Morrison Clyde found himself enjoying the look in Nolan Lock's eyes.
It was the look of a man unwilling to yield, simmering with resentment and anger. A spark of rebellion.
But so what?
What could Nolan Lock possibly do? He was just one man. And Morrison didn't stand here as a man he stood as a representative of Hydra.
Hydra was eternal. Hydra was unyielding.
Morrison was certain that, right now, Nolan's mind must be a storm of fury and the urge to kill. But it didn't matter. The young heir would learn, soon enough, how vast Hydra's reach truly was. And when he finally understood the sheer power Hydra commanded, he would bend.
He would kneel, as others had knelt before.
Or else, he would share the fate of his father, that traitor who thought he could walk away. Or worse, end up like Howard Stark another genius silenced for refusing to obey.
As Morrison's gaze drilled into him, Nolan suddenly felt a strange clarity. His anger cooled, giving way to a cold composure.
This was good.
At last, he understood the truth of his father's death. And in that truth lay the shadow hanging over his own life the inheritance of enemies who would never stop hunting him.
He despised backroom games. If someone wanted to kill him, let them say it to his face. At least now, everything was on the table.
"Morrison Clyde," Nolan said evenly, his eyes steady. "Have you considered one thing?"
Morrison raised an eyebrow, his smirk amused. "And what is that?"
"You've just confessed that Hydra murdered my father. Now tell me do you truly believe I would hand over everything I've built to the very men who made me an orphan?"
A bitter laugh escaped Nolan's lips. He didn't know whether to pity Morrison's arrogance or mock his stupidity.
But Morrison wasn't rattled. His smirk held firm as he straightened his tie.
"You will remain here for three days. Consider them your final deadline. At the end of it, you will either sign… or you will no longer matter."
With that, he rose and walked toward the door.
Nolan's eyes followed him, expression calm. Then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, he said:
"Did you hear that? Kill him."
"Understood, sir," came the Red Queen's crisp reply from his wristwatch.
Compromise?
Nolan chuckled under his breath. In all his years alive, he had never once learned how to spell that word.
Hydra was troublesome, yes. But not impossible. For all their mystique, they were still nothing more than men organized, dangerous men, but men nonetheless.
Perhaps Hydra might even send the infamous Winter Soldier after him. The thought crossed his mind, but Nolan quickly dismissed it.
Killing him outright would be a waste. To Hydra, a dead Nolan Lock held no value.
Meanwhile, Morrison Clyde stepped out of the station with a self-satisfied grin. On his way out, he brushed past Matt Murdock, who had just arrived.
Morrison gave the blind lawyer a dismissive glance and a mocking chuckle before striding off.
Matt Murdock, however, wasn't just any lawyer he was Daredevil. And he was one of Nolan's carefully chosen legal team.
The reason was simple. Nolan had offered him far too much money to refuse. And like anyone else, Matt wasn't immune to the allure of financial stability. Especially since Nolan never restricted what he did after hours. By day, a lawyer for Lock Technologies. By night, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.
As the two men passed each other, Matt's head tilted slightly, his sharp senses noting something unusual. But he said nothing, continuing forward until he reached Nolan's holding cell.
"Boss," Matt said, lowering his voice. "We've got a problem. The charges against you are piling up. Clearing your name could take several days."
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying I won't be walking out tonight?"
"We're working on it," Matt replied carefully. But his tone betrayed the truth Nolan wasn't leaving anytime soon.
Nolan smiled faintly.
Hydra's handiwork. Low tricks, petty intimidation. They relied on these blunt instruments to cow ordinary men.
But they seemed to have forgotten one thing.
This was no longer an age ruled only by wealth and politics.
This was the age of superheroes.
"I understand," Nolan said at last. "Tell Simon… it's time to begin the Star-Making Plan."
He had thought it through long ago. In this world, there was no greater currency than being a superhero. Fame, worship, influence it wasn't just reputation. It was tangible power.
And so he needed an identity. Something brighter than Nolan Lock, the heir of a fallen company.
He needed to become a symbol.
A superhero.
Outside, Morrison Clyde stood in the dying light of the setting sun. He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the world, and clenched a fist against his chest.
Light belonged to the world.
But darkness darkness belonged to Hydra.
"Cut off one head," he whispered with reverence. "And two shall take its place. Hail Hydra."
The words had barely left his lips when a single sharp crack split the air.
Bang!
A neat hole bloomed in his forehead. His body toppled, lifeless, eyes wide in disbelief.
From the rooftop across the street, a sniper calmly lowered his rifle, pressed a finger to his earpiece, and said, "Target eliminated."
Then he vanished into the night, long before the police arrived.
By the time officers rushed to the scene, the killer was already gone without a trace.
Nolan received Red Queen's confirmation almost instantly. But he kept the information to himself. Men like Matt Murdock, with their overbearing sense of justice, didn't need to know. Some burdens were better left unspoken.
When Matt exited the station minutes later, he caught the familiar scent of blood. His heightened senses immediately recognized the corpse on the pavement. It was the same man he had passed earlier.
His brow furrowed.
Inside, Police Commissioner George Stacy sat across from Nolan, his face lined with fatigue.
"Nolan Lock," he said heavily, "someone clearly wants you gone. Otherwise, I would have received the order to release you by now."
Nolan inclined his head. George Stacy wasn't a fool.
"Commissioner, may I borrow your phone?"
George hesitated, then slid it across the table.
Nolan dialed, a smile tugging at his lips when the line connected.
"Yo, Stark."
"Nolan Lock," Tony Stark's irritated voice snapped through the receiver. "Do you have any idea what you just interrupted? I was in the middle of work."
Nolan ignored the tone, his voice calm. "I need your help."
For a moment, silence. Then, unmistakable excitement.
At last.
Damn it all Tony Stark had been saved by Nolan not once, not twice, but three times now. He still remembered that bitter sting. The man had even helped him discover the very key to the new element that would save his life.
The thought of being indebted burned him day and night. And now, finally, Nolan Lock had come asking for something.
Tony leaned forward in his chair, grinning despite himself.
"What do you need?"
"Find out who's pulling strings against me."
Nolan didn't explain further. He didn't need to. Tony Stark was different from him. Stark Industries was a titan among titans in the defense world. To a man like Stark, secrets were only secrets until he chose to uncover them.
The call ended. George Stacy eyed him with suspicion.
"Well?"
"All set," Nolan replied with a smile. "You'll be getting a call soon."
Sure enough, less than thirty minutes later, George re-entered the room, his face troubled.
"You were right. I just received the order. You're free to go."
He muttered under his breath, "Damn capitalists."
But before Nolan could leave, George added, his eyes sharp, "That lawyer you met earlier the one who spoke with you. He was shot dead right outside this station."
Nolan's expression never wavered. A faint smile lingered on his lips.
"Oh? That man wasn't my lawyer. Allowing him in here was your oversight. And as you said, he was killed right after leaving this station. Meanwhile, I've been sitting right here. Clearly, I had nothing to do with his death. Isn't that so?"
He propped his chin on one hand, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze.
That was reality.
And Nolan Lock knew how to use it.
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