Billionaire in Kingsman with a Marvel System

"SIR, the shooting data has been calculated, and the target coordinates have been transmitted to Gunnar's device. He's ready to shoot at any time."

"Alright, take him out," William ordered.

"Understood, the order has been given."

About 800 meters away from the warehouse, Gunnar and Yin Yang were lying on a small hill, dressed in camouflage suits.

Yin Yang, holding a sniper spotting scope, looked at the readings on his glasses and said to Gunnar, "Gunnar, you can shoot now."

"Alright, stop rushing me. I need to calm down a bit. Damn it, with these glasses and wrist sensors, you don't even have to worry about wind direction or temperature when firing a sniper rifle. What's even more frustrating is that it doesn't even matter if you can see the target or not; you just aim and shoot based on the equipment's indicators. God, I feel like we old-timers will be obsolete soon."

"Stop whining. With more advanced equipment, our tasks are easier, and we're safer. Hurry up, Sunday is urging us."

"FK, quit nagging. I'm adjusting my breathing, so don't disturb me."

Gunnar finished speaking and got serious, his eyes focused on the scope. Following Sunday's instructions, he adjusted his posture and relaxed. A few seconds later, "Bang!" The grass around the muzzle bent down from the shockwave.

After firing, Gunnar didn't bother to check if he hit the target. He immediately cycled the bolt to chamber another round. Just as he finished, Yin Yang whispered in surprise, "FK, it's a hit! It's a hit! Silva's red dot disappeared!"

Yin Yang, who had been watching the red dot, turned to Gunnar in disbelief. "God, you hit it just like that? Gunnar, it looks like we're really going to retire soon."

In the surveillance vehicle, William waited for a few seconds. Seeing that Gunnar and Yin Yang were still lying down and not moving, he grabbed Barney's radio and cursed, "Bastards, retreat! You two idiots, retreat immediately and follow Sunday's instructions. Christmas is 600 meters away to pick you up."

"Understood, BOSS."

Gunnar and Yin Yang quickly packed up their gear, crouching low and moving through the cover of trees and bushes as directed by Sunday. It took them four or five minutes to reach the vehicle Christmas had brought to pick them up.

Following Sunday's instructions, they avoided all surveillance cameras and regrouped with Caesar and Highway a few kilometers away, before driving back to London.

After instructing Sunday to keep only one complete video and delete all the others, William gave Barney a few reminders before getting out of the car and parting ways.

Watching Barney drive away, William got into his own car, sat in the driver's seat, and closed his eyes to wait.

It was only after Christmas and the others had left that news of Silva's death spread among the mercenaries.

With their leader dead, resistance was meaningless. One by one, the remaining mercenaries began to surrender.

In the temporary command post outside the warehouse, Commander Bromley, who was already furious about the heavy casualties among his men, suddenly heard reports from the front line that the enemy had surrendered.

"What's going on? Why did these bastards suddenly surrender?" Bromley asked the temporary commanders around him, his face darkened.

After a moment of thought, they all shook their heads. A female officer suggested, "Sorry, Sir, we're not sure yet. I recommend being cautious to avoid an ambush. We should deploy drones to scout the warehouse and call for the enemies to come out with their hands up."

"Alright," Bromley agreed. "Let's do that."

This delay meant that by the time Bromley discovered the reason for the surrender, more than ten minutes had passed, and the strike team had already been driving away for over twenty minutes. The leading trio of Christmas, Gunnar, and Yin Yang were already within the London city limits.

Once the Special Forces had fully secured the warehouse and confirmed it was safe, Bromley was led to the corner where Silva had fallen.

Looking at the fist-sized hole in the warehouse wall and Silva lying on the ground, shot in the back, Bromley remained silent for a long time. He had a pretty good idea who was responsible for this.

But he didn't dare tell his subordinates. How could he explain to them that the reason someone else got the credit for taking down the leader was that he, their commander, had tried to steal someone else's mission?

If he admitted that, he could forget about leading his team in the future. At the same time, he was very wary of the power William held.

In his 20+ years of service, he'd never heard of anyone being able to kill a target with a single shot through a wall. If the target had been him, Bromley didn't think he could survive against such a super sniper.

