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Jimmy sat inside the café, waiting for Mr. Vincent to arrive.
After learning that Jimmy intended to purchase the warehouse, Ned Leeds brought him the latest information.
Jimmy was scrolling through the details now…
It turned out Mr. Vincent was in worse shape than Jimmy had expected.
If the warehouse failed to sell, his only remaining option was to mortgage it to the bank at a low valuation.
And the deadline?
Four days.
Which meant Mr. Vincent had exactly four days left. If he failed, he would lose at least several tens of thousands.
Soon, a weary-looking man pushed the café door open.
Unshaven, clothes rumpled, a black document bag clutched tightly in his hand, Mr. Vincent scanned the room.
Jimmy raised his hand. "Mr. Vincent, over here."
"Oh... Hello, you must be the one from the phone call…"
"Jimmy, Jimmy Halstead," he replied. "Please, have a seat."
"I'll have the same as him. Thank you," Vincent said, then turned back to Jimmy.
"Mr. Halstead, I assume you already understand the warehouse. It meets all your requirements. A forging bench, furnaces, modification equipment…"
He leaned forward.
"Most importantly, it's large enough and remote enough that it won't disturb anyone."
Jimmy thought to himself…
So Peter and Ned had not only uncovered Vincent's situation, but had also given away his own intentions.
Every detail. Every requirement.
Vincent's eyes were practically glowing now as he pitched the property with renewed enthusiasm.
Jimmy looked the part of an easy target.
A top-tier laptop.
A limited-edition watch worth a small fortune.
Tailored clothing.
Affluent, Comfortable, Young.
Exactly the kind of buyer someone would try to overcharge.
When Vincent finally quoted the price, Jimmy smiled faintly.
"Mr. Vincent," he said calmly, "if you truly want to sell that troublesome warehouse, then you need to approach this as a real transaction."
He paused.
"Yes, your warehouse is an excellent option for me But it is only one option."
Jimmy folded his hands.
"If my information is correct, the bank will be contacting you in four days, correct?"
Vincent's expression tightened.
"If I wait and negotiate through the bank instead, the price would be much lower. I simply dislike waiting… and I dislike unnecessary complications." Jimmy met his gaze. "So I'll give you one opportunity to reorganize your thoughts and make a new offer."
Vincent cursed under his breath. "Damn banks, they swear client information stays confidential, yet they leak everything. Bloodsuckers."
He exhaled heavily.
"All right. Everything stays. Every machine, every tool, not even a single screw leaves the building. Final price: [redacted amount]. That's the lowest I can go."
He tapped the document bag.
"The contracts and property certificates are all here. The bank is next door. If you agree, we can complete everything immediately."
The exhaustion in his voice was unmistakable.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Jimmy said.
At that price, he was more than satisfied.
Even converting the warehouse into a simple storage facility would guarantee profit.
Vincent let out a bitter laugh.
"Now I understand why people like you stay rich. You spend money freely, but never waste a single dollar."
He shook his head.
"Doing business with people like you… You should never expect to come out ahead."
Jimmy closed his laptop and stood.
"I have money," he said plainly. "Not a condition. If something costs one dollar, why would I pay more than that?"
They walked toward the bank next door.
…
After everything was finalized, Jimmy shook Vincent's hand.
"Goodbye, Mr. Vincent. I hope we have a chance to work together again."
"Goodbye, Mr. Halstead."
Jimmy looked down at the document folder in his hand.
A secret base.
He finally had one.
Maybe it was worth celebrating with Peter Parker and Ned.
He spun the keys thoughtfully, then glanced at the bicycle nearby.
"…All right. First, I should go take a look."
…
Following the address, Jimmy found the warehouse.
It sat right beside the seawall. Not far away was a car scrapyard. As for noise levels…
Frankly, it was impressive that the scrapyard did not disturb Jimmy more than the other way around.
…
Standing at the entrance, Jimmy glanced at the windows.
Something was wrong.
There was someone inside. And they were injured.
He caught the faint smell of disinfectant mixed with blood.
Jimmy hesitated.
This was definitely trouble.
Disinfectant and blood meant someone had treated their wounds themselves.
People who avoided hospitals rarely dealt with legal injuries.
Someone patching themselves up like this was almost certainly involved in something illegal.
Right now, Jimmy was nobody.
Getting tangled up in someone else's vendetta was the last thing he needed.
Just as he debated turning around, a sound from inside made the decision for him.
Two breaths.
Two heartbeats.
One of them clearly belonged to a child.
Anyone with a child with them could not be completely irredeemable.
"Click… rattle…"
Jimmy unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Dust exploded into the air.
The main entrance had clearly not been opened in a long time.
He waved the dust aside and stepped in.
"Don't move."
The moment he pushed open the inner machine room door, cold steel pressed against his temple.
A gun.
Jimmy froze.
He tried to turn his head, but the voice stopped him again.
"Don't look at me. Seeing me won't do either of us any good. Why are you here? Why do you have the key to this place?"
Jimmy spoke slowly.
"This warehouse belongs to me. I bought it today, and I don't recall the purchase including an armed security guard."
He raised his hands slightly.
"And could you lower the gun? I'm just a student. You're going to traumatize me. Do you have any idea what kind of lifelong issues this causes?"
He paused, then added calmly.
"Also, who are you, and why are you in my warehouse?"
The man exhaled sharply.
"I didn't know this place was sold. I'll leave immediately, pretend I was never here."
The gun lowered.
Jimmy turned.
The man looked familiar.
Too familiar.
Cage?
No, Not Cage.
More like someone Cage had played.
Johnny?
That did not make sense. If it were Johnny, he would not look this bad, and if it really was Johnny, then the Marvel world was in serious trouble. Thanos was one thing. Mephisto was another.
…
The man's eyes narrowed.
"Your expression tells me you recognize me, Who sent you?"
The gun came back up.
Jimmy sighed and raised his hands again.
"That's a bad idea, Your wound reopened. And do you really think it's appropriate to make things this bloody in front of a little girl?"
He spoke evenly.
"Yes, I recognize someone who looks like you. Or rather, an actor who played someone like you. A motorcycle stunt performer."
Jimmy tilted his head slightly.
"But that person didn't pull guns on people every five minutes."
He added internally.
Your entire magazine wouldn't keep me injured for ten seconds, but let's not ruin the mood.
Mostly for the kid's sake.
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