MARVEL'S BIG VILLAIN

As the night deepened, the club became more chaotic. The dance floor was packed with lowlifes, criminals, and drunkards, grinding against each other under flickering neon lights.

Jason leaned back in his chair, feeling the warmth of Scotch whiskey coursing through him. His normally sharp gaze was slightly hazy, but his mind remained alert.

From a dimly lit VIP room, Franklin Clinton emerged, draped over the shoulders of two tall women. His face was plastered with an idiotic grin.

"Boss!" Franklin called out, his voice slurred. "It's late. Lemme drive you back."

Jason pushed himself up lazily, smirking. "You sure you can drive? You look like Scarecrow dosed you with fear toxin."

Franklin scoffed. "I ain't never lost to anyone when it comes to drivin'. Not even when the GCPD was tailin' me."

Outside the club, they headed toward a nearby parking lot. Franklin's car was a white Dodge Challenger probably stolen, but polished clean.

After hopping into the passenger seat, Jason leaned back and gave Franklin an address.

Franklin hesitated. "Wait, that area's just a bunch of warehouses, boss. You seriously livin' there?"

Jason sighed. "Right now, I'm wanted by both the underworld and the authorities. I need a place off the radar safe."

"Shit, man. You can crash at my place if you want."

"You live alone?"

Franklin shook his head. "My folks died when I was a kid. My aunt Denise took me in."

Jason smirked. "So you're under someone else's roof too, huh?"

Franklin waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, don't worry. My aunt loves money more than she hates me. Toss her some cash, and she won't care who you are."

His house was only five minutes away a rare standalone two-story home in a neighborhood full of rundown buildings. While nothing like Wilson Fisk's luxurious high-rise, it was better than the dingy squats Jason had been using.

Franklin pulled into the garage, stepped out, and unlocked the door. Jason immediately noticed the small, cramped space Franklin called his bedroom a ten-square-meter corner near the entrance.

A heavyset black woman descended the stairs, arms crossed. "Boy, you finally decided to come home, huh?"

Her sharp eyes landed on Jason. "And who's this? I told you no bringing your thug friends over!"

Jason cut Franklin off before he could argue. He pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket at least $3,000 and handed it to Denise with a polite smile.

"Beautiful lady, I'm Franklin's friend. I might be staying a while. Consider this rent."

Denise's eyes sparkled greedily. She snatched the bills, grinning. "Didn't know this brat had a rich friend. There's a spare room. Franklin, clean it up for him."

As she waddled back upstairs, Franklin muttered, "Boss, that was way too much."

Jason shrugged, watching Denise disappear. "A little money keeps people quiet. That's priceless."

Franklin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah… but man, I gotta steal so many cars to make that kinda cash."

While Franklin cleaned the room, Jason took a quick shower. The moment his head hit the pillow, exhaustion took over, and he drifted into a deep sleep.

---

The Next Morning

Jason woke up early, stretching as the smell of bacon wafted through the house. He instinctively pulled up his system menu.

[Ding! The villain's comrade 'Franklin Clinton' has been recruited successfully.]

[Party: Franklin Clinton]

Stealing Mastery (Level 4)

Driving Mastery (Level 6)

[Mall: Click Here]

Note 1: A 50% discount applies when purchasing power for party members, regardless of personal attributes.

Note 2: Party members recruited via the system possess absolute loyalty.

Jason smirked. A discount on the villain shop? Ignoring attribute requirements? The system really knew how to entice him.

But what truly satisfied him was the second note. Absolute loyalty.

Trust was a rare commodity. After the Paul incident, Jason didn't believe in "loyalty"—not unless it was enforced. Franklin may have sworn allegiance now, but who's to say he wouldn't sell out later?

But with the system's guarantee? That hesitation vanished.

Jason's thoughts were interrupted as he stepped into the kitchen, finding Franklin flipping bacon in an apron.

"Morning, boss. Breakfast's almost ready."

Jason sat down. "Where's your aunt?"

Franklin snorted. "Out shopping with her nosy-ass friends. Bet you anything, that three grand's gone by the end of the week."

Hearing about money made Jason remember his goal. He needed cash fast.

"Franklin, how do you usually make money?"

Franklin hesitated. "Uh… vehicle recycling work."

Jason frowned. "Explain."

Franklin chuckled. "People take out loans to buy cars, but when they can't pay up, my job is to 'return' them to the dealerships."

"Doesn't sound like much money."

"That's just the legal stuff. I've stolen cars, chopped 'em, driven black-market cabs, even done wrecker truck jobs."

Jason leaned back, suddenly intrigued. Franklin's Driving Mastery (Level 6) wasn't just for show.

Then, an idea hit him.

The Biker Gang a faction under Kingpin's empire. Unlike the Russian Mafia, these guys specialized in street racing, motorcycle transportation, and auto theft. They were the best at moving illegal goods.

Jason tapped the table. "Theft, huh… You ever hear of the Bikers?"

Franklin raised an eyebrow. "The guys who move grass for Kingpin? Yeah, they're loaded. But those dudes are hardcore."

Jason grinned. "I don't need to join them I just need their business."

Before Franklin could reply, Jason stood up. "Eat first. I need to make a call."

---

Phone Call with Wesley

Jason dialed Wesley's number, waiting for the line to connect.

"Jason!" Wesley's voice barked. "What the hell have you done?!"

Jason smirked. "Good morning to you too."

"Good morning? Do you have any idea what's happening? Ever since you took out the Russians, every gang in New York is on high alert. They're scared shitless of you, but they're also terrified you'll get caught and start talking."

Jason chuckled. "Sounds about right."

"That's not all," Wesley growled. "Kingpin's put a $15 million bounty on your head. Every underground group in the city is after you. And now, even international assassins are showing interest."

Jason's fingers tightened around the phone.

Fifteen. Million. Dollars.

That wasn't just an underground bounty anymore that was Bloodsport, Deathstroke, Bullseye, and Taskmaster money.

Wesley's voice softened. "Jason, this is your last chance. You can't outrun this. Surrender."

Jason was silent for a long time.

Then, he grinned. A dangerous, reckless grin.

"Let them come."

---