Jack's taxi in New York's streets was like a drop of oil dissolving into an inkwell.
It was no longer the rickety old wreck that creaked under its own weight.
The taxi had become a Beast in sheep's clothing.
A Stark Industries engine rumbled dully beneath its unassuming exterior.
Each acceleration pressed William firmly against the seatback.
The buildings, neon signs, and grimy graffiti outside the window blurred into streaks of light.
William didn't look at the gradually dissipating fire in the rearview mirror, which signified the plan's success.
Nor did he concern himself with the heroic farce unfolding on the Queensboro Bridge.
All his senses were focused on the confined space within the car.
He could feel Jack Lockley's hand gripping the steering wheel, knuckles distinct, steady as if welded in place.
The man in the driver's seat was a completely different person from the one chewing on a toothpick on the street.
He was no longer a driver, but a hunter integrated with his vehicle.
"How much did he pay you for this car?" Jack's voice suddenly broke the engine's roar.
"Not much," William replied, without opening his eyes.
"Tony owes me a favor."
Jack's lips twitched, and he let out an unreadable chuckle.
He didn't press further.
Under Jack's masterful control, the taxi avoided all main roads.
It weaved through one shortcut after another, known only to rats and vagrants.
Finally.
It drove away from the chaos of Hell's Kitchen and entered a secluded wealthy area of Long Island.
The air here was different from Hell's Kitchen.
There was no smell of urine or decay, only the scent of freshly mown grass from neatly trimmed lawns, and the smell of money.
The taxi eventually stopped in front of a modern-style building.
It didn't look like a private estate, but more like a high-end private medical rehabilitation center.
White walls.
Huge floor-to-ceiling windows.
A discreet brass plaque hung by the entrance—"Fisk Life Science Research Center."
There were no menacing iron gates, no heavily armed guards.
Only two men in White uniforms, looking like orderlies, stood at the entrance.
They wore professional, emotionless smiles.
But William's Danger Prediction ability told him that the security level here was more than ten times higher than the container-filled warehouse at the docks.
Beneath the "orderlies'" uniforms were Kevlar vests and close-fitting holsters.
Pressure sensors were buried under the lawn.
The walls were laced with metal mesh that could interfere with electronic signals.
Even the decorative potted plants could be automatically sensing defensive turrets.
This was a fortress.
A fortress, carefully disguised with "science" and "health," from which there was no exit once inside.
"Get out, Mr. Rodriguez," Jack said, turning off the engine, his voice returning to its usual numb tone.
"Your client is waiting for you."
William adjusted his tie and pushed open the door to get out.
The two White-clad orderlies approached.
One of them bowed slightly to William, his smile impeccable: "Mr. Rodriguez, welcome. The Director is already waiting for you."
His tone was as if he were welcoming a distinguished guest arriving for therapy.
The other orderly walked to the taxi's trunk and skillfully opened it.
Then, a silent electric forklift glided out from inside the building, precisely lifting the dark silver alloy case and smoothly transporting it inside.
Mechanical Induction activated.
It was transported into an underground laboratory with an independent power supply system.
Several high-power energy cables were connected to the case.
Surrounding it were precise medical devices that were currently undergoing power-on self-tests.
At the same time, his Tactical Vision was also operating at high speed.
His gaze swept across the entire building.
Its complex internal structure, security system nodes, ventilation duct routes... automatically generated a three-dimensional blueprint in his mind.
He even pinpointed a core area protected by triple physical access controls and an independent energy shield.
That, perhaps, was the "new home" Kingpin had prepared for Elektra.
William's face still bore that professional smile.
But internally, he had already packaged, encrypted, and tagged this priceless intelligence with "for sale."
"Please follow me."
The orderly gestured for them to follow.
William and Jack followed him into the building.
The interior was spotless, and the air was filled with a faint scent of disinfectant.
A middle-aged man in a White lab coat and gold-rimmed glasses, looking refined, stood in the center of the lobby.
Behind him was an open briefcase.
Inside, stacks of crisp U.S. dollars were neatly arranged.
"Mr. Rodriguez."
The middle-aged man extended his hand, his smile gentle.
"I am the Director here, you can call me Wesley. Mr. Fisk is very satisfied with your work. Efficient, professional, and creative."
"I'm just fulfilling a contract."
William shook his hand; the other man's skin was dry and cool.
"This is your payment," Wesley said, pointing to the briefcase, "One hundred thousand U.S. dollars in cash and a five-million-dollar check, not a cent less."
Then, he looked at Jack, pulled a car key and an envelope from his pocket.
"Mr. Lockley. Mr. Fisk said your taxi... is too old. This is a brand new Cadillac President One, the highest bulletproof rating, it's in the backyard. As for this," he handed over the envelope.
"Inside is an unregistered Swiss bank card, the password is written on the back. Mr. Fisk greatly appreciates your driving skills."
Jack took the envelope and keys, weighing them.
William knew this wasn't payment; it was hush money.
Kingpin had bought Jack Lockley's silence with a luxury car and a hefty sum.
But was it possible?
He was Moon Knight!
"Pleasure doing business."
Director Wesley's smile remained on his face.
"Pleasure doing business."
William smiled in return.
He and Jack turned and left without another word.
As they walked out of the White building and breathed the free air again, Jack suddenly stopped.
He directly stuffed the envelope and keys he was holding into William's arms.
Jack Lockley's sharp eyes fixed on William, "I drive a taxi; I value repeat customers."
"This stuff is too expensive, too hot to handle."
He patted William's chest with considerable force, "Next time you have a job, come find me. I'll give you a twenty percent discount."
With that, he walked back to the old, yellow taxi that had just completed an impossible mission, without looking back. He opened the door, started the engine, and sped away.
William stood there, looking at the envelope and car keys in his hand, then at the taxi disappearing into the night, stunned for a long moment.
He looked down and let out a chuckle.
This crazy driver actually returned the money.
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