Chapter 542

Killian’s estate was enormous, and tucked away in one of its more remote corners was the boiler room.

It was hot, cramped, and deafening. The air was thick with heat and industrial fumes, while the machinery produced a constant mechanical roar. Guards assigned to the place usually considered it a miserable posting.

Today, however, the two-man security team stationed there felt extraordinarily lucky.

The older guard had a submachine gun slung across his chest as he grinned at his younger partner.

"What do you think, kid? Pretty lucky assignment, huh?"

"Absolutely. Good thing you knew enough to get us stationed here, boss."

The younger guard, wearing sunglasses, nodded enthusiastically.

And he wasn’t just flattering his superior.

He genuinely believed it.

Not long ago, Tony Stark had stormed through the estate’s front entrance.

He’d been wearing a full set of high-tier gear and carrying a fully customized weapon, and the result had been less an infiltration than a massacre. He’d fought his way from the front gate into the courtyard and from the courtyard into the mansion, mowing down dozens of guards without so much as blinking.

Meanwhile, the two of them had spent the entire time standing watch over the boiler room nobody wanted.

Not a scratch.

"That’s why you don’t envy those guys," the older guard said, warming to his subject. He looked down his nose at the men guarding the front entrance and courtyard. "Sure, they get the easy assignments. Fresh air, nice surroundings, and plenty of chances to flirt with the maids. But when trouble comes, they’re the first ones to die."

"Exactly. What good is looking impressive if you’re dead? Staying alive is what matters."

"Now you’re getting it."

The older guard smiled.

"You know, I’ve deliberately picked safe assignments these last few days."

The younger man glanced over.

"Why?"

The older guard’s expression suddenly grew sentimental.

"Because I retire tomorrow. Today is my last day on the job."

"Seriously?"

The younger guard looked at his mentor with genuine reluctance.

The older man had always treated him well.

"Then after this shift, dinner’s on me. No backing out."

"Deal."

They shook on it.

Neither noticed the faint sound coming from the corridor.

Both men immediately stopped talking.

The older guard raised his weapon and scanned the area.

A metallic object had fallen near the corner ahead.

A coin.

He exchanged a glance with his partner.

The younger guard understood immediately.

Weapon raised, he advanced toward the coin one careful step at a time. The older guard followed several paces behind, covering him.

The coin had landed beside a corner. If someone was hiding around it and tried to ambush the younger guard, the older man would have a clear shot.

The younger guard reached the coin.

He looked left.

Then right.

Nothing.

Slowly, he crouched down and reached for it.

His fingers had just closed around the silver coin when a pair of hands suddenly emerged from beside him.

The older guard never had time to react.

His neck was snapped, and his body was silently dragged away.

The boiler room’s deafening machinery swallowed every sound.

The younger guard noticed nothing.

He stood and examined the coin in his palm.

It was roughly the size of ordinary currency, but he’d never seen anything quite like it. One side bore an image resembling flames. The other looked like a swirling vortex.

Some kind of commemorative coin, perhaps.

He turned it over again.

Maybe it was worth something.

He was just about to pocket it when his eyes suddenly narrowed.

Something had moved across the coin’s reflective surface.

A bald man.

Behind him.

The guard’s instincts finally screamed.

He tried to turn.

Too late.

A wire snapped tight around his throat from behind.

Within seconds, he went limp.

The bald man released him and adjusted his suit.

"I’m Agent 47. I’ve successfully infiltrated the compound. Awaiting further instructions."

The man who had eliminated both guards without making a sound was Agent 47.

He straightened the black suit that had become slightly disheveled during the attack and spoke quietly into his earpiece.

Far from the estate, Dottie was positioned at an elevated observation point.

From there, most of the compound lay within her sniper’s field of fire.

She didn’t move after receiving 47’s report.

"Continue infiltration. Capture the primary target."

"Understood."

47 dragged the two bodies toward a nearby trash container and dropped them inside.

He paused before closing the lid.

He considered taking one of their uniforms.

It would certainly make the disguise more convincing.

Then he rubbed his bald head.

No.

He closed the lid.

Some things were more important than tactical efficiency.

He liked being bald.

He liked wearing suits.

That was enough.

47 entered the mansion through a corridor and soon encountered another patrol guard walking toward him.

The guard looked at him curiously.

There was nothing suspicious about 47’s appearance. His suit was immaculate, his posture relaxed, and his stride completely natural. When their eyes met, he didn’t avert his gaze or show the slightest sign of nervousness.

For several seconds, the patrolman assumed he was one of their own.

Then recognition failed to arrive.

He didn’t know this man’s face.

The guard’s expression changed.

"Wait..."

He was about to question 47.

47 moved first.

He surged forward.

His left hand slapped the guard’s rifle aside before it could be raised. His right fist drove upward into the man’s jaw, snapping his head back.

Before the guard could recover, 47’s hand came around in a short, brutal strike.

His palm smashed into the exposed throat.

The guard immediately choked.

His knees buckled, and 47 caught him before he could hit the floor.

The man’s body convulsed twice.

Then it went still.

47 continued down the corridor.

Before long, he reached the room containing his primary target.

Maya Hansen.

He eased the door open a fraction and looked inside.

"Five."

Five people.

Maya Hansen was there.

So was Tony Stark, shackled to an upright metal-framed bed.

Two armed guards stood nearby.

And Killian himself was in the room.

After kidnapping Pepper and the two other hostages, Killian had immediately returned to his estate.

By now, he’d finished discussing his old grievances with Tony.

More importantly, he hadn’t even waited for Tony to ask.

Killian had willingly revealed his entire plan.

Part of it was simple vanity.

Tony Stark had once looked down on him, and Killian wanted Tony to witness the moment his carefully constructed plan finally succeeded.

But there was another reason.

He wanted Tony to understand just how close Killian was to victory.

There was only one final step.

No one could stop him now.

Then Killian showed Tony a live broadcast.

Pepper was being transformed into an Extremis-powered superhuman.

Killian wanted Tony to watch every second.

You made me feel powerless once.

Now it was Tony’s turn.

Killian intended to tear down everything Tony Stark was proud of, strip away his confidence, and eventually force him to become a loyal servant.

And Tony had no room to refuse.

Pepper was in Killian’s hands.

If Tony wanted to keep her alive, he would have to do exactly what Killian told him.

The trap had already closed.

And Agent 47 was standing just outside the door.