Lord-Campione
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Chapter 028: No Illusions Here
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 02:05:47 +0000 UTCThe laptop flickered, casting shifting shadows across the luxurious cabin of the private jet. On-screen, chaos erupted at the Star City docks, where shipping containers lay scattered like forgotten dominoes, smoke rising in thick plumes against the night sky. The flashing red-and-blue lights of police cruisers reflected off the water, creating a kaleidoscope of disorder.
“Star City police have confirmed the arrest of notorious crime boss Danny ‘Brick’ Brickwell after a high-octane confrontation at the docks involving several supes. Brickwell was conducting a large-scale smuggling operation when he was confronted by Speedy, Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad. In this exclusive clip, you can see Speedy launching one final arrow, encasing Brick in high-density polyurethane foam, effectively immobilizing him and bringing the smuggling operation to a halt.”
The footage cut to Speedy’s arrow slicing through the air, detonating on impact. Brickwell’s massive form was engulfed in foam that expanded instantly, hardening around him like a tomb. His enraged roars were muffled as the foam tightened its hold.
Adrian leaned back into the plush leather seat, lazily swirling a grape between his fingers. He popped it into his mouth, chewing as he switched the channel. “So Danny’s out there smuggling, huh?” he muttered, setting the remote down. “Guess that explains why he hasn’t locked down Lou’s spot yet. Thought he’d be the new boss by now, but maybe he’s playing a bigger game.”
“Or,” a voice purred behind him, “maybe the game’s already changed.”
Adrian flinched slightly, his breath hitching as he twisted around. Emerging from the bathroom was Lady Vic—or, as he now knew her off the battlefield, Lady Elaine Marsh-Morton. Her damp blonde hair fell in loose waves down her back, glistening like gold under the cabin lights. Droplets of water trailed down her exposed shoulders, disappearing beneath a silk robe that clung to her like a second skin. The fabric shimmered with every step, the slit along her thigh parting just enough to reveal glimpses of smooth skin as she moved.
Adrian blinked. “You, uh—yeah, you really know how to make an entrance.”
Elaine smirked, lazily drying her hair with a towel. “Flattery will get you nowhere, darling,” she teased, tossing the towel aside as she glided closer. “But don’t stop. I do enjoy the effort.”
Adrian chuckled, shaking his head. “Effort? Please. That was pure instinct.”
“Mm,” she hummed, picking up her glass of wine from the nearby table. The movement was slow, deliberate, her eyes catching his as she tilted her head. “Careful, love. Drool on my jet, and I’ll bill you for the upholstery.”
He grinned, grabbing another grape and tossing it into his mouth. “Fair warning.”
He gestured toward the laptop. “So, what’s the deal with the underground arena? I figured you’d have better intel. Professional assassin and all.”
Elaine settled into the seat next to him, her knee brushing against his thigh as she crossed her legs. “After Lou’s death? The whole operation collapsed. Crime bosses started scrambling to fill the power vacuum, but things spiraled too quickly.”
Adrian chewed another grape, thinking. “I worked for Lou. Didn’t seem like the type to spark that kind of chaos just by dying.”
“That’s because it wasn’t just Lou. He had powerful backing. Someone with enough influence to make sure those fights kept running smoothly—and enough money to keep everyone in line.”
“Let me guess: shadowy benefactor type?”
“Bingo,” she said, clinking her glass against his bowl of grapes. “Lou was the face, but the real power was behind the scenes. Whoever takes Lou’s place? They’ll have a chance to meet the man pulling the strings—and maybe join his empire.”
Adrian’s gaze darkened. “That explains the magic ring,” he murmured.
Elaine set her glass down and leaned back, her eyes studying him. “Exactly. Lou got sloppy because he thought that protection made him untouchable. But you—” she smiled playfully, tracing a finger along the armrest—“you flipped the chessboard when you killed him.”
“Oops,” Adrian said, feigning innocence. “My bad.”
Elaine laughed and smacked his arm lightly. “Don’t play coy. That was a masterpiece of chaos.”
Adrian leaned his head back, exhaling. “So who’s running the show now?”
“Danny Brickwell,” she replied, her tone shifting slightly. “Or as you probably know him—Brick.”
“Figures,” Adrian muttered. “What’s his angle?”
“He made his move and gathered enough support to claim Lou’s spot. But here’s where it gets interesting,” she said. “The arena shut down shortly after Brick took control.”
Adrian frowned. “Why would he shut it down? That was a money-making machine.”
“Could be the benefactor pulled out,” Elaine suggested, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. “Or maybe Brick’s following new orders. Either way, something shifted behind the scenes.”
