Profiles bloomed across Felix's vision. Mugshots, more specifically, detailing full names and birthplaces scattered across three continents. Men and women who had drifted through the gray economy of violence without ever quite breaking into the big leagues. Eastern Europe. South America. One from Jersey who had washed out of the Marines and never forgiven the world for it.
Not stupid, but sloppy. Caught on cameras before. Flagged in border scans. Suspects in kidnappings that never quite stuck. People who got paid just enough to keep moving and just little enough to stay hungry.
Felix scrolled through them with a tightening jaw.
'This one,' he told Herbie, pausing on a file. 'Used in a corporate intimidation job five years ago. Stark subsidiary. Cleaned up protestors before a hostile acquisition.'
Herbie highlighted the line in pale blue. 'CONFIRMED. NON-DISCLOSURE SETTLEMENT FILED. EXECUTIVE NAME REDACTED.'
Felix exhaled through his nose. Well, none of this mattered.
'What I want,' he said, eyes hardening, 'is who hired them. Find me the money trail. CCTV. Burner phones. Ride shares. Anyone who talked to them before the hit.'
'ACKNOWLEDGED,' Herbie replied instantly. 'DIGITAL FOOTPRINT IS HIGH. ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS.'
Considering the digital footprint, this was going to be far faster than the search for the Auction Master's people. They were unknowns. He only had partial face scans. But this? For these people? He had everything. It was going to take maybe twenty minutes.
Felix stood and headed back inside.
Luke was sitting up now, a blanket draped over his shoulders, Claire perched on the edge of the table beside him. Jane and Darcy hovered nearby, pretending not to listen while absolutely listening.
"Ah, you're all here too."
The Osborn butler Bernard Houseman stood quietly near the wall, hands folded, impassive as ever. The butler acknowledged Felix back with, "Sir."
"Where are the guards that brought Claire here?"
"I told them to return as Mr. Osborn requested," the butler replied. "Will that be a problem?"
"No, that's perfect. Osborn read my mind. I don't want too many people involved in this. More witnesses and more questions. And since our driver is here, we don't have to waste time. We're leaving," Felix said.
Jane frowned immediately. "Leaving where?"
"My place."
Darcy blinked. She had been there once. "Your mansion place?"
"Yes."
Dr. Jane Foster stiffened. "That's risky. Whoever did this—"
"—already knows about this cottage," Felix cut in, calm but firm. "The moment medical staff were mobilized, this location became compromised."
They prooobably didn't. He was fearmongering here.
Jane crossed her arms. "This place has no mobile networks. That's the point."
"And that was useful," Felix agreed. "Past tense. Right now, it means no rapid response, no drone coverage, no live coordination. If they act again, we're blind."
Luke shifted, irritation flashing across his face. "So what—you want us all holed up in some your fortress?"
"Yes," Felix said simply.
The room went quiet.
"You think Norman Osborn picked me for no reason?" Felix continued. His voice wasn't raised, but it carried. "You think I don't know what my house can do? What systems it has? I had Captain America as my guard." He looked at Luke directly. "This place was a hiding spot. My home is a stronghold."
Luke clenched his jaw. "I just don't like running."
"I know," Felix said. "But this isn't running. This is repositioning."
Luke's hands tightened on the blanket. "They came after me. After Claire. I've got these powers and I'm just supposed to sit on my ass while someone pulls strings?"
Felix stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You'll use them," he said. "I promise you that. But not blind. Not angry. Not before we know who we're dealing with."
Luke searched his face.
"Whoever is responsible," Felix went on, "doesn't fight fair. They don't care if you're a good man. You represent something they hate."
Luke swallowed.
"And if I'm right," Felix finished, "you're not going to like who we find. When that happens, we'll need tech. Money. Planning."
He placed a hand briefly on Luke's shoulder.
"I'll handle that. You handle healing. Deal?"
Luke held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded once.
"…Deal."
