Well… so much for sneaking in quietly.
Jessica gritted her teeth as her plan to infiltrate Hansen Corp. without alerting anyone went up in smoke. Now it was time to go full throttle.
The guards charged her, electric batons whirring with a low, dangerous hum. Jessica ducked beneath one aimed for her head and retaliated with a vicious punch straight to a guard's neck.
Normally, a hit like that would've knocked any human out cold.
But to Jessica's surprise, it felt like she'd just smashed her fist against solid steel. The guard didn't even flinch.
The baton in his hand crackled with blue electricity as it whistled past her abdomen. Jessica twisted mid-motion, transferring her momentum into another strike. Her fist collided with the next guard's body—hard enough to send him flying into a wall.
That sounded like metal.
Jessica narrowed her eyes. Something wasn't right.
She swept one guard's legs out from under him, barely dodging another baton that grazed her nose. Then, with brutal force, she stomped down on his back, slamming him to the ground.
Even after taking hits, the guards' expressions remained blank, eerily emotionless. Like puppets with strings embedded into their joints. As if their actions were preprogrammed.
Their purpose was simple: prevent any intrusion at all costs.
But Jessica Jones was no longer some half-trained street brawler. After months of training with Bucky Barnes—the Winter Soldier himself—her skills had evolved beyond brute force. She was sharper. Smarter. Faster.
So even surrounded, she felt no fear.
Because she knew—she could break through.
These guards might have strange bodies, but she, Jessica Jones, didn't back down from metal. She punched through it.
With a snarl, she kicked one guard in the chest, sending him crashing backward and breaking open the encirclement. But it came at a price—two electric batons struck her arm, sending volts of current pulsing through her muscles.
Even with her freakish endurance, it made her wince.
But instead of retreating, Jessica's pain turned to fury.
She swept her arm like a wrecking ball, slamming two guards into the wall. As they hit, her peripheral vision caught sparks flickering off their bodies.
Jessica's eyes narrowed.
Something was very, very off.
Then a new figure entered the scene.
He was tall, thin, and dressed differently from the others. His face bore the same emotionless chill as the rest. Judging by the uniform, he was the head of security.
While Jessica was busy with the others, this "chief" snuck in a punch that smashed into her shoulder.
Grunting in pain, Jessica retaliated. She kicked a lackey out of the way and grabbed the chief's wrist, intending to crush it.
To her shock, the wrist felt like reinforced carbon fiber—unbreakable. When she squeezed harder, it crunched—not like bone, but like brittle wiring.
She'd crushed a circuit board.
The security chief tried to fight back, but she smashed a fist into his forehead. His skull cracked open like a brittle shell, releasing a puff of bluish-white smoke. His body collapsed instantly.
Jessica stood there, panting, rubbing her bruised shoulder.
"Well. That was a surprise," she muttered, staring at the motionless bodies on the floor.
They were all robots.
Even though she'd suspected something was off, the confirmation still sent a chill down her spine.
Gene's instructions had been vague: "Find anything suspicious about this company."
Well, how about synthetic humanoid guards covered in fake skin?
That qualified as suspicious.
Other than the androids back at S.W.O.R.D., Jessica had never encountered human-skinned robots before.
Could Gene's technology have been leaked?
She chewed on that thought, frowning deeply.
There was no way she was leaving Hansen Corp. undetected now. So she made her way to Carl Hansen's office, determined to dig deeper.
If a home reflects a person's soul, then an office reflects their place in society. Jessica moved fast, rifling through drawers and scanning documents.
Nothing but stacks of company paperwork.
No photos. No letters. No personal belongings.
She booted up Hansen's computer, bypassing the password with a S.W.O.R.D.-issued wristband, then dug into the digital files.
She even scoured his private transaction history—but aside from a single photo used to register the company, there was nothing. No activity. No notes. No real records.
It was like Carl Hansen... never existed.
Jessica slumped into the chair, staring around the eerily untouched office.
Too clean. Too sterile. Too... empty.
Suddenly, the pieces started fitting together in her mind.
The office that seemed like no one had ever worked in it.
A creeping realization dawned.
She finally understood what this company really was.
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