Settlement?
A private resolution?
How could that be possible? What was he thinking?
Locke had gone to immense trouble to lure S.H.I.E.L.D. into this trap. He had meticulously calculated every move and even subjected himself to excruciating physical trauma, leaving his body a canvas of bruises and internal injuries. Was all this just so the FBI—acting as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s front—could shake his hand and settle out of court?
If he did that, wouldn't he just be a beggar on his knees?
Furthermore, the mission followed a strict principle: the grander the scene, the greater the reward multiplier. S.H.I.E.L.D. had forcibly dragged him away from his school dance in front of his peers. Even if the system were willing to let it slide, Locke himself was not.
S.H.I.E.L.D. felt entitled to label him an accomplice of the Peerless Assassin based on nothing but conjecture. Given their nature, if he didn't strike back hard enough to make them bleed, the harassment would never end.
Violence might not solve every problem, but it certainly handled 99 percent of them. As the saying goes: "One punch to open the way, to prevent a hundred punches from coming."
Buson Laun nodded firmly. "Good. I've already dispatched staff to wait at the Federal Court. As soon as the forensic report is processed, we will immediately file formal charges against the FBI."
This was going to be a case that paralyzed the Union's news cycle. A high-profile civil rights lawsuit with a success probability exceeding 90 percent. Winning this would elevate his firm's reputation to a whole new echelon.
Even if Locke hadn't been wealthy, Laun would have jumped at this case. The fact that Locke was a client with deep pockets was just the cherry on top.
As for FBI retaliation?
Heh.
They were lawyers. If the FBI tried to intimidate them, they'd practically beg for it. Every threat was just more evidence for a bigger payout.
"However..." Buson Laun expressed a minor concern. "I've checked with a few contacts inside the Bureau. Those agents involved in your case... they aren't on any standard rosters. If it comes down to it..."
"Anthony Mason!"
"Phil Nick!"
"May!"
Locke directly recited the names of the three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents as they were listed on their FBI credentials. He looked at Laun and said, "Those are the names they used. They are registered as FBI agents."
Locke had considered revealing the true identities of Nick Fury and his team to cut off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s retreat immediately. But he decided against it. If he exposed the "secret agency" too early, S.H.I.E.L.D. might strike a backroom deal with the DOJ, forcing the FBI to swallow the blame silently.
You have to simmer the water to cook the frog. If the water is boiling from the start, the frog jumps out of the pot. He wanted to play a much larger game.
S.H.I.E.L.D. prided itself on being a shadow organization? Fine. He would drag that shadow into the blistering New York sun and force it to stand in a witness box. To reveal the existence of a global, unaccountable secret agency to the public—now *that* was a Big Scene.
Buson Laun had his assistant record the names. He was already planning civil suits against the individual agents after the federal case concluded. For lawyers, more litigation meant more profit.
Just then, the forensic report arrived.
"Holy shit!"
"My God..."
Laun looked at the data on the report and then at Locke, who was leaning against the hospital bed with a pale complexion. If one looked only at the report, they would assume the patient was in a coma in the ICU.
Locke forced a weak smile. "I'm a cowboy. Getting hurt is part of the life. I'm used to it."
'Was I a bit too convincing?' Locke wondered for a split second before dismissing the thought. It wasn't too much at all. This was exactly the effect he needed.
Laun nodded and tucked the New Amsterdam Hospital forensic report into his briefcase. "I've contacted the media. They'll be here at dawn. Mr. Broughton, rest assured. TNT&G has absolute confidence in this case."
A ten-million-dollar settlement was already a floor. Now, it was just a matter of how many zeros the jury would add to that figure.
...
A while later, Laun left the room, and Gwen's family entered. They had waited outside out of respect for attorney-client privilege, and because George was an NYPD officer, his presence during legal strategy could be seen as a conflict of interest.
"Locke." Gwen hurried to the bedside, her face a mixture of fury and heartbreak.
Locke smiled gently. "Don't worry. A night's rest and I'll be fine. It's late, you should go home. You have school tomorrow."
Gwen shook her head defiantly. "I'm staying here with you."
