Alexander Pierce stared at the Winter Soldier's unconscious form with a headache building behind his eyes.
This is supposed to be a world-class assassin, he thought bitterly. Could you people at least show some respect?
EMIYA had arrived without an appointment. That meant security protocols kicked in automatically, which meant the Winter Soldier attacked the moment the stranger entered Pierce's residence.
It hadn't gone well.
People liked to mock Archer-class Servants for their relatively low strength stats—a running joke in certain circles. But "low for a Servant" was still superhuman by any normal standard. The Winter Soldier was enhanced, dangerous, one of the deadliest assets on the planet.
EMIYA had put him down in three moves.
Now the red-clad stranger stood in Pierce's living room, calm as anything, delivering his message.
"So it was your people." Pierce rubbed his temples. "But doesn't your leader have my phone number? He could have just called."
"My Master said to tell you," EMIYA replied, his expression perfectly neutral, "that he doesn't use phones."
Pierce's face twisted into something complicated.
Doesn't use phones? Then why had the Assassin asked for Fury's number in the first place?
But Pierce was too experienced to take anything at face value. He turned the statement over in his mind, searching for hidden meaning.
No. This isn't about phones.
The real message was the messenger himself. Another unknown operative, appearing from nowhere, dismantling the Winter Soldier like he was a training dummy. It was a demonstration. A flex.
He's showing me that his organization has depth, Pierce realized. That the two women weren't his only assets. That he has soldiers to spare.
It was actually crude intimidation tactics—nothing sophisticated about it. But Pierce's paranoid mind wove it into something grander, something calculated. A leader playing chess while everyone else played checkers.
Luke, of course, had no such grand strategy. He just wanted HYDRA to think twice before trying anything stupid. The more they hesitated, the stronger he'd become. Simple math.
But Pierce didn't know that. And his imagination was doing half the work for Luke.
"Tell your leader," Pierce said carefully, "to avoid such... dramatic actions in the future. It's difficult to provide cover when entire military bases disappear."
"Understood."
EMIYA dematerialized on the spot, his form dissolving into golden motes of light.
Pierce's eyes widened. What the hell was that?
It looked like something out of a ninja movie. Some kind of advanced camouflage? Teleportation? He'd heard rumors about organizations like the Hand using mystical techniques...
Or maybe it's just misdirection, he told himself. Sleight of hand, like stage magic.
That explanation felt inadequate, but it was better than admitting he was dealing with forces he couldn't understand.
"Welcome back, Archer."
Luke was in his favorite position—head in Skadi's lap, enjoying the simple pleasures of being an isekai protagonist with priorities.
EMIYA materialized nearby, taking in the scene without visible reaction. Whatever opinions he had about his new Master's lifestyle choices, he kept them to himself.
"Mission complete, Master."
"Good." Luke didn't bother sitting up. "Rest for now. We've got work tomorrow."
The Hunter incident had caught him off guard. A hostile drop appearing at the worst possible moment, nearly getting him killed, spawning a viral outbreak that required military intervention to contain.
He couldn't let that happen again.
Time to make Umbrella Corporation into a real Umbrella Corporation.
Not the evil bioweapons company from the games—although the name was still hilariously appropriate. No, Luke wanted to build something that could respond to supernatural disasters. Containment teams. Rapid response units. The kind of infrastructure that could handle whatever his drop system decided to throw at him next.
Was it altruistic? Not really. Luke wasn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart.
But some of his future summons might have moral standards. Heroes who'd object to collateral damage, who'd want to help people, who'd expect their Master to be more than a ruthless opportunist. Better to have the framework in place now.
Besides, cleaning up supernatural messes meant more opportunities to farm drops. Win-win.
The next morning, Luke called in his personal assistant.
The original assistant—the one Gitano Dragonetti had assigned—had been dismissed weeks ago. Luke didn't trust anyone the vampires had placed near him. Too many opportunities for surveillance, manipulation, or worse.
His replacement was named Michelle Harper, and she was exactly what Luke had ordered from the headhunter: Ivy League education, extensive experience in corporate management, impeccable references.
Also tall, blonde, and stunning in a way that made the low-cut white blouse and fitted black pencil skirt look like a deliberate weapon.
Luke appreciated aesthetics. Sue him.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
Michelle's heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she approached his desk. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how good she was at her job—and how good she looked doing it.
Her career idol was Virginia "Pepper" Potts, the legendary assistant who'd managed Tony Stark's chaos for years. The difference was that Luke was significantly easier to handle than a genius billionaire playboy with substance abuse issues.
And, Michelle had to admit, her new boss was remarkably attractive. The Sparda bloodline had refined Luke's features into something approaching unfair—sharp jawline, perfect proportions, an effortless magnetism that drew attention without trying.
Not that she'd ever act on that attraction. Michelle was a professional. But a girl could appreciate the view.
"The CEO candidates," Luke said, pulling up the files on his computer. "You found them?"
"Five candidates, as requested." Michelle transferred the data to his screen with practiced efficiency. "All vetted, all available, all hungry for an opportunity."
Luke scrolled through the profiles, dismissing the first four almost immediately. Too cautious. Too ethical. Too likely to ask uncomfortable questions about where the startup capital came from.
The fifth candidate caught his eye.
Former CEO of a mid-sized tech company that had gone bankrupt under suspicious circumstances. Reputation for being ruthless, pragmatic, willing to cut corners when necessary. Currently desperate for a second chance, which meant he'd be loyal—or at least controllable.
Perfect.
"Schedule an interview with this one." Luke tapped the screen. "Tomorrow, if possible."
"Of course, sir."
Michelle made a note and excused herself, heels clicking down the hallway.
Luke leaned back in his chair, already planning his next moves. Umbrella Corporation needed legitimate leadership—someone who could handle the business side while Luke focused on the supernatural.
Someone who wouldn't ask too many questions about why the company needed BSL-4 containment facilities and a private military contractor on retainer.
This is either going to work brilliantly, Luke thought, or blow up in my face spectacularly.
Either way, at least it wouldn't be boring.