"Alexander, you know, cross-border personnel transfers, especially with 'trouble' attached… but don't worry, I'll do my best to handle it…" He spoke slowly, leaving ample room for the other party to sweeten the deal.
Pierce cursed inwardly, *that greedy one-eyed bastard! His "do my best" means he won't do it for free!*
But… damn it, he could only rely on him now.
*Fury must have already sniffed out the connection between Bates Capital and me…*
Pierce took a deep breath, as if making a difficult decision: "Nick, I know this request is a bit… special. Of course, I wouldn't ask for your help for nothing. We've recently been dealing with the aftermath of some… 'failed projects,' and we've just cleared out a batch of research data and preliminary analysis reports on 'individuals with special abilities,' codenamed 'Witch.' This is… highly sensitive but potentially invaluable information. I imagine, given your interest in 'expanding the boundaries of human potential,' it might be of some value?"
Fury was secretly surprised: *Is Pierce really that desperate? But this is indeed substantial.*
Fury's finger, tapping on the table, paused for a split second—this was the only sign of "interest" he revealed.
A hint of imperceptible inquiry entered his voice: "'Witch'? Sounds… quite fantastical. Be more specific? You know, I'm always… well, reserved about things that sound vague and intangible."
"It involves genetic enhancement, neural potential development, explosive strength, superpower development, and other areas," Pierce carefully chose his words, "including some successful physiological data and in-depth analyses of failed cases. Although it's not as 'perfect' as the final product, the groundbreaking ideas and exploration of limits within it could definitely provide a fresh perspective for your 'Avengers' initiative. The core data… I'll arrange an absolutely secure encrypted channel and send it to your designated address within 24 hours."
*Hmm, not bad!* Although Fury wasn't intimately familiar with the Witch Project, he knew enough to understand that its products were incredibly powerful, but their drawback was the excessively long cultivation period, which had to begin from the embryonic stage.
It would take at least fifteen to nearly twenty years for them to mature in age, mind, and ability, making the time cost prohibitively high.
But the advantage of Fury obtaining these materials was that they could be cross-referenced with the ongoing Super Soldier Project, filling gaps and correcting deficiencies, making it highly likely to accelerate progress.
So, after a brief moment of thought, he decided to agree to Pierce's request.
"Alexander, you're always so generous." Every word Fury spoke was crystal clear, "Protecting a few financiers who desperately need to retire, getting them safely out of the United States, and finding them a scenic place to live out their golden years… I'll take that job. As for your research data, I don't want to wait 24 hours, I want it now. You know, I have a great passion for anything that can enhance our ability to deal with 'special situations.' Deal?"
Hearing Nick Fury's words, Pierce cursed inwardly: *Damn Hawk Lane! Damn Busan! Damn Fury!*
But to stabilize Nick now, even if he didn't give him these materials immediately, with his keen nose, he would eventually dig out a portion of them anyway.
*Just… cut my losses!*
"…Deal, Nick." Pierce's voice carried a heavy, almost painful tone, "The data will be delivered on time. As for Bates… I'll leave them to you. Make absolutely sure of their safety." His last sentence carried a stern warning.
"Don't worry, Alexander," Fury's smile widened as he saw a massive compressed file, containing all the data and research results of the Witch Project, arrive on his screen from an unknown IP. He then decisively hung up the phone.
Listening to the dial tone, Pierce slammed the satellite phone in his hand onto the ground. The expensive communication device instantly cracked open.
*Heavy losses!*
Meanwhile, in the Triskelion, Nick Fury looked at the extinguished call screen, his smile instantly vanishing, replaced by a cold sharpness.
He pressed the internal communication button: "Hill, I'm sending you an encrypted file, codenamed 'Witch.' Highest priority for analysis. Also, initiate 'Safe House Transfer Protocol,' target: Richard Bates and his core team, location: Hong Kong, China. Move quickly…"
**Stark Tower, Penthouse Apartment**
Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows lay the glittering, sleepless city of Manhattan.
Hawk Lane, dressed only in a dark silk robe, stood silently, holding a glass of aged Port.
He had just finished an encrypted call with a Swiss bank, confirming that the last colossal sum of money, stripped from the "ruins" of Bates Capital, had safely flowed into his controlled offshore company.
Andy stood not far behind him, also in a simple silk robe, her long hair loose, her face flushed from their recent intimacy.
