After a few hours on the table, A-Train's arm was back on, and his body was mostly fixed.
He groggily opened his eyes. Through the haze, he saw a few people leaning over him, staring at him like he was a goddamn zoo animal.
"You're awake!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
A-Train went pale, scrambling the fuck off the bed and clutching his chest like some chick who just got groped. He looked terrified and yelled, "Who the fuck are you? What did you do to me?!"
His voice was strong. Jason just said, "Hmph. Sounds like you're not fucked up anymore."
The guy completely ignored him, which pissed A-Train off. "I'm fucking asking you..."
His words died in his throat. He was staring at Jason's familiar face, completely stunned.
He hesitated, then asked, "You... are you Mr. Jason Walter?"
Jason rubbed his chin. "That's me."
A-Train looked at the others. "You're... the Joker Organization?"
"Yep."
A-Train was completely baffled. This has to be a dream. What the fuck happened while I was out?
His head was spinning. He frowned, scratching his hair, and then he saw it—his severed arm was back on.
"Oh my god!"
He ran his hand over the skin, astonished. Not only was it back on, there wasn't even a scar. No pain, no nothing. This was some next-level, miracle-working shit. No fucking doctor on earth could pull this off.
He thought about it. Only the Joker Organization made sense. Their core team was all supes. Like him.
"You guys saved me? You fixed my arm?"
Jason just nodded, too bored to even answer.
A-Train asked, "But why? I don't fucking know you."
Jason said, "Because you're a supe, like us. Because you hate this shit-hole world, just like we do. You're one of us, and you're a perfect fit for the Joker Organization."
The Joker Organization... is recruiting me?
A-Train swallowed, his heart pounding. "Like, an associate? Or... for real?"
Heh. This fucker's definitely been on the Joker Community. He even knows the ranks.
"No. Core member."
A-Train's face lit up, his expression twisting with pure ecstasy. He nodded like a maniac. "Thank you! Fuck yes, I'm in... No, I'm honored. I'm honored to join!"
Even before he got his powers, A-Train was on the Joker Community. But he was just a chickenshit lurker back then. He never had the balls to post anything, let alone pull off one of the missions.
Jason shook his hand. "Welcome aboard."
"This is our New York safe house. You can crash here. You're safe."
"These are the other core members. They'll show you the ropes, get you settled in."
He clapped A-Train on the shoulder, then left with Christine.
On the way, Christine asked, "That's it? That simple?"
"Back when I was running shit in LA," She said, "I put every core recruit through the fucking wringer. And even then, I still ended up with a shitload of rats. One time, I brought in five guys, and three of them were fucking spies."
"But you... you just... recruit them. It feels like a fucking joke."
Jason glanced at his system screen, invisible to her, and smirked. "It is that simple. You're just overthinking it."
[Ding! Villain Ally 'A-Train' successfully recruited!]
[Source: The Boys]
[Abilities: Theft Mastery (Lv 2), Driving Mastery (Lv 1), Combat Mastery (Lv 4), Firearms Mastery (Lv 1), Superpower 'Super Speed' (Lv 1)]
*
They split up. Christine went to her room to crash, and Jason headed down to the factory.
The massive factory floor was filled with hundreds of high-precision CNC machines, each one tended by a team of four industrial robots.
Jason took a slow walk through the factory, the rhythmic thud and whir of the machines was like a different kind of music. He wondered if Stane, that old music-loving bastard, would appreciate this kind of industrial symphony.
He walked over to Chloe and pulled up a chair. She was busy testing a new arc reactor model. The first batch of suits would use this upgraded version—more powerful than Tony's original.
"Sir." Chloe didn't even look up, just kept working.
Jason asked, "How are the suit pre-sales?"
The suit business was his new cash cow for points. More points meant more power.
"Excellent. This month's pre-order for 100 units... they sold out in one minute and twenty-seven seconds after going live on the Community."
A satisfied smirk spread across Jason's face. 50 million profit per suit... 100 suits was 5 billion. Add in the billion a month from his other New York black market shit... the organization was now pulling in 6 billion dollars. A month. A fucking nice haul.
Jason asked, "Who's buying?"
"The client list is long," Chloe replied. "Basically, any country with a decent military budget bought one. A product that is far ahead of the curve... Everyone wants a piece."
Jason frowned. "That's it? I didn't set a purchase limit. I figured a few of the big players would buy up the whole fucking stock."
Chloe said, "They're not toys. The real combat effectiveness is still unknown. Most clients are just dipping their toes in, ordering one or two to test. Some rich-fuck sheikhs in the Middle East are probably just buying them as status symbols, like giant action figures."
"Also... Hydra pulled some strings through Stane. They back-doored an order for five suits. I found that strange."
"Hydra basically owns S.H.I.E.L.D., so why wouldn't they just buy the legit, Stark-brand suits? Why pay a premium for our black market knock-offs?"
Jason explained. "The 'legit' suits are top-secret government-controlled hardware. To use one, you need clearance, paperwork, and registration. Plus, they're all bugged with tracking chips and serial numbers."
"Those chips log everything—flight paths, weapon usage—and upload it all in real-time. To Stark, the military, the government, S.H.I.E.L.D.... every goddamn agency has a feed."
"Hydra might have S.H.I.E.L.D., but they don't have everyone. The second they use one of those suits for some real evil shit, they'll be exposed."
Chloe nodded, finally getting it. "Understood. Anything else, Sir?"
Jason stood. "Nope. Get back to work."
He walked out of the factory.
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
500 power stones.
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