"No, no, you've got it wrong," the lawyer said with a polite smile. "If the policy passes, you'll also owe the standard fee tied to the book."
Brett's face twisted with rage.
"Go to hell—both you and that freak!"
The lawyer didn't react.
"If you'd like to avoid further liability, I'd suggest watching your language," he said calmly. "What you just said clearly demonstrates malicious intent and discrimination."
He tapped his phone lightly.
"I've recorded everything. If necessary, I could pursue a separate claim for damages against me as well."
Brett grabbed the nearest object—a flower vase—and hurled it.
"Get out!"
The lawyer leaned aside just in time as it shattered against the wall.
Then he left.
Inside the room, Brett was left alone, seething.
"This isn't over!" he shouted hoarsely. "I'll drag this out as long as it takes! I'll ruin him—I swear I will!"
Outside, the lawyer exhaled shakily, his face pale.
"Boss… I'm definitely getting a raise for this," he muttered. "That was way too dangerous."
Standing in front of him was a massive man with gray, stone-like skin and a frame built like a tank.
Tombstone.
"You'll get paid," Tombstone said flatly. "Did he say anything useful?"
"He insulted Mr. Vale again," the lawyer replied.
Tombstone nodded once.
"Add him to the list."
The lawyer blinked. "The list?"
Tombstone cracked his neck.
"We're doing follow-ups."
He glanced toward the hallway.
"Anyone who hasn't learned their lesson gets reminded. After that… we make another round and break what's left."
His tone didn't change.
"People really don't know when to stop."
Late that night—
Brett lay awake, staring into the dark.
From the next room over, a scream tore through the silence.
Then another.
Alarms started blaring throughout the hospital.
His heart jumped.
"What's going on…?"
The door burst open.
A man stepped inside—clothes stained with fresh blood, a metal bat resting on his shoulder.
Brett's breath hitched.
"You're Brett, right?" the man said casually. "You people really don't learn."
"Who are you?" Brett stammered, trying to push himself back—but his legs were immobilized, suspended in place.
"Fan of Noah Vale," the man replied. "We're here for a follow-up visit."
He sighed, almost annoyed.
"You already got your legs broken once, and you're still running your mouth? You think you can insult him and walk away?"
He lifted the bat.
"You know how much trouble I'm taking on just to do this?"
Brett's face went pale.
"Wait—please, I won't say anything anymore! I won't sue! I don't want money—just stop!"
The man didn't slow down.
"No take-backs."
The bat came down.
The scream that followed was louder than the alarms.
Four seconds later, the man rested the bat on his shoulder again.
"Next time someone checks in on you," he said lightly, "watch what you say."
He paused at the door.
"Oh—and don't forget to leave a good review."
Then he stepped out.
In the hallway, doctors stood frozen, too shocked to move.
One finally found the courage to speak.
"You can't do this—this is a hospital!"
The man stopped, turned, and pressed his palms together briefly.
"Hey, I get it," he said, almost apologetic. "But I've got a job to do. Try to understand."
He gestured down the hall.
"Besides, I'm heading to prison after this anyway. Let me finish up first."
A faint grin.
"Think of it as… boosting your hospital's business."
The doctor stared at him, speechless.
Within ten minutes, it was over.
And right on schedule—
The police arrived.
The attackers didn't resist.
They stepped forward, hands raised.
"Take us in," one of them said. "We did it. All of it."
He jerked his thumb back toward the rooms.
"Nothing to do with Noah Vale. We just didn't like what those people were saying."
The officers exchanged looks.
They knew.
Everyone knew.
But there was still nothing they could prove.
"Sir," one of the younger officers muttered under his breath, "this is getting out of hand."
The senior officer sighed.
"And what exactly do you expect us to do?"
He lowered his voice.
"I've heard things. The commissioner's daughter? Supposedly close to Vale."
The younger officer blinked. "Seriously?"
"Keep your voice down," the senior officer warned. "And don't say anything you don't have to. Word is Wilson's running for mayor—and he's tied to Vale too."
He shook his head.
"City's changing. Better get used to it."
At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters—
"This is unacceptable."
Phil Coulson stood in front of a screen, reading through the latest reports, his expression tight with frustration.
"Director, we can't just let this continue," he said. "This has crossed a line."
Nick Fury didn't look up immediately.
"Has it?" he said calmly. "Did he break any laws?"
Coulson hesitated.
"…No direct evidence."
"Exactly."
Natasha leaned back, arms crossed.
"He's not exactly subtle about it," she said dryly. "Feels like the table's already been flipped."
Fury let out a quiet chuckle.
"You think this is bad?" he said. "You didn't see what had to be covered up last time."
He finally looked up.
"As long as he's still playing within the system—even if he's bending it—we let it run."
Coulson frowned.
"And if he stops?"
Fury's gaze hardened.
"Then we deal with it."
A brief silence followed.
Then Natasha tilted her head.
"You mentioned something more important earlier."
Fury nodded.
"Everyone reports to headquarters in a few days," he said. "The UN wants an internal review. They think there may have been infiltration during the nuclear incident."
Coulson and Natasha both straightened.
That… was serious.
With thousands of personnel, identifying a handful of infiltrators would be nearly impossible.
Fury said nothing more.
But in his pocket, his phone felt heavier than usual.
A single name sat in his contacts.
Professor X.
Normally, S.H.I.E.L.D. had safeguards—measures designed specifically to block telepathic intrusion.
But if those defenses were lowered… even briefly…
Every hidden threat inside the organization would be exposed.
It was risky.
But necessary.