On the tablet in front of her, news alerts displayed in real-time that Bates Capital had officially filed for bankruptcy protection.
"The Bates Capital affair is finally over," Andy sighed with relief.
Hawk, however, turned around, took a sip of the mellow Port, and a cruel curve appeared at the corner of his mouth: "Over? No, this is just the beginning."
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Andy rose to open it.
Entering the room was Goo Ja-yoon. She walked in with a natural expression, dragging a petite woman wrapped in a coat behind her.
As if dragging a worn-out doll, she casually dropped Eun-bi, still wrapped in the coat, onto the cold, smooth marble floor.
The coat fell open, revealing a body covered in old and new scars, dressed in a thin hospital gown.
Eun-bi curled up, her exposed skin crisscrossed with marks, her delicate face as pale as paper, showing a deep-seated fear and pain.
She instinctively trembled but forced herself not to make a sound when she touched the cold floor.
Those eyes, once fierce, now held only a frightened peripheral glance, fixed on the edge of the carpet, daring not to look up at the room's owner.
Andy closed the door and walked back to Hawk, her gaze calmly sweeping over Eun-bi on the floor, as if evaluating an object.
Goo Ja-yoon, meanwhile, naturally walked to the bar, poured herself a glass of water, and leaned against the bar's edge, watching everything with a detached expression, as if what was happening before her was merely a daily triviality.
The enormous floor-to-ceiling windows reflected Manhattan's dazzling nightscape, forming a stark contrast with the chilling atmosphere inside the room.
Hawk didn't speak immediately.
He slowly took another sip of Port wine. The rich liquid slid down his throat, his gaze, like invisible shackles, slowly settled on Eun-bi, carrying an almost indifferent pressure.
The air in the room seemed to solidify, broken only by Eun-bi's suppressed, faint gasps.
***
"Eun-bi." Hawk's voice wasn't loud, but it pierced the silence like an ice pick, drilling clearly into Eun-bi's ears.
The sound of her name from his lips made Eun-bi's body tremble violently.
"Why do you think I'm still letting you live?" Hawk slowly paced, taking a few steps closer. His tall figure cast a huge shadow under the lights, enveloping Eun-bi, who was curled on the floor.
Eun-bi's teeth chattered, and a muffled whimper escaped her throat.
She dared not answer.
*Is it pity?*
*Is it as a backup intelligence source?*
*Or is a more cruel torture awaiting?*
Every possibility sent shivers down her spine.
"It's not pity." Hawk seemed to read her thoughts.
"Your abilities, while a joke in front of me, are still… a scarce resource in this world."
His gaze swept over her scarred arms; the Witch's self-healing ability was like a joke in his presence.
His eyes finally rested on her face, which, despite the torment, still retained its delicate features. He said, "Moreover, death would be too cheap for you. Valuable things should be put to good use."
Hawk handed his glass to Andy behind him, then slipped his hands into his robe pockets, looking down at her from above: "I'm giving you a chance, Eun-bi."
A faint, incredulous glimmer flashed in Eun-bi's eyes, then was immediately swallowed by deeper fear.
"Work for me." Hawk's voice was decisive, "Become a tool in my hand, a sharp, obedient tool. Prove your worth, prove you deserve this life I've bestowed upon you."
He bent slightly, his powerful oppressive presence almost suffocating Eun-bi: "Right now, there's an opportunity for you to prove yourself. A 'pledge of allegiance.' Complete it, and you pass the assessment, become my employee, enjoying corresponding treatment and protection. You'll live very happily in this vibrant city, and no one will force you to do anything you don't want to do—except me, of course."
"If you refuse…" Hawk paused, his tone casual, "Goo Ja-yoon will be here to very efficiently end your suffering. I promise, the process will be much shorter than what you experienced in the interrogation room, but it certainly won't be pleasant."
Eun-bi's heart pounded wildly, almost bursting from her chest.
*Work for him?*
*Become a tool for this man, who is like a demon god?*
*Betray the Busan Base?*
Every thought made her dizzy, going against everything she had been taught since childhood.
But the words "live on," "live better," flickered like candlelight in the darkness, weak yet stubbornly drawing her in.
She remembered Hawk's overwhelming power, his cold, controlling gaze during the interrogation, the intertwining physical and psychological pain… A strange, twisted emotion quietly began to grow.
