Chapter 251: Dan Viking
<🎧 Song Recommendation: Remember The Name by Fort Minor, Styles Of Beyond>
...
That was a fantastic show, Von. Thank you so much for coming on."
"No problem at all, Arthur," Von replied smoothly.
Arthur smiled, then leaned in slightly. "I actually have something for you."
"What’s that?" Von asked.
Arthur reached behind a equipment case and produced a package.
"I couldn’t give you this before, but here it is now," Arthur said, holding it out. "I know all you wanted back then was fish, but have this too as a token of my gratitude."
***
A black Mercedes-Maybach was already waiting in the loading bay behind the broadcast building.
The chauffeur pulled the door open the second they approached, and Von climbed inside, sinking into the plush leather seat with a quiet exhale. Olivia slid in right beside him, setting her tablet and shoulder bag onto her lap.
Olivia glanced sideways at Von. "That went well."
"Did it?"
Olivia offered a wry smile, hesitating for half a second before speaking. "Well... we all knew about your pledge to make all twenty-six shows completely unique. But I didn’t expect you to put even more pressure on yourself by announcing it on television. Though, I suppose that’s still your choice to make."
Von let out a low laugh, adjusting the dark sunglasses on his face. "Just that? It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll survive."
The Maybach pulled out of the underground bay and turned onto Front Street. Toronto slid past the tinted windows in the flat, grey light of an overcast October afternoon.
It was noticeably colder here than in Miami. Pedestrians on the sidewalks were bundled in heavy coats, scarves, and boots.
The sight served as a stark reminder that winter was approaching fast. For a brief second, Von’s mind wandered, wondering if he should visit here to finally experience real snow for once.
He pushed the thought aside, turning his focus back to business.
"So..." Von looked over at Olivia. "Where are we going, and what exactly am I walking into?"
Olivia tapped her tablet screen, more than ready to run through the itinerary.
"We’re heading downtown," she said. "The venue is a restaurant called The Chase, situated on the top floor of a building on King Street. We’re due there at one-thirty."
"And the meeting?"
"The Toronto contract is basically done," Olivia explained. "Emily negotiated the framework over the last two weeks. The baseline guarantee, the arena load-in windows, the curfew penalties, all those are settled." She tilted her head slightly.
"There’s a merchandise clause still open though, along with one or two smaller operational details. But overall, it’s about ninety percent signed."
Von frowned faintly. Most of this information had probably been detailed in the briefing email Emily sent him earlier, but he hadn’t bothered to read through all the fine print.
"Then why am I here?"
"Oh, that’s because he asked for you specifically."
"Who did?"
"Dan Viking." Olivia turned the tablet toward him so he could see the dossier. "He’s the primary investor backing the Canadian dates. He isn’t a traditional promoter; he’s the capital. But more importantly, he’s the reason the doors open internationally. He holds long-standing relationships with almost every major venue operator outside the United States; Europe, Australia, and key markets in Asia. If you ever plan to take V-OMEN or your music worldwide, he’s not a man you can easily bypass."
Von took the tablet, his thumb scrolling down the file.
The photo showed a broad-shouldered man in his fifties with silver hair at the temples, a square jaw, and the tan of someone who spent half his life on yachts.
"And he wanted me personally?"
"He begged, according to Emily." Olivia’s lips twitched with faint amusement. "His exact words were that he wanted to see for himself that you were in good shape after what he called the ’accident’ at the Kaseya Center. He claimed he wasn’t comfortable putting eight figures behind an artist who might break down before completing the run."
Von looked up from the screen, his expression flat. "...He wants to physically inspect me for injuries?"
"That’s what he told her."
"He could have just watched the broadcast tape. There are hundreds of millions of views of my face online right now, and it’s obvious I walked away completely fine."
"That’s the strange part," Olivia said, scratching her temple with the tip of her stylus. "It didn’t make much sense to Emily either. But he offered her significant movement on the financial split if you showed up in person. And by significant, I mean the kind of concession that drastically increases the net value of the entire Canadian leg. So she agreed."
Von handed the tablet back, leaning his elbow on the armrest as he watched the downtown storefronts drift past.
’A man with that kind of global leverage wants forty minutes of my time just to confirm something he could verify from a ten-second video clip.’
Something didn’t add up.
"Fine," Von said, checking his watch. "What time is it now?"
"Twelve-ten."
"Then I’m eating something before we get there."
They made a quick detour to St. Lawrence Market, a spot Olivia managed to locate on her navigation app in about eleven seconds.
Leaving the driver with the car, Von walked through the bustling indoor food hall with his sunglasses on, ordering a hot peameal bacon sandwich from a corner stall.
The woman behind the till stared at him a little too long, her eyes widening as she connected his face to the headlines dominating the internet all morning, but she politely kept her mouth shut and simply handed over the wrapped food with a pleasant smile.
Von stood by the counter, eating in peace while observing the flow of the city around him.
He liked Toronto. He hadn’t really expected to.
The last time he had visited, the entire trip had been a blur of film festival chaos, moving from their cars to luxury hotel suites to red-carpet premieres without ever seeing the actual city.
This time, watching regular people cross the street against the cold wind, browse flower stalls, and argue over parking spots gave him a strange sense of grounding.
It reminded him of what he had told Marcello back in Miami about never really traveling anywhere just to live in the moment.
By one-fifteen, they were back in the Maybach, heading toward King Street.
The Chase was located on the penthouse level of a restored vintage building, framed by exposed brick, steel, and floor-to-ceiling glass that opened onto a wraparound terrace overlooking the financial district.
Von stepped out of the private elevator expecting a full corporate entourage, lawyers, venue liaisons, and accountants.
Instead, the dining room was completely empty except for a single man.
He was seated alone at a wide table near the glass wall, a solitary glass of untouched water resting in front of him.
The moment the elevator chime sounded and Von walked in, the man stood up so abruptly that his chair legs scraped against the wood.
Dan Viking was considerably larger in person than his profile photo suggested.
Standing at least six-foot-three with a heavy, powerful frame, he wore a tailored charcoal jacket over an open-collar shirt. On his wrist rested a platinum timepiece that easily cost more than the Maybach parked down on the street.
He extended a large hand, gripping Von’s firmly.
"Mr. Varley."
"Von’s fine," Von replied, returning the grip.
"Dan." Viking gestured toward the leather chair opposite him. "Please, sit. Thank you for coming. I mean that sincerely. I know what I asked for, and I know your schedule doesn’t leave much room for detours."
Von took his seat, keeping his sunglasses resting lightly in his lap. "I was expecting a larger table."
"There were supposed to be others." Dan sat back down, sliding his water glass slightly to the left. "I sent the legal team away."
’Interesting.’
Von subtly shifted his focus, letting the System interface materialize at the corner of his vision without breaking eye contact.
[Unequip: The Visionary?]
[Equip: Mogul (S)?]
[Confirmed.]
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. It wasn’t a visible change in lighting or décor; rather, it was like moving from hearing a raw voice to reading a multi-track master board.
The subtle shifts in Dan’s posture, the micro-tensions along his jawline, and the underlying commercial dynamics of the room laid themselves out.
Dan Viking was nervous.