บท 16: Chapter 16: Building the Future of Nexus Inc.
Scene One: Reflecting on Progress
Marshall leaned back in his chair, the glow of his laptop casting shadows across the room. The numbers on the screen were clear: Subway Surfers had pulled in over 30,000 downloads in the last month, generating $30,000 in revenue. It wasn't astronomical, but it was enough to fuel their next big idea.
Peter sat cross-legged on Marshall's bed, eating a bag of chips as he reviewed their to-do list. "Okay, so we've got the app pulling in steady money. What's next on the Nexus Inc. agenda?"
Marshall turned to face him, tapping his pen against the desk. "Expansion. Subway Surfers is a great start, but it's just the beginning. We need something bigger—something that puts Nexus Inc. on the map."
Peter tilted his head. "Like what? Another app? A gadget?"
Marshall smirked. "D2."
Peter blinked. "You mean the prototype from the science fair?"
"Exactly," Marshall said. "D2 wasn't just a fun project—it's a game-changer. A robotic companion that's not only a toy but also a personal assistant for kids. Imagine every household having a D2. We're not talking about a niche market here; we're talking mass production."
Peter frowned slightly. "Mass production? I don't know, Marshall. D2's special. What if we lose control over the design?"
Marshall nodded thoughtfully. "I get it. But think about what we could do with the revenue. Fund more projects, hire staff, scale Nexus Inc. into something real. We can't move forward without taking risks."
Peter sighed. "You're right. But if we're doing this, we need more than just ideas and money. We need someone who can handle the business side—contracts, negotiations, all that boring stuff."
Marshall grinned. "Already ahead of you. I know just the person."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh no. You're not talking about Billy, are you?"
Marshall's grin widened. "Billy's perfect. He's smart, ambitious, and, let's be honest, he loves being the center of attention. We make him the face of Nexus Inc., and he'll take care of the business end while we focus on the tech."
Peter groaned. "Billy Billions? The guy's ego could fill the room. Are you sure about this?"
Marshall leaned back, crossing his arms. "Trust me. Billy may be obnoxious, but he's also resourceful. If we play this right, we can keep him motivated and focused on what we need."
Peter sighed, tossing a chip into his mouth. "Alright, but you're doing the convincing. I'm not stroking his ego."
Marshall smirked. "Deal."
Scene Two: Convincing Billy
The next afternoon, Billy arrived at Marshall's workshop, his usual air of superiority in full effect. He strolled in like he owned the place, his designer sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor.
"Alright," Billy said, adjusting his blazer. "What's so important that you needed to summon me like some kind of errand boy?"
Marshall stepped forward, keeping his tone casual. "Billy, this isn't just a meeting—it's an opportunity. Remember D2?"
Billy rolled his eyes. "Of course I remember. I was part of the team that built him, wasn't I? What about him?"
"We want to take D2 to the next level," Marshall said, gesturing toward the polished prototype sitting on the table. "Not just a one-off prototype. We're talking mass production—for public use."
Billy's eyebrows shot up. "Mass production? You mean turning him into a commercial product?"
"Exactly," Marshall said, his voice steady. "Imagine D2 in every household. A companion and assistant for kids, designed to be fun, educational, and practical. He's not just a toy—he's the future."
Billy crossed his arms, clearly intrigued. "And you're telling me this because…?"
Peter chimed in, albeit reluctantly. "Because we need someone who can handle the business side. Contracts, negotiations, investor pitches—all the stuff we're not exactly experts in."
Billy smirked. "So, you want me to be the guy who makes all the deals while you two tinker with your gadgets?"
Marshall nodded, his tone calculated. "That's one way to look at it. But we see it differently. We want you to be part of the Nexus Inc. triad."
Billy raised an eyebrow. "Triad?"
Peter, clearly less enthused, explained. "Marshall's the mind, I'm the heart, and you'd be the body—the face. The one who represents us to the world."
Billy leaned back, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. "The face of Nexus Inc.? I like the sound of that. But let me guess—this 'triad' thing still means you two get to call the shots, right?"
Marshall leaned in, his voice smooth. "Billy, you'd have an equal say in everything. A full partner. And let's face it—you're the only one who can pull this off. Your connections, your charm… you're perfect for the role."
Billy tapped his chin, pretending to consider it. "Alright. But if I'm doing this, I want to make one thing clear—I'm not just here to look good. I want real input. Real influence."
Marshall extended a hand. "Agreed. Welcome to the triad."
Billy shook his hand, his grin widening. "Alright, boys. Let's make some history."
Scene Three: Planning the Future
The triad gathered around the workshop table, the energy in the room palpable. Marshall updated the whiteboard with their next steps, while Peter worked on refining D2's programming. Billy sat at the head of the table, flipping through a tablet loaded with potential business contacts.
