#timewarp!

He would have preferred to stride in.

It would very much have been befitting - but then, of course, he would need to be standing, and that would weaken his bargaining position more than the impression would have strengthened it.

So, he merely thumbed the little knob forward and the electric wheelchair glided, silently, as he let his head slump to one side. An entirely undignified posture, of course - and entirely at odds with the crisp, clean, pressed, four-button three-piece in which he’d dressed himself that morning.

Of course, the official story was that his carer had dressed him.

After all, Kai couldn’t move since the accident - since the truck had knocked his car off the road.

He didn’t let even a hint of the smirk to his lips. He’d spent hours in front of mirrors practicing this, practicing the paralysis act.

One point five million - a paltry one point five, they’d offered him. Week-long coma, car totalled - job lost due to the coma - surgeries required, and of course, with a coma always came the risk of brain damage, and they had offered him that?

Insulting. Simply insulting.

He’d declined swiftly after waking from the coma - the doctors had been worried that might happen. It did sometimes, after all, and Kai had sent them an anonymous basket of flowers for the inspiration they’d provided in warning his parents about the possibility of a downturn in his condition.

Oh, how he wanted to grin - as the guards held the oak doors wide for him and he hummed in, in his chair - how he wanted to grin and stride and make them look like fools, and take them for everything they’d had.

They’d insulted him with that offer, the trucking company - and he’d ensure they paid for it. Through the nose.

His eyes - the one part other than his thumb he maintained full control over, the doctors had explained - flicked over to his dad, sitting at the bench, who smiled back. He was so worried about his son - but Kai knew he’d be fine, when a certain experimental surgery in Columbia restored his son to full motion, removed every hint of paralysis.

There was no surgery, of course - no clinic at all - but Columbia did have some nice resorts, and Kai had to start spending this company’s money somewhere.

They’d insulted him with that offer, after all - he simply couldn’t let that stand.

He bumped into the opposing bench, intentionally, causing a bit of a ruckus and poking at the speech-pad with his thumb. “Sorry.” The mechanical voice resonated through the legal chambers.

It was quite a hearing - quite a spectacle. Kai had made sure word got out a few ways, a few places, so there was quite an interested group in attendance, and press as well. They listened raptly as he slowly, mechanically, electronically stammered his way through an explanation of the accident and all that had happened since.

All lies, of course - or practically all - but what did that matter?

They’d insulted him.

He simply couldn’t let that lie, so he’d lie instead - and he did, and oh so well. He even shit himself at one point on the witness stand. After all, the doctors had explained he’d lose bowel control - and it would really drum up sympathy for his situation.

He ended up rolling out of the chambers - not that day, mind you - with more than ten times their initial offer...and that was just in the up-front sum. He got a stipend as well.

A few weeks later, after ‘discovering’ the experimental treatment center in Columbia, he was at the airport, being loaded onto a chartered Gulfstream, in a different suit this time - lighter and without the vest or tie, much more befitting his destination. The press were here, with camera flashing and rolling, and his machine toned out a “Thank you all. Good. Bye.” as they hoisted him up and in, leaving the wheelchair behind.

There would be no press on the other side - and as soon as the cabin door closed, Kai stood with a sigh, cracking his neck and sweeping a hand through his short-cropped hair, shooting a wink to one of the two attendants on the flight. He’d paid them well - and had hogtied them six ways to Sunday with nondisclosure agreements. If either of them ever spoke about this, he’d get every penny they earned from breaking the story.

Columbia was nice - and for the first few weeks, he even enjoyed the resort. Recorded a grainy webcam statement, lying dishevelled in bed, with his real voice (albeit a little rough and wobbly from a few dozen tequila shots from - oh what had her name been, anyway...Raquel? Melina? Something. it didn’t matter.) stating that the doctors expected a full recovery. A few days later, a picture of him on some serious crutches, taking shaky-looking steps on to the beach, flanked by two nurses.

Well, they were wearing nurses’ uniforms at least - although Kai was quite certain that real nurse uniforms didn’t tear away quite that easily when the music came on and he settled back against the sands to enjoy the show.

A full recovery - a miraculous recovery, even - although, of course, one which couldn’t be guaranteed. The clinic very strenuously stated that, everywhere they could. Results not guaranteed.

Didn’t stop over a thousand applicants from trying to get on the very short - very exclusive - very expensive waiting list.

And Kai highly doubted that the IRS would ever be able to dig through enough of the shell corporations to find out that he owned the clinic part and parcel, and doubted that anybody would be able to find out how the records had been faked and backdated to make it look as if the clinic had existed decades before Kai showed up on Columbia’s shores, rather than two weeks afterwards when he’d gotten around to purchasing the lot and arranging for some refurbishments.

Yes, Columbia was nice - had been nice - and so had been...whatever their names were. Melina and Jacob and Harley and - he didn’t bother keeping track, it didn’t matter anyway.

It had all been nice...

Had.

Past tense.

Now, as Kai stepped back onto a plane - this time, one he’d purchased, and a much newer and nicer model than the one which had brought him here - he was feeling quite done with Columbia. The clinic would go on, earning quite a lot of money, and that was nice and all...

...but he’d heard there was a company in Russia which built yachts so large, you could dock smaller yachts inside them.

That, yes, that would hold Kai’s attentiong for...

...well, for probably at least a few months.