Chapter 4: Seizing the Company
The next morning. Vought International. Boardroom.
The atmosphere was thick with tension.
Every shareholder present sat stiff as statues, beads of cold sweat trailing down temples and collars. No one dared move, let alone speak.
Their eyes kept drifting toward the seven empty chairs.
Seven men. Gone overnight.
Car crashes. Shootings. Accidents.
Too many to be a coincidence.
Every soul in that room knew what had happened.
They just didn't dare say it out loud.
"Gentlemen…"
Kyle Vought strolled into the boardroom alone, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Sleep well last night?"
Not a single response.
He looked around—these weren't idiots. They got the message.
No need for theatrics. No declarations of power. The corpses did the talking for him.
One of the oldest men in the room slowly stood, using his cane for support.
"Kyle," he said, voice rough but even. "You know, we were never aligned with Nois. We didn't join his little crusade. We're old—we just want to enjoy our dividends and stay out of the way."
Kyle offered a warm nod.
"Dear Uncle Westin, of course I know. You think you'd still be standing here if I didn't?"
Westin owned 10% of the company—enough to matter. But he had kept his hands clean.
Had he made one wrong move, he would've joined the others in last night's obituary column.
Westin sighed and took his seat. "You do what you must. I won't interfere."
Kyle turned his attention to the rest of the room and dropped seven folders onto the table.
Each one was a share transfer agreement. Signed. Legal. Final.
The message was clear:
The others were gone, and their shares now belonged to him.
"Well, gentlemen?" he asked calmly. "Any objections?"
"No, of course not—none at all!"
"Kyle, whatever you say. We're behind you."
"Yes, sir! Just say the word—we'll follow your lead."
The voices rushed out like a flood. No one wanted to be the next to disappear.
Kyle smiled, voice warm as a hearth.
"That's the spirit. Now let's build a Vought that can finally eclipse Stark Industries, shall we?"
After the meeting.
Valen stepped into the boardroom, having stood guard outside the whole time.
"You want me to keep an eye on them?" he asked, brow furrowed.
Kyle waved the concern off.
"Not necessary. Some people are more useful alive."
He knew full well the risk of leaving the remaining board members around. But if the Type-7 experiment failed, someone needed to take the fall.
Sacrificial pawns. That's what they were now.
Useful. Disposable.
"Oh—before I forget." Kyle turned as he reached the door. "There's a DP exchange happening at New York Harbour tonight. Take care of it. Destroy the shipment."
Valen grinned.
"Consider it done."
He had just received his prototype battle suit—tech R&D had been pulling all-nighters for weeks.
Tonight was the perfect time to test both the suit and his new abilities. Valen had been itching to stretch his muscles.
"Good. I've got other departments to check in on. Barely slept and already putting out fires."
Kyle yawned dramatically and stepped into the elevator.
Elsewhere — Type-7 Research Division.
As Kyle entered the lab, the surveillance AI flagged his presence, and the lab director—Ryan—immediately jogged over.
The crystalline material was stable. Incredibly so. Unless someone actively tried to shatter it, Type-7 acted no different than decorative quartz.
But Kyle had something else on his mind.
"Ryan. Got a minute?"
"Of course, sir."
He noticed they weren't walking toward the lab's inner core.
Kyle had brought him to the hallway instead. That meant classified business.
Ryan straightened his coat, serious now.
"I need talent. People you trust. Colleagues. Graduates. Anyone capable."
Kyle laid it out—his plans, the upcoming expansion, the desperate need for new blood. Ryan was an Oxford graduate and a headhunted asset; he had connections.
"I'm assuming you've got a few people in mind?"
Ryan nodded. "Actually… yes. I have a few friends—smart, frustrated, boxed in by corporate politics. If your offer is serious, I can get them here fast."
Kyle grinned. "Good. No interviews. If they're legit, we hire them. Head to Alice after this. She'll handle onboarding."
Then he turned and left without another word.
Later that day…
Kyle sat alone in his office, tapping at his tablet. The interface displayed a digital form—he was officially registering a new subsidiary.
A black-ops biotech shell company.
Covert. Autonomous. Focused entirely on crystal research and superhuman development.
The name?
He smirked as he typed it out, bold and unmistakable:
Umbrella Corporation.
(End of Chapter)
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