"First order of business," Marshall said, pointing to the board. "Finalize D2's design and pitch. Billy, you'll handle the investor meetings and negotiations."
Billy nodded confidently. "Leave it to me. I've already got a few names in mind."
"Second," Marshall continued, "we keep Subway Surfers updated. It's our primary revenue stream right now, and we can't afford to let it stagnate."
Peter raised a hand. "That's on me. I'll handle the updates and community engagement."
Marshall nodded. "Perfect. And finally, we start brainstorming our next big project. D2 is just the beginning. Nexus Inc. needs to stay ahead of the curve."
Billy smirked. "Alright, geniuses. Let's see what you've got."
Scene Four: SHIELD's Investigation Continues
The SHIELD command center buzzed with activity as agents scrambled between terminals, their screens flickering with classified intel and data streams. At the center of it all, Nick Fury stood with Maria Hill, his expression a familiar mix of determination and irritation.
"We're still untangling the web from that hack," Hill said, tapping her tablet and bringing up a visual of global hotspots lit up in red. "The fake signal sent us halfway across the globe. Tokyo, Istanbul, and Johannesburg were false leads. Whoever did this was good—too good."
Fury glanced at the holographic map. "So, you're telling me we wasted manpower and resources chasing ghosts?"
Hill nodded, her voice edged with frustration. "Pretty much. Whoever orchestrated this knows SHIELD's playbook. The signals were randomized and mimicked real patterns. If it weren't for our system flagging anomalies, we'd still be running in circles."
Fury crossed his arms. "And the energy signature from Harlem?"
Hill swiped to another screen, showing residual scans of the Hulk and Abomination's battle. "Still no solid ID on the secondary entity. But eyewitness accounts confirm a humanoid with enhanced strength, agility, and heat-based abilities. Eyewitnesses described the figure as wearing black armor with green details."
Fury narrowed his eye. "Any connections to existing threats?"
Hill shook her head. "Not yet. But we're keeping a close watch. Whoever this is, they're not amateur. They knew how to cover their tracks."
Fury stared at the data, his mind racing. "Keep digging. Whoever they are, I want them on my radar before they cause more chaos."
Scene Five: Shadows in the Arcade
The neon glow of the arcade was a stark contrast to the dimly lit streets outside. The air buzzed with the sound of electronic games, the clinking of tokens, and the occasional cheer from kids hitting high scores. Marshall pushed open the door, the familiar hum of nostalgia washing over him.
Peter had begged off for the night, leaving Marshall to enjoy some solo downtime. He wandered over to a classic racing game, the flashing lights drawing his attention. Sliding a token into the slot, he settled into the seat and gripped the steering wheel.
He was halfway through the game, navigating a tight curve at breakneck speed, when he felt a presence beside him. A voice cut through the noise, low and laced with amusement.
"Not bad for an amateur."
Marshall glanced up, his heart skipping a beat as he recognized the speaker. Kevin Levin.
Kevin leaned against the side of the machine, his expression unreadable. His leather jacket and confident stance gave him an air of danger, but his smirk suggested he was enjoying himself.
"Kevin," Marshall said, forcing his voice to stay steady.
Kevin shrugged. "Didn't expect to see you here. Guess even brainiacs need a break, huh?"
Marshall clenched the steering wheel, his mind racing. Kevin had been on his radar ever since he'd shown up at school, but this was the first time they'd crossed paths outside of class.
"What are you doing here?" Marshall asked, his tone cautious.
"Same as you," Kevin said, gesturing to the arcade. "Blowing off steam. Though I didn't think this was your scene."
Marshall's eyes flicked to the game screen as he finished the race, his car crossing the finish line in second place. He stepped out of the seat, trying to keep his movements casual.
"Everyone needs a break sometimes," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets.
Kevin chuckled, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Fair enough. So, what's the deal with you, anyway? You're always hanging around that Parker kid, acting like you've got the world figured out."
Marshall tensed but forced a smirk. "And you're always acting like you've got nothing to lose."
Kevin's grin widened, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. "Maybe I don't."
The tension between them was thick, the air crackling with unspoken truths. Marshall's mind raced as he tried to piece together Kevin's motives. He knew Kevin had powers—he'd seen glimpses of his abilities during moments of anger or frustration. But what Kevin wanted, or why he was in New York, remained a mystery.
Kevin pushed off the machine and stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, you're not as slick as you think. I see the way you watch me at school. What's your deal, Phillips?"
Marshall's heart pounded, but he met Kevin's gaze head-on. "Maybe I just don't trust you."
