The negotiation intensifies as Thiel teleports a sample artifact—a miniaturized energy core—onto the table, demonstrating its shield potential by erecting a force field that shimmers blue, blocking out the city noise. “See? Impervious. Your desires are transparent, Donald—power, legacy, the thrill of the deal. Align with me, and we neutralize the threats. Refuse, and I foresee your downfall amid the bidding war.”
Trump laughs, a sound like thunder mixed with seduction, countering by manifesting a devilish contract from thin air, its pages glowing with infernal script. “You’re powerful, but I’m the ultimate closer. Sign here, and it’s yours— with a clause for mutual protection. Deal with the Devil? It’s just good business.”
As the night deepens, the penthouse becomes a battleground of wills, with Thiel’s quantum foresight clashing against Trump’s manipulative charisma. Other interested parties lurk in the ether—holographic intrusions from competitors flicker and fade—but the two press on, haggling over clauses that could save or doom the world. In the end, a tentative accord emerges: the Drive for Earth’s shield, in exchange for Trump’s “consulting” role in its deployment. Yet, as they shake hands—Thiel’s blue glow meeting Trump’s fiery grip—the artifact’s corrupt whisper lingers, hinting that no deal is ever truly pure. The city below remains oblivious, but the stars above seem to shift, watching the fallout.