The buzz around Atlas Biotech was a faint, high-frequency hum in the underworld of corporate and government intelligence. It hadn't yet hit the mainstream news, but for those with the right ears to the ground, the signal was clear: something new was emerging in New York.
S.H.I.E.L.D. - The Triskelion
Maria Hill stood before the massive holotable at the heart of the Triskelion's command center.
Data streams flowed around a rotating 3D model of the Atlas Biotech Solutions headquarters.
"Atlas Biotech Solutions," she said crisply, her tone all business. "Acquired two months ago from a dormant shell corporation. CEO is one Sam Jackson, a naturalized Brazilian citizen with no prior business history—beyond running a chain of fried rice shops in Curitiba."
Nick Fury stood with his arms crossed, silent for a beat. His single eye wasn't on the model but on the financials scrolling beside it.
"Fried rice to cutting-edge energy research," Fury muttered. "That's one hell of a career change. Where's the funding coming from?"
Hill zoomed in on the figures. "That's the first anomaly. The acquisition was cash—wired from a Banco do Brasil account in his name. The balance before the transfer was… ordinary. Thousands, not millions. There's no record of a loan, no investors, no venture capital." She hesitated before adding, "The money came from the profit he made off his first business."
Fury's eye narrowed. "Go on."
"The second anomaly is the pace. Their lead project, code-named HyperCell, is an energy storage device. According to our embedded analysis of their patent drafts, the energy density is… theoretically impossible." She pulled up a comparison hologram: the compact HyperCell prototype beside Stark's arc reactor. "By storage efficiency standards, Stark's tech looks like a coal furnace. And Atlas Biotech went from concept to working prototype in under ten weeks."
"Impossible without a foundation," Fury said. "They're building off somebody else's work. Hammer?" His voice carried skepticism. "Justin Hammer is stupid, but not that stupid."
Hill shook her head. "We've found no links to Hammer Industries, Roxxon, or any other competitor." She switched the display to a satellite image, zoomed in on Sam Jackson entering the Atlas building. His features were clear and yet strangely indistinct. "The third anomaly is the CEO himself. He's a ghost. No digital footprint. No social media. Few public photos. And in every one, his features are… difficult to focus on. Our facial recognition software can't get a firm lock—low-probability matches across the board."
Fury finally looked at the image. His expression hardened.
"A nobody with impossible money, impossible tech, and an impossible face. He exhaled slowly. "I don't believe in coincidences, Hill."
"Assessment?" Hill asked.
"He's either an asset we don't know about, a threat we can't see yet, or the luckiest idiot on the planet." Fury turned away from the display. "For now, Level Three surveillance. I want eyes on that building, taps on his nonexistent comms, and a full deep-dive on every scientist he's hired. And get Coulson to pay him a visit before the party starts." A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. "Friendly welcome to the neighborhood."
"Understood," Hill said, fingers already flying across the holotable's interface.
—
Oscorp Tower - Executive Suite
The sharp crack of paper against mahogany broke the silence. Norman Osborn slammed the financial report down, his voice laced with venom.
"Atlas Biotech," he growled. "A nobody company with a nobody CEO—and they're on the verge of making our entire energy division obsolete?"
Dr. Stromm, head of R&D, shifted uncomfortably. "The rumors, sir—their energy density metrics… if they're even half-true—"
"I don't pay you for rumors, Stromm!" Osborn snapped, pushing out of his chair. He paced before the massive window, the city skyline stretching behind him, his own reflection glowering back like a specter.
"I pay you for results. Results which have been in short supply. Especially from Connors." His voice dropped to a hiss. "His progress has stalled. He's distracted. Unfocused. And now this… startup… comes out of nowhere with a miracle battery?"
Osborn stopped pacing. The anger drained, replaced with cold calculation. His gaze sharpened, predatory.
"Connors is hiding something. Or someone else is backing him. I want his lab swept—every terminal, every log, every sample. Nothing leaves Oscorp without me knowing."
He leaned forward on the desk, knuckles pressing into the polished wood.
"And I want a dossier on this Sam Jackson. Everyone has a price. Everyone has a weakness. Find his."
Osborn turned back to the skyline, the city lights glittering like prey. His lips curled into a thin smile.
"If Atlas has a breakthrough… Oscorp will own it. One way or another."
—
Hydra – Washington, D.C.
The office was immaculate. Floor-to-ceiling windows let the city's glow spill across polished mahogany. A World Security Council seal hung behind the desk, flanked by flags.
Alexander Pierce sat with the calm poise of a statesman, fingers steepled as the tablet in front of him replayed the same footage Nick Fury had just seen. HyperCell. Atlas Biotech. Sam.
Across from him, Jasper Sitwell stood at attention, silent but tense.
Pierce's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Impressive work. Fury thinks he's stumbled onto a mystery. He hasn't realized yet that he's holding Hydra's next weapon."
Sitwell shifted. "Sir, if Atlas continues unchecked, it could upset—"
"—our plans?" Pierce finished smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "No. It will accelerate them. Imagine what Project Insight would look like with Atlas tech integrated. Imagine Hydra with HyperCell."
He let the silence stretch, the city lights flickering against his glasses.
"Keep monitoring. Don't move too quickly. Fury must believe he's still in control." His voice dipped, colder now. "And when the time comes… Atlas Biotech will belong to Hydra."
Pierce tapped the tablet off, leaving the room in darkness save for the faint reflection of his satisfied smile in the glass.
—