"Very good," Nathan said coolly as he tucked his gun back into his belt holster.
Facing the duty officer, he raised his hand.
The officer panicked. "No—"
But before he could say another word, a specially designed web shot out, sealing the man's mouth shut.
Nathan followed it with more webs, binding the man tightly to the chair.
With the guard now immobilized, Nathan turned his attention to the terminal console before him.
He powered on the system. Screens flared to life.
His fingers began flying over the keyboard.
Dozens of surveillance windows and data logs began to appear, quickly displaying case files, experiment records, internal logs.
But something was off.
No mention of "Karl." No clear link to Luke Cage. Nothing about the indestructible man.
Nathan frowned.
"Where's Karl's file?"
Maybe it was a codename? An alias?
He began filtering the database—searching for anomaly logs, success-case experiments, and irregular mutation events.
The screens began flashing rapidly, displaying data at a dizzying speed.
The duty officer, still watching from his chair, felt his head spinning.
The images were switching so fast he could barely keep his eyes open.
"Oh God," he thought. "What the hell is this guy doing?"
He shut his eyes tight, holding back a wave of nausea.
"Is he even human?!" the officer wondered.
Every optic nerve in his brain screamed for relief. This much visual stimulation could overload the nervous system.
But Nathan kept going, focused, calm, unbothered.
His hands danced across the keyboard with mechanical precision. His brain processed each stream of data in microseconds.
Still... no sign of Karl.
"Strange," Nathan murmured. "No entries, no logs, not even deleted file traces."
That was impossible.
No digital trail is ever truly gone.
He launched a recovery script, combing the system's deep storage for recently deleted files.
Nothing.
Still no files on Karl. Not even a corrupted tag.
Finally, Nathan stopped typing and glanced at the duty officer. His cold stare made the man flinch.
He pulled off the web from the guard's mouth.
"Didn't Karl undergo experiments here?" Nathan asked sharply.
"Why is there no data?"
The officer grimaced. "I was gonna tell you... before you gagged me."
"His data—his whole file—was taken by the warden. Said it had to be destroyed on orders from above."
"You just missed it. Literally days ago."
Nathan paused.
SMACK!
The guard yelped as Nathan's hand slapped across his face.
"Next time, speak faster," Nathan said coolly.
The officer blinked. "What kind of logic is that?!"
But he dared not say it aloud.
Nathan crossed his arms. "So they destroyed the data…"
His eyes narrowed.
"No. Not completely. They wouldn't."
He began to piece things together.
"Luke Cage's transformation was too important. The military wouldn't erase that data unless they had a backup. They must've archived it offsite and ordered the prison copy destroyed."
He turned to the officer again.
"Who coordinated the experiments with the prison?"
"I don't know," the man stammered. "That was all between the warden and... higher-ups. We regular staff don't get told anything."
Nathan nodded. "Where's the warden now?"
"Out for the night," the man answered. "He always goes out on weekends. Clubs, drinks, girls."
Nathan knocked him out with a flick of his wrist.
"Then I'll go find him—and whoever he's meeting."
Pulling out his phone, Nathan opened an encrypted satellite channel.
"Kurt."
"Boss, ready and waiting," Kurt's voice came through.
"I need the warden's location. Now."
"Already on it. Been tracking key staff at your request. The warden is at a high-end club—looks like he's meeting someone shady."
Nathan's eyes sharpened. "Transaction?"
"Seems like it."
"What's this guy's personality?"
Kurt answered quickly. "He's the king of the prison. Rules it with an iron fist. He's made a lot of money from the position, has influence, and powerful connections. Dangerous man."
Nathan grunted.
"Send me the address."
"Already done."
He stashed his phone and made his way to the elevator.
DING!
His head snapped toward the sound.
The elevator doors slid open... slowly.
And inside?
The off-duty researcher—the woman who had returned to retrieve her laptop.
She smiled as she saw the room.
But the smile froze when her eyes locked onto the masked figure.
Nathan was sprinting toward her.
Her scream caught in her throat.
She slapped the elevator close button, her hands trembling.
But Nathan raised a hand.
Thwip! Thwip!
Two web strands shot out, slamming her into the wall and sealing her mouth.
"MMMPHHH!"
As the doors began to close again, Nathan slipped a hand in and forced them open.
He stepped into the elevator, glancing at her.
"Close one."
The woman's eyes rolled back. Her body trembled violently... then fainted.
Nathan frowned.
"Seriously?"
He checked her pulse and confirmed she was just unconscious.
He pulled her down, secured her with web restraints that would dissolve in six hours, then turned his attention to the hard drive data.
No clues here.
Time to go topside.
---
Location: Victorian Club – New York
One of the city's most exclusive dens of indulgence.
To enter, you needed wealth, power—or both.
Outside, in a parked sedan, Kurt watched the building.
"I can't get in, boss. No invitation."
Nathan, now dressed in a low-slung hat and massive sunglasses, was already crawling up the rear wall of the building.
"Invitation?" he scoffed, "There's a back door. Only respectable fools use the front."
Moments later, he slipped through the restroom window.
He straightened his collar and hat, walking out casually into the club's opulent hallway.
The corridor was dim and camera-free.
Everyone here valued privacy.
Pulling out his phone, Nathan checked the tracking signal—Kurt had infected the warden's phone with a proximity virus earlier in the week.
"Got you."
He headed toward the marked room.
---
Inside the VIP suite...
The warden sat across from another man in a sharp suit.
No women, no distractions.
Only business.
"I hear you're interested in... enhancements," the warden said, swirling a glass of bourbon.
"I've got what you're looking for. Real stuff. From the New York State Penitentiary."
The man eyed him skeptically. "What exactly is it?"
"The data on the birth of a man with unbreakable skin and strength beyond comprehension," the warden said proudly.
"How do I know it's real?"
"You think I'm some street hustler?" the warden scoffed. "I run the most secure prison in New York. Ask your middleman about me. I don't lie. Ever."
"How much?"
The warden held up two fingers.
"Two hundred thousand?"
He shook his head. "Two hundred million."
The man winced. "That's steep."
"Not negotiable."
After a pause, the man nodded. "Fine. Let me see it."
The warden placed a small locked case on the table. "Hard drive's inside. Original copy. Untouched."
The buyer smiled and snapped his fingers.
The door burst open.
Men in plain clothes rushed in with pistols drawn.
"Freeze!"
The warden stood up. "What's the meaning of this?! I demand to speak with—"
The buyer pulled out a badge. "Colonel, U.S. Armed Forces."
"You're under arrest for high treason."
The warden's face paled.
"You've got no jurisdiction here!"
"Wanna bet?"
He gestured to the soldiers.
The warden was slammed to the ground and cuffed.
"I want my lawyer!" he shouted.
And then—
BANG!
The door flew off its hinges.
A figure in a duckbill cap and large sunglasses stood in the entryway.
"Who the hell—"
"Shoot!" the colonel shouted.
Bullets flew.
The figure didn't flinch.
The moment had arrived.
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