Marvel: Rise of the Ultimate AI

Jessica turned her body casually and looked at the security guard, who now wore a suspicious expression.

"Who are you? What are you doing in such a restricted area this late at night?" The guard's face had become stern, and his hand moved to his waist—ready to draw his weapon.

"I…" Jessica hesitated for a second before inspiration struck. "I came to… see Mr. Mason."

"Funny," the guard crossed his arms and gave her a cold look. "His office isn't on this floor."

"Well… yes, of course you'd think that," Jessica forced a natural smile. "Because Mr. Mason—Gene—doesn't want anyone to know he's still here. You see… our relationship is a bit special. You know how he is—he hates complications. If people knew about us, it'd just make things awkward for everyone."

The guard raised his eyebrows and eyed her skeptically.

To be honest, he didn't know much about his boss Gene Mason's personal life. But thinking about it, a successful man like Mason having a few mistresses seemed… pretty normal. If he didn't have any, that would be strange.

He examined Jessica again. Her clothes weren't exactly seductive—more like functional and slightly boyish—but maybe that was the boss's taste?

Now the guard found himself in a dilemma.

This was a secure area in Mason Industries, and by all protocols, any unauthorized personnel should be stopped immediately. But what if he was wrong? What if he really was standing in the way of the boss's mistress? The last thing he wanted was to offend Gene Mason and lose his job.

Mason Industries' cloning and memory implantation tech—courtesy of Red Queen—had reached a frightening level of sophistication. These staff weren't just cloned automatons anymore. They were people. Living, breathing individuals with memories, personalities… and doubts.

Still stuck in his inner conflict, the guard was abruptly relieved of his burden. A firm pat landed on his shoulder.

"You've done a great job staying vigilant," a voice said. Calm, soft—but with an undeniable air of authority. "Your shift ends here. I'll take over from here."

The guard turned around and found himself face-to-face with none other than Gene Mason.

When the boss himself spoke, what was there to question?

He saluted promptly and left without another word.

Jessica, now staring at that all-too-familiar face—the one plastered across every major media outlet in New York—couldn't help but roll her eyes internally.

Great. The man himself showed up.

She suddenly felt like she'd stepped straight into a trap.

"Now then, Miss Jones," Gene said in his calm tone, "why don't you tell me what exactly you discovered while snooping around my building?"

Jessica felt a twinge of embarrassment. That whole "boss's mistress" story? Gene had definitely heard every word.

But she recovered quickly. As a detective, she'd learned how to regain composure fast. Her sharp eyes took in the man before her.

This was her first time meeting the infamous Gene Mason in person. But he was… different. Not like other powerful men she'd encountered before.

She had seen evil. She'd seen narcissists, saints, and madmen. But none of them felt like this. If she had to describe it—it was indifference. This man looked at the world like it didn't really matter. Like nothing could move him.

His eyes were as black as a void. Deep, empty, unreadable. She got nothing from his gaze.

Uneasy, she looked away. "You… you know my name?"

"Of course," Gene said with a casual shrug. "Jessica Jones. Private investigator out of Hell's Kitchen. Fairly well-known in these parts. You were even on the front page of the New York Times once. Some people think you're a superhero."

"Don't call me that," Jessica snapped. The word clearly touched a nerve.

Then she paused, took a deep breath, and leaned into the moment. She was caught. Might as well press forward.

"So if you know my name, then you know why I'm here. I'm looking for answers."

Gene tilted his head slightly. "Then tell me, Miss Jones… what kind of sinister shadows do you think lurk inside Mason Industries that drew a bloodhound like you to our door?"

"Let's not play games, Mr. Mason," Jessica replied sharply. "Your company didn't grow from nothing into a corporate giant overnight without getting its hands dirty."

Gene remained perfectly still, his hands in his pockets. Watching. Listening.

Jessica bit her lip. Then she pressed on, voice cold: "About 520 days ago, your company arranged for the shipment of… something. Something so secret, it had to be smuggled. There was no paperwork, no digital trace. Only criminals—smugglers—could pull off a job like that. And once it was done, every single person who knew about it vanished. Eliminated. Convenient, huh?"

She took a step closer, eyes narrowing. "I'm dying to know—what was it? A prototype nuclear warhead? Something for terrorists?"

She watched him closely, hoping for some flicker of emotion—surprise, anger, guilt.

But there was nothing.

Gene Mason just stood there, unreadable. His expression didn't change. No denial. No outrage. Just… silence.

Jessica began to doubt herself. Did he not understand what I said? Or is he just that good at hiding it?

Whatever the case, this was no ordinary corporate tycoon. And she was definitely in deeper waters than she'd expected.

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T/N:

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