Taran Industries.
Rumlow really liked his padded jacket, which showed off his fine physique.
He stood in the lobby of Taran Industries with his arms crossed.
"Ding."
The elevator reached the ground floor, and Rumlow stepped forward as its doors opened.
"Mr. Wick," he greeted respectfully, naturally falling into step beside Watson, one pace behind him.
As a competent bodyguard, Rumlow always knew how to protect his employer.
"I really wish Yuri would change the bad habits he picked up while John was in charge," Watson complained. "He used to like handling things himself, instead of sitting in an office a hundred floors up, watching the customers in the café across the street through binoculars."
Watson went on talking, and Rumlow was accustomed to this behavior.
The founder of the High Table, the Underworld President, a major shareholder in Taran Industries.
Any one of those identities was enough to inspire fear and panic.
Yet around people he knew, he seemed more like an ordinary, middle-aged financial manager.
The two reached the Taran Industries garage. Rumlow pointed at the luxury car and asked, "The Rolls-Royce?"
"No, that would be too ostentatious." Watson looked at the Lamborghini beside it. "Better to keep a low profile."
A little later, the convertible Lamborghini raced down the highway.
Watson drove. He liked the sensation of air rushing over his head and carrying his voice away.
"Some of my former colleagues became mercenaries. Their boss offered a fortune to seize a biological weapon," Rumlow said, having to raise his voice to speak to Watson.
Hearing this, Watson called back just as loudly, "A biological weapon? What is it?"
"I don't know," Rumlow shouted. "Something carried inside a meteorite that fell to Earth. That company developed it by studying the meteorite."
"This world has the Avengers." Watson