Billionaire in Kingsman with a Marvel System

"Italy," William muttered, arms crossed as he pondered whether to eliminate Franz, the root cause of all the troubles for the England Special Service.

But it didn't take long for William to abandon the idea.

What did the troubles of the England Special Service have to do with him? Eliminating Franz wouldn't benefit him at all right now. On the contrary, keeping Franz alive might offer some advantages. As for whether the Ghost Party would pose a threat to England, William couldn't care less.

Given England's current system, even if villains managed to take power, their ability to stay in power would depend on their governance. If they performed poorly, they wouldn't last long before the people kicked them out. If they did well, then it didn't really matter who was in charge.

Of course, if some lunatic tried to destroy the world, that would be a different story. But as long as it didn't affect William's interests, he didn't care who took charge.

However, that didn't stop William from giving Franz a little nudge. "Sunday, has the London Special Terrorist Incident Unit surrounded Silva?"

"SIR, four squads totaling 36 men are ready, just waiting for Commander Bromley's order."

William glanced at his watch and complained, "These guys are really slow. It's been nearly 50 minutes, and they still haven't moved. Looks like I need to give them a push. Sunday, cut off Silva's network."

After giving the order, William glanced at Christmas beside him. Seeing no concern or anger on his face, he continued, "We don't want him talking about the strike team. Also, order Gunnar to seize the opportunity amidst the chaos to take out Silva. And while you're at it, send our Ghost Party leader, Mr. Franz, a cup of takeaway coffee. When the coffee is about to arrive, leave Franz a message for me, saying, 'Dear Mr. Oberhaus, this coffee is from Mrs. M, sent from heaven. She invites you to visit her new home in heaven when you have the time.'"

"Understood, SIR."

"Great. Now it's time for us to watch the show," William said with a smile, turning to Barney. "Got anything to drink? It's a shame to watch a show without a drink."

"Haha," Barney and Christmas chuckled. Barney walked over to the cabinet, opened it, and took out a few cans of beer. "Sorry, BOSS, all we have is beer."

"No problem," William took a beer, opened it, took a large gulp, and watched the screen with a grin as Silva frantically stood up, shouting, "Something's wrong, something's wrong!" Within a minute, the mercenaries in the warehouse were armed and ready.

Both sides knew of the other's existence, which made the upcoming battle all the more interesting. William took another large gulp of beer.

"Sunday, can you show me Commander Bromley's face? I want to see if his expression has gotten any darker."

"No problem, SIR."

Soon, one of the monitors in the carriage displayed the image of Commander Bromley, his face dark as coal.

At that moment, Bromley, having been informed by his spotter, learned that Silva's group had suddenly armed themselves. Without hesitation, Bromley grabbed his radio and shouted, "FK, how did they discover us? Attack, attack! Any resistance will be met with lethal force. Snipers, cover them."

As soon as the order was given, the London Special Forces advanced a few meters before engaging in a firefight with Silva's group. The sound of gunfire echoed as people from both sides were hit and went down.

William burst out laughing as he looked at the scowling Bromley on the screen. "Now you know my credit isn't that easy to steal, don't you?"

Hearing this, Barney and Christmas exchanged glances. Christmas shrugged and, with a helpless expression, gestured to Barney, saying, "See? I knew anyone who crossed the BOSS wouldn't end well."

Barney glanced at the excited William and nodded in agreement.

With his mental perception still active, William immediately sensed Barney and Christmas's small gestures. Without turning around, he cursed, "FK, don't think I don't know what you two bastards are doing behind my back. Do it again, and your bonuses are gone."

"Sorry, BOSS."

The two apologized, but their expressions remained unchanged as they looked at each other. Christmas's eyes reflected his curiosity about how William had known about their little exchange. Barney pointed to the camera on the computer and spread his hands.

Christmas understood, and both of them assumed that Sunday had reported their actions to William.

...

Ten minutes later, despite William's warning, Silva's group was inevitably suppressed by the London Special Forces due to their superior numbers and equipment.

After losing seven or eight men, the mercenaries were forced to retreat back into the warehouse, where they began engaging the Special Forces in close-quarters combat.

"These guys are finished," Barney explained to William from the side. "Mercenaries going up against specially trained Special Forces in close-quarters combat is suicide. Their only options are to die or surrender."

Sure enough, after the Special Forces suppressed the enemy's firepower, they began throwing in flashbangs. "Boom, boom, boom," a series of low, piercing explosions echoed as three squads of Special Forces, hunched over, followed the shield-bearing officers into the warehouse.

"Rat-a-tat-tat," the sound of intense gunfire erupted from the warehouse. A few minutes later, the gunfire began to dwindle. William, somewhat concerned, asked, "Sunday, hasn't Gunnar found a shot yet?"

"Sorry, SIR, Silva has been hiding in the corner of the warehouse. Gunnar has been unable to find a clear shot."

William thought for a few seconds before saying, "Pull up the warehouse's blueprints."

Soon, the screen displayed a 3D blueprint of the warehouse, with Silva's position marked by a red dot. William pointed to a wall on the blueprint and asked, "How thick is this wall, and what material is it made of?"

"SIR, according to the blueprints, the warehouse is a steel-structured building with walls 160mm thick, made of sandwich panels with a steel outer layer and an insulated core."

"Can Gunnar's sniper rifle penetrate this wall?" William continued.

Before Sunday could answer, Barney spoke up, "Gunnar's rifle is a military-grade AWM, using Magnum rounds. Penetrating the wall won't be a problem."

"Great. Sunday, help Gunnar calculate the aim and tell him he has a ten-second window. Once time's up, he must retreat immediately, regardless of the outcome."

William then turned to Christmas and said, "Christmas, go pick up Gunnar and Yin Yang. Be careful. With the London Special Forces suffering so many casualties, dealing with them now could be very troublesome. Safety first, got it?"

"Understood, SIR," Christmas replied loudly, even saluting William before he left.

After Christmas left the carriage, Barney, watching William who was still focused on the screen, suddenly said, "Thanks, BOSS."

William turned to see Barney's serious expression. Smiling, he replied, "Alright, no need to be like that. You guys are my people, so of course, I care about your safety. I don't want to end up raising your kids for you."

Barney laughed heartily. "Still, thanks, BOSS."

"Mm," William responded, dismissing the matter. After so many collaborations, the strike team had earned a certain level of trust from William. He wouldn't send them to their deaths unnecessarily. But that was only if it wasn't necessary. If it was, William wouldn't hesitate. After all, the strike team was a group that made a living by taking risks; casualties were inevitable in combat.

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