"Route the kitchen audio to the exterior stadium speakers."
Malcolm stood in his kitchen. The climate control maintained a perfect seventy two degrees. He stared at the security monitors mounted above him
"Audio routing confirmed," the bunker system replied. "Stadium speakers are active and awaiting input."
Outside the titanium gates Richard Mercer was building an empire out of trash and frozen dirt. Hundreds of slaves pushed rusted cars into a defensive perimeter.
"He thinks a wall of garbage makes him a king," Malcolm said to the empty room. "Let us test his royal discipline."
Malcolm opened his industrial refrigerator. He pulled out two racks of premium pork ribs. The meat was thick and marbled with rich white fat.
He carried the meat to his indoor smokeless grill. He grabbed a bo
