American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

Three months later.

New Jersey, Vought Pharmaceuticals Global R&D Center, second basement level.

There is no bright sunshine here, only pale fluorescent lights and buzzing ventilation ducts.

Dr. Davis stood at the door of the "BL-99 Project Group" laboratory that had originally been assigned to him, looking completely bewildered.

The door was locked. Through the glass window, he saw that the inside was empty.

The promised top-of-the-line equipment never arrived, his precious data hard drives disappeared, and even the lab bench was dismantled.

"What's going on?" Davis stopped Thor, who happened to be passing by.

At this moment, Saul was no longer the gentle and refined negotiation expert. He had a toothpick in his mouth and a newly signed termination document in his hand.

"Dr. Davis, we were just looking for you," Saul mumbled. "The company has just passed a strategic adjustment resolution."

"What decision? What about my team? What about my BL-99? The Phase II clinical trial was supposed to start next week!" Davis's voice was filled with anger, but even more so with panic.

"Oh, the team," Thor casually pointed to the end of the corridor. "Your two deputies have been transferred to the 'Pet Deworming Medicine Research Department,' I heard they're short-staffed there. As for BL-99..."

Thor paused for a moment, then smiled.

"Following a reassessment by our 'Expert Committee,' we have determined that BL-99 poses 'potential cardiovascular risks.' In order to be responsible to patients, the Board of Directors has decided to suspend the project indefinitely."

"Nonsense! Utter nonsense!" Davis roared, his face flushed red. "Our toxicology report is flawless! There is absolutely no cardiovascular risk! You're lying!"

"Shh!" Thor held up a finger, gesturing for silence. "Doctor, keep your voice down. Take a close look at Clause 142 of your contract."

Saul pulled a copy from his briefcase and pointed to a line of inconspicuous small print.

"The new parent company has full control over the acquired intellectual property (IP) and has the right to adjust R&D priorities according to market strategy."

"What strategic priority?" Davis felt a chill run down his spine.

"Our strategic priority is," Saul pointed to the ceiling, where the marketing department was upstairs, "that OxyContin earns us a billion dollars a year with a gross margin of 95%. Your BL-99, if it goes public, will take at least 30% of OxyContin's market share. And, for some reason, the board unanimously agrees that its repurchase rate will be pitifully low."

"We are a publicly listed company, and we have PhDs. We sell 'lifetime clients,' not 'one-time cures.'"

"So, we bought you not to sell your medicine."

Saul leaned closer to Davis and whispered the harsh industry jargon:

"It's to kill it."

Killer Acquisitions.

This is the darkest chapter in the game of capital. Giants acquire startups with disruptive potential like stamps, then throw them into shredders or lock their patents in bottomless safes.

It's not that they're not good enough, it's that they're too good. So good that they threaten the giants' cash cows.

"You...you've committed a crime! This is a crime against humanity! I'm going to sue you! I'm going to expose you to the media!" Dr. Davis stormed toward the elevator in anger.

Two burly security guards blocked his way like a wall.

"No, this is business." Saul shrugged, a hint of cold pity in his eyes. "By the way, according to the non-disclosure agreement (NDA) and non-compete clause, if you reveal even a single word, or conduct any painkiller research within the next ten years, we will not only recover the full fifty million, but also sue you for stealing trade secrets and put you in jail for life."

"Welcome to the Major Leagues, Dr. Davis. Now, please hand over your access card. Security will escort you out."

...

Washington, D.C., Department of Justice (DOJ) Antitrust Division.

Although it was late at night, the light in the director's office was still on.

An internal investigation inquiry letter regarding "Wotech Pharmaceuticals' alleged malicious acquisition and market monopoly" has just been printed out, the paper still warm from the ink.

The document details the twelve small pharmaceutical companies that Water Pharmaceuticals acquired in the past three months, and the suspicious fact that all of these companies subsequently "closed down for some reason".

The director held the red seal in his hand, hesitating whether to stamp it. Once stamped, it would be the first shot fired against Vought Pharmaceuticals.

Just then, the phone on the table rang.

The bureau chief glanced at the caller ID, his pupils contracting slightly. It was a private line from the office of Senate Majority Leader Mitchell.

"Hi, Jim. This is Mitchell." The voice on the other end of the phone was friendly yet authoritative, with an unquestionable, paternalistic tone. "Working so late? For that Walter Pharmaceuticals document?"

"Yes, Senator." The director took a deep breath. "Their actions are too obvious. This is not just a monopoly; it's stifling innovation."

"I understand your concerns, Jim. I truly do," Mitchell's voice became earnest. "But we must consider the bigger picture."

"The bigger picture?"

"Do you know that the Japanese are frantically acquiring our assets? Sony bought Columbia, Mitsubishi bought Rockefeller. Now, they're eyeing our pharmaceutical industry. Vought Pharmaceuticals is one of our flagship companies. If we weaken it at this time, we're handing the Japanese a knife."

The sound of a lighter lighting a cigarette came from the other end of the phone.

"Furthermore, Vought Pharmaceuticals just pledged $200 million to the Veterans Pain Care Fund. This money will address the medical needs of many veterans...and it's also related to next year's midterm elections, Jim."

"Their acquisition of those smaller factories is a defensive measure to 'integrate resources and enhance the international competitiveness of the American pharmaceutical industry.' We should support domestic companies to grow stronger, not engage in internal strife at this critical juncture."

The bureau chief's grip on the phone tightened and then loosened.

He glanced at the inquiry letter on the table, then at the American flag on the wall.

"I understand, Senator." The director's voice became dry. "Perhaps... our investigation has indeed gone astray. I will reassess the sufficiency of the evidence."

"Very good, Jim. I knew you were a sensible person. I've reserved a spot for you at next week's golf game."

The phone hangs up.

A few minutes later, the inquiry letter, which hadn't yet been stamped, was shredded. With a hissing sound, it was turned into countless meaningless strips of paper, like new drugs nipped in the bud.

...

Back to the top floor of Water Pharmaceuticals.

Victor stood before the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, watching the bustling traffic below. The Manhattan skyline shimmered like a galaxy, and beneath each light, someone was either enduring pain or creating pain.

Behind him, Thor was reporting the results of the battle.

"BioLife has been completely dismantled. We have locked up the core patents of BL-99 with a 'defensive patent network,' and no one will be able to bypass us to research this area for the next twenty years. We have also signed letters of intent to acquire three other small companies that make non-opioid drugs. We have even bought two alternative medicine clinics that were trying to develop acupuncture pain relief therapy and turned them into warehouses."

"very good."

He looked at his reflection in the windowpane. The reflection grew clearer and clearer.

He not only eliminated his competitors, but also "another possibility".

From then on, doctors will only have one option in mind when prescribing medicine; and patients will only have one antidote when in pain.

"Now," he said softly, as if making a vow to himself, or as if challenging God, "only we can define what pain is. And only we can define what medicine is."