"Sir, what should we do next?" The front-line commander, who had been waiting for orders, had no choice but to ask.

Bromley sighed. What else could he do? Some things were better left unsaid. He muttered, "Pull back."

"But, Sir, aren't we going to investigate the third party?" The front-line commander, unwilling to accept that so many of his men had died just to capture a few lackeys, asked.

"I told you to pull back. The rest is not for you to know."

Already in a foul mood, Bromley glared at his subordinate, speaking in a harsh tone.

His words brought a hush to the surrounding area. Bromley, seeing the eyes on him, felt a tightness in his chest. He realized that he had no choice but to say something.

He sighed and said, "Command-level officers stay. The rest of you, get back to your tasks."

This made it clear to the temporary commanders that Bromley didn't want the regular Special Forces to know the details. They exchanged glances and nodded to the people around them.

The front-line commander also understood that there was more going on. He turned and gave a few orders to the squad leaders, who then led their teams away from the scene. 

But they didn't go far. With the heavy casualties—of the 36 members of the four teams, fewer than 20 were unscathed, with five or six dead and several others severely injured, unsure if they'd survive—those who made it out alive weren't about to let things go without a good explanation.

"Alright, based on your clearance levels, I'll tell you what I can. After that, whether you want to appeal is up to you."

Although Bromley understood the desire to seek justice for fallen comrades, they were still a disciplined force, and disobedience was a serious issue. So Bromley was actually quite frustrated at the moment.

But he also knew that times had changed. Unlike before, people in England now cared more about how they felt. Even disciplined units like the Special Forces could have members resign if they were unhappy. If he didn't explain things properly, someone might turn their anger toward him.

Bromley didn't want to be the scapegoat, so after the commanders nodded in understanding, he continued.

"You all know we have several secret teams within our ranks, some with clearances so high that only a few top leaders can command them. Unfortunately, today's team has the highest level of secrecy. I only know about them because of certain special circumstances and my acquaintance with their leader. From what I understand, even the Home Secretary, Ms. Catherine, doesn't know the specific members of this team. So if you want to appeal, I can report it to Ms. Catherine, but I think you all know what the result will be."

"Lastly, let me emphasize that this team won't steal credit from us. I might even be able to push for double the usual death benefits, and if we make a fuss, we could get triple."

"That's impossible!" several commanders exclaimed. The front-line commander immediately asked, "Really, that much?"

"Yes," Bromley nodded confidently. "I'm serious. The team responsible for taking out the leader won't claim the credit because that kind of recognition means nothing to them. As for not capturing the leader alive, I'll report that it was a stray bullet that killed him. Any other questions?"

Everyone fell silent. If it wasn't for the fear of being reprimanded or blamed by their subordinates, these commanders wouldn't have pressed Bromley for an explanation.

Now that they wouldn't be held responsible, wouldn't lose credit, and could get a significant increase in benefits, the commanders exchanged glances before collectively saluting Bromley. "Understood, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Bromley stood and returned the salute. "If that's all, then why are you still standing around? Get back to work, especially you."

Bromley fixed his gaze on the front-line commander. "Davis, you're suspended. Write me a report, and you won't be reinstated until the investigation is over. Any questions?"

"No, Sir. Thank you, Sir," Davis immediately saluted. He knew that from the moment he failed to stop his men, he was in trouble. The fact that he wasn't dismissed on the spot meant that Bromley had shown some leniency due to past goodwill.

But at least he could justify himself by saying that he fought for his subordinates to get several times more compensation.

After instructing Davis to clean up the scene and deal with Silva's death, Bromley left the warehouse and got into his car. He pondered for a moment before pulling out his phone to call William.

He was in a difficult position now. Without evidence, there was nothing he could do to William, but he still had to try. If he could get something out of William, he might be willing to overlook the fact that William had stolen the credit.

The phone was quickly answered.

"Good afternoon, Brom

ley. What can I do for you?"

The happier William sounded, the more Bromley fumed. Struggling to keep his anger in check, he spoke in a low voice, "We need to talk."

"About what? About how you tried to steal my mission?"

