Night settled over New York, draping the city in long shadows and neon glow as a sleek black Lincoln limousine slipped quietly toward the German Consulate. In the backseat, Daniel wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo; beside him sat Felicia Hardy, her light-blue evening dress so smooth and radiant it seemed to shimmer in the dark, tracing every elegant line of her figure.
Most days, Felicia blended in on campus—chic but understated. Tonight, she made no effort to hide her beauty. As Daniel sat next to her, even his calm composure slipped for a moment; he couldn't help but notice the curve of her neckline, catch the allure in her scent, or sense the glint of daring in her eyes.
He broke the silence first: "Is this thing bulletproof?"
Felicia flashed a knowing smile. "Naturally. The body's reinforced, armored to shrug off most rifles, even sniper-grade rounds. The shell can take a direct hit and keep the cabin sealed."
Daniel let out a low whistle. That kind of protection would stop most threats. Sure, he could probably sense a bullet coming and teleport or counter it with magic in a pinch, but the reminder was clear: even in this world, he wasn't invincible. Especially when bigger, stranger threats were lurking just beyond the city's edge.
The Hardy family wasn't about to take chances.
"This much firepower for a party? Should I be worried?" Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow at Felicia.
She shrugged, unbothered. "Depends who you've upset lately. Or maybe we're just very careful."
Either way, there was a sense of tension—even if no danger came tonight, someone was expecting it soon. Maybe Kingpin was on the move. Maybe it was someone else. Daniel knew his profile had gotten too high for comfort. He didn't mind risk—he just preferred it on his terms.
Felicia turned to him with a sly smile. "Why not stay at my place tonight?"
For a split second, Daniel felt his steady heartbeat stutter. She was teasing—but there was something bold in her gaze. Before he could respond, she sat up straight, the moment breaking as the car pulled to the curb.
"We're here," she said lightly, stepping out before Daniel could collect his thoughts. He drew in a breath, forced a calm expression, and followed.
'Dangerous,' he thought—for how easily she controlled the room around her. She was used to getting what she wanted.
Inside, the consulate glowed with soft gold from ornate chandeliers. Though officially German ground, the party guests all spoke English, lapsing into German only for the occasional private exchange.
It was more than a diplomatic dinner. The guest list read like a who's-who of power—public officials, CEOs, academics, old money. The Hardy name had gotten them in easily. Now Daniel found himself mingling with New York's elite.
"Daniel, this is Uncle Malick," Felicia said, leading him to a distinguished man with silver hair and a welcoming smile. "Uncle Malick, Daniel's a star student in quantum and bioengineering—rumor is, he's years ahead of everyone else."
Malick shook his hand with the kind of easy authority only a true insider carried. "A pleasure, Daniel. I'm always interested in the next generation."
Daniel smiled politely. "Thank you, sir. I've barely begun; I'd like to learn from someone with your experience."
There was a subtle flicker in Malick's eyes—Daniel caught it instantly: recognition, or calculation. He knew the name. Gideon Malick: scion of the Malick family, Hydra aristocracy, one of the last true powerbrokers seated behind the World Security Council. Malik was old money with even older secrets. He was dangerous.
Daniel didn't linger. He made a brief, careful impression before excusing himself. Felicia stayed behind, her voice low as she chatted with Malick—too casually and comfortably. Daniel's suspicion sharpened.
Were the Hardy's tied to Hydra?
There were signs—her ease with Malick, the subtle clues in their conversation. People didn't survive long in Malick's orbit unless they were either family—or in on the game.
For now, Daniel drifted through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging warm smiles. By now, everyone had heard of him—bright young scientist, showy but mysterious background, and always turning up with striking women in tow. First Betty Ross. Then Gwen Stacy. Now Felicia Hardy. Whispers followed him everywhere. And where there were whispers, there was always someone planning their next move.
But the real shift in energy came when the next guest arrived.
She seemed to glide into the room: tall, poised, striking in a deep red dress that flared against pale skin. A slit showed long, athletic legs. Her smile alone seemed to take the air out of the room. Everyone—men and women alike—turned to look as she passed.
She cut through the crowd like she owned the place, stopping near Malick and Felicia.
"Mr. Malick," she said warmly. "It's been years."
Malick greeted her with real fondness. "Elektra. You're even more radiant. Shame your father couldn't see you tonight."
She thanked him softly, balancing grace and restrained sorrow.
Malick then turned to Felicia. "Felicia, meet Elektra Natchios. Her father and I went way back—he passed earlier this year. Elektra, you and Felicia are about the same age. Get to know each other."
Daniel lingered just close enough to hear the name: Elektra Natchios.
He peeled away, careful not to show surprise, but inside every alarm bell rang. The Natchios family was more than old money; their ties to Malick and Hydra went back generations. If Felicia was close to Elektra too, the Hydra theory grew even stronger.
He could feel the chessboard tightening—enemies and allies concealed as friends, everyone making moves through hidden lines of power.
Daniel smiled to himself as he moved back into the crowd.
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