatives and power negotiations,” Dante replied, not looking up from hismethodical weapons check. Each piece got the same attention to detail—field-stripped, cleaned, reassembled with the kind of precision that had kept him alive through more missions than he cared to count.
“Sounds terrible,” Orion said, setting it aside. “What about this one?” He held up another case, this one featuring explosions and men in suits looking aggressively serious.
“Action movie. Probably involves a lot of shooting and minimal character development. Perfect background noise for tactical planning.”
“Do you actually like anything,” Orion asked, “or do you evaluate all entertainment based on its practical applications?”
Dante paused in reassembling his sidearm, considering the question. “I like plenty of things. I like competence. I like precision.” He looked up to find Orion examining the DVD player’s various buttons with scientific fascination. “I like watching you figure out that ancient technology like it’s the most compelling puzzle you’ve ever encountered.”
Orion glanced up, momentary surprise flickering across his features before being quickly masked. The bite mark on Dante’s neck tingled faintly, a sensation he’d been trying to ignore since they arrived at the safe house.
“Well,” Orion said, selecting what appeared to be some kind of adventure story involving a man with a whip and a fedora, “since you have no artistic taste, I’m making an executive decision.”
Dante found himself amused by the declaration. “Executive decision. I wasn’t aware we established a corporate hierarchy in our little fugitive operation.”
“We haven’t. That’s why it’s a unilateral decision based on superior judgment.” Orion fed the disc into the machine with the satisfaction of someone mastering new technology. “Besides, you said you’d showme how this works, not that you’d maintain editorial control over our entertainment choices.”
“Fair point.” Dante finished with the weapons and joined him on the questionable green couch, which protested their combined weight but managed structural integrity. “Though I reserve the right to provide commentary on any unrealistic action sequences.”
“Of course you do.”
The movie started with dramatic orchestral music and the kind of sweeping title sequence that suggested entertainment had once been designed as an event rather than corporate-mandated productivity downtime. Dante watched Orion’s reactions more than the screen—the way his eyes lit up during chase scenes, the soft sound of amusement he made when the protagonist did something ridiculous.
“That’s not how archaeology works,” Dante said during a scene involving the hero swinging across a chasm using his whip.
“Really? And here I thought all academic research involved deadly booby traps and snake-filled chambers.”
