"Tony’s in," Avril said, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and dread as she handed the encrypted phone back to Jason. Her body aching from the night spent slumped in the cold iron chair, but she’d pulled off the bluff, convincing a billionaire to save her ass. The abandoned factory’s stale air clung to her skin, the distant hum of LA’s morning traffic a cruel reminder of the world she might never see again.
Jason snatched the phone, his eyes glinting with a mix of envy and grudging respect. "Well, fuck me, having a capitalist sugar daddy must be nice," He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "A hundred million bucks, just like that? Most people don’t see that kind of cash in ten lifetimes."
Avril’s heart raced, his unpredictable mood setting her nerves on edge. She swallowed hard, her voice small but desperate. "I did what you asked. Can you let me go now?"
Jason’s gaze bored into her, his smirk cold and calculating, making her stomach twist with unease. He leaned closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "Relax, princess. I’m a man of my word. Once Stark’s money hits my account, you’re free to crawl back to your glamorous life. But..." His voice dropped, laced with menace. "If that playboy’s jerking you around and the cash doesn’t show, you’ll wish you’d never met me."
Avril nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, the weight of his threat sinking into her bones. She could still feel the sting of his earlier slap, the memory of his fist yanking her hair a vivid warning of what he was capable of. The factory’s shadows seemed to close in, the rusted walls and cracked concrete a grim testament to her captivity.
---
Jason stepped out of the holding room, the heavy steel door creaking shut behind him. The morning sun filtered through broken windows, casting jagged patterns across the factory floor. As he lit a cigarette, the system interface flared to life, its holographic glow illuminating his face.
[Ding! Reputation has exceeded 10,000 points, granting one ally recruitment opportunity.]
Jason’s jaw dropped, the cigarette nearly falling from his lips. In just one hour since the NYPD’s public announcement of the kidnappings, his reputation had skyrocketed past ten thousand. "Fucking hell," He muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Heroes could bleed out in the streets and no one would bat an eye, but snatch a couple of celebrities, and the world lost its goddamn mind. ’Welcome to the age of entertainment,’ He thought bitterly.
[Ding! Villainous ally ’David Nord’ (Agent Zero) activated. Source: X-Men Origins: Wolverine!]
[Reminder: In five seconds, memory implantation will commence for host and ally.]
Jason scoffed, flicking ash onto the floor. "Another nobody," He muttered, unimpressed. But as the system’s countdown ticked down, a flood of memories surged into his mind, vivid and sharp, like a movie playing in his skull.
He was back in New York, the gritty underbelly of the city alive with neon and danger. David was just a scrappy kid then, hustling in the alleys, his clothes tattered but his eyes hungry for a shot. Jason, already carving a name for himself in the underground, was building his crew, looking for loyal soldiers to expand his empire. David showed up, desperate for work, his skinny frame and lack of fighting skills making him a hard sell. He couldn’t throw a punch to save his life, and his social skills were shit, but his aim with a gun? Fucking uncanny.
Back then, Jason’s gang relied on fists and knives—guns were a last resort in New York’s strict gun-control streets. One stray bullet could bring the NYPD down like a hammer, wiping out entire crews. Most bosses wanted bruisers, not sharpshooters, but Jason saw something in David’s quiet determination. He gave David a job—low-level grunt work, just enough to keep him fed.
David didn’t complain. He scrubbed floors, ran errands, and tackled the dirtiest jobs with a work ethic that put the rest of the crew to shame. Jason noticed, his sharp eyes catching the kid’s hustle. After a few months, he put David to the test, and the kid delivered, earning a spot at Jason’s side. With steady cash flowing, David could’ve indulged like the others—booze, drugs, hookers—but he didn’t. He hoarded every dollar, spending it all at the shooting range, firing round after round until his shoulders ached and his wallet was empty.
His obsession paid off. At a gang shooting competition, David obliterated the competition, outshooting the crew’s best marksman by a mile. Jason’s jaw had dropped, realizing he’d stumbled onto a fucking prodigy. He bankrolled a private outdoor range, stocked it with every gun on the market—pistols, rifles, shotguns—and unlimited ammo. David lived there, training relentlessly, his talent blossoming into something inhuman. He wasn’t just accurate; he could nail targets beyond a gun’s effective range, rapid-firing with precision that defied physics. The kid had hit the ceiling of human skill, a goddamn sniper god, needing only real-world experience to seal the deal.
When David announced he was leaving to join mercenaries in war-torn countries, Jason’s gut twisted. Losing a talent like that—a fucking genius with a trigger—was a blow. But David was loyal, his eyes fierce with gratitude for the chance Jason had given him. "Three years," He’d promised, his voice steady. "If I make it back alive, my life’s yours, boss."
Jason couldn’t argue with that kind of devotion. He’d sent David off at the airport, a rare pang of reluctance in his chest, hoping the kid would survive the chaos he was diving into.
---
The memory faded, and Jason snapped back to the present, his cigarette burned to a stub. He did the math—three years had passed. David should be back by now. He yanked out his phone, dialing the number burned into his mind from the system’s implant.
"Hey, boss!" David’s voice came through, rough but warm, like they’d never been apart.
Jason grinned, leaning against the Mercedes. "How’d you know it was me?"
David chuckled. "This number’s been dead for three years. Only a handful of people know it, and with all the shit hitting the fan lately, it’s gotta be you."
"Not bad," Jason said, his grin widening. "You’ve been out in the wild for three years and still call me boss."
"Always will, as long as you need me," David said, his tone dead serious.
"Enough with the sappy shit," Jason said, laughing. "You heard about the mess I’m in? Explosions, jailbreaks, taking down Kingpin, and now these Hollywood divas?"
"Yeah, it’s all over my phone," David said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You’ve been busy, boss. The celebrity snatch is your handiwork, right?"
"Damn straight," Jason said. "The job’s not done, and I’m short on hands. Where are you at?"
"LAX, about to catch a flight to New York."
"Perfect fucking timing," Jason said, his pulse quickening. "I’m sending you an address. Get your ass here, now."
---
The call’s noise roused Christine and Harley, who stumbled out of the car, their hair mussed, eyes bleary from sleep. Christine’s silk blouse was wrinkled, her skin still flushed from their earlier encounter, while Harley’s makeup was smudged, her usual bounce subdued. "What’s going on?" Christine asked, her voice sharp as she shook off the haze.
"Avril’s family fucked us," Jason said, his tone bitter. "They called the cops, and now the whole damn city’s looking for us. We need to pack up and move before they find this place. We’re waiting on one more guy."
Christine’s eyes widened, shock cutting through her grogginess. "They called the police? Are they trying to get her killed?"
Jason shrugged, his lips twisting into a cynical smirk. "Rich people’s family drama. Fuck if I understand it."
Harley rubbed her eyes, yawning. "Who’re we waiting for, babe?"
Jason’s grin turned cryptic, a spark of anticipation in his eyes. "The most badass sharpshooter I’ve ever seen."
[Ding! Villainous ally ’David Nord’ recruitment successful!]
[Source: X-Men Origins: Wolverine]
[Abilities: Cold Weapons Mastery (Level 3), Driving Mastery (Level 4), Combat Mastery (Level 5), Firearms Mastery (Level 10)]
You can read advance Chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
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