Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

The next day, half an hour after the party.

Parker sat back in his leather chair, the glow of his laptop screen flickering across his face as he scrolled through the chaos. Headlines blared across every major platform. "Robert Blackwood's Yacht Party Spirals Into Absolute Debauchery." The thumbnails? Blurred bodies, champagne showers, and way too many influencers half-dressed for public decency.

He exhaled, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the desk. Cassidy had been right—this plan was fucking airtight. The media had already picked it up, but it wasn't just about the humans anymore. No, Parker was playing on a different board.

He clicked on a grainy video someone had leaked from the after-hours mess. The red lighting, the eerie chanting, the crude setup of fake blood altars—it was all so theatrical it felt like a B-list horror flick. Perfect.

The clip showed a group of people, clearly supernatural, wearing real-ass robes like they got them off a hell's Spirit Halloween clearance rack, faking some dark ritual with symbols smeared in what looked like blood on the floor. It was dramatic enough to stir questions but vague enough to avoid being dismissed as a prank.

Exactly how Parker had planned it.

He dragged the video into a secure folder and opened his burner account. The Disciplinary Council of the Ether Community. Cassidy had given him the backdoor access—a forgotten protocol no one had thought to patch up. With a few keystrokes, the file was uploaded.

No note. No warning. Just a file drop with the metadata screaming Robert Blackwood's Yacht – Ritualistic Conduct Suspected.

Parker leaned back, smirking. "Let's see how you wriggle out of this one, Robert."

But this? This was just phase five. Parker knew exactly how the Ether Community would react—or so he figured. They had a reputation.

Supernatural elites loved their secrets. If the media picked up on ritualistic sacrifices linked to one of their own? Nah, they'd sweep it. Bury the whole thing under payoffs and PR bullshit. Maybe even pin it on some "disgruntled staff" to keep their precious image clean.

But Parker? He wasn't banking on just that. Not even close. But he still knew Robert Blackwood will be questioned by his fellow Ether Community Authorities.

Parker cracked his knuckles. Time for the real mindfuck.

See, the yacht thing was wild enough to catch headlines, but people forgot scandals fast. Shit trends for a day, maybe two, and then the world moves on. That's why he needed one last twist.

The mistress.

Oh yeah, he'd dug up everything. Jane, the quiet, prim-looking woman Robert had been sneaking around with for years s. She was never supposed to go public. But Parker had been... persuasive.

Parker had dug up Robert's mistress hours before the party—names, habits, even the expensive little gifts Robert thought he'd kept hidden.

He didn't just stop at her; he mapped out her entire circle, the brunch friends who whispered too much and the social climbers who lived for drama. Before the yacht party even kicked off, he'd quietly fed the affair to the media, a slow leak designed to build tension—Jane Robert Blackwood's mistress and even receipts of everything he had ever bought for her and places they ever went too Parker had hacked everything there is and exposed it.

Who would deny CCTV footage, not just one but tens of them of hotels, restaurants and more?

The press ate it up, plastering headlines everywhere—but, predictably, they kept the woman's face hidden, blurring her identity to keep things tasteful. As if that would soften the blow.

He then sent messages through a fake email, posing as Robert's assistant. Told them he wanted Jane brought to the yacht party—blindfolded. "A surprise for my darling," Parker had written, dripping with sarcasm.

Jane had shown up, clueless, escorted right into the heart of the chaos. And when the paparazzi got their shots? Oh boy.

A perfectly-timed reveal. The affair leaked. Jane caught at the most chaotic fucking event of the year. And the media, out of "respect for privacy," blurred her face—again. But Parker wasn't done.

He'd leaked just enough to make people start guessing. Speculating. And eventually? Someone would connect the dots if the mistress also showed up at the same party too.

Robert wasn't just some rich dude throwing a wild party. Now? He was the unhinged CEO who dragged his secret mistress to a scandalous yacht orgy, complete with rumored occult shit. The public outrage was reaching a boiling point.

Parker scrolled through the trending tags.

#BlackwoodExposed

#YachtGate

#SinsofTheRich@@novelbin@@

Damn near poetic.

The messages had already started flooding Robert's public pages.

"This your idea of philanthropy, Mr. Blackwood?"

"Exploitation of women, cult behavior? How much are they paying to keep this quiet?"

"Fire your PR team, bro. Ain't no way you're walking this one off."

Parker's lips curled into a grin. This was just phase one.

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Now came the options.

Double Down. He could leak even wilder footage. Hold back a couple clips—the real explicit ones. Champagne-drenched models, suggestive dancing, a few blurry close calls that might just push the whole story from "scandal" to "career-ending crisis."

Withdraw and let the media burn itself out while he quietly shifted attention elsewhere. Maybe leak a secondary scandal? Something that kept Robert in hot water but redirected the heat—like a bribery story, or a sketchy business deal with foreign investors.

But honestly? Fuck that.

He was going to wreck Robert Blackwood, not just socially—but reputation, power, and influence.

And the best part? Robert probably had no clue who was behind it.

Parker glanced at the secure line, debating whether to give Cassidy the update. Nah. Not yet. Let the flames rise a little higher.

Two days. That's all it had taken.

And Parker? He was just getting warmed up.

Parker leaned back in his chair, the screen dimly lighting his face as the last of the data streamed in. The whole damn setup had unfolded exactly as he wanted. Cassidy had pulled through—clean, precise, no questions.

But he had to know. He called her, voice sharp but curious.

"Why'd you go along with all this so easily? No questions. No hesitation."

Her voice on the other end was as calm as ever, smooth with that professional coolness she never dropped. "I don't ask questions, boss. I just fulfill the orders I'm given. Curiosity has no place in this line of work. If I have questions, I ask them after the job's done."

*****

Hey guys tell me what you think about this start? Your gifts are my motivation, don't forget way too long guys.