David paused, giving the crowd a few seconds to process, then continued.
"Executing the traitor is the first thing the Joker Organization is handling today. The second is about what happens to Mr. Barton."
"All eyes on this brave bastard. Take a good look. He's barely human, can't speak, can't see, but he's still alive. His heart's still fucking beating."
"Mr. Barton risked his life infiltrating the Joker Organization for S.H.I.E.L.D., for the U.S. government. Sure, his mission failed, but his loyalty's clear. So, the merciful Mr. Walter has decided to spare his life."
"According to our doctor, Barton's got less than ten hours before he croaks. I say S.H.I.E.L.D. and the government should take him home, let him see his family one last time to settle his regrets."
"At the end of his torture, Barton kept muttering his wife and daughter's names. That kind of raw emotion is what's kept him going."
"Even if he can't see or hear, that blood bond will let him feel his family's presence."
"Of course, Mr. Walter's not letting Barton go for free. S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to kill him, blew up his mansion and his loyal crew. They owe five billion dollars in compensation."
"If S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to haggle or flat-out refuses to pay, Barton will just hang there and die alone."
"If that's the outcome, all I can say is Barton bet on the wrong boss. The S.H.I.E.L.D. and government he gave his life for aren't worth his loyalty."
David cleared his throat, pausing again for a few seconds. "The third and final matter is about the Joker Organization's recruitment."
"We've only been around a few months, like a newborn baby, still weak as fuck."
"To survive in this filthy world, we desperately need new members."
"See those cards Mr. Walter scattered? Those clown-patterned cards are now the Joker Organization's token."
"No matter your race, nationality, or beliefs—if you contribute to cleansing this world and leave a clown card at the scene, congratulations, you're an outer member of the Joker Organization."
"Keep purifying the world as an outer member, rack up some solid results, and you might get promoted to a full member, earning a trip to New York to meet Mr. Walter in person."
"Outer or full member, you're part of the Joker Organization. Mr. Walter and the rest of us have your back."
"Any nation or agency that dares arrest a Joker Organization member is our enemy and will face fucking severe consequences."
"That's all from me. I look forward to your performance."
David's speech ended, and Times Square, along with every viewer at home, fell silent.
Everyone furrowed their brows, digesting the flood of information.
Once it sank in, anyone with half a brain realized one thing.
The world was about to go to complete shit.
…
Jason sat on the roof's edge, pulling up his system interface.
As the networks broadcast David's speech nationwide, Jason's reputation points skyrocketed.
The hundred-thousand-point mark was smashed like tissue paper!
[Ding! Reputation points exceeded 100,000. You've earned one ally recruitment opportunity.]
Here it comes—after two months, a new ally was about to appear.
Jason rubbed his hands, muttered a quick prayer, and hit recruit.
[Ding! Villain ally 'T-X' activated. Source: Terminator 3!]
T-X!
It sounded like a game company from his previous life that scammed elementary school students out of their money.
Jason exited the recruitment interface and returned to the main system interface.
[Level: 20 (9470/20000)]
[Strength: 83 → 83]
[Agility: 70 → 80]
[Endurance: 70 → 80]
[Intelligence: 70 → 70]
[Remaining Attribute Points: 0]
[Reputation: 90,234 → 134,545]
[Allies: T-X, David... (Next recruitment requires: 1,000,000 reputation)]
[Points: 146,250]
[Rechargeable Points: 0]
[Abilities: Combat Mastery (Level 10), Driving Mastery (Level 3), Firearms Mastery (Level 10), Melee Weapon Mastery (Level 2), Superpower 'Energy Absorption' (Level 1)]
[Store: Click here]
…
It had been a month and a half since he took over New York and formed the gang alliance.
The Joker Organization's network sold a shit-ton of illegal goods in the city, all villainous acts that racked up massive experience points.
Add in the gang alliance's monthly profits—over a billion dollars, even after splitting 30% with the six major gangs—and Jason was swimming in cash.
