Persona: Hero x Villain System

Chapter 88: Armacham Board

Cole Stephens| Midtown High

Cole scoffed at Peter Parker’s carelessness. The kid got a boost from the Venom symbiote and started a brawl inside the lab, leading to the school being wrecked again. 

First, the sinister six admittedly the group was there because Harry Osborne was losing his D.O.J. contract. However, they still belonged to Parker; he had run in with each one, causing them to form a group to fight him.

‘Oh yeah, I almost forgot, Rhino had escaped.’ He rolled his eyes when he saw the rampaging mutate desolate two city blocks before vanishing. Cole made air quotes with his hands, drawing his detention buddy’s squinting glare. 

He stared back; the teacher grimaced before returning to his phone. ‘Punish me all y’all want.’ He thought to himself. He was thankful to be inside the detention hall, though; the damn X-men were attending the school; he was shocked upon seeing them before he had the sudden realization. 

“Time bullshit strikes again.” He murmured. 

“No talking!” the teacher shouted, glaring at him again. Cole checked his watch and refocused on his work. He was thankful he had Alfred to talk to; being cooped up was dull. 

Cole stepped off the bus, glad school had ended. He decided to take public transport to understand the city better. There was a lot of gossip, and then people assumed they were comfortable and spoke anonymously. 

Anne had hated public transport, wanting to enjoy the finer things. He smiled, remembering the look she had given him. Cole had fundamentally changed her life; her popularity had only grown since she had been slotted to be included in the ‘secret’ program. 

‘Where are you, Firebug?’ 

A ball of frustration and anger roiled around in the pit of his stomach as he walked home, and he figured the best way to get rid of it was to bury himself in work. Obtrusive, as always, his H.U.D. flashed before his eyes as he made his way down the sidewalk.

Over the next week, Cole spent most of the fortune he had been rewarded, setting up a somewhat respectable workshop in an enormous open space on one of the sub-basements, moving some of the equipment he already owned and combining it with the new acquisitions. 

Placing the tools down, he slid from his workstation as his alarm continued to annoy him. He took off the welder goggles, which he affectionately nicknamed mad scientist gear, and strolled toward the door, his lab coat vanishing as a pristine art suit appeared atop his body. 

The tower was teeming with employees, and the hustle and bustle of what was to come was evident on their faces. Being more reclusive, many passed him by, not knowing he was their boss, the young C.E.O. who had Harlem ablaze with rumors. He took the elevator and ended up bumping into a woman he recognized. 

“It’s nice putting a face to the name.” He said, excusing himself. He overheard her telling the others who he was. He smiled as the man and woman all sucked in their breath, unaware that their boss was amongst them. 

He flashed a smile in the floating mirror as he tied his locs into a low ponytail, his vibrant steel eyes staring back at him. He had grown over the month he had found himself in the alley. He rechecked himself, adjusting his blazer and admiring his suit; it was snug, expensive, and adequate for the business side of his image. The tuxedo is a gadget capable of granting its wearer special abilities (including martial arts, speed, the ability to dance, and various acrobatics). 

Cole Stephens| Boardroom 

He swallowed as he entered the large, expensively decorated room. 

The unrest emanating from the room was palpable, and he was sure his new blade could cut right through it. Cole’s brows rose slightly before he masked his expression. 

The original katana he had carried gave him the ideal. Nth metal had a functional ability he wanted to explore: weight reduction. Based on purity, Nth metal could significantly reduce weight; the application of alone long made him splurge on the ore. 

His inner money-grubber shuddered at the spent coins, something new he had to deal with. He supposed another quirk of his system that had just started to surface was an aspect he wasn’t aware of which persona held. However, if he had hedged a bet, it would be the diminutive berserker who loved shiny things and his sister. 

‘Maybe the Viking-themed meta-human was a Dragon-born instead?’ He joked to himself as the many conversations became dulled before winking out altogether. 

Legal, his buddy-o-pal, had stepped up, hand extended toward him. Cole scoffed, grabbed the man’s hand, and pulled him into a more bro hug than a romantic one, the romance he saved for the beautiful Jenifer, future She-Hulk, at least he hoped; his meddling might have affected that. 

“G-good to see you, sir.” Jenifer Walter sputtered out, her cheeks reddening at the attention. Her awkward back pats were met with a slow chuckle from him as he extended his hands to his other hired lawyers and H.R. personnel. He laughed inwardly in his old world that moving would have cost him his job.

The tall, matte black doors closed as suited A.T.C. personnel stood at attention, each in similar smart suits, aka The Tuxedos from the movie Tuxedo. It astounded him what the system had locked away. He stared at the man and woman, formerly homeless Harlem residents he had taken a chance on. He eyes them, making a play at adjusting his tie; the guards do the same, both smiling conspicuously back at him. Being rich, he championed numerous charitable organizations, and one of his, Legal or Jenifer, was adamant about cleaning up Goth-Harlem streets. 

‘Defenders,’ he thought, a smile stretching across his face; what a nice ring; who could have thought of a better name? 

Legal eyes dulled, a sign he was using the bio-contacts, not a quirk anyone without superhuman senses would notice. He leaned over and whispered into his ear. Cole made a play for the room and chuckled loudly but inwardly relented. Legal had done many deeds and was considered his inner circle and core member; thus, his continued health and reliability were paramount. He shelved out another hundred thousand and purchased a fourth suit. A terrain Boas would deliver it to the man’s penthouse in Manhattan. 

His lawyers arrayed around him at the head of the table. With the additional five seats on the corners, he looked like a King presiding over the court. 

“I take it not everyone took kindly to the N.D.A.s.” He decided to tackle the most sensitive part first. 

Nods and grumbles emanated from around the table. If he recalled, his H.R. director, a street-educated mother of four, was another happenstance hire, laid down a stack of folders. He beamed at her, the lady secretly squeezing his hands, a gesture that he knew wasn’t flirtatious but a silent gesture. Thank you. He took a gander and raffled through the folders, quietly nodding as he put a face to the declines. 

“Gentlemen and ladies, I assure you that the N.D.A isn’t to waylay you in any way but a means to an end.” He stood; business acumen enabled. 

“What knowledge I’m privy to cannot leave this room, and I will not say any more; what I offer is only for those willing to sign the form; secrecy is paramount until all parties have shown themselves.” He raised his hand, stopping any arguments. 

“I’ve chosen you all based on certain parameters,” he continued. 

Parameters he didn’t disclose in the offer letters: how do you tell over a dozen people that they die, some quite horribly? He disclosed state-of-the-art medical for their immediate families and discounts for extended. 

Something that no company he was aware of offered; not even STARK Industries could foot such a bill, but what they didn’t know was Cole’s technology was so advanced that he could even bring back the dead; the raising the dead part was a stretch kind of, the Lazarus Pit wasn’t ideal, but he would use it if he had to. 

‘Jason Todd turned out decent, right?’ 

Consecutive knocks at the door caused Cole to stop. He was interested. Only some people uninvited could enter his building. His guards looked at each other, no doubt commutation, before opening the door. 

Curious, he waited. In stepped a man he had only passively heard about but still a genius in his own right and possibly the first creator of the Iron Man exoskeleton. At least Stuart Clarke thought that.