Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

"They're untouchable," she said finally. "One of the founding families of the Ether Community. They don't just have power—they are power. The Ether Community's the entire supernatural world. They run it, enforce its rules, keep balance. It's old money, old magic—so deep you don't even feel the strings they're pulling. And the Blackwoods or more precisely The Voidhowls? They're one of those strings. Probably the whole fucking rope."

Parker's jaw tightened, mind racing, so they're called Voidhowls?

"Who else?"

She exhaled. "Apart from the Voidhowls—werewolves, The Zhangs out in China. And others, but they stay in the shadows. No public names. No faces. The Blackwoods just... happen to be one of the few anyone knows, and that's only because of their size. But here's the thing—"

Her voice dropped.

"They're bound by the rules of the Ether Community. Supernatural power can't be used in mortal business affairs. If for example the Zhangs face a corporate disaster, like a scandal or stock collapse? They don't get to fix it with spells or mind control. If the Voidhowls screw up their investments, no howling at the moon for extra cash if should term it like that. They deal with it like the rest of us—lawyers, loopholes, negotiations. No powers allowed.

"Now, if someone supernatural challenges them? Like let's say a fellow supernatural trying to sabotage their empire? Different story. But if it's just... regular human bullshit? They fight with money, not magic."

Parker's eyes narrowed, thoughts spiraling. Rules. A cage, even for the giants. If they couldn't flex their full power in the business world... then there were weaknesses.

His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.

Cassidy noticed the silence. "Something happen with the Blackwoods?"

"No," he said smoothly, masking the tension behind a practiced calm. "Nothing at all."

A lie, but she didn't push.

"Send me a contact for a yacht brokerage. The best one out there."

"...A yacht?"

"You heard me."

She hesitated—for once. But within seconds, a soft chime echoed from his iPhone 16. A message. She hadn't just sent him a contact. She'd sent the top three brokerage firms in the world, complete with direct agent lines and portfolios of superyachts so massive they looked like floating fortresses.

"Anything else, boss?"

"Yeah." His voice cooled again, businesslike. "Quicken Ava's buy-in. I want it done. Fast."

Cassidy blinked but didn't question it. "Understood."

Parker ended the call.

The screen dimmed. The skyline beyond the glass seemed... sharper now. Colder.

Two yachts. One for business. The other...

His lips curled.

****

Parker hadn't left his room in hours. Not since the plan started forming in his head. The curtains were still half-drawn, the skyline stretching endless outside his floor-to-ceiling windows, but the sunlight felt irrelevant. His laptop screens glowed with shifting tabs—encrypted messages, shell corporations, yacht listings, and a secure line already open.

Cassidy's voice crackled through the speaker as he called her again, sharp and professional as always.

"You've been quiet. I assume that means you're either about to do something brilliant... or completely stupid."

Parker exhaled through his nose, leaning back in the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. "Cass, I need a yacht. Big. Party-sized. Luxury as fuck. Like... ridiculous. I'm talking LED floors, infinity pool, helipad—throw in a damn ice sculpture if you have to. Capacity for 300. White, sleek, modern. Think Sin City but floating on water." He explained in one beat.

There was a pause. "You planning to start a cult or just compensating for something?"

"Funny. Nah, this one's not for me. I want it fully registered under Robert Blackwood. And before you ask, yeah, I'm serious. This is full-scale PR sabotage, Cass. I'm about to torch his rep so hard, the Vatican will blacklist him. Don't ask questions and just follow along!"

Cassidy didn't respond immediately, but he could hear her typing. Knowing her, she was already running offshore LLC setups in the background. "Okay, two things. First, that's fucking insane. Second... how discreet are we talking? 'Vanishing in broad daylight' discreet or 'the IRS cries itself to sleep' discreet?"

Parker smirked. "The latter. Run it through Eclipse Leisure Group, set up a dummy corp offshore. I'll send you the encryption protocols I cooked up last hours—makes everything bounce through six territories before it lands. No way this trails back to me or Infinity Holdings."

"Got it. Payments?"

"Already handled. I've rerouted the cash through a burn account tied to his corporate cards. Blackwood won't even blink—hell, he'll probably assume someone on his staff is treating themselves."

Cassidy whistled low. "Damn. Remind me never to piss you off."

"Alright, listen. Once the yacht is bought, I need it officially registered under his name. Full paperwork. I already breached his signature files—had to dig through some ancient-ass legal forms he never secured properly. The yacht's legal, pristine, and his. On paper, at least. Make the seller agree to digital contract signing."

"You hacked his personal signature profile? Jesus, Parker."

"Yeah, well, someone skipped Cybersecurity 101. Man uses the same encryption he did five years ago. Was like peeling open a fucking Lunchable."

Cassidy snorted. "Okay, so a $50 million floating sex palace... legally his. Now what?"

"The invites. Blackwood's crest, black and silver. Make it look classy—like, 'old money meets mid-life crisis' vibes. Send them to the usual influencer crowd and I will too with my fingers on the keyboard. The messy ones. You know the types—chronic oversharers with livestream addictions. Triple their rates. Tell them to bring everyone who'll make this go viral."

"You want OnlyFans celebrities or TMZ bait?"

"Why not both? Hell, hire some reality stars too—the ones who can't spell 'subtlety' if it was tattooed on their asses. I want full spectacle. Champagne showers, barely-there outfits, the whole nine yards. Just keep it legal—I'm not trying to host a fucking Eyes Wide Shut situation."

"Okay, so when's this disaster happening?"

Parker checked the digital clock on his screen. "Quick as possible. Newport Beach. Saturday. The yacht stays docked till midnight, then sails into open waters. I've already hired a captain, under Robert's name. Minimal security. Just enough to stop a fight, not enough to stop the scandal."

Cassidy whistled again, slower this time. "You're actually serious. This is... next-level petty, Parker. So, what's the cherry on top? You know, to really make sure this hits every news cycle possible?"

A wicked smile pulled at his lips. "Already working on it. I'm creating a burner account. Anonymous. Midway through the party, it'll start leaking 'exclusive' photos—just enough to get the press circling but not enough for them to crash the event early. Then, halfway through the night? Boom. Full media blast. Paparazzi tipped. Livestreams trending. You get the picture."

"And when they trace it back—"

"It won't. The yacht, the payments, the guest list—it all leads back to Blackwood. And when the press asks him? He won't even be able to deny it. Hell, his name's on the damn contract."

Cassidy paused. "...You're not just wrecking his image. You're gutting him. He'll lose credibility, business deals, everything."

Parker's voice dropped. Colder now. Calculated. "He should've thought about that before trying to control me. I'm done playing nice."

Cassidy exhaled through the line, quieter now. She didn't ask what he meant, what had really happened and just went on the flow. "Fine. I'll handle the yacht purchase and registration. You just... make sure you're not in the blast radius when this blows up."

"Relax," Parker said, leaning back with a smug grin. "I'll be watching from a distance. In style."

****

The next hours a yacht floated just off the coast of Newport Beach, a shimmering white beast of modern indulgence cutting through the calm Pacific under the soft glow of twilight. It was massive—three decks of pure excess, the hull polished to an almost blinding sheen, every curve designed to scream money.

The name Eclipse had been painted elegantly along the side in silver script, and above it, Registered to Robert Blackwood was stamped in bold, official lettering. Discover more content at My Virtual Library Empire

It was almost poetic.

The sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange and violet, and the music was already thumping. Deep bass. Heavy. The kind of sound that made your chest vibrate. The kind that promised chaos. Parker sat in his mansion miles away, screens glowing, multiple live feeds already rolling in. Everything was set.

The Diddy (Robert Blackwood) party had begun.