He was too powerful, capable of making even a Witch of Goo Ja-yoon's caliber submit. So powerful that he made her despair, and in that despair, a morbid sense of dependence emerged—obeying the strong, perhaps it wasn't the worst choice?
Especially when this strong man offered her a way out, even if it was a thorny path requiring the selling of her soul. Moreover, from his description, it seemed she could live quite well.
The seeds of Stockholm Syndrome quietly germinated in the soil of extreme fear and despair.
Her breathing quickened, her body no longer just trembling from fear, but also mixed with a fierce internal struggle.
She looked up, for the first time truly and clearly seeing Hawk's face.
That handsome yet cold face was like a sculpture in the light, his eyes deep, as if capable of devouring everything.
"I…" Her voice was hoarse and dry, almost incoherent, "I… have no choice, do I?"
"You have a choice." Hawk straightened up, his tone cold, "A path of life, or a path of death. Choose."
Eun-bi's gaze went past Hawk to Goo Ja-yoon, leaning against the bar.
Goo Ja-yoon's eyes were still empty and indifferent, as if looking at a dead object.
She knew that if she uttered a single "no," or hesitated for a few more seconds, this woman, a legendary figure among the Witches—Goo Ja-yoon—would end her life as easily as crushing an insect.
"I…" Eun-bi took a deep breath, as if it drained all her strength. She closed her eyes and, with a tone that was both almost relieved and utterly submissive, hoarsely said: "I choose life. I am willing to work for you, Mr. Hawk. I am willing… to prove my worth."
"Very good." Hawk showed no surprise, as if everything was under his control. He picked up the wine glass from Andy's hand again, his tone returning to its previous calm: "Ja-yoon, take her to get her injuries treated, clean her up, and change into some clean, neat clothes. Let her rest for the night. Tomorrow, give her the briefing for that task—the one easier than crushing an ant."
Goo Ja-yoon nodded and walked towards Eun-bi on the floor.
Eun-bi instinctively flinched as Goo Ja-yoon approached, but under Hawk's cold gaze, she forced herself to relax, allowing Goo Ja-yoon to help her up.
Before leaving the room, she cast one last look at Hawk. In those eyes, once defiant, now remained only complete submission and a hint of an unspeakable, complex emotion.
The door softly closed.
Andy looked at Hawk: "Are you sure you want to keep her? A Busan monster?"
Hawk swirled the Port wine in his glass. The dark red liquid refracted an eerie glow under the light, reflecting in his deep eyes.
"Monster? Andy, in this world, power has no good or evil. The key is who holds the reins." He looked out at the endless prosperity outside the window, "Bates Capital fell, but greedy vultures will never disappear. We need more 'claws' to tear them apart. She's sharp enough, and pretty enough… Most importantly, she already knows what happens if she betrays me or disappoints me."
He drained his glass: "And that fear will become the strongest collar."
**The next day, December 24th, Christmas Eve**
The *Wall Street Journal's* headline, sharp as a knife—*Bates Empire Collapses, Lane Capital's Lightning Harvest*—was like a bomb dropped into deep water, its ripples spreading thick and heavy across the Columbia University campus in the early morning.
When Hawk Lane stepped onto campus as usual, bathed in the morning light, he immediately became a moving focal point.
"Hey, Mr. Harvester! Need some 'bankruptcy liquidation' sugar for your breakfast coffee?" A familiar buddy whistled across the lawn, drawing a burst of laughter.
Hawk offered a slightly teasing smile: "As long as it's not Bates brand, that flavor's a bit sour now."
He walked with a light step, as if the acquisition that had shaken the financial world was merely a class assignment that earned an A+.
When his figure appeared on the brick pathway, it instantly attracted the gazes of the scattered students and professors.
A buzzing murmur, like a disturbed swarm of bees, suddenly intensified.
Those searching, awed, envious, calculating gazes, like countless fine needles, silently pricked him from all directions.
Today, in everyone's eyes, he was clearly a young monarch who had just returned victorious from a thrilling capital battleground.
Bates Capital—a name once revered by finance students, a capital company they dreamed of receiving an offer from after graduation—had become the most conspicuous sacrifice beneath Hawk's throne.
His first class was Macroeconomics. When he entered the lecture hall, the atmosphere instantly became subtle.