Kevin laughed, the sound low and almost menacing. "Smart. But trust goes both ways, you know. You keep your secrets, I'll keep mine."
With that, Kevin turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of kids and flashing lights. Marshall watched him go, his mind racing.
Kevin Levin wasn't just a delinquent or a troublemaker—he was dangerous. And Marshall had a feeling this was only the beginning.
Scene Six: Late Night Research
Back in his room, Marshall sat at his laptop, the glow of the screen illuminating his determined expression. He typed furiously, hacking into various databases and cross-referencing everything he could find on Kevin Levin.
Birth records, school transfers, juvenile records—everything pointed to a kid with a troubled past. Kevin had bounced between foster homes before landing in New York. His files were full of red flags: fights, expulsions, and rumors of abilities that couldn't be explained.
Marshall leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "What's your game, Kevin?" he muttered to himself.
The Omnitrix on his wrist pulsed faintly, as if echoing his unease. Whatever Kevin was hiding, Marshall knew one thing for sure—he had to stay one step ahead.
Scene Seven: Into the Night with Wildmutt
Marshall leaned back in his chair, the glow of his laptop screen dimming as the hum of the city outside grew louder. The Omnitrix pulsed faintly on his wrist, almost like it was calling him to action. He glanced at it, a sly grin forming on his lips.
"Let's see what you've got for me tonight," he muttered, twisting the dial until the silhouette of Wildmutt appeared.
Slamming the dial down, a green flash engulfed him, and he transformed. The sensation was exhilarating—his senses sharpening, his muscles tightening. He became Wildmutt, a hulking, orange-furred alien with no visible eyes but heightened senses that painted a vivid picture of the world around him.
He sniffed the air, catching the scent of car exhaust, fried food from a distant food truck, and something unusual—a metallic tang mixed with sweat and adrenaline. His ears twitched, picking up faint whispers and the clinking of metal.
A bank. Someone was breaking into a bank.
Wildmutt crouched low, his claws scraping the windowsill as he leapt from the fire escape to the neighboring rooftop. He bounded across the buildings, his powerful limbs carrying him toward the source of the sound. The scent grew stronger, guiding him like a beacon.
Scene Eight: The Bank Heist
Wildmutt perched on the edge of a rooftop, looking down at the scene below. The bank's side entrance was slightly ajar, the lock clearly tampered with. Inside, he could hear voices—a mix of nervous chatter and cocky bravado.
"Keep an eye on the door," one of them barked. "We've got five minutes before the next patrol comes by."
Wildmutt dropped silently to the alley below, his padded feet making no sound as he approached the door. The metallic tang of gun oil reached his nose, and his ears picked up the faint whir of a drill working on the vault.
Peering through the cracked door, Wildmutt saw three men in ski masks. One stood guard by the entrance, a pistol holstered at his side. The other two were crouched near the vault, one operating the drill while the other held a flashlight.
Wildmutt let out a low growl, his claws flexing. He had to act fast, but he also had to be smart. Charging in blindly would put the hostages—or himself—in danger. He sniffed the air again, focusing on the guard near the door. The man reeked of sweat and fear, his hand twitching near his weapon.
Wildmutt crept closer, his movements silent and deliberate. The guard's head whipped around as he caught a faint sound, but it was too late. Wildmutt leapt, pinning him to the ground with one massive paw while letting out a bone-chilling growl.
"W-what the hell is that?!" one of the men at the vault shouted, turning toward the commotion.
Wildmutt didn't give them time to react. He lunged toward the vault, his claws swiping through the air. The man with the flashlight stumbled back, dropping it as he scrambled for his weapon. The light flickered across the room, casting Wildmutt's shadow on the walls like a menacing specter.
The man with the drill swung it wildly, but Wildmutt dodged with ease, his heightened reflexes giving him the upper hand. He swiped again, knocking the drill from the man's hands and sending it skidding across the floor.
"Stay back!" the flashlight man shouted, fumbling with his gun. He fired a shot, but Wildmutt was already on the move, his powerful legs propelling him out of harm's way. The bullet ricocheted off a metal filing cabinet, embedding itself harmlessly in the wall.
Wildmutt growled, baring his sharp teeth. He leapt again, this time knocking the gun out of the man's hand and pinning him against the wall. His claws dug into the plaster, leaving deep grooves as the man whimpered in fear.
The third man tried to make a run for it, but Wildmutt was faster. He bounded across the room, cutting off the man's escape with a feral snarl. The man froze, his eyes wide with terror.
"Alright! Alright! We give up!" he shouted, dropping to his knees.
Wildmutt let out a final growl, his point made. He stepped back, keeping a wary eye on the men as they huddled together, too afraid to move. He sniffed the air, confirming there were no other threats, before turning his attention to the vault.