Claire exhaled shakily and leaned into Luke's side.
Darcy muttered, "Well, if we're relocating to a murder-proof mansion, I call dibs on the good couch."
Jane sighed, rubbing her temples. "I still don't like it."
"You don't have to," Felix said. "You just have to come."
The front door opened quietly.
Bernard Houseman stepped in from the porch, as composed as if he'd merely gone out for groceries. "Sir," he said, inclining his head. "The limousine is ready."
Felix turned to him. "We're moving. All of us."
Bernard didn't hesitate. "Understood."
Outside, the limo waited like a patient black animal. Purring and awaiting to be ridden. As they filed out—Luke supported by Claire, Jane and Darcy arguing softly, Bernard opening doors with practiced grace—Felix lingered for a half second longer, scanning the quiet farmland.
This place had served its purpose.
Now it was time to leave before the world caught up.
He stepped into the limo, the door closing with a muted thud, and the vehicle pulled away.
***
The Faeth Mansion—formerly the Smythe Mansion—rose from the manicured grounds like something halfway between a cathedral and a bunker. Pale stone, clean modern reinforcements woven subtly into old-world architecture. Lights ignited along the drive as the limo passed, perimeter systems waking fully now that their owner had returned.
'Good job, Herbie,' Felix said.
'OF COURSE, SIR.'
"Welcome home," Darcy muttered, craning her neck. "Jesus. Okay, yeah, this place has changed. What's with the weird lights? Are they bombs?"
"If I said they were?"
"...dude, are you sure we're safe?"
"Super safety is the idea," Felix replied.
The limo rolled to a stop beneath the overhang. "Bernard, you see the garage, right? It'll open automatically for you."
"Yes, sir."
Following that, they got out. The front doors, however, were also opened although not because of automation. It was because of Sue Storm stood there.
Hands on her hips. Immaculate posture. Blonde hair pulled back neatly. She wore her usual butler's attire—tailored, crisp, professional—but the expression on her face was anything but. It reminded of the old Sue. The Sue that killed a leader of a nation, that was a superhero and mean girl celebrity.
Getting out of the car, Felix wore a grim face. Welp. This was going to be…something. 'Herbie, did you at least tell her?'
'I DID. I DON'T THINK IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE.'
"Hey, Sue…"
"Oh," Sue said pleasantly. "So now you come."
Felix winced. Just a little. "Sue—"
"You left me in Delhi," Sue cut in, smile sharp. "With a note. A note, Felix."
"It was a very thorough note."
"You abandoned your household manager in another country," Sue said sweetly, stepping aside to allow everyone in. "And now you arrive with—" her eyes flicked over Luke, Claire, Jane, Darcy, Bernard "—injured guests. Delightful."
Luke didn't notice nor did Claire. But the doctors?
Darcy squinted at Sue. "Okay, no offense, but you look really familiar."
Jane tilted her head, studying her more carefully. "Have we met?"
Sue paused, blinked once, then smiled politely. "People say that often. I'm told I have one of those faces."
Felix cleared his throat. "Everyone, this is Ms. Sue. She runs the house."
"Sue…?" Darcy squinted. "Huh…"
Sue inclined her head. "Please, don't mind me. Go inside."
They moved inside quickly. The doors shut, locks sealing with soft mechanical clicks. Luke was guided upstairs. Second floor, east wing. A wide, sunlit room already prepared. Clean sheets. Medical equipment discreetly integrated into the furniture. A long table set with food: soups, bread, protein-heavy dishes, fresh fruit.
Sue might have complained but she did the work.
Jane visibly relaxed. "Oh, thank god."
Darcy grabbed a roll immediately. "I knew I liked this place."
Claire helped Luke sit, murmuring reassurances. As for Bernard, he was busy parking the limo in the garage.