Adrian’s mind raced as he considered the possibilities. “If the benefactor pulled out, they’re either regrouping or setting up shop somewhere else. Or—” his gaze sharpened—“Brick’s just the face, like Lou was. Maybe he’s a placeholder for something bigger.”
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Adrian leaned back against the plush seat of the private jet, the faint hum of the engines vibrating beneath him. His laptop sat open on his lap, the glow from the screen casting faint shadows over his face. He scrolled through the tabs with a lazy flick of his fingers, pausing when a headline grabbed his attention. His jaw tightened.
“Attack on Happy Harbor: Villain Mr. Twister Stopped by Young Justice.”
He clicked on the link, and the video began to play. Footage looped of the chaos: a towering tornado ripping through downtown, buildings crumbling, debris scattering like confetti in the wind. Cars were hurled into the air, smashing down onto the streets like discarded toys. Sirens wailed in the background, barely audible over the howl of the storm.
Adrian’s grip on the laptop tightened. His gaze hardened as he read the subheadings: Destruction of property. Displaced families. Multiple civilian casualties.
Elaine leaned over from her seat across the cabin.
“What’s wrong?”
Adrian didn’t respond right away. His fingers continued working the trackpad, pulling up local news articles covering the aftermath. One clip showed the so-called heroes taking cover while Mr. Twister escaped, creating more devastation as he tore through the town.
He exhaled sharply. “A team of teenagers. Can’t—and won’t—get the job done.”
“You really don’t like heroes, do you?”
“There are a few exceptions,” Adrian admitted, still scrolling. “But most of them? I can’t stand the way they operate. They hesitate. They follow rules. And people die because of it.”
Elaine leaned back, resting her head against the seat as she studied him. “So, you think it’s their fault?”
“I used to,” Adrian said. “Back when I didn’t have any power, I blamed them for everything. I’d sit around, say all the usual crap people say: If I had their powers, I’d do this, I’d do that. But that’s what powerless people do—they make excuses. They fantasize.”
Elaine set her glass down on the small table between them and slid closer, her leg brushing against his. “And now that you have power?”
Adrian closed the laptop and met her gaze. “Now? I’m not interested in fantasizing. I want results.”
Elaine’s lips curved into a smirk. “Lucky for you, I specialize in results. But power without control is a liability, Adrian. And you’re still figuring out what you can do.” Her voice lowered, smooth and deliberate. “Let me help you turn that liability into an asset.”
“Elaine, you don’t have to do this whole act.”
Her brow arched slightly. “Act?”
“The flirting, the teasing, the seductive assassin routine,” Adrian said. “You don’t need to pretend to be interested in me or offer me sex to keep me around. I’m not that easy, and we both know I’m here because of our deal, not because of whatever game you’re playing.”
Elaine’s smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “Wow. And here I thought you’d be an easy man to manipulate.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “But you’re right. I do understand people better than most. And you’re setting boundaries because you’ve realized something important—you finally have the power to change the things that used to frustrate you, and you’re not going to let anyone, not even me, distract you from that.”
The hum of the jet filled the silence between them.
“So,” she said, “what happens next?”
“We stick to the deal. You get your crystals. I get training and resources. No games, no illusions—we’re using each other, and we both know it.”
Elaine’s smile widened. “Good. I like honesty.” She stood and tied the silk belt of her robe as she walked toward the small bar in the corner of the cabin. She poured herself another glass of wine, swirling it lazily as she spoke. “Since we’re being honest, let me tell you who I really am. My name is Lady Elaine Marsh-Morton, born into a branch of English aristocracy that’s been involved in mercenary work for centuries.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Do you know what it’s like,” she continued, her gaze distant for a moment, “to watch centuries of tradition slip through your fingers because of bad investments and bad luck? I didn’t pick up a gun because it was fun, darling. I did it to keep my family name from fading into obscurity. That’s what you’re working with—a woman who knows exactly what she wants and doesn’t care how she gets it.”
Adrian nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
She turned back to him, her smirk returning. “And just so you know, the offer of sex wasn’t part of the deal to keep you here. That was purely for fun. I enjoy it.”
“Thanks for clarifying.”
Elaine shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. “Let’s be honest. Neither of us values it beyond what it is. For me, it’s entertainment. For you, after everything you have been through, I imagine it’s just… meaningless.”
Adrian thought for a moment before nodding. “You’re not wrong.”
“Good,” Elaine said, her smirk widening. “The offer still stands. But only if you ever feel like you can keep up.”
Adrian chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The teasing air between them shifted into something quieter, an unspoken understanding. They were both playing the same game, and for now, they were on the same team.
[ Mr. Twister ]
