Marvel: Rise of the Ultimate AI

Jill's Bar.

Rowan Arnold was a mid-level manager at Mason Industries. His favorite way to unwind after a long day was to grab a few drinks at this inconspicuous little bar tucked away on the corner. A simple escape to dull the corporate edge.

When Gene established S.W.O.R.D., the robotic army once stationed inside the Mason Industries Tower had been either relocated underground or sent to S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. Most of the remaining "staff" in the tower were now Red Queen clones.

These clones were indistinguishable from real humans. They came with full memories, forged identities, embedded loyalty protocols, and highly specialized knowledge. In many ways, they blended in even better than the robots they replaced.

Arnold was no exception.

He had a beautiful wife, "Five-Zero-Zero," an adorable daughter, and a job anyone would envy. Life didn't get better than this.

As usual, tonight he found himself at Jill's Bar.

Meanwhile, Jessica Jones sat inside, waiting for her mark to take the bait.

She was dressed to kill tonight. A sleek, form-fitting outfit hugged her curves in all the right places, while her long, jet-black hair tumbled freely over her shoulders. Every pair of eyes in the bar couldn't help but turn toward her. Jessica didn't need much to catch attention—her beauty did most of the work effortlessly.

Like sharks scenting blood, men swarmed her—one after another, moths to a flame.

"Excuse me, gorgeous," one man said, leaning over and sliding his drink across. "Care for a drink?"

Jessica barely gave him a glance before muttering, "Not interested."

The rejection was swift and brutal. The man slunk away, defeated.

By the time Jessica had finished her third cocktail and was just starting to get annoyed, her real target finally approached.

"May I buy you a drink?" Arnold asked politely.

"Finally took the bait," Jessica smirked inwardly. Outwardly, she flashed a charming smile. "How could a girl refuse a gentleman like you?"

Arnold could feel every jealous eye in the bar burning holes in him. He straightened his back with pride. If any of these losers knew what he did for a living, they'd probably fall to their knees just to buy him a drink.

Jessica, sensing that her mark was fully hooked, turned on the charm. They chatted casually for over an hour. To her, it was mind-numbing drivel. But Arnold seemed absolutely delighted—so much so that he didn't notice when Jessica subtly dropped something into his drink.

Completely enchanted, Arnold was putty in her hands. There was something intoxicating about her—not perfume, but a natural scent that seemed to drive him wild. So when she asked him to give her a ride home, he didn't hesitate for even a second.

Unfortunately for Arnold, he wouldn't be making that trip.

Barely three seconds after touching the steering wheel, his head slumped forward onto it—unconscious.

"Sorry, idiot," Jessica muttered coldly.

She immediately got to work. Using a custom-made toolkit, she began extracting Arnold's fingerprint and iris data to replicate his biometric access credentials.

Her plan had worked—better than she expected, actually.

Originally, this had all been a long shot. Jessica hadn't expected to get inside. She assumed security would stop her at the door and ask why she was entering Mason Industries' corporate building so late. She had her story ready: a concerned relative retrieving something Arnold had left behind.

But to her surprise, she didn't need the story at all.

The security guard at the front gate was practically sleepwalking. He didn't even look up when she scanned Arnold's ID badge.

No questions. No obstacles.

With Arnold's iris and fingerprint data, Jessica passed through every checkpoint with ease. She made her way to Mason Industries' hard archive room—the one that stored paper documents.

Sure, physical files were outdated. But a company like Mason Industries would absolutely still have them.

Besides, Jessica wasn't great with computers. This was her wheelhouse.

Navigating the building was almost too easy. She hadn't encountered a single soul. Probably because it was so late at night.

Once inside the archives, she clamped a flashlight between her teeth and started scanning the files.

"TARS-376… 386…"

"38601… 38602…"

She muttered softly as she searched. Finally, she found what she was looking for—TARS-38604.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, flashlight clenched in her mouth, she spread the documents out in front of her.

The file described some kind of advanced tech. Most of it was way over her head—mechanical schematics, engineering terms, obscure design theories. Jessica wasn't a scientist. After a couple pages, her head was spinning.

But she was a damn good detective.

So she combed through the mess for anything useful and jotted it down.

Satisfied, she carefully packed up everything and prepared to leave the way she came in.

Then—

"Who are you?"

A voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Jessica froze.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Someone had seen her.

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