Mid-level sector, Arasaka Corporation Tower.
Special Operations Department floor.
Hayden stood frozen in the middle of the office, his face drained of all color. The moment he saw the Counter-Intelligence agents step inside, he knew the truth.
Susan had sold him out.
There was no mystery here. So much capital had been poured into the cybernetic implant project. The prototype was gone. The fallout was enormous. Someone had to be sacrificed to calm the board and redirect blame.
And Hayden's position was perfect.
Not powerful enough to fight back.
Not important enough to protect.
High-ranking enough to look convincing.
> "Come with us, Hayden."
V's voice was calm, almost gentle—but his actions were merciless.
Without allowing Hayden to speak even a single word, V revoked all of his corporate permissions in one clean motion.
Every authorization.
Every access key.
Every system link.
The effect was immediate.
Hayden collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing violently as his cybernetic implants shut down one by one.
At Arasaka, all employees were required to use company-developed implants. It ensured quality control, loyalty, and dependency. The downside was cruel but efficient:
Once your employment ended, your implants were disabled instantly.
The pain was beyond imagination. Muscles spasmed. Nerves screamed. Hayden's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
V watched him closely, memorizing the sight.
If he ever wanted to avoid this fate, he knew exactly what he had to do.
Climb.
Keep climbing.
Until there was nowhere higher to go.
Two Arasaka agents stepped forward, lifted the powerless Hayden like discarded cargo, and dragged him away.
V glanced at the surrounding employees. Fear. Disgust. Relief that it wasn't them.
He turned and left without looking back.
This was the Counter-Intelligence Department's counterattack—a clear declaration of dominance over Special Operations. V couldn't help but wonder what Susan's expression looked like right now.
He already knew Jenkins's.
Smug.
Satisfied.
Victorious.
---
A One-Way Ride
The Arasaka vehicle moved smoothly through the city.
By the time they were several kilometers away from the tower, Hayden's condition had stabilized enough for him to speak.
> "Where… are you taking me?"
His voice was hoarse.
Execution inside the company wouldn't require this distance. And torture didn't make sense either—Special Operations wasn't finished yet, and too many powerful figures still stood behind it.
If something truly ugly came out, Hayden wouldn't be the only one exposed.
So why here?
He looked at V in the passenger seat, his mind racing.
V didn't answer.
Instead, he gave a brief glance to the agent beside him.
A hood came down.
A mask sealed his mouth.
Silence.
The car drove on.
Eventually, it slowed.
Then—impact.
Hayden was thrown out of the vehicle, rolling across cold concrete before stopping at the edge of something vast and dark.
The hood was ripped away.
What he saw made his breath catch.
A familiar overpass.
The sound of waves below.
The smell of salt and oil in the air.
A young man stood in front of him.
> "Do you remember this place?"
James lifted Hayden effortlessly, forcing him to face the view.
Understanding hit Hayden like a hammer.
This was where James's father had died.
The staged accident.
The erased records.
The operation Hayden himself had planned.
James studied his expression and smiled faintly.
> "You recognize it."
He drew a gun, pressed it against Hayden's forehead, and spoke calmly.
> "When you go down, remember to apologize to my dad."
For a brief moment, Hayden's eyes changed.
Fear vanished.
In its place—relief.
Even joy.
Now he understood. The loss of the "King Kong" implant wasn't corporate infighting.
It was revenge.
Susan would follow him soon enough.
Knowing that, Hayden felt peace.
The gun fired.
Bang.
Hayden's body fell from the overpass, disappearing into the dark sea below in seconds.
James watched until the water stilled.
> "Let's go."
Lucy nodded and followed him away.
---
Marvel World
Stark Industries Tower – Weapons R&D Department
James returned to his workstation holding a steaming cup of coffee. He casually pulled a pile of snacks from his pocket, leaned back in his chair, and pressed play on the movie already running on his screen.
"Rebirth: My Life as a Salary Thief at Stark Industries."
A perfect title.
If anyone had asked James ten years ago, he would never have believed this was his life.
Reborn as a mixed-race American, abandoned as an infant, raised in a welfare institution sponsored by Stark Industries. Awakening early memories, inheriting the ruthless study habits of a former exam-grinder.
Scholarships.
Sponsorships.
MIT.
Double degrees in Physics and Engineering.
And then—employment.
Locked in.
James had joined Stark Industries not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice. From birth, he was tied to the company. The contracts he signed before graduation were ironclad.
Only Stark Industries could fire him.
He could never resign.
The penalties alone would bankrupt him for life.
So he adapted.
And became a professional salary thief.
In James's mind, it wasn't laziness—it was philosophy.
> "I studied like hell for decades. Books stacked higher than people.
If I don't enjoy life now, when will I?"
And honestly?
Stark Industries treated its people well.
Free top-grade Blue Mountain coffee.
Luxury apartments in the city.
State-of-the-art equipment.
James even filled a thermos every day to take home.
Health concerns? Future problems.
Tony Stark had money and liked spending it. Working for him wasn't shameful at all.
Of course, James knew the truth.
The Weapons R&D Department wouldn't last.
Sooner or later, it would be dismantled. When that happened, his benefits would drop, his freedom would shrink, and the golden days would end.
So until then?
Steal what you can.
---
Office Camouflage
> "Nuo, is the new weapons test data ready?"
Department Head Allen's voice snapped James back to reality.
In one smooth motion, James switched the movie to a spreadsheet. Snacks vanished into a drawer. Fingers hammered the keyboard loudly.
> "Ready. I'll email it now."
Allen smiled and patted his shoulder.
> "I trust your work."
Then he leaned closer and whispered:
> "Don't stay too late. You're making others uncomfortable."
James nodded obediently.
Translation: Stop making us look bad.
At five sharp, James clocked out.
Free air conditioning, internet, and high-end computers were gone for the day. Electricity in New York was expensive. Stark's setup spoiled him.
If he could, he'd steal the chair too.
---
Nightlife and Distractions
> "Leaving early, Nuo! Bar with us?"
Martin, a colleague, slung an arm around him.
Before James could reply, the front-desk blonde cut in.
> "Martin, don't corrupt him."
Martin made an exaggerated pout.
Emma's gaze lingered on James.
James pretended not to notice.
Casual fun was fine.
Attachment was not.
Marriage? Absolutely not.
He dragged Martin outside before things got awkward.
Manhattan glowed under neon lights. Bars and clubs overflowed with exhausted office workers blowing off pressure.
James watched dancers on stage with genuine appreciation.
Martin wasn't wrong.
They were impressive.
A woman sat beside him.
> "All alone?"
> "For now."
Drinks followed. Laughter. Chemistry.
They went upstairs.
The night passed pleasantly.
Later, with the woman asleep beside him, James closed his eyes—
And the world dissolved into pure white.
Familiar figures stood around him.
His heart skipped.
"My cheat system…"
> "After more than ten years—
it's finally here?"
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