Pierre lay in his hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Instead of the smell of disinfectant, he breathed in a fresh, sun-warmed scent.
The sheets on the bed had clearly been hung out to dry in the sun, not tossed onto it stiff and hot straight from a dryer.
It was a luxurious private room. If not for the medical equipment inside, he might have thought he was in a hotel room.
This was the reward for saving Harry Osborn's life—and only one part of it. There were more benefits to come.
Pierre had been wearing a bulletproof vest, and the shooter had used a silenced pistol, which wasn't particularly powerful. So he had only broken two ribs, and his injuries weren't serious.
Compared to the benefits he was about to receive, this sacrifice was utterly insignificant.
When that group had first approached him, promising him a fortune, Pierre hadn't believed them. But now, it seemed everything was going smoothly.
The only surprise was that they had actually killed someone.
Hadn't the plan been for him to rescue Harry and take a bullet for him, and then be done with it? Why had they also killed Harry Osborn's bodyguard?
The death had left Pierre feeling uneasy, but judging by the way he was being treated, no one seemed to have found out.
Night fell, and warm-colored lights came on in the room. Pierre had eaten a lavish dinner and was about to turn on the TV to catch up on his favorite series when someone pushed open the hospital-room door. They hadn't even knocked.
Pierre had been a little annoyed at first. So much for five-star service. Didn't the hospital staff know any better?
After all, wealth and status changed a person. Pierre hadn't even become truly rich yet, but he'd already developed the attitude of someone who considered himself upper class.
But when he saw the two people who had entered, the displeasure on his face instantly turned into a fawning smile.
"Mr. Osborn, what brings you here?" Pierre struggled excitedly to get up and greet him, but he soon pulled at his injury and sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.
Of course, he was putting on an act. His movement had aggravated his injury, but nowhere near as badly as he made it seem. Still, if he looked more miserable, perhaps Osborn would reward him more generously.
But his scheme was doomed to fail, because a young Asian man followed close behind Norman Osborn.
Pierre didn't recognize Luo Xia by his face. To him, Asians all looked pretty much the same. But as a professional security guard, he recognized the clothes Luo Xia was wearing.
Wasn't this the Asian man he'd kicked out earlier today? He seemed to have been there when the shooting happened, too.
"Pierre, lie back down. There are a few things I want to ask you," Norman Osborn said, his tone unfriendly.
Pierre suddenly had a bad feeling, but he didn't dare let it show.
"Mr. Osborn, what do you want to ask? Doctor, I might have suffered a concussion when I fell. I may not remember what happened clearly," Pierre said cautiously.
Luo Xia almost laughed out loud. This guy was already making excuses for himself.
Luo Xia had no intention of wasting time making small talk. He got straight to the point. "You'll remember, because I'm not asking about what happened today. About two months ago, a total of two hundred thousand dollars was transferred into your account. Can you explain where it came from?"
"What two hundred thousand dollars? I don't know what you're talking about," Pierre said nervously.
"Do you want me to print out the records and throw them in your face? I'm asking you now because I want you to come clean and not waste our precious time. But if you're still clinging to some hope that you can deny everything and get away with it, then I'll have to use a little force," Luo Xia said sternly.
With the resources of S.H.I.E.L.D., Violet had easily tracked down the security guard's suspicious account activity over the past few months. The two hundred thousand dollars had come in several transfers from different accounts, but they all seemed to trace back to a company called United Global Investment Company.
There hadn't been enough time for Luo Xia to find out exactly what kind of company it was. He could only confirm that it seemed to be a huge conglomerate, almost on par with Stark Industries, with considerable business ties to the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.
"No, you can't do this! Mr. Osborn, don't listen to this yellow monkey's nonsense. I saved your son!" Pierre said excitedly.
"If those people had wanted to kill Harry from the start, why would they have kidnapped him afterward? You idiot, they were just using you to lure the bodyguard out of the car so they could kill him. The place where Harry was hiding was right in the area you regularly patrolled!" Norman Osborn shouted.
Hearing that, Pierre understood that he'd been played.
They'd actually kidnapped someone? Wasn't the plan just to scare Norman Osborn, make Oscorp's stock fluctuate, and take advantage of the opportunity to make a quick profit?
Even so, Pierre stuck to his story. "No, Mr. Osborn, I really don't know anything. I haven't done anything."
Norman Osborn nearly felt like hitting him. The man was still trying to deny it at this point. Was he insulting his intelligence?
Luo Xia waved a hand. "Norman, gathering evidence is physically demanding. Let me handle this. I'm a professional."
As he spoke, Luo Xia walked over to the bed. He didn't look as big as Pierre, but the hulking man still trembled a little at the sight of him.
Luo Xia showed no mercy. He grabbed Pierre's arm. Pierre struggled with all his might, but with two broken ribs, he didn't have much strength. Luo Xia used a simple restraint technique to twist his arm behind his back.
Pierre was pressed face-down onto the bed, his face buried in the pillow as he let out a muffled whimper of pain.
Luo Xia fastened a metal bracelet around his wrist, then said, "This device on your wrist will keep tightening. You have about three minutes to come clean. Otherwise, it'll crush your wrist—or even snap it clean off."
After saying that, Luo Xia let Pierre go.
The large white man had barely caught his breath when he felt the bracelet tighten around his wrist. It was indeed contracting, and soon it had left a deep mark in his skin.
No matter how hard he banged it against things, the metal bracelet kept tightening at a steady pace, completely unaffected.
Pierre gritted his teeth and endured it for a while, but soon he let out a bloodcurdling scream. As he wailed and tried to crawl over to press the emergency call button, Norman Osborn said something that crushed him: "Pierre, this is an Oscorp hospital."
Pierre's hand froze in midair. Then, in despair, he said, "Get this thing off me, and I'll tell you everything. The money came from a group of Russians. They never told me they were going to kidnap anyone."
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