Free Web NovelChapter 11: Ch 11: The Daily Bugle Incident II
Ninety seconds.
That was all it took for Luke to establish complete control.
A couple of crackling, mini-explosions from his palm and a single, deafening BANG from his handgun into the wall were enough to turn thirteen panicked executives and staff members into a group of whimpering mutes.
They huddled together on the floor of the meeting room, shaking like leaves. Exactly how he wanted them.
But for the cherry on top...
Luke reached into his backpack and pulled out a metallic cube. It was about twelve inches on each side, covered in messy tangles of multicolored wires and blinking LED lights that flickered with no particular rhythm.
"You guys felt that explosion downstairs, right?" Luke hefted the cube casually, like it was a loaf of bread. "This little beauty caused it."
’Of course, this bomb is a dummy,’ Luke thought, keeping his masked face impassive. ’I don’t exactly have an unlimited supply of high-yield explosives. Bakugo’s grenade bracers gave me two big blasts, and I already used one. And I’m definitely not using it on my hostages.’
But to the room full of terrified office workers and construction staff... It looked like death in a box.
"Utter a word without my permission," he said, voice dropping to something cold and casual, "misbehave, try to play hero, so much as breathe in a way I find annoying..."
He wiggled the remote. Luke wasn’t a real psychopath, but he could certainly act like one.
"And we all go kaboom."
A woman in the back let out a strangled whimper. Matthew, the paunchy project manager, looked like he was about to pass out. Betty Brant had gone pale as printer paper, her lips pressed into a thin white line.
’Hostages secured,’ Luke thought with satisfaction. ’Now for the main event....’
Here’s the thing about getting a superhero’s attention: it’s easy. Cause a little chaos, make some noise, freaking announce it, and they come running. It’s practically their job description.
But keeping the other nuisances away? The police? The SWAT teams?
That required a different approach.
You had to show them the consequences before they even thought about kicking down a door.
Luke’s phone hovered right in front of his mask. He had already started the stream for multiversal beings before entering the room, but before he spoke, he tapped a feature he hadn’t dared to touch last time.
[Broadcast Stream on all devices | Specified broadcast radius: 20 km]
This feature was dangerous. It would hijack every television, smartphone, laptop, and digital billboard within twenty kilometers. The max radius was a hundred kilometers, but twenty was more than enough for today’s purpose.
’This will get me attention,’ Luke thought. ’Not just from Spider-Gwen. From everyone. The Police. SHIELD.’
It was a risk.
But it was a calculated risk.
With Bakugo’s powers, he could fly out of here whenever he wanted. And with the T-Stream app’s anti-surveillance mode, not even satellites would catch his movements.
As for the greatest threat to the mission, Charles Xavier—the one man capable of paralyzing Luke from the safety of his X-Mansion—was currently away in Germany, attending a conference on mutant rights. And wouldn’t return for at least another week. That’s main reason Luke decided to go this bold without mental shields.
He tapped the button.
Across twenty kilometers from him, screens flickered.
In a Harlem barbershop, the basketball game dissolved into static, replaced by a masked man in a meeting room.
In a Columbia University lecture hall, a student’s laptop screen went black, then lit up with the same image. Times Square’s massive digital billboards—all of them—blinked in unison and showed a clown-masked figure surrounded by terrified hostages.
The stream was live.
And Luke was center stage.
He straightened his tie—black suit, perfectly tailored, a nice contrast to the cheap, dusty-burnt clown mask.
"Good afternoon, New York."
His voice was unhurried. Calm. Almost conversational, like he was recording a news report instead of holding 13 people hostage with a fake bomb.
"You might have heard of me. The convenience store psychopath thing a few weeks back? Yeah, that was me."
He tilted his head slightly and paced in front of the hostages, letting the camera pan over their terrified faces.
"Now, just like last time, my goal is a true, honest conversation. A genuine exchange of ideas with people of my choice." He spread his free hand, the gesture almost philosophical. "Today, I’m looking for someone a little more specific."
He paused, letting the tension build.
"There’s a certain someone in this city I’ve been dying to meet. You know the white hoodie. The Web-slinger. The friendly neighborhood hero... Spider-Woman..."
He leaned into the floating camera lens.
"Listen to me, heroine. I have thirteen people here and an active bomb that will go off in 15 minutes. If you want them to go home to their families in a single piece, I want you to come find me. I’ve already dropped a very loud hint regarding my location. If you’re late even a second... well, you know what happens... So, swing your fastest, yeah?"
He stood back up, pointing a finger at the lens.
"And to my dearest NYPD—do not interfere. You see, unlike last time, I’ve brought the real deal. You all heard that explosion, right?"
Luke paused, tilting his clown-masked head as if listening to an invisible audience.
"What’s that? You didn’t hear it? You think I’m bluffing?" He whined in a mocking, childish tone. "Fine, fine. I’ll do it again for you."
Luke pressed the button on the remote.
Triggering his second, and final, Grenade Bracer planted on the seventh floor.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The entire skyscraper violently shook once again. Dust exploded from the vents, ceiling tiles crashed down, and the hostages screamed in sheer terror, clutching their heads on the floor.
Luke stood perfectly still in the chaos.
"Now that we’ve cleared up the bluff allegations, I expect total cooperation from the authorities. Stay away. Or next time, it’ll be the bomb that I’ve brought in this room that will get detonated."
He needed to establish himself as an unstoppable, unhinged madman who would cause large-scale explosions just for the sake of it.
That was someone the police had to be careful with.
But he was officially out of massive explosives (Grenade Bracers). But the police didn’t know that. Two blasts were more than enough to keep the cops frozen in fear of a third or more. And they had served their purpose, cause fear. But for all the police knew, the whole building could be laced with enough C4 to level a whole neighborhood.
"Please... please let us leave!" a voice sobbed out.
It was Matthew, the project manager. He was on his knees, tears streaming down his pale, sweaty face. He looked like he was losing his mind. "I have a family! My children need me... please!"
Luke looked down at the man, slowly shaking his head. "Poor, poor Matthew. Tsk, tsk, tsk."
"Please..."
"You really don’t need to worry about any of that, buddy," Luke said, his voice laced with fake pity.
He crouched down to Mathew’s level.
"Your wife already has your replacement. Some gym trainer named Derek. They’ve been... let’s call it ’working out together’ for about 9 years now."
Matthew blinked. His tear-streaked face went slack with confusion. "What...?"
"And as for the kids? Well... they were never yours to begin with. So, hakuna matata, right?" freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
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