Midas From Real Steel Novels & Stories

The Virelli estate sat on the edge of the city like a fortress—stone walls, iron gates, and windows that never let in enough light. Inside, everything gleamed with power: polished floors, imported art, and silence so thick it felt like a warning. Dante Virelli stood in his father’s study, staring at the ledger open on the desk. Names. Numbers. Deals. Debts. Every page was a record of control. Of blood. He hated it.

~~Leo~~ Today is a good day, I could feel the cool breeze of New York on my face, and the buzzing sounds of the busy streets of the city. I got into the car with Mark, I know he could sense the anger in me so he kept his distance. I wouldn't let it pass even though I am feeling good today. I am on my way to One of 50 STEEL companies for a contract. 50 STEEL is one of the biggest steel industries in the county, from steel to fuel to renewed energy. There isn't an industry they haven't touched.

Jacques is a genius. This gown is all about illusions. It gives an illusion of a neckline, golden detailed tattoos down the arm on such light fabric it's hard to see even when it's on me. The dress is detailed from head to toe with Swarovski crystal embellishments, especially on the bodice. They glitter like the rainbow whenever I move or the light hits me. The bodice is tight and the rest flows out. He used lilac purple and a rose gold to give it an umbrae effect. It's absolutely stunning.

When Pheia and Alani returned home, they quickly arranged all works and loads they'll use to escape this afternoon. Pheia collected the raw materials for artificial prosthetics used to make Prince Steel old, while Prince Steel coldly stare at the materials. "Is there no other way than making me old?" Prince Steel asked while disgustedly picking the pieces of stuff.

Otherwise, just moving around in the gear would've been exhausting. The moment they entered the water, Nicole stored the motorboat away. They switched on the lights mounted to their foreheads and started descending. Steelport was enormous, sprawling across well over 1,000 acres. The place carried every kind of steel imaginable: wear-resistant steel, impact-resistant alloys, structural steel, H beams, channel steel, angle iron, I beams, and countless other industrial materials stacked across the entire complex. Most storefronts covered several thousand square feet. The larger facilities stretched far bigger than that, with annual processing capacities reaching tens of millions of tons.

And all I can do is stand there and cry. *** Chase. Hours later... Sunday, 14th February. 3am. Music pulses faintly through the ornate walls of Marv Bowman’s ridiculously opulent bedroom. Downstairs, the party is alive. Marv celebrating his latest corporate victory. A few hours ago, he secured a major contract to manufacture warships for the naval units of two countries. A handsome payment came through our bank. I remember watching his press conference earlier. His smug face. His polished smile.

Three months changed everything. Not in a loud, cinematic way. Not in explosions or blood or fight. But in slow, deliberate steps that rebuild empires. The Steel Vipers weren’t the same club they had been before the fall of Marco Delgado and before that night where lines blurred and unity ignited into something unbreakable. The clubhouse felt different now because someone had tightened every loose bolt and reinforced every weak beam. Ashley. And everyone damn well knew it. The sun beat down hot and merciless across the Nevada highway, glinting off the bikes polished metal. The Vipers lined up in formation, engines rumbling low, restless and hungry. Dust swirled under their tires.

And in the center, sitting on a throne of solid platinum, was the boss. He was twenty feet tall. A golem made of polished brass and gold plate. His eyes were burning furnaces. BOSS: GRAND TREASURER MIDAS. "INTRUDERS!" the boss roared, its voice a metallic screech that shook the virtual room. "MY GOLD IS MINE ALONE! THE POOR DESERVE TO STARVE!" "Not anymore, tin can!" Tank shouted. "Aggro engaged!" He fired a flare at the boss's face. Midas roared and stepped off the throne, the floor shaking with every step.

, He asked, all trace of anger gone from his demeanor. Gathering all the information in my head, I divulged it to him, "Lanie's team found that one of the main materials in the bot's buildup was a special steel. A special steel that only one company in the whole United States of America produces and has its base right here in our city." "Michaelson's", he breathed. "Correct". "So I drove down to Michaelson's in Claude's car". "Where is he by the way?", I inquired, pausing my story halfway to ask.

"It's an error. A typo." "A very strange error," Maddison said, her voice still icy. She reached a finger and swept it across the surface of her tablet, and a third page appeared. "Because the figure you've used, one thousand, seven hundred and ten megapascals… that is not a random figure. It is, in fact, the same data for another material." She hesitated briefly, letting the words hang. "It's the data on a steel material we turned down and six months ago said was too low, too limited, and just not good enough for this type of project."