CHAPTER 148: THE TRUTH OF TARS-38604

"So, Miss Jones..." Gene asked calmly, "Do you have solid evidence to indict my company?"

Jessica Jones crossed her arms defiantly. "Not yet. But I will." Her tone was sharp. "And right now, I’m leaving."

To her surprise, Gene Mason didn’t move to stop her. No guards, no threats, no smirking villains. Nothing. In fact, as she stepped toward the elevator, Gene even stepped aside with the grace of a gentleman, giving her the right of way.

What the hell?

Inside the elevator, Jessica blinked in confusion. She’d worked as a private investigator for years. No one reacted like that when caught in a corporate conspiracy. Not even close. People panicked, threatened, bribed, begged. But Gene Mason had looked at her like she was commenting on the weather.

As the elevator descended, Gene returned to his office. Moments later, a meeting request flashed on his screen. He accepted.

In walked a well-groomed middle-aged man—Arnold—the very same person Jessica had seen unconscious behind the wheel of his car.

"Sir," Arnold said respectfully, "as per your instructions, I let the private investigator take my fingerprints, retinal ID, and keycard access."

"I know," Gene replied flatly. "We just met downstairs."

Arnold hesitated, his expression anxious. "But sir... she’s a private detective. I don’t understand why—"

"You’ve done well, Arnold," Gene interrupted. "That’s all I needed. Enjoy your vacation."

Although curiosity gnawed at him, Arnold knew better than to question his employer. "Yes, sir. Please take care of yourself. For the sake of the company."

With that, he left. The office fell silent once again.

"Skynet," Gene spoke aloud, addressing the artificial intelligence integrated into his system, "you’re certain Jessica Jones copied the TARS-38604 data?"

"Yes, Sir," Skynet replied. "There is no doubt."

"Excellent." Gene stood up and walked to the large window overlooking the city.

Far below, a small black tracking dot moved steadily away from the building—Jessica.

"I hope you don’t disappoint me," he murmured.

__

Back at her apartment, Jessica felt like she’d just stumbled through a fever dream. She had infiltrated Mason Industries with laughable ease, grabbed a copy of a top-secret project file, and even managed to exchange words with Gene Mason himself—one of the most enigmatic figures in the modern world. And, unbelievably, she’d mouthed off to him.

She cracked open a beer, flopped into her cluttered chair, and laid out the blueprint she’d stolen.

She had no idea what it was.

The schematics were so far beyond anything she’d seen that she could barely identify basic components. But from the annotation and setup conditions, one thing was clear: this machine could only function in very specific, incredibly rare environments. And there weren’t many facilities in the city that could meet those requirements.

She narrowed it down to four.

Posing as an investor, she called each site to ask questions under a fake pretense. One got ruled out immediately.

That left three.

And then it clicked.

During her earlier altercation, she had noticed a strong fishy odor on her attackers. Strong enough to be memorable. Of the three remaining sites, only one was next to a commercial fishery.

Bingo.

She snapped her fingers, beaming with pride at her deductive brilliance.

As a reward, she opened another beer and downed it in seconds before slipping out into the night.

__

Arriving at the site, Jessica scaled the perimeter fence with practiced ease and landed silently in the courtyard. She pushed open the heavy metal doors of the facility and spotted the crate immediately.

In bold white letters, it was marked: TARS-38604.

Next to the crate stood a massive apparatus—something between a chair and a mechanical altar. It was covered in intricate tubes and cables. The seat itself was surrounded by a dense forest of unknown devices, each humming faintly with restrained power.

What Jessica didn’t know was that this chair had once been conceptualized by none other than Victor Von Doom—a mind so brilliant it bordered on madness. His original goal had been to pierce the veil between dimensions, to breach the infernal gates of the Hell dimension and retrieve his mother from the clutches of Mephisto.

He had succeeded in breaching the dimensional wall—but not in saving his mother. The original prototype was destroyed during its first activation, annihilated in a burst of uncontrollable energy.

What Jessica now stood before was the upgraded version: a refined and stabilized interdimensional machine. A seat not for travel, but for communion. A device capable of tearing through the fabric of reality and whispering directly to gods.

Jessica leaned closer, squinting at the device.

Outside the window, in the moonlight, a dark figure crouched motionless. Its long, lanky shadow stretched across the floor like spilled ink.

Twin white eyes glowed with hunger, and a grotesquely long tongue flicked across razor-sharp teeth.

Venom had arrived.

Jessica didn’t notice the attack until a rush of wind screamed toward her.

She dove to the side instinctively, barely avoiding Venom’s claws as they raked across the concrete floor, leaving behind deep, screeching gouges.

Rising from his crouch, Venom bared his teeth in a wicked grin.

"We... are Venom," he growled, voice echoing with otherworldly hunger. "And we want to eat your brain!"

Jessica rolled her eyes and backed up cautiously.

"Oh for f***’s sake," she muttered. "You guys again? Are you black chewing gum or a walking skin disease?"

Venom hissed with delight, baring his fangs.

"And why," she added with irritation, "do you always insist on using the royal ’we’? Seriously—it’s just creepy!"

"RRRAAARGHHH!"

The creature lunged, jaws wide, voice thick with malice.

--------------

T/N:

Access Advance Chapters on my

P@treon: [email protected]/MPHFics