Chapter 7: The Noose Tightens
Baxter Stockman had always believed knowledge was power. But tonight, that belief had been proven.
Because now, he had something dangerous.
Something that could change everything.
TCRI had secrets. Big ones.
And he wasn't the only one who knew it.
---
April paced the length of the lab, arms crossed, her mind racing.
"That was reckless, Baxter," she said, her voice tight with frustration. "TCRI isn't some two-bit corporation you can poke at without consequences. They'll come for us."
Stockman leaned against his desk, watching her with that infuriatingly calm expression. "Then let them."
April whirled on him. "Are you serious?!"
He smirked. "April, you're thinking like a reporter. I'm thinking like someone who just gained leverage."
She scowled. "Leverage? We barely got out without setting off every alarm in their system!"
Stockman gestured toward the screen, where the last image they'd uncovered still lingered—TCRI's underground containment chamber, and the alien entity sleeping inside.
"This changes everything," he said, his voice low. "TCRI has been hiding extraterrestrial life. And if they're hiding that, imagine what else they have locked away."
April exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "And what exactly do you plan to do with this information? Blackmail them? Sell it?"
Stockman grinned. "I could—but that would be short-term thinking. No, April… I plan to own them."
April blinked. "Own TCRI?"
"You said it yourself," Stockman continued. "They're dangerous. Too powerful for anyone to take on directly. But I don't need to fight them—I need to outmaneuver them. And that starts with understanding exactly what they're protecting."
April's frustration wavered as curiosity took hold.
She sighed. "How do you plan on doing that?"
Stockman's smirk widened.
"By making them come to me."
Meanwhile…
Deep beneath New York City, inside TCRI's hidden research facility, alarms blared as security personnel scrambled through the halls.
Dr. Chaplin, one of TCRI's lead scientists, hunched over a terminal, reviewing the breach report. His fingers danced over the keyboard, isolating the access point.
His blood ran cold.
"Baxter Stockman…" he whispered.
Behind him, a large shadow loomed.
A voice, deep and unnatural, rumbled through the sterile air. "What has he seen?"
Chaplin swallowed hard. "Too much."
The shadow shifted. "Then he must be eliminated."
Chaplin hesitated. "Sir… we could use him. Stockman is brilliant. If we bring him in—"
A low growl silenced him.
"He is a liability."
Chaplin closed his eyes. He knew better than to argue.
"Understood," he murmured.
The shadow receded, disappearing into the darkness.
And just like that, the hunt for Baxter Stockman had begun.
---
Back at Stockman's lab, April was still processing the insanity of the night when a sharp knock at the door made them both freeze.
April shot him a wary look. "Expecting company?"
Stockman frowned. "No."
His instincts flared. Something wasn't right.
Moving smoothly, he pressed a hidden panel on his desk, activating the lab's security feed.
The screen flickered to life, revealing a figure standing outside.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. A face like granite.
April inhaled sharply. "That's—"
"Casey Jones," Stockman finished.
The hockey-masked vigilante.
And judging by the way he was tapping impatiently at the door, he wasn't here for small talk.
April turned to him. "What do we do?"
Stockman exhaled.
"Let's find out what he wants."
End of Chapter 7.