"You know what I'm talking about. I'm not here to blame you. Considering we're on the same side and friends, I took your mission, and you took out Silva to mess with me. Let's call it even."

"Haha, what are you talking about? How about we meet in person? I've arranged a dinner with Catherine and Gareth at Gordon's in Chelsea. If you're free, you can join us."

"Alright, see you soon." Bromley quickly hung up, fearing he might lose his temper and start cursing. But since he needed something from William, he had to keep it together, no matter how upset he was.

William chuckled as he hung up the phone, thinking to himself, "I thought I was shameless, but Bromley is even worse. Losing so many men, and he can still smile and come to dinner. But it seems like Bromley doesn't know that I was the one who tipped off the mercenaries about their impending raid. I wonder if he'd try to kill me if he found out."

Laughing softly to himself, William put down his phone, started his car, and drove happily toward London.

Half an hour later, William arrived at Gordon's restaurant. After parking his car, he waited inside for a few minutes before seeing another car pull into the lot. Bromley stepped out, his face as dark as ever.

"Beep, beep," William honked and waved out the window. Bromley glanced over, confirmed it was William, and walked over.

"Let's talk."

"Yeah, let's talk," Bromley nodded, opening the passenger door and getting in.

"Is everything settled?"

Bromley rolled his eyes. "Don't act like you don't know. If it weren't for the fact that we're friends, this wouldn't be so easy to resolve."

"Haha, then I guess I should thank you. Maybe you should report this to Catherine and see how she reacts."

"Mm." Bromley's heart sank. Seeing William's smug expression, he realized that his worst fear had come true. Thinking of Catherine, Bromley fell silent.

"Looks like you've figured it out," William said with a smile, glancing at the quiet Bromley. "Does this count as me helping you out indirectly, buddy? Don't you think you owe me a thank you?"

Bromley exploded with anger. Glaring at William, he cursed, "F, K, U! Just because I took your mission, six of my men are dead, three are severely injured, and eleven are lightly wounded. And you want me to thank you? You should have told me what was going on earlier, and my men wouldn't have suffered so much."

"Buddy, I wanted to tell you, but you didn't ask."

There was one more thing William didn't say. Even if you had asked, I wouldn't have told you. Not only would I have kept quiet, but I would have set you up. Otherwise, everyone would think they could steal credit and benefits from me.

"So, don't see yourself as a victim. If anyone's a victim here, it's those injured officers. Tell me, if your men knew the full story, would they come after you? Once morale is gone, the team is hard to lead."

Bromley slumped back in his seat, resigned. "Alright, tell me what you want. As long as it's not illegal, I'll do it."

"NO, this time, let's just say you owe me a favor. But I need you to relay a message to those who are watching me."

"What is it?"

"Tell them that if I don't give it, you can't take it. Otherwise, I'll make sure you break all your teeth trying to bite, and you'll have to swallow those broken teeth with a smile.

If they want something from me, first, they need to have something I want, and second, they need to speak to me politely. I appreciate good manners."

Bromley grimaced. "So, I'm just the sacrificial lamb?"

"Exactly," William replied with a grin.

"FK, you're a lunatic, William Devonshire," Bromley said, his face filled with fear as he stared at the smiling William. "You risked dozens of lives just to send a message."

"Hehe, as if you're some saint. England is a dog-eat-dog world. If I don't show some toughness, someone might try to swallow me whole tomorrow."

William's expression turned maniacal as he stared at Bromley. "Tell me, Richard Bromley, is your conscience clear? If it is, I'll do whatever you say. If not, don't you dare criticize me because you have no right. In this world, without evidence..."

Bromley thought long and hard, finally sighing. "At least my heart aspires to heaven, while you stare straight into hell."

Bromley shook his head, thinking William had gone mad. He had initially hoped to get some compensation from William, but now he doubted he could squeeze a single penny out of him.

Opening the car door, Bromley spoke over his shoulder. "There are still more good people in this world, William. I think you should spend more time with simple, kind-hearted folks. Being this paranoid won't do you any good. See you inside."

William rolled his eyes as he watched Bromley walk into the restaurant, thinking, "Damn, did I overact? Look how scared he is. I wonder if the entire English upper class now sees me as a lunatic."

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