My wrists throbbed with pain from the cold metal cuffs digging into my flesh, attached to the table secured to the concrete floor. My expensive suit—among the best that money could afford—was rumpled, sweat-stained, and smelled of desperation. The shame of being here, in this cell like some sort of common criminal, was nearly as terrible as the smug expression on Silver Sable's face before me.
She was just sitting there, totally in charge and super pissed, her silver hair shining. Then she leaned in and plopped a manila folder on the table. "You look a bit uneasy, Steele," she said, sounding all sarcastic and concerned. "Not really used to being in a spot where you can't just throw money at it to escape?"
I forced a smirk. "You seem very pleased with yourself, Sable. Is this your idea of fun? Locking up innocent men?" My voice was steady, calm, but inside, my brain was firing.
"Innocent," she said again, but you could totally hear the sarcasm in her voice. She pulled out a folder and pushed a really grainy black-and-white photo across the table. It was an old pic of Simon Steele—the original guy, before I ended up in this messed-up body. He looked younger, rocking a sharp uniform covered in swastikas, standing right next to Heinrich Himmler himself. You couldn't miss the resemblance, even with all those years in between.
"What is this?" she asked, folding her arms and reclining. Her smirk was a knife in my side.
I glanced at the picture, feigning confusion. "That's definitely not me," I said impassively.
Her eyebrow arched. "No? Because it seems an awful lot like you."
I reclined in my chair, the cuffs clinking on the table. "Seriously, it kinda looks like an old man who could be me if you squint really hard." I gestured to myself. "I totally don't emit 'geriatric Nazi' vibes, right?"
She didn't blink, expecting the lie. "You've had some work done. Maybe you have access to some of that fancy biotech your company's been working on. Or maybe something entirely different."
I laughed, even though it rang hollow to my own ears. "You're reaching, Sable. You think I'd risk my entire empire for something like this? Some rumor nonsense made up by disgruntled employees?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You're a smooth talker, Steele. I'll give you that. But you're also a liar. And the world's starting to see it."
Just as if on cue, the door behind her opened, and one of her men stepped inside, holding a tablet. He handed it to her, and she turned it to face me. There was a news ticker on the screen, and it was showing a group of protesters in front of one of my office towers. They were holding signs with messages like "Nazi scum!" and "Justice for the victims!" At the bottom, the ticker was scrolling headlines about my alleged past and the collapse of Steele Enterprises.
I gritted my teeth, my nails digging into my palms. "This is a complete witch hunt," I growled. "You think some photos and suspicious gossip are going to bring me down?"
"It's not just pictures," she retorted, her voice cutting through my rage like a blade. "Your own staff are chattering away. Those 'loyal' employees of yours are dishing all the dirt."
I smiled nervously, hunching over as far as the cuffs would allow. "Let me make a guess and get it out there. It's a group of angry jerks who didn't get their bonuses this year? Or some competitors who want to take me out? People say things when they're under pressure."
She sneered at me. "Pressure, huh? You're something of an expert on that aren't you?"
I clenched my teeth, hard-trying not to retort. I instead sat back in my chair and breathed in deeply. Below the surface, I fumed. Steelea, where are you?
I listened to her voice in my earpiece—a little gadget planted so deep inside my ear that no one would even notice. "I'm here, Daddy," she whispered softly, her tone all peaceful and kinda creepy in a reassuring kind of way. "I've deleted 38% of the digital proof up to this point. The other files are tougher, but I've got this."
"Good," I said, struggling not to crack a smile. "But that physical evidence is still a problem. If they've got something concrete, we're completely screwed."
"Physical evidence," Steelea mused, talking to herself. "That's one thing I really can't control."
Silver Sable's voice brought me back to the present. "You're being very quiet, Steele. Is the weight of your deceptions finally beginning to weigh on you?"
I stared her straight in the eye and a slow smile spread across my face. "Honestly, the only thing I'm feeling is how absurd the whole situation is. You expect me to confess to something I didn't do? No way."
"You're something else," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I gotta say, I almost respect your guts. But that's not going to save you."
"We'll see about that," I growled.
She stood, picking up the folder and tablet. "Enjoy your stay, Steele. The world outside is falling apart for you, and you can do nothing about it."
She turned and walked out, and I clenched my fists, the metal cuffs digging into my wrists. "We'll see about that, you silver-haired bitch," I snarled softly.
"Daddy," Steelea whispered in my ear, her voice nearly teasing. "Should I begin working on contingency plans?"
"Yes," I was already considering the next step. "And Steelea… make them merciless."
So, weeks passed, and I ended up with this nice little cozy room, a phone, and a list of potential lawyers that Silver Sable had sort of begrudgingly let me call. The ones with the best reputations? Yeah, those names were all marked off, either because they didn't call back or just hung up on me the instant they heard my name. It was like trying to sell ice to Eskimos, except the ice was made of pure shit.
Finally, one name popped up that gave me some hope—Jennifer Walters. She was the She-Hulk, a superhero who had a knack for cracking heads and a law degree that could make even the slimiest snakes slither into submission. I had to admit, she was pretty good at her daytime gig.
"You've got to be kidding," I muttered to myself, as I called her number, with the hope that it would just go through to voicemail. But surprise, surprise, she actually picked up on the third ring.
"Jennifer Walters," she answered, all cool and business-like.