Felix watched it all for a moment, then spoke. "I'm heading to the computer room. It has all the security cameras," he told them. No one was really listening. As much as they initially protested, having great food, state of the art shit, and, well, wealth made them feel comfortable. And good. Like everything was okay. It was a matter of atmosphere, not necessarily utility.
Sue's eyes flicked to him. He gave her a faint, apologetic smile and slipped away. He didn't lie, he did go to the computer room. Said computer room was dark except for the glow of dozens of screens.
This was indeed a security room with live feeds, thermal overlays, and perimeter sensors. More importantly, however, were the global maps and the data streaming in controlled, orderly chaos. The investigation Herbie was conducting. Felix always preferred it like this, on screens rather than in his head. He shut the door behind him and sat heavily in the central chair, elbow on the armrest, fist pressed to his cheek.
"Walls soundproof?"
"AFFIRMATIVE." An echo of Herbie from the computer speakers.
"Great. Herbie, is it done yet?"
"IT IS."
Footage appeared and Felix squinted. It was an alleyway at nighttime. Rain-slick pavement reflected neon. Definitely New York. It was grainy at first, then sharpened, enhanced, stabilized.
One of the mercenaries stood hunched, nervous, hands shoved into his jacket. Across from him stood a woman. A brunette with an immaculate coat. Her shoes were unsuited for the alley solely because they were untouched by the grime. Her smile was pristine. Too pristine.
She spoke calmly with no visible fear and no rush. "Kill Luke Cage," the audio transcript scrolled beside the image. "Take his girlfriend alive. If he resists, remind him what happens when he doesn't comply."
The mercenary nodded, grinning. "And the money?"
"You got the equipment and half already. Isn't that enough? Be patient."
Felix felt cold spread through his chest. The woman turned slightly—and the camera caught her face in full.
Felix recognized her instantly.
"…The attendant."
The one from the Auction House.
The pleasant smile. The practiced politeness. The employee.
"Knew it. I knew it was you, Auction Master." He laughed a little. He wasn't going crazy. His gut was right. There was no real evidence pointing to him until now. Before, it could have a jealous company or the military or someone with a grudge against a cop. But no, he could now say it with his chest open: he wasn't crazy and there WAS a mastermind.
"Question is…when was this?"
"LAST WEEK."
"So before the incident…could still be dead."
But…
"Also means we can finally confirm a location for one of these people. No need to search billions of people, we have a location. Herbie, you can follow where the attendant went, right?"
"ALREADY DONE, MASTER FAETH."
"And? Who is she really? What does she do?"
"SHE IS SALLY BOLIVIA. SHE WORKS AT MORTON SUPERMARKETS."
"Huh?"
"A GROCERY STORE."
"...what? I meant a proper analysis. Find out what spy agency she's apart of. That's obviously a decoy."
"IT IS NOT. SHE IS NOT A SPY, MASTER FAETH. SHE WAS RAISED AND BORN IN NEW YORK CITY. NO RED FLAGS. LED A NORMAL LIFE. EVERYTHING CAN BE CONFIRMED WITH 99.99998% CERTAINTY." Images appeared of Sally Bolivia. From elementary school all the way to university. "THESE ARE NOT PHOTOSHOPPED. SHE HAD A GAP YEAR IN COLLEGE AND RECEIVED DEGREE IN MARKETING FOUR YEARS AGO. SINCE THEN, SHE HAS BEEN WORKING AT MORTON SUPERMARKETS, BUT QUIT IT SEEMS."
"You're telling me there's not a thing special about her? What about Morton Supermarkets."
"NOTHING. A FINANCIAL AID WAS GIVEN TO IT BY OSCORP AND THE CITY A DECADE AGO. THE STORE DOES ITS TAXES FAIRY NORMALLY."
"What? You're joking."
"I AM NOT. DUE TO MY OWN ALGORITHMS, I TOO FIRST BEGAN BY ANALYSING SPY NETWORKS. BUT IT APPEARS OUT THIS INDIVIDUAL THAT THE AUCTION MASTER CHOSE WAS AN ORDINARY PERSON."