The drill had barely made a dent. They weren't getting into the safe anytime soon.
Satisfied, Wildmutt bounded toward the exit. As he reached the alley, he activated the Omnitrix, transforming back into his human form. Marshall pulled his hoodie up, blending into the shadows as he made his way home. The sound of approaching sirens echoed in the distance, signaling the end of the heist.
---
Scene Nine: The Aftermath
The next morning, the news was ablaze with reports of the attempted bank robbery. Witnesses described a "giant orange beast" that had thwarted the criminals, leaving them tied up for the authorities to find.
Marshall sipped his cereal, smirking as he watched the broadcast. Peter, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow. "So… you were busy last night?"
"Just doing my part," Marshall said, shrugging nonchalantly.
Peter shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "You know, if you keep this up, you're gonna end up on SHIELD's radar. If you're not already."
Marshall's smirk faltered for a moment. He knew Peter was right, but for now, he was just glad he'd made a difference.
"Let them wonder," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I've got bigger plans."
Scene Eleven: A Day with Gwen, Peter, and Billy
The afternoon sun filtered through the trees in Central Park, casting dappled shadows on the pathways. Marshall sat on a bench with Peter and Gwen, a paper bag of snacks between them. Nearby, Billy Billions leaned against a tree, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression.
"So, let me get this straight," Gwen said, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "You two made a mobile game, it's blowing up, and now you're working on something else big? What is it this time? Flying cars? Laser glasses?"
Marshall chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite. It's more grounded… for now. We're brainstorming our next big project for Nexus Inc. We want something that'll actually help people."
"Something practical but cool," Peter added, leaning back with a grin. "Like, imagine a robot that can help with homework or make pancakes."
"Or both," Gwen quipped, smirking. "You know, I wouldn't mind a pancake-bot. My dad's cooking is… questionable at best."
Billy finally looked up, clearly annoyed at being left out of the conversation. "Why stop at pancakes? Why not make a robot chef that can do everything? You know, something that screams innovation—like me."
Marshall rolled his eyes. "Good to see your humility is still intact, Billy."
Billy smirked, flipping his hair back dramatically. "Humility is for people without talent. I'm just stating the obvious."
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "You mean the obvious fact that you've been sitting there pretending to ignore us for the past ten minutes?"
Peter snickered. "He's waiting for the perfect moment to make a dramatic entrance. Classic Billy."
Billy put his phone away and sauntered over, hands in his pockets. "If I wasn't around to elevate this conversation, who else would keep you all entertained?"
Marshall shook his head but couldn't hide his grin. "You're impossible."
"Impossible and indispensable," Billy quipped, taking a seat on the edge of the bench. "So, what's the next big thing for Nexus Inc.? And more importantly, how does my brilliance fit into it?"
Peter nudged Marshall with a smirk. "You see what we're dealing with here?"
Gwen laughed, leaning back on the bench. "Well, whatever you're working on, let me know if you need a test subject—or someone to keep you grounded. You seem like the type to overthink things."
Marshall shrugged. "I'll keep that in mind."
Billy snorted. "Grounded? That's overrated. Overthinking is where the magic happens. Just look at me."
"Overthinking or overcompensating?" Gwen shot back, a teasing smile on her face.
Billy feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. "Such harsh words. You wound me, Stacy."
The group fell into a comfortable rhythm of banter, their laughter blending with the sounds of the park. Kids played tag on the grass, joggers passed by with earbuds in, and a street performer juggled flaming torches near the fountain.
"Hey," Gwen said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "You ever think about just… slowing down? I mean, you're doing all these amazing things, but do you ever just take a break?"
Marshall glanced at her, caught off guard. "I guess I don't really think about it. There's always something to do, something to build or fix."
Peter nodded. "Yeah, that's true. He's like a human Energizer bunny."
Billy smirked. "That's because some of us are visionaries. Marshall and I? We don't rest. Rest is for the unimaginative."
"Or the sane," Gwen quipped. "But seriously, you guys should try it sometime. You know, like today. No projects, no plans. Just… being kids."
Marshall considered her words, his gaze drifting to the park's calm scenery. It was a rare moment of peace, and he couldn't deny it felt good to just exist without the weight of his responsibilities for a while.
"Alright," he said finally, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You win. No work today."
"See? Was that so hard?" Gwen teased, tossing a popcorn kernel at him.
Marshall caught it with a smirk. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."
Peter grinned. "This is nice. Just us, hanging out, no world-ending threats or tech to fix."
Billy leaned back, arms behind his head. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts. Genius doesn't take vacations. But fine, I'll humor you all for today."
The four of them laughed, the tension of their busy lives melting away, if only for a little while.
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