Professor Finch pushed up his glasses, his gaze seemingly inadvertently sweeping over Hawk: "Today's case study happens to involve 'market efficiency' and 'ethical boundaries'… especially in certain… lightning-fast operations." He articulated "lightning-fast" with clear emphasis.
The entire classroom's gaze instantly "swished" and focused on Hawk.
After finding a seat, Hawk, feeling the eyes of the entire room, calmly looked back at the professor and spoke loudly: "Professor, isn't the core of market efficiency the timeliness of information and the speed of decision-making? As for ethical boundaries… I thought business schools believed more in 'maximizing value within the rules'?"
Professor Finch choked, then snorted: "Sharp-tongued." He cleared his throat again, silencing all the murmurs in the classroom, "So, the eternal debate of 'market efficiency and ethical boundaries'—hostile takeovers. How do you view them, Mr. Lane?"
Hawk's mouth twitched involuntarily, cursing inwardly, *this pedantic old scholar.*
Professor Finch paused, his gaze lingering on Hawk's face for a moment, then sweeping across the silent classroom, continuing:
"Regarding the act of an acquirer utilizing market panic, information asymmetry, or even… carefully planned liquidity traps, to swiftly dismantle and acquire the core assets of an otherwise viable but temporarily troubled company at a low price…"
Professor Finch's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, carrying a cold, metallic quality, "Hawk Lane, and all of you students, do you believe this is the cold rationality of capital market resource optimization, or purely a predatory exploitation of the dark side of the rules?"
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The hundred-plus gazes in the lecture hall, almost at the instant his words fell, uniformly focused on Hawk Lane.
Adoration, curiosity, inquiry, scrutiny, amusement, criticism… countless complex emotions intertwined into an invisible giant net.
Hawk sat in his usual front-middle seat, his back straight as a pine. He could clearly feel the weight of those countless gazes, like tangible pressure on his shoulders.
He slightly raised his eyes, meeting Professor Finch's murky eyes on the podium, which held a hint of judgment. He parted his lips slightly but ultimately said nothing.
Because the acquisition of Bates Capital, theoretically, or in pure academia, those ruthless and even illegal methods were indeed indefensible.
But reality isn't simply summed up by theories in books.
For instance, books don't tell you how to retaliate after being assassinated by a super-powered individual.
Nor do they tell you what to do if Hydra targets you.
*What to do?*
*Call the police?*
So Hawk simply remained silent, as if silently asking: *So what? What can be done?*
The class bell rang like salvation, the grating screech of chair legs on the floor breaking the stifling silence of the classroom.
Hawk gathered his notebook from the desk. As he stood up, a warm breeze, a mix of expensive perfume and youthful hormones, gently enveloped him.
"Hawk!" The voice was sweet as melting maple syrup, with a just-right hint of panic.
A petite figure with a waterfall of blonde hair, wearing a tight white tennis skirt, seemed to trip over an invisible obstacle on the floor and tumbled towards him.
Hawk reacted quickly. Before she truly fell, his strong arm had already firmly encircled her waist.
The touch was elastic and soft.
Golden strands of hair brushed his jaw, carrying the fragrant scent of expensive shampoo.
"Oh my goodness! I'm so, so sorry! This dreadful floor!" She lifted her delicate, palm-sized face, her sapphire-like eyes filled with lingering fright and a charming vulnerability, her cheeks appropriately flushed. "I'm Katherine Miller, thank you so much!"
Hawk's gaze swept over her deeper neckline, exposed by her bending over, and a gentle smile played on his lips: "It's alright, Katherine. Be careful next time." His arm subtly withdrew.
"Wow! I actually saw the legendary Hawk Lane this close up!"
Katherine's cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes sparkling. "I just transferred from the math department yesterday! Oh my god, you were like a rock star of finance with that Bates thing!"
She extended her hand, very enthusiastically.
Hawk smiled as he took her hand, feeling the warmth of her palm: "Welcome to the economics department. Not quite a rock star, just the market needing a little… adjustment." He used precise words with a touch of youthful playfulness.
After exchanging contact information, Katherine skipped out of the classroom, as happy as if she had received an autographed photo from Michael Jackson.
Just then, with a soft "clink," a very sharply sharpened HB pencil rolled precisely to Hawk's shoe.