George added, "Don't worry about school; I'll handle the administration. Also, your lawyer asked for a copy of the street surveillance from the incident. I've already agreed to provide it."
"Thank you, Mr. Stacy," Locke said.
That footage—of the Peerless Assassin's ambush—was crucial. It proved that the FBI's warrantless detention of a civilian had directly placed that civilian in a life-threatening situation. Moreover, securing the footage now prevented S.H.I.E.L.D. from "accidentally" deleting it later.
Helen Stacy smiled warmly at Locke. "We're with you, Locke. This time, the FBI didn't just cross a line; they set the whole field on fire."
Every law enforcement agency had its skeletons regarding coerced confessions, but that was usually reserved for suspects against whom there was already mounting evidence. In this case, Locke was clearly a victim of the kidnapping incident. Helen was suspicious—surely the FBI knew Locke had the resources to fight back? Why would they be so reckless?
They had poked a hornet's nest. Locke hadn't just swatted back; he had summoned a swarm of Wall Street's most vicious legal predators. By tomorrow morning, the FBI was going to be in a world of pain.
...
In reality, the FBI was already panicking.
The news that Locke had rejected a settlement and that TNT&G lawyers were already camping out at the Federal Court had sent shockwaves through the New York office. When they received their own copy of the forensic report from New Amsterdam Hospital, the "discomfort" turned into pure dread.
"No!"
"The FBI is not taking the fall for this!"
The FBI Senior Supervisor stormed into the S.H.I.E.L.D. Operations Center, slamming the printed report onto Nick Fury's desk. Fury was still awake, hunched over monitors searching for leads.
"The hospital report is right here!" the Supervisor roared. "And you still have the nerve to tell me you didn't touch him?"
Fury frowned, scanning the document. "This is a fabrication. We didn't lay a finger on him."
"Evidence!"
"What?"
"You say you didn't do it? Then where did these injuries come from?"
"It's simple," Fury looked up, his voice cold and analytical. "Locke Broughton has a genius-level IQ and clear sociopathic tendencies. He is an accomplice of the Peerless Assassin. From the moment he made that phone call, we were being played."
An airtight alibi. Spontaneous, severe injuries. To Fury, it was obvious this was a setup—either by Locke or the Assassin.
The Supervisor sneered. "I'll say it again: Evidence!"
"He was under surveillance from the moment he entered the building until he left," Fury countered. "No one touched him."
"And you think a jury will believe that? Since when do coerced confessions happen in front of the cameras? Buson Laun is already at the courthouse. Forensic reports from New Amsterdam don't just 'happen.' You think the court will take our word over theirs?"
In the Union's judicial system, a call from the President might not even sway a judge. Only a Rockefeller might have that kind of pull. Now, Locke was alleging warrantless torture and state-sponsored persecution, backed by a prestigious medical institution.
The Supervisor's anger cooled into a chilling resolve. He looked at the unfazed Nick Fury. "Our Director has made it clear. If this goes to court, the FBI will not protect you. We are not your scapegoats."
Fury's eye narrowed. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s existence is a matter of absolute national security."
"Ha!" the Supervisor scoffed. "Your secrecy is your problem. You caused this mess. The FBI has no obligation to clean it up for you."
In the Union, the first rule of bureaucracy was to deflect the Black Pot (Blame). The FBI wasn't about to drown alongside S.H.I.E.L.D.
Just then, the Supervisor's phone rang. He listened for a moment, his expression shifting from frustration to a strange, grim sort of amusement.
"Well," he said, hanging up and looking at Fury. "Maybe you were right. They are coming for you specifically."
Fury leaned forward.
"Anthony Mason, Phil Nick, and May." The Supervisor shook his head. "My people just got word. Five minutes ago, Judge Dryden Knott of the Federal Court officially docketed the case from TNT&G."
It was barely 6:00 AM. The court wasn't even open yet. But when a top-tier Wall Street firm calls a judge at home, the judge shows up early.
"And one more thing," the Supervisor added, watching Fury's face harden. "You used aliases, but they named the three of you specifically in the filing. Better get ready, Director. You're about to be exposed."
Nick Fury. "..."
***
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