He opened the system store, checking the cost and requirements for upgrading his superpower to level two.
Level two required all four stats to hit 100. At level 20, he needed nine more levels and ninety attribute points.
The upgrade cost a whopping five billion dollars. At the gang alliance's income rate, that'd take five months.
Jason wasn't waiting that long. Good thing he found a perfect mark—that's why he demanded five billion from S.H.I.E.L.D.
That money was untouchable in the system account, reserved for the upgrade once he met the requirements. The remaining 1.4 billion in the account was for his allies.
They worked for the gang and got dividends, but Jason held their shares for safekeeping.
He kept a ledger, tracking every ally's balance. Once their cut hit 2.5 billion, he'd upgrade their superpowers.
The Joker Organization's extortion—sorry, *compensation*—demand was out. Now Jason just had to wait for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s response.
Knowing them, they wouldn't pay up easily, so everyone was prepped for a fight.
The battlefield? The spotlight of Times fucking Square!
…
A few kilometers from Times Square, in a dark alley.
The stable air rippled suddenly, like a stone dropped in a calm lake, creating waves.
A slender, pale leg stepped through, crossing decades of time, landing in the filthy alley.
As both legs passed through, the space shrank rapidly, vanishing seconds later.
The owner of those flawless legs scanned her surroundings and walked toward the alley's exit.
Across from the exit was a trendy jewelry store, its avant-garde designs drawing young, wealthy women in their twenties and thirties.
A security guard opened the glass door. A tall brunette in a tight black leather outfit and sunglasses, carrying a handbag, stepped out to a limited-edition Mercedes convertible.
She tossed her bag in the passenger seat and was about to start the car when she saw a naked young woman emerge from the alley.
The brunette's jaw dropped. She pulled off her sunglasses for a better look.
The woman was about 1.80 m, maybe 25 or 26, with thick, wavy blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.
She had an angelic face, a body like a fucking goddess, and snowy-white skin. Everything about her was so perfect it didn't seem human.
The brunette sized her up, feeling a twinge of inferiority.
A beauty like that, stranded on the street? She must be in some deep shit.
Her heart softened, and she waved. "Ma'am, you okay?"
The beauty walked over, her expression cold as ice.
"Ma'am, are you in trouble? Need me to call the cops?"
The blonde-haired woman didn't answer. She eyed the silver Mercedes convertible and the brunette's leather outfit, a satisfied smile creeping across her face.
"I like your clothes. I like your car."
The brunette blinked, thinking, *This chick's gorgeous, but her brain's fucked.*
Worried about clothes and cars in her state?
The brunette tried talking, but the woman was impossible to reason with.
"Ma'am, if you don't need the cops, I'm out."
Disappointed, she sighed, ready to drive off.
Then, the blonde-haired woman moved like lightning, grabbing her throat and yanking her out of the car. "Take off your clothes. Hand over the keys."
Her arm looked delicate but was insanely strong.
The brunette, easily a hundred pounds, was lifted like a ragdoll without the woman even flinching.
The brunette clawed at her hand, trying to break free, but it was like a vice—unmovable no matter how hard she fought.
"Help!"
She barely choked out a scream.
The jewelry store's security heard her and peeked out, jaws dropping.
A naked blonde-haired beauty and a rich, sexy brunette duking it out on the street?
Fucking wild.
Honestly, if they weren't on duty, they'd grab a beer and watch the show.
Too bad the store's entrance was their turf, and the brunette was a big client.
The two guards rushed out, shouting, "Ma'am, put her down!"
The blonde-haired woman tilted her head, her eyes devoid of emotion.
She turned, let go, and repeated coldly, "Take off your clothes."
The brunette collapsed, clutching her bruised neck, screaming, "You crazy bitch! I'm calling the cops!"
The beauty's expression didn't change. "Take off your clothes."
The brunette and the guards froze. Was this chick a fucking robot? Just repeating the same two lines?
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
500 power stones.
Top 50. All time.