Three percent of the shares.
That was Fisk's demand.
And the moment those words left his mouth, Nolan felt an overwhelming urge to strangle the man. Three percent might sound insignificant now, but in the future, it would be worth billions, perhaps even tens of billions.
Still, Nolan knew that at this moment, he needed Fisk.
As for the future…
Fisk had no real power to sway the military. What he wanted was simply a shortcut, a way to push Nolan's company into the bidding process through unofficial channels.
Rules of the game?
Lately, Nolan's favorite pastime had been breaking rules.
So, without hesitation, he agreed to all of Fisk's conditions. In truth, he had no intention of honoring them.
If Fisk didn't want the ten million dollars Nolan had originally offered, then he wouldn't be getting anything at all.
As they left the meeting, Simon Phillip's face was grim.
"Boss, are you really planning to give him shares?"
Nolan chuckled softly.
"First, we secure the authorization to sell arms. The rest comes later."
Simon studied his employer's calm expression and began to understand what Nolan really meant. Still, he felt the need to caution him.
"Boss, Fisk isn't someone to be trifled with. He may look like just another businessman, but his reach extends beyond the official world. He has ties to the underworld as well. If you go back on your word, it could cause us a lot of trouble."
Nolan's eyes flashed with amusement.
"Trouble? I've never been afraid of trouble. If I was, I wouldn't have walked away from Rock Technologies in the first place. Anyone who dares cross me will only live long enough to regret it. Let them come, and I'll show them exactly what I'm capable of."
He leaned forward, his tone sharp and deliberate as he locked eyes with Simon.
"Simon, I want you to remember this: Rock Technologies will never bow to anyone. Never."
He repeated the last word with such weight that it echoed in Simon's mind.
The declaration was not only for his subordinate. Nolan was reminding himself as well. Campbell and his ilk had already taught him a hard truth: in this world, the ruthless thrived while the timid perished.
Of course, ruthlessness didn't mean senseless bloodshed. He wasn't a butcher. His goal was simple money.
The more he had, the stronger he would become. Massacres didn't fill his coffers. Profit did.
In fact, he was even considering shaping a public persona. Something larger than life. Something heroic.
Iron Man had already captured the world's imagination. Why not stand beside him as another armored icon? Two steel titans Iron Man and the Iron Knight.
He even toyed with the idea of making cameo appearances in films or television shows. A carefully crafted public image would win him favor, credibility, and above all, money.
And money meant power.
His ambition was unstoppable. No one would stand in the way of his fortune, and he was willing to pay any price to keep his path clear.
His new company was already built, though for now its headquarters lay on the outskirts of New York. Land in the city center was prohibitively expensive, and Nolan's vision required more than sleek offices. He needed research labs, factories, and production facilities.
He dreamed of constructing something akin to Umbrella Corporation's Hive a sprawling underground base where his most important secrets could be buried far beneath the surface. In time, the company's branches and subsidiaries could spread outward, housing less sensitive projects.
But dreams cost money. And money was something he sorely lacked.
For now, he had to balance running the company while supervising construction crews in secret. The plan would take shape slowly, brick by brick.
When Nolan and Simon departed, Fisk's lips curved into a sly grin as he made a phone call.
"Boss, Nolan Rock agreed to my terms. We'll be getting three percent of Rock Technologies."
In a skyscraper overlooking New York, a massive man stood by a window, surveying the glittering city below.
"Good," came the calm reply.
He leaned on a sapphire-encrusted cane, his voice cold but measured.
"What we need is order. Let's hope Nolan Rock knows how to play by the rules."
With that, he ended the call, a cruel smile spreading across his heavy features.
Moments later, one of his lieutenants stepped into the office.
"Boss, the Irish have been stirring up a lot of trouble. Several gangs are asking you to step in and mediate."
The large man frowned in thought, then spoke evenly.
"Finn Cooley has gone too far. Send Leland Owlsley to handle it. I want Hell's Kitchen quiet again. You know exactly what I mean."
"Yes, Boss."
Meanwhile, three days slipped by in a blur of work for Nolan.
In the factory of his new company, he had already begun production on the SAR-01 combat robots. Acquiring the research blueprints for these machines had cost him a staggering 130 million dollars, draining most of the funds he had set aside for the company.
Instead of injecting one hundred million into operations as originally planned, he was left with only fifty million, plus a ten-million-dollar safety reserve.
And that was before factoring in the steep production costs of the SAR-01 units.
But combat robots were only the beginning. Nolan was already browsing through catalogs of cheaper technologies, intending to broaden the company's product range.
A normal tech company would have focused first on consumer gadgets phones, smart devices, and the like. But Nolan's eyes were fixed on a different prize. The military expo was only weeks away, and high-ranking officials from across the country would be in attendance. If the SAR-01 impressed them, it could secure him a fortune in contracts.
Elsewhere, Rock Technologies now rebranded under Morse was falling apart.
Morse sat at his desk, reading the financial audits with a face as dark as thunderclouds. Unless he poured at least thirty million more into the company immediately, operations would grind to a halt.
And he knew exactly who had orchestrated this.
Nolan Rock.
The numbers were clean, the paperwork airtight. Morse couldn't prove a thing. But he knew. He had been played, and the cost was devastating.
His expression twisted with rage.
"Damn you, Nolan Rock! This time, I'll make sure you learn what it means to cross the Irish!"
His roar echoed through the halls, his fury spilling over into the entire company. Employees whispered nervously, flinching at every outburst.
But Morse wasn't the only one seething.
Finn Cooley, scarred and disfigured, wore his anger openly as he confronted Morse.
"Morse, tell me what exactly is your plan now?" His ruined face contorted with displeasure.
Morse's voice was ice.
"This time, I went too easy on him. But if he dares mock us, then we'll show him just how vicious the Irish can be."
His eyes glimmered with cruelty as he added, "He has a girlfriend, doesn't he? I say we start there. Grab the girl, break her, and let's see how Nolan Rock reacts when the woman he loves is destroyed before his eyes."
A sick smile stretched across Cooley's scarred face. He liked the idea. Ever since his disfigurement, he had sworn to make cruelty his signature.
"Fine. But be careful. The intel says that girl once saved him. She's not normal. They think she's one of the Inhumans."
Morse sneered.
"We've killed Inhumans before, haven't we?"
Cooley's grin widened. Superpowers meant nothing to him.
Let her be faster than bullets, stronger than men. In the end, she would die like all the others.
Outside, the skies darkened. Thunder rumbled, and rain began to fall, tapping against windows with a steady rhythm.
Night crept in.
Inside a modest apartment, Jessica Jones lounged lazily on the couch, phone pressed to her ear as she chatted with Nolan.
Well, "chatted" wasn't quite accurate. Mostly, she rambled while he distracted himself assembling another combat robot.
He only replied occasionally, his tone absentminded, yet to Jessica even such scraps of attention felt like warmth. An orphan with little love in her life, she had found something precious in him.
But tonight, the rain came down harder, streaking across the glass.
"Huh. Rain? That came out of nowhere."
Jessica sighed, her voice low, almost wistful.
"What a miserable night…"
And outside her window, in the shadows, the storm was only just beginning.
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