Washington D.C. — The White House Situation Room.
The clock on the wall read 9:42 p.m. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that settled when no one wanted to say the obvious.
Around the long, oval table sat the usual assembly of power — the Chief of Staff, the National Security Advisor, the Director of National Intelligence, the Secretary of State, and a few others who looked like they hadn’t slept in days.
They actually haven’t, as over the past four days, they have been trying to crack Liam’s background. And in addition to that, yesterday, a mysterious tech came out with a tech product that shouldn’t exist.
All these has constituted to sleepless nights for all of them. But they still haven’t been able to gather any substantial on either Liam or the mysterious tech company.
Back to the matter on hand, on the main screen, a satellite feed played in silence. It showed a familiar aircraft — black, massive, elegant — touching down on one of LAX’s runway, before slowing taxiing to a stop.
"The Black Titan departed U.S. airspace six hours ago and returned about an hour ago," the NSA Director began. "There was no formal clearance or comms relay to FAA or State. Also, his transponder signal went dark shortly after he reached the Carribeans."
The Chief of Staff pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling very frustrated, as he asked, "And we’re supposed to host him here tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir," the Director of National Intelligence said carefully. "For now, it appears he was... vacationing."
"Vacationing?" The Secretary of State gave a dry, incredulous laugh. "We invite the most talked-about individual on the planet to the White House, and the night before the meeting, he disappears to a private island with his friends — without notifying anyone?"
"Technically," said the DNI, "he didn’t violate any laws. He has the right to travel. But—"
"But," the Secretary cut in, "the optics are a nightmare. The press is tracking every move he and that jet makes. And right now, it looks like he’s snubbing us."
A silence followed. On the screen, the feed cut to a live radar map — The Black Titan was already back in Los Angeles, descending toward LAX.
"So he just... left?" the National Security Advisor asked quietly. "Just—"
"—took a trip," the NSA Director finished.
The Chief of Staff looked up from his notes, his expression unreadable. "Gentlemen, let’s not overreact. The man doesn’t owe us an itinerary. He’s a private citizen."
"Private citizens don’t vanish off radar over the Carribean. This is the second time it’s happening," the DNI muttered.
That drew a few uneasy glances.
"Regardless," the Chief of Staff said, straightening his papers, "we stay on script. Tomorrow’s meeting is cordial and symbolic. We don’t interrogate him or corner him. We will only listen to what he has to say. Remember that we still know next to nothing about his background. And we must make sure that he remembers that he’s a citizen of the United States. And we are a free country."
The Secretary frowned. "And if he decides to leave again right after?"
"Then we let him," the Chief said flatly. "Because if he’s what we think he is... then sadly, we don’t control him. We can only accommodate him."
The room fell quiet again. The only sound heard being that of the rain starting to fall against the windows.
After a long pause, the National Security Advisor spoke softly, "God help us if he’s not on our side."
No one disagreed, as they all have the same fear.
Bellemere Mansion, Los Angeles.
Morning sunlight drifted through the tall glass windows of Liam’s study, washing the room in a calm, golden hue.
Daniel Conley stood near the window, immaculate as always in his dark suit. His expression was composed, but his eyes carried that subtle tension that only appeared when something delicate was in motion.
He glanced up when the door opened and Liam stepped in.
"You’re early," Liam said.
Daniel gave a short nod. "You have a flight to Washington in less than two hours, sir. I thought it best we go over the brief before you leave."
"Go ahead," Liam motioned toward the couch, as he also took his seat.
Daniel crossed the room, setting his tablet down on the low glass table between them, but he remained standing.
"The meeting at the White House is confirmed for one-thirty p.m. D.C. time," he began. "Your arrival will be through Andrews Air Force Base. You’ll be received by a discreet escort—two vehicles, no press, no exposure. The meeting will take place in the Roosevelt Room. Closed doors. No official transcripts."
Liam raised an eyebrow. "So they’re keeping it off record." Google seaʀᴄh 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵•𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒•𝙣𝙚𝙩
"Yes, sir," Daniel replied. "Completely. Publicly, it doesn’t exist."
Liam leaned back, fingers loosely interlaced. "That tells me more than the meeting itself."
Daniel gave a faint smile. "I thought you’d say that."
He swiped his finger across the tablet, displaying a brief profile list. "The delegation includes representatives from the Office of Science and Technology Policy, Treasury, and the National Security Council. The President may attend for part of the session, but not officially. The rest are analysts and observers."
"Observers," Liam echoed quietly. "That’s polite code for people who don’t trust me."
Daniel hesitated for only a second before saying, "In essence, yes."
Liam’s gaze lingered on the table. "And what exactly do they want?"
Daniel clasped his hands lightly in front of him. "They want to understand you, sir. Or at least try to. They’re curious about your background, your capital sources, and your level of allegiance to the country. They’re not after business deals or policy input. They just want to know who you really are — and what you plan to do next."
He paused before adding, "They want to confirm you’re not tied to a foreign state, not being funded by anyone else, and not planning to move your assets out of the U.S."
Liam gave a low hum of amusement. "So this isn’t diplomacy. It’s containment."
Daniel didn’t deny it. "In a way, yes. They see you as an unknown quantity. Too much money, too little history. You appear out of nowhere, buy an aircraft that breaks every aviation metric, and behind you is a mysterious family office that operates like a sovereign fund. You can understand why they’re uneasy."
"I know about all that but aren’t they overreacting?" Liam asked, with a casual smile.
Daniel ignored the remark, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
Overreacting? Only you can say something like that, sir.