"This is Simon Steele," I replied, attempting not to sound too nervous. "I've got a bit of a situation."
There was a pause on the line, and I could hear the wheels turning in her head. "Ah, the man everyone loves to hate right now," she said. "What do you want?"
"I want a lawyer," I said, spilling the words out. "Someone who can handle the kind of crap storm that's swirling around me."
She smiled, but only slightly, and there was an edge to it. "So, Mr. Steele, I could quite possibly be the right woman for the job. But why me? You've got dozens of other options."
I leaned my forehead against the cold concrete wall. "Let's just say I've exhausted my 'other options'. And if you can clear my name, it'll be the case of the century."
"And if you can't?" she shot back. "Then what?"
I took a deep breath. "Then I'm fucked. And you can bet every Tom, Dick, and Harry will think twice before they mess with you."
There was another pause, and I could almost feel her weighing the pros and cons. Then she spoke again. "I'll take the case. But know this—I expect full cooperation. No games."
I nodded, even as she couldn't see me. "You've got it," I said to her, trying not to sound too anxious. "I'm innocent, and I'll do anything to make sure everyone knows it."
"Good," she said curtly. "I'll be by tomorrow to go over the details. Don't get too settled in."
The line went dead, and I just kind of sat there looking at my phone. Is this real life? Did I just actually hire She-Hulk as my lawyer? I have to say, it's better than I hoped.
Even so, with a total badass like Jennifer Walters on my side, I knew it wasn't going to be easy. The damage had already been done. The photos, the headlines, the demonstrations—they totally boxed me in, you get me? Even if I managed to wriggle my way out of this experience, there would always be people who wouldn't quite believe that I wasn't a monster. They'd be side-eyeing me and gossiping behind my back. It was a heavy weight to carry, but I'd do it if it meant I got to stay free.
When she came in the next day, accompanied by a team of attorneys who looked like they hadn't slept in years, I was overcome with this rush of hope. She shot me a look with those piercing green eyes, and I knew she meant business. "Alright, Simon," she said, her voice cutting through the air like the edges of her briefcase. "Let's get down to it."
We pored over files and documents for hours, looking for something, anything, that would tarnish the pile of evidence Silver Sable had built. I gave Steelea thought instructions, and she worked silently in the darkness, slicing through systems and tangling data. It was chess with the world, and I needed to be several steps ahead at all times. Therefore, Jennifer and her team were constructing a narrative that would hopefully sway the judge in their direction.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, I was completely exhausted. I simply leaned back in my chair, overwhelmed with the weight of the world on my shoulders. "Jennifer," I told her, massaging my eyes. "I don't thank you enough for this."
"Don't thank me yet," she told me, her tone cold. "We've got a long way to go." There was a flicker of something in her eyes, though—a glint of sympathy, perhaps? "If you're innocent, we'll establish it. And if you're not." She left the threat dangling. "Let's just say you don't want to know."
And with that, she exited the room, leaving me to the cold reality of my situation. I was a man fighting for my life, and the only thing between me and spending the remainder of it in a cell was a superhero with an attitude and a group of bureaucrats.
I was simply lying there on that horrible bunk that evening, staring up at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights were flickering above, and the muffled sounds of the prison were constantly reminding me of my new existence. The scent of fear and desperation clung to the walls like a thick fog, and it was all I could do not to vomit from it.
And the following day, in our regular meeting, Jennifer broke the news. "They're going to take your case to the Supreme Court, Simon," she said, her face inscrutable. "It's all the way to the top."
My heart leaped. "What? How? I had no idea that was even an option."
"The Court has decided to bypass the usual channels due to the... sensitivity of the situation," she replied, her eyes flicking to the guards outside the doors. "It is an unprecedented measure, but it is being done."
It was as clear as day: if I failed at this, there was no second chance. I could sense the walls closing in, and the pressure mounting like a volcano ready to erupt. I had to leave it all on the field. I had to win.
I rested fully in my chair, nodding slowly. "Okay, let's get started."
So as I was discussing strategy with Jennifer, my mind was on fire. If I was going to take this thing, I needed to employ every advantage I could muster. I needed to be quicker, smarter, and more cunning than everyone else in that courtroom. And I sure did have a strategy.
I tapped discreetly on my earpiece. "Steelea," I whispered, "can you do me a favor?"
Her voice was as calm as ever. "Anything, Daddy."
"We're going to need some serious firepower," I told her. "The kind that won't fit in a briefcase. Can you… get some money? As much as possible, without drawing attention to yourself?"
"Funds?" she echoed, grasping quickly. "I'll try."
It was a couple of tense days, but finally, she rang me back. "'I've got the money," she whispered.
"Good girl," I said to her with a sly grin. "Now, let's go shopping."
The next time we hung out with Jennifer, she saw me and did a double take. "What have you done to yourself?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "You look… different."
"Oh, just doing some last-minute studying," I said casually, reaching up to touch my head. "You know, studying for that big exam."
So, here's the thing: I had completely gotten myself a cheat sheet—a brain booster, thanks to the Wealth System black market. It was kinda risky, like, it could seriously backfire if anyone caught on. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Jennifer was watching me, but she did not push the point. We just dove into the case with renewed energy instead. We reviewed every bit of evidence and every witness statement, searching for anything tiny we could utilize to our advantage. And with my new 'intellectual boost', I was seeing things that she and her people didn't see at all.