Once bitten, twice shy.
Jason felt the paranoia setting in—again. These days, he couldn't shake the feeling that everyone around him had the potential to be a HYDRA spy. And while he wasn't particularly afraid for himself—his tech alone could take on a dozen assassins—it was Bruce Wayne and Alfred he was worried about.
"Grandpa Alfred, you better not go out for a while," Jason said, voice tight with concern. "I'm going to have Dr. Connors administer a dose of the Extremis Serum."
"Is that really necessary, Jason?" Alfred asked, raising a skeptical brow.
"It's absolutely necessary."
Jason's voice left no room for argument.
"Bruce's identity might already be compromised. And there are way too many double agents in this family's orbit."
He shook his head, rubbing his temples as the weight of paranoia and responsibility pressed in. Wayne Enterprises was holding up—for now. Sure, it was riddled with corporate spies, but most of them rarely ventured beyond surface-level operations. The real threat lay within the manor and the lab he'd recently built beneath it.
Especially the bio-laboratory. That place was a magnet for trouble.
It was barely up and running, and already a fifth of the staff had ties to shadow organizations—HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D., the Court of Owls, and a dozen others with bioscience agendas. They were all sniffing around for technology, trying to steal or sabotage.
Even the manor's household staff couldn't be trusted.
Jason had tortured a captured infiltrator for information—not his proudest moment, but a necessary evil. The revelation? These groups had been targeting Wayne resources for years. Especially during Bruce's training sabbatical in the mountains, when Wayne Enterprises was leaderless. The internal power struggles had nearly torn the company apart. Competing agents clashed over influence, each faction trying to gain control.
"If the Wayne fortune hadn't been so well hidden, we'd be in even more trouble," Jason muttered.
The Wayne legacy predated the American Revolution. Generations of wealth, hidden behind layers of corporate proxies, shell trusts, and obscured ownership. Bruce Wayne was just a single heir among many in a vast, secretive network. If he died, the wealth wouldn't vanish—it would simply flow into another branch of the Wayne bloodline. That was what had kept HYDRA from making a serious move.
"Jason, I know this whole situation has rattled you," Alfred said gently. "But you're taking it too far."
Alfred had seen too much to be easily shaken. He'd retired young from MI6, only to spend the next five decades in service to the Wayne family. The betrayals, the alliances, the lies—he'd danced that dance more times than he could count.
Spies didn't scare him. He even used them from time to time, feeding false information to mislead enemies.
So he couldn't quite understand why Jason seemed so rattled.
Jason sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Grandpa Alfred, you have no idea how deep this goes."
He turned away from the window, eyes dark with thought.
"HYDRA isn't just some shadow group operating in the background. They're global. They've infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D., governments, corporations... even Congress. And they're not just regular agents. Some of them have powers—real ones."
He paused.
"And they have nukes."
The word hung in the air like smoke.
"Do you understand what that means? We're not talking about some minor threat we can punch into submission. If they launch a nuclear attack, no Avenger—not even Thor—can stop it."
Jason's voice was grim.
"People think the Avengers are unstoppable, but I've done the math. One American Ohio-class submarine carries 24 Trident missiles, each with up to 14 nuclear warheads. That's enough to erase two dozen cities in minutes. And the U.S. Navy has 14 of those subs."
He turned back to Alfred.
"Do you know what that kind of firepower means? One warhead can burn hotter than the sun's core. Thor might survive a star's light, but nuclear fire could vaporize him. Even Thanos might struggle against that kind of power."
Jason let out a long breath.
"HYDRA is insane enough to use them. If it ever comes to that, I might survive—if I'm lucky and not in the blast zone. But Bruce? You? Everyone here? Not a chance."
He looked Alfred in the eyes.
"That's why I need you to take this seriously."
Alfred saw the weight behind Jason's words. The haunted look of someone who'd seen too many outcomes play out in his head. He didn't argue anymore.
"Jason," Alfred said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I may not understand all the tech, or the full scale of this conspiracy. But I trust you. I've always trusted you."
Jason felt a flicker of warmth at that.
"Thank you, Grandpa Alfred."
No more words were needed between them.
Jason would fight the rising shadows with every tool at his disposal. In a world where Marvel and DC forces mingled—where aliens, gods, and meta-humans walked the Earth—he was the one weapon they never saw coming.
Because while others relied on strength, or speed, or magic—Jason had knowledge, technology, and paranoia.
And sometimes, paranoia saved lives.