The morning sun cut through the window. Jason slid out of bed, quiet as shit, and padded over to the crib. Looking at the two sleeping kids, a rare, genuine smile hit his face. Fucking hell, it almost felt... wholesome.
He tiptoed into the shower, washed up, and was standing at the sink brushing his teeth when the system screen popped up.
[Ding! Daily Missions Issued!]
He kept brushing, scrolling through the list with one hand.
There were thirty missions, ranked by difficulty. Most of them were bullshit. Only the last one was even remotely interesting, mostly because it was his first international mission.
[Task 30: [Burn Notre Dame]]
[Details: A top-tier villain shouldn't be stuck in one country. Time to go global. France, the disgrace of the P5, is the perfect first target. Burn this 800-year-old piece of shit to the ground and say 'bonjour' to the French.]
[Reward: 10,000~20,000 Villain Points!]
[Hint: This is your international debut. Make it big. Make the whole world fear you.]
After rinsing, Jason went to the dining room. The maid already had his breakfast ready.
As he ate, he forwarded the list to Chloe, who would then post it to the main Joker Community for all the plebs to fight over.
He opened his laptop and logged into the real chat. The core crew. Just his top-tier accomplices.
Chloe: Sir, today's tasks are live on the Community.
Jason: Seen.
Jason: @everyone, new list is up. Does anything look good?
John: No.
David: No.
Franklin: Boss, that last one looks fun. First time we're hitting overseas, right?
Jason: Yeah. It's a statement mission. It has to be clean. If no one wants it, I'll go to France myself.
Franklin: No, no, boss. You just had kids. Stay in New York, kick your feet up. I got this.
Jason: You sure? It's a pain in the ass to run solo. You should take a partner.
A-Train: I'll go with 'Franks. France is new territory, no local cell for support. He's right, solo would be a bitch.
Franklin: OK! I'll fly to LA this afternoon. We head out tonight.
Since A-Train joined, he and Franklin had gotten tight. Who knows, maybe it was a thing.
Jason: Good. You two handle it. Just... make it big. If you burn the sky down, I'll deal with the fallout.
Franklin: You got it, boss!
A-Train: We will.
Stane: Man, I'm jealous. A free trip to France.
Franklin: You're a goddamn government stooge, living the cushy life. You can't talk shit.
Stane: I'm deep cover, asshole! I'm shitting bricks every day.
Jason: Stane, any movement from S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Stane: Nothing. Hill watches me like a fucking hawk. I'm walled off from anything important. One weird thing, though. All of Fury's old guards, everyone Level 7 and up... they've been dark for months. No idea what they're up to.
Jason frowned. Agents missing for months? S.H.I.E.L.D. was definitely planning some sneaky shit.
Jason: Stay on it. You see anything, I'm the first call.
Stane: Roger, boss.
*
After taking the Paris mission, Franklin and A-Train started packing. They had a shitload of luggage. Anyone watching would've thought they were going on vacation, not a terror mission.
That evening, a Boeing 747 took off from LAX, destination: Paris.
Franklin and A-Train, in their new disguises, settled into the plush first-class seats, practically buzzing. It was their first time leaving the country.
Franklin pulled out a thick printout. "This is my research. Top clubs in Paris... full of hot-as-fuck chicks. Here's a race track, we can tear that shit up. Here's all the best restaurants, monuments..."
"Plan is: we get in, we burn the church, and then we fucking party for a few days."
A-Train took the packet, hyped. "Man... I need a break. This gig is insane. This work is way more intense than any of my old shitty jobs... but at least it's fucking fulfilling."
Franklin nodded in agreement.
"Hey, Franks... you speak French?" A-Train asked.
Franklin laughed. "Shit, man, I barely speak English. I dropped out of high school."
"So how the fuck are we supposed to do this? We don't know the language, nor the city. We can't just... I dunno... grab a can of gas and light a match. That's... fucking lame."
"Relax, bro. I got us covered." Franklin flipped to the last page. On it was a picture of a chick, with a phone number. "Found her online. College girl studying abroad. A thousand bucks a day, she'll be our... 'tour guide.'"
"She's hot, right? I went through like, a hundred profiles to find the perfect one."
A-Train gave him a thumbs up. "My man. Fucking respect. You think of everything, Franks."
They bullshitted for hours, too wired to sleep, finally crashing in the middle of the night.
At 8 AM the next morning, the 747 touched down at Charles de Gaulle.
Franklin and A-Train, looking like any other rich tourists, grabbed their bags, laughing and joking as they headed for customs to meet their "guide."
What they didn't know... was that right as they were deplaning, a sleek, private Gulfstream jet was landing on another runway.
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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
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