Nolan now knew for certain: Harlan was tied to a gang.
Jessica Jones really did have a talent for detective work.
She discovered that the group in question was one of the more notorious gangs operating in Hell's Kitchen.
Of course, "notorious" meant little here. In a place like Hell's Kitchen, there were so many gangs of that level you couldn't count them on two hands.
But even such gangs were far beyond what someone like him a lamb without connections or power could take on directly.
He could already picture it. Countless jaws waiting to tear him apart, to swallow him whole.
The only thing he could truly rely on now was his Technology System.
And yet, another problem loomed.
After purchasing the K-01 technology, he had less than a few hundred thousand left.
That was enough to live comfortably in the real world, but when it came to the system, where even the cheapest technologies cost millions tens of millions, or even billions that sum wasn't even a drop in the bucket.
That night, Nolan couldn't sleep.
The next morning, he called for Charles.
"Uncle Charles, can you help me reach out to the company's major shareholders?"
Charles looked surprised, but nodded.
"That's not difficult."
"Bring them one at a time," Nolan quickly added. He had no intention of meeting them all together.
The first to arrive was Campbell.
Nolan glanced at Charles, who frowned before quietly taking his leave.
"So, boy, what's this about?" Campbell's tone was sharp, utterly without courtesy.
Their relationship had already soured, so there was no need for pretenses.
Nolan wasn't surprised.
He was certain that among the board members he had called for, at least one of them had already entertained the thought of killing him. The only question was who.
"I need money," Nolan said plainly.
"Money?"
Campbell froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"You actually think I'd lend you money?"
Nolan ignored the mockery.
"One hundred million. I know you can afford it. The terms are simple: if I can't pay it back within two months, my shares will be yours.
"You know how profitable K-01 is. If you hold my shares, you could seize control of the company."
Campbell's breath caught.
He didn't understand Nolan's true purpose, but he was undeniably tempted.
He had already plotted Nolan's death, but killing him outright couldn't compare to the profit of swallowing up those shares.
He didn't believe Nolan had any chance of repaying the loan. And even if Nolan somehow could, Campbell would make sure he couldn't.
Seeing Campbell's hesitation, Nolan knew he had him hooked.
This wasn't just about raising money. More importantly, it was about creating a shield.
All he needed was two months.
If he found out who was behind the attacks, he'd deal with the money then.
If he failed to uncover the truth, he'd abandon all his current plans and disappear.
If he couldn't be a capitalist, then he'd embrace the role of a villain.
Still, with the unique nature of his system, it was far easier to make money while wearing a polished, respectable mask.
"You'll need a contract," Campbell said at last.
"No problem."
"One hundred million is a fantasy. I'll give you thirty million, no more."
"Deal. I want it in my account within three days."
Nolan agreed without hesitation.
A wolf in sheep's clothing he would take whatever he could get.
Once Campbell left, Nolan ran the numbers in his head.
One down.
He met with the other shareholders one by one, offering each a different bargain.
By the end, he had secured a total of eighty-seven million dollars.
The sheer weight of the sum left him short of breath.
He opened the system.
Inside was every technology imaginable, from across countless worlds.
From palm-sized microbots to titanic mechanical monsters like Mechagodzilla anything one could dream of was here.
But what he needed now was a weapon.
Because tonight, he was going to kill.
He had to abandon his naïve ideas.
In this world, survival sometimes required ruthless methods.
He thought carefully about what he needed.
His first combat machine could not be too conspicuous. Otherwise, it would draw unwanted attention.
Second, it had to kill efficiently.
He had dreamed of building a highly advanced AI combat unit, but just a glance at the price crushed that thought.
Even a brain with only baseline artificial intelligence, stripped of fighting ability, still cost over a hundred million.
Left with no choice, he selected cheaper alternatives.
According to the system's rules, buying an entire package of related technology cost about eighty percent of the total, but came bundled with a lot of useless components.
After some thought, Nolan opted to purchase dozens of secondary technologies individually.
With them, he would craft a killing machine uniquely his own.
"System, open the Consciousness Lab!"
The lab was a simulated environment where he could experiment, design, and assemble.
Once the assembly was complete, he could purchase the real thing directly from the system.
The only issue was cost. The physical product would always be expensive.
But right now, cost-effectiveness was irrelevant.
He threw himself into the work.
With the array of new sub-technologies and his own Harvard degree in mechanical engineering, progress was steady and precise.
Finally, when the assembly was complete, Nolan allowed himself a long breath of relief.
Now he only needed to wait until his body fully recovered.
That wait lasted a month.
By then, his injuries had healed.
Truth be told, he could have left the hospital earlier, but the looming danger convinced him to stay under protection a while longer.
Besides, the time spent with Jessica Jones had strengthened their bond considerably.
When he finally left the hospital, Nolan returned to the company and held a meeting.
The divide was obvious. The major shareholders greeted him with disdain, while the minor ones showed open enthusiasm.
Nolan didn't care.
He had already prepared to sever ties with all of them.
Only Charles continued to work diligently and loyally, which stirred a rare sense of gratitude in Nolan.
As night fell, the sky was clear, the moon sharp.
Tonight, he would kill.
Without anyone knowing, Nolan walked alone into Hell's Kitchen.
His weakened body left him breathing hard with every step.
At night, Hell's Kitchen was hauntingly silent.
Only the occasional bursts of raucous laughter from shadowed alleys proved anyone lived there at all.
This was Hell's Kitchen where the streets kept their silence until someone screamed.
And then it came.
A shrill cry for help cut through the stillness.
Nolan hesitated, then followed the sound into a dark alley.
There he saw a group of thugs toying with knives, cornering a terrified woman.
Nolan's lips curled into a pleasant smile.
"Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to Belt Street?"
The gangsters scowled at the man in the black-and-white mask.
"Are you screwing with us?" one spat.
Even a blind man could tell they were in the middle of a mugging.
To ask for directions now he was mocking them.
One of them lunged with his blade, stabbing toward Nolan.
But before he got within a meter, a flash of silver tore through the air.
A razor-sharp metal spike shot forward, impaling his chest.
Nolan's smile never wavered.
Behind him, a machine stepped into the light. Its body was a nightmare of blades, its very limbs honed into weapons, each movement glinting with deadly precision.
A killing machine, born of steel.
"Unfortunately… wrong answer," Nolan said, his voice cold.
He had survived two assassination attempts.
And what he hated most now were these parasites filth that looked like men but weren't.
Tonight, the hunt began.