Joseph smiled.
There was never a shortage of clever people in the world.
Even though Oasis had only released its demo version, the potential it displayed was enough to send ripples through countless industries. Its market value was immeasurable, and anyone with an ounce of vision could see the tidal wave of opportunity heading straight for them.
The four people across from him clearly weren't here by accident. They had seen the writing on the wall.
They weren't gamers or developers. They were power players—the kind who saw dollar signs where others saw pixels. And Oasis? It wasn't just a game. It was a new reality. A system-changing product backed by futuristic technology.
More importantly, it was being launched globally, all at once.
A move any normal executive would call reckless. Suicidal, even. But Joseph wasn't normal. He had Stark Industries behind him. And the Second World wasn't building incrementally—it was betting the whole house and raising the stakes.
Still, business—real business—wasn't just about innovation.
It was about control.
Global domination didn't come from brilliant code alone. It came from alliances, compromises, and yes... deals with devils.
Which is exactly what this was.
Grant King—Twisted City's most infamous underworld magnate—sat calmly on the couch, fingers steepled, voice even.
"The technology behind Oasis is generations ahead. Outside of Stark, no one even comes close. But while your tech is solid, the real world is messy. Distribution? Licensing? Local politics? That's where things can get... complicated."
He paused deliberately, eyes gleaming.
"And we can help simplify things."
Joseph said nothing, letting the words hang.
King continued. "We know you're backed by Mutants. And yes, we know Xavier's School has reopened. But that's one location. You're not going to have X-Men guarding every city block."
He leaned forward, expression unreadable. "But we? We can be there."
It was subtle. No overt threats, no raised voices. Just carefully veiled promises and implications. An offer wrapped in velvet—but with iron underneath.
And Joseph understood it perfectly.
Because this was how real power worked.
They weren't asking for a partnership. They were dictating one.
Joseph chuckled. "You're all very elegant about this. On paper, you're proposing a business deal. But it sounds an awful lot like extortion."
King remained silent.
Norman Osborn offered a thin smile. "Mr. Joseph, come now. We approached you with sincerity."
Evelyn Shaw, sharp and composed as ever, added, "Business is about cooperation. Cooperation brings profit. Refusal? That brings consequences."
Victor von Doom swirled his wine and said nothing, his half-smile lingering like a shadow.
Joseph's own smile grew colder.
"So what happens if I say no?" he asked. "You make life harder for my company?"
The room stilled.
His tone was calm, but there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Power, veiled until now, began to ripple beneath the surface.
"I mean it," Joseph said. "You know about Second World's ties to Mutants. And yet you talk to me like this? You're not even worried I'll bring a squad of Mutants to burn this place to the ground?"
He wasn't joking.
Too many people in this world had developed a strange sort of arrogance. As if money and criminal empires made them immune to superhuman consequences. As if they could match brute force with bribes and bureaucracy.
Joseph found it funny—and dangerous.
Sure, Evelyn had her chi-based martial arts. Doom had his tech and mysticism. Osborn had corporate weapons. But did they really think that was enough?
"Where do you all get this confidence?" he asked plainly. "You're not dealing with street thugs. You're dealing with people who can bend steel, read minds, walk through walls. You don't get to threaten me just because you have a few factories and smugglers."
The tension escalated.
Still, none of the four flinched.
Norman Osborn spoke again, carefully measured. "We're not provoking anyone. We just understand that in the current environment, Mutants are trying to play by the rules. There's a government agency now. There are laws."
He let that sink in.
"You're not rebels anymore," Osborn continued. "You're stakeholders. And stakeholders… don't go around killing people."
Joseph's eyes narrowed.
There it was. The assumption at the heart of their pitch.
You're civilized now. That means you're weak.
Through their psychic link, Kate, seated beside him, sent a soft laugh into Joseph's mind.
"They're using your reforms against you, sir. Using the law to leash the lion."
Joseph didn't reply. But inwardly, he couldn't deny it—there was some truth in what they said. Mutants were trying to assimilate, to be accepted. That came with expectations.
And limitations.
"You think I won't retaliate because it'd make me the villain," Joseph said flatly. "You think I've gone soft."
No one denied it.
He leaned back, folding his arms. "Alright then. Let's talk territory. Since you're so eager to carve up the world, who's taking what?"
The air shifted again—this time with cautious optimism.
Grant King was first to respond. "I'll take North and South America. My network is strongest there."
Evelyn Shaw nodded. "Asia is mine."
Victor Doom offered a grin. "Australia. I'll even move part of my headquarters there."
Norman Osborn cleared his throat. "The Osborn legacy has strong ties in Europe. British roots and all."
Joseph raised an eyebrow. "What about Africa?"
Silence.
He laughed. "Let me guess. You think they can't afford Oasis."
None of them responded. It was answer enough.
Joseph sighed.
He stood up.
"You want distribution rights?" he asked. "Fine."
All four looked up, surprised.
"But it's going to cost you."
He held up a hand, fingers splayed. "Ten billion. Each. Per year. Non-negotiable."
Victor Doom's glass froze halfway to his lips. "Ten... billion?"
Grant King's face darkened. "That's extortion."
Joseph smiled coldly. "So now we're calling things what they are?"
He stepped back, took Kate's hand, and began walking toward the exit.
"If you're interested, you know how to reach me. My assistant, Mr. Gray, will handle the rest."
He didn't wait for a reply. The heavy door clicked shut behind him.
Inside the room, silence reigned.
The four kingpins sat motionless, their expressions hardening. Grant King's jaw was clenched. Evelyn's fingers tapped lightly on her cane. Osborn's knuckles had turned white.
They had been outplayed—and they knew it.
But outside the room, Joseph's expression had changed.
Gone was the businesslike neutrality.
In its place was something colder. Sharper.
"They really think I won't do it," he muttered. "They think I'm just another corporate suit now."
Kate gave him a curious look.
"Will you prove them wrong?"
Joseph didn't answer immediately.
But the glint in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
"Let them believe I'm harmless," he whispered. "Then let them feel what it's like to be wrong."
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