SHIELD HQ.
"Is it really that simple?" Nick Fury asked, his one eye narrowing.
"It is," Talos replied via secure line. "He just wants the information. He'll remove the mark once I deliver it."
Fury leaned back in his chair. He had dealt with gods, super-soldiers, and aliens. But Vincent Hall was different. He was a wild card.
"I don't like being outplayed," Fury muttered. "But we have no choice. The Ice Demon's power is... absolute."
He remembered the frozen corpses in Hell's Kitchen. The sheer scale of Vincent's power made standard containment protocols useless.
"Talos, deliver the files," Fury ordered. "Then stay away from him. Tell all Skrull agents: Vincent Hall is a no-go zone. His senses are too sharp."
"Understood, Nick," Talos said, relieved.
Fury stared at the file on his desk: Oscorp Industries - Shareholder Blackmail Material.
It was terrifyingly easy to compile. Oscorp was dirty. Every shareholder had skeletons—bribes, affairs, illegal experiments.
"What is he planning?" Fury wondered. "A corporate empire? Or something worse?"
Vincent's Apartment. Morning.
Vincent woke up next to a very exhausted Gwen.
"Round four was a bit much," she mumbled into the pillow.
"You started it," Vincent grinned, kissing her forehead. "Rest. I have business."
He went downstairs. Talos was waiting outside, looking nervous.
"Here," Talos handed over a thick dossier. "From Nick."
Vincent scanned the files. It was gold.
"Good work," Vincent said.
He waved his hand. A small droplet of water extracted itself from Talos's neck and evaporated.
"The mark is gone. Now, get out of my sight. And tell your people: Stay in your lane."
Talos nodded frantically and practically ran away.
The Plan.
Vincent sat at his desk, analyzing the Oscorp data.
Total Market Cap: $18 Billion (down from $200B due to Norman's death and scandals).
Target Acquisition Cost: $8-9 Billion for controlling interest.
Potential Savings via Blackmail: $2 Billion.
Oscorp was a steal. It had the best bio-labs in the world. It was the birthplace of the Lizard, Goblin, and future villains like Electro.
"I need a CEO," Vincent mused. "I don't want to run the day-to-day."
Pepper Potts was taken. Jessica Jones was a mess. Gwen was too young.
Mystique.
The thought crossed his mind again. Raven Darkholme was brilliant, adaptable, and ruthless. She could play the role of a CEO perfectly.
"But first, I need the shares."
He picked up the file on Arthur Connelly, the second-largest shareholder (18%).
Connelly was the man who pushed Norman out. He was ambitious, greedy, and currently plotting to oust Harry.
"Let's pay Mr. Connelly a visit."
Connelly Estate. Near Central Park.
Arthur Connelly was returning from his morning jog, flanked by two bodyguards.
He felt good. With Norman dead, Oscorp was his for the taking. Harry was just a puppet he would soon cut strings on.
But when he arrived at his gate, he saw a young man in a hoodie standing there. His gate guards were unconscious on the ground.
"Mr. Connelly," Vincent smiled brightly. "I've been waiting twenty minutes."
"This is private property," a bodyguard drew his gun.
"Relax," Vincent walked past the gun like it didn't exist. "I'm here to talk business."
Connelly signaled his head of security, Lucian, a deadly marksman.
"Let him in," Connelly said coldly. "If he tries anything, kill him."
Inside the mansion.
"Coffee?" Connelly offered, playing the gracious host.
"Black, please," Vincent sat on the sofa, comfortable as a cat.
"Breaking into my home is a dangerous way to do business, young man," Connelly said, placing the cup down.
"Getting an appointment with you is hard," Vincent shrugged. "I prefer shortcuts."
He tossed the dossier onto the table.
Connelly opened it. His eyes widened. Then narrowed.
It was everything. The offshore accounts. The illegal arms deals. The mistresses.
"You shouldn't have brought this here," Connelly closed the file. "Now I have to kill you. You realize that, right? This is America. Trespassers get shot."
Lucian's hand moved to his holster.
"Is that so?" Vincent stirred his coffee. "This coffee is excellent, by the way. Shame it's your last cup."
"Kill him," Connelly ordered.
Bang!
Lucian fired. A clean headshot.
But the bullet didn't hit flesh.
It hit a wall of ice that materialized inches from Vincent's face.
The bullet froze in mid-air, then shattered.
Vincent stood up. The room temperature dropped to sub-zero.
"You think a gun protects you?" Vincent's eyes glowed white. "Mr. Connelly, I am the one who knocks."
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