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Arasaka Tower: Mid-Level Sector.
Inside the sleek, sterile offices of the Special Operations Departnt, Hayden stared at the squad of Counter-Intelligence agents with a bloodless face. He knew the corporate ga; Susan had sold him out. Millions had been poured into the "Adamant" project, and with the prototype snatched by a "ghost," soone's head had to roll to appease the board.
"Co with us, Hayden."
V's tone was clinical, but his actions were brutal. Without waiting for a response, he entered a high-level override into his terminal, revoking Hayden's employee credentials.
The effect was instantaneous. Hayden collapsed, his body racking with violent convulsions. In Arasaka, employee loyalty was enforced by hardware. All corporate-issue Cyberware was programd to slave to the user's employnt status. The mont the contract was terminated, the chro shut down. The resulting neural shock was an agony designed to ensure no one left the company with "proprietary secrets" in their head.
V watched Hayden twitch on the floor, the scene etching itself into his mory. This was the cost of failure. If he didn't want to end up as a twitching heap of scrap, he had to keep climbing until he reached the very top of the Tower.
Two agents hauled the powerless Hayden away. V scanned the room, eting the terrified and disgusted gazes of the other "salaryn" before turning his back. This was the opening salvo of Counter-Intelligence's war against Special Operations. He could only imagine the fury in Susan's office; he'd already seen the predatory smirk on Jenkins' face.
An hour later, the black Arasaka sedan pulled away from the Tower. Hayden, his neural link partially stabilized but still stuttering, found his voice.
"Where are you taking ?"
He watched the neon skyline of the Tower recede into the smog. If the company wanted to execute him, they didn't need to drive this far into the industrial sector.
V didn't answer. He signaled the agent beside him, who promptly hooded and gagged Hayden. The car fell into a heavy, silent hum.
Eventually, the vehicle slowed to a crawl. Hayden was shoved out, rolling onto the cold asphalt. When the hood was ripped off, his eyes squinted against the harsh glare of streetlights. Standing over him was a young man with a face that looked hauntingly familiar.
"Do you rember this place?"
Kael lifted Hayden by the collar with a strength that didn't match his slender fra. Hayden looked around, his confusion turning into a cold, paralyzing realization.
They were on the overpass. The exact spot where Kael's father had "died in a car accident."
"You recognize it?" Kael's smile was faint, devoid of warmth. He drew his Kenshin and pressed the barrel against Hayden's temple. "When you hit the bottom, rember to apologize to my old man."
Hayden didn't beg. His eyes showed a flickering relief—even joy. He realized now that the loss of "Project King Kong" wasn't a corporate maneuver; it was a personal vendetta. The "ghost" in the system had a na. He knew Susan would be next. He could die knowing the "Old Hag" was dood.
Pop.
The Kenshin barked once. Hayden's body tumbled over the railing and into the dark sea below, disappearing instantly.
"Let's go," Kael said to Lucy, who was waiting in the shadows.
The Marvel World.
Stark Industries Tower: Weapons R&D Departnt.
Kael returned to his workstation, a steaming cup of high-grade Blue Mountain coffee in one hand and a stash of snacks in the other. On his primary monitor, a movie was playing.
Rebirth: My Life as a Salary Thief at Stark Industries.
That was the working title of his current existence. He'd been reborn as a Chinese-Arican mixed-race orphan in a Stark-sponsored welfare ho. Inheriting the "exam warrior" discipline of his previous life, he'd breezed through MIT on Stark scholarships, earning degrees in Physics and Engineering. Now, he was a "Salary Thief" at the world's premier tech conglorate.
"I've studied for twenty years. My textbooks could form a skyscraper," Kael muttered, popping a snack into his mouth. "Now that I've graduated, what's wrong with a little 'work-life balance'?"
Kael knew his ti here was limited. His "Technical Genius" told him that the Weapons R&D departnt was a sinking ship; Tony Stark's recent trip to Afghanistan was about to change everything. So, he milked the corporate benefits for all they were worth—free top-tier coffee, free city housing, and the fastest internet in New York.
"Kael, is the test data for the new missile guidance system ready?"
Allen, the Departnt Head, walked by. With practiced ease, Kael tapped a hotkey, swapping his movie for a complex data spreadsheet. He used a small mirror on his desk to track Allen's approach, ensuring he always looked diligent.
"Sent it to your inbox ten minutes ago, Allen," Kael said, typing with rhythmic intensity.
"Good man. I trust your work," Allen patted his shoulder. He loved Kael—the kid was brilliant, humble, and lacked the typical "Stark Genius" arrogance. "Don't stay too late tonight. You're making the senior researchers look bad."
"Understood. Five o'clock sharp," Kael nodded.
As Allen left, Kael let out a sigh. He loved this chair; it was ergonomically perfect. If he could, he'd steal it and take it back to his apartnt along with his workstation.
At five o'clock, Kael punched out.
"Hey, Kael! Leaving early? Want to hit a bar in Manhattan? I heard they've got a new lineup of dancers," a voice called out.
It was Martin, a fellow recruit. He was Black, though three-quarters white, and obsessed with the New York nightlife. He was Kael's self-appointed guide to the city's darker corners.
Before Kael could respond, the blonde at the front desk, Emma, looked up. "Martin, don't lead him astray. So of us actually have plans."
Emma had handled Kael's onboarding. They'd shared a "one-night stand" after a particularly beautiful moonlit dinner—a standard New York encounter. But Emma seed to want more. Kael had no interest in the "marriage grave" yet, especially given the shelf-life of corporate romance. He politely ignored her hint and pulled Martin toward the elevator.
"You're all talk, Martin. One look from Emma and you can't even move your legs," Kael teased.
The night in New York was a neon blur. Beneath the glamour of the skyscrapers, the city was a hive of superheroes and supervillains. Kael lived cautiously, knowing that an ordinary man in this world was just collateral damage.
In a crowded bar, Martin had already vanished into the dance floor. Kael sat at the bar, his eyes tracking the dancers on stage with a Pilot's precision.
"Hey, handso. All alone?"
A wave of expensive perfu hit him. A stunning woman sat on the stool next to him. Kael wasn't looking for love, just a distraction. After a few drinks and so practiced charm, the two moved to a nearby hotel.
Hours later, as the girl slept, Kael closed his eyes, ready to drift off. But instead of sleep, his consciousness plumted.
He found himself in the White Space. He looked around at the "familiar strangers"—the Pilot, the Ghoul, the Knight—and a grin spread across his face.
"My cheat system... the one I've waited ten years for. It's finally here."
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