The light inside the subway station shifted from icy electric blue to a warm, lavish gold as Jack pulled up the schematics for their next target on the stolen Stark server display.
Floating three miles off the coast of Manhattan, just outside municipal jurisdiction in international waters, sat the Sovereign’s Ledger—a three-hundred-foot luxury casino yacht owned through seven layers of shell corporations by Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime.
"Fisk’s private floating bank," Felicia purred, leaning over the console with her eyes gleaming like a feral cat's. "I've tried to get onto that boat for three years. It's where every mob boss, corrupt politician, and dirty CEO in the Tri-State area washes their black money. Unmarked diamonds, bearer bonds, cold hard cash... no paper trail, no tax man."
"And no S.H.I.E.L.D. jurisdiction," Natasha added smoothly, pouring three fingers of stolen Macallan into a crystal tumbler. She tossed it back in one clean swallow, her steel-grey eyes reflecting the golden schematics. "Because it sits in international waters, Fury can't send a strike team without creating a diplomatic nightmare with Fisk's legal team. Security is entirely handled by Fisk's private mercenary force—ex-Spetsnaz and mercenaries."
Jack was perched on top of the workbench, holding a sleek silver roulette ball between his gloved knuckles, rolling it back and forth over his fingers with hypnotizing speed. His [50.0% SYNCHRONIZATION] was humming behind his skull, making the golden wires of the yacht’s holographic blueprint pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"A floating casino!" Jack shrieked happily, tossing the roulette ball high into the air and catching it cleanly in his mouth before popping it back into his hand. "Oh, girls! You know how much I love games of chance! High rollers, black ties, dry martinis, and crooked roulette wheels!"
He leaned down, grabbing Natasha’s chin gently with two fingers and tilting her face up toward his. His bloodshot eyes flashed with a dark, intoxicating spark.
"And what better way to celebrate our fifty percent milestone than by robbing the biggest crime lord in New York while wearing tailored tuxedos?!" Jack rasped against her lips. "Fisk thinks he’s the king of the underworld... let's show him who holds the Joker in his deck!"
Natasha’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. She reached up, resting her hand over his heart, feeling the steady, vibrating surge of [The Royal Flush Command] linking their minds.
"Fisk has biometric scanners at the gangway," Natasha said, her voice dropping into a low, velvet hum. "And heavy armed guards on every deck. If we pull this off, we'll need black-tie disguise work, an undercover entry, and a clean getaway before his heavies realize the vault is empty."
"Leave the vault locks to me," Felicia laughed, tossing a set of sleek titanium lockpicks into the air. "I've been dying to crack a Fisk-grade vault my whole life."
Jack jumped down from the workbench, grabbing his lavender blazer and throwing it on with a sharp, theatrical flourish.
"LADIES!" Jack bellowed, his raspy cackle echoing through the concrete subway vault. "PACK YOUR EVENING GOWNS! WE'RE GOING TO THE CASINO! AND THE HOUSE IS GOING TO LOSE EVERYTHING! HAHAHAHA!"
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