"No…no, this is not an accident. This…" He chuckled a little. "Herbie, check her college debts?"
Beep.
"PAID OFF FIVE MONTHS AGO."
"And her parents?"
"LIVING IN A SMALL CONDO UNIT IN MANHATTAN."
"Knew it. I knew it!"
Imagine a man coming up to you, an ordinary young college student struggling to pay, when you are offered a six-figure salary. Imagine retiring your parents and paying off your bills.
The Auction Master…was picking the same kind of post-colleges students that Felix himself once was.
It was almost amusing to think about. He could have been apart of this if he hadn't found a job at Oscorp. "Ha. Hahaha! It's on purpose! He picks and chooses young people that struggled to find jobs with their degrees. And by paying them well, he has utmost loyalties. I wonder, are they all in New York? No, he's not that stupid. I bet…I'm betting it's for major cities throughout the world. He gets young talented people whose talents haven't been used yet. Instantly earn their loyalty and silence. Smart, very smart, Auction Master. Feels like you don't make mistakes, do you?"
Indeed, following Sally home and all that meant nothing. Ultimately, he knew where she was going: the Auction House in Delhi, India. She entered the country and, well, since India wasn't exactly a camera-filled nation, there wasn't much to glean from that. Even her phone wasn't reliable since they didn't carry any.
Again, the Auction Master was careful. There were specific procedures he placed in order to make it damn near impossible for hackers to salvage anything.
"However…we can figure out when Sally started getting paid. All I need to do is go through her bank statements, find out when she started getting an increase and pay and…"
Herbie was following every last order of his as he spoke. He was becoming confident. He thought he had it.
"...god dammit."
In Sally's case, there were no bank statements. She was hired last year and last year…
"Creature Z attacked. Banks and economy was fucked. No cameras either. Everything was just…." He slammed a fist down his keyboard. "God dammit! Fuck!"
Did the Auction Master anticipate this? Know that Sally was his best option because there was a gap in her history? A gap that wasn't anyone's fault? A gap that made it impossible to investigate?
He had to. He had to have.
"....tch. For the other employees, narrow our search to major cities."
"ARE YOU SURE, MASTER FAETH?"
"I…" He hesitated. His deduction was correct…
...right?
"Sally…I mean…she's a college student but I mean…doesn't necessarily mean the others are too."
"I AGREE. ONE SAMPLE IS NOT ENOUGH FOR A GENERALIZATION, MASTER FAETH."
He rubbed his forehead. "So what? I'm back to square one? I have nothing? No answer for Osborn? Mercenaries attacked and all I can do is sit and be happy that it's over?" He slammed a fist. "I need to counter! I need to do something!"
"...MIGHT I SUGGEST AN IDEA, MASTER FAETH?"
He loosely shrugged and glanced up at the screens. "Sure."
"YOU SHOULD SPEAK TO THE MEMBERS OF THE CLASSIFIED FILE WE FOUND IN HAMMERHEAD'S ESTATE."
"Huh? You mean…Cindy Moon? And Matt Murdock? Why?"
"THE AUCTION MASTER AND THE INDIVIDUAL MENTIONED DEVIL FILE ARE THE SAME. THAT IS HIGHLY PROBABLE. THE FACT THAT HAMMERHEAD KEPT THOSE FILES MEANS THAT HIM AND THE OTHERS ARE ALREADY AWARE OF THE DEVIL'S TRUE IDENTITY. MORE THAN LIKELY, CONSIDERING THEIR AGES AND THE TIMING OF THE DEVIL'S APPEARANCE, THEY ARE INVOLVED IN HIS CREATION."
"But…they're at a…" Felix trailed off, then laughed. "I see. You want me to break into the most secured location on the planet: the SHIELD Correctional Facility."
"YES. THAT IS THE ONLY LINE OF ACTION ALLOWED TO US AS OF THIS MOMENT."