Villain In MCU

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"Holy shit!"

The man and woman on the bed were startled, screaming as they grabbed the quilt to cover themselves. Jason, however, had already seen everything clearly.

The woman had fair skin, a voluptuous figure, and luscious lips that begged to be kissed. She was none other than Wesley's wife, Anne.

And the man…

With brown hair, blue eyes, a muscular build, and a black mamba tattoo on his arm, he was certainly not James Wesley, the bespectacled man with a refined look.

Jason's mind reeled with confusion.

"Jason! Why is it you?" Anne asked, clutching the quilt tightly as she stared at him.

Jason didn't reply immediately. He was conflicted. What had started as a covert mission had now turned into catching someone in the act. It was far too intense.

"Jason, this is a misunderstanding. He's just—"

Anne tried to explain but struggled to find a credible excuse.

Nonsense. The scene spoke for itself, no words needed.

With a sigh, Jason said, "Whether it's a misunderstanding or not, let Wesley come and see for himself. We've been brothers for years. He deserves to know."

"Jason, you can't do this!"

Anne panicked, crawling to the end of the bed, "I still love Wesley. I don't want to lose him. I swear this is the last time. Please keep this a secret."

"Shut up. You don't want to lose your lifestyle and high status, that's all." Her pleas made Jason feel sick.

"Alright, let's make a deal. Let me go, and I'll pay you—lots of money."

Jason leveled his gun at Anne, "That's Wesley's money, not yours. Now, call him."

"No way. If you want, shoot me!" Anne said defiantly, her eyes blazing.

"Fine, if you won't, I will." Jason pulled out his phone.

At that moment, the man on the bed silently reached under the pillow for a hidden M1911 pistol.

Bang!

The man's hand was shot through before he could grab the weapon. Blood stained the duvet.

"Arggggh…"

Clutching his hand, the man screamed in agony.

Bang!

Another shot fired, hitting the mattress beside his head. The room fell silent.

"Shh… keep it down. Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Jason said coldly as he pressed the call button, ignoring Anne's glare.

After a few rings, Wesley answered.

"Hello!"

"It's me."

"...Jason?"

"Hehehe… you guessed it. Guess where I am right now."

"…"

"Right again. I'll give you fifteen minutes to get home. I have a little surprise waiting."

Jason hung up and looked at the two on the bed, "Okay, wait patiently. Wesley will be here soon."

"Jason!"

Anne let the duvet drop, revealing herself completely.

Jason raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing?"

Anne got off the bed and walked toward him, barefoot, "Let me go, and I'll be your mistress. I'll serve you well."

She smiled seductively, striking a pose, "You've wanted me since we first met, right? Thought you hid it well, but I could tell."

Expressionless, Jason pointed his gun at her, "I think you're mistaken."

"Really? 'Jason is a good wife-thief'—that's what they say in the New York underworld. Is that a misunderstanding too?"

With a sly smile, she put the muzzle of the gun in her mouth, her tongue flicking over it provocatively.

Jason quickly loosened his grip, resisting the urge to pull the trigger.

Anne continued with a flirtatious look, "A man broke into my room and tried to assault me. You caught him and shot him. Isn't that the story?"

Jason smirked, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Click!

The sound made Anne flinch as she quickly stepped back.

"Anne, they're right. I am a notorious thief, but do you know why?"

Jason paused, answering his own question.

"It's because things in other people's hands always look more appealing. I grew up poor. Everything I have, I took from others."

Anne, confused, tilted her head, "I'm Wesley's wife. Don't you want to take me too?"

"You don't get it. I'm a predator, not a scavenger. I don't want garbage."

Anne, seething, shouted, "FUCK YOU!"

Jason remained unfazed, "Get back in bed. I don't want to hurt you before Wesley gets here, but don't push it."

Anne shot him a glare but returned to bed, covering herself with the quilt.

"Oh, and just so you know, while I may not eat junk food, I can still take a look." He laughed.

"Hmph!" She kicked the quilt aside in anger.

"That's more like it." Jason said with a smirk. "And don't be too gloomy. Wesley might just forgive you."

Anne shot him a death glare and raised her middle finger.

Several minutes later, the sound of an engine came from outside.

Jason went to the window and watched as a black Audi screeched to a halt on the lawn.

Wesley, in a sharp black suit, exited the car, noticed the bullet-riddled security camera, and grimly unlocked the front door.

"Jason, I came alone. Please don't hurt Anne."

"I doubt I need to." Jason replied, motioning for Wesley to come upstairs.

Wesley walked up the stairs with his hands raised. But as he neared the bedroom, he saw Anne in bed, crying pathetically.

Seeing Jason standing there, Wesley's heart sank. After a pause, he looked back at Anne. A storm of emotions crossed his face—confusion, doubt, anger… and murderous intent.

After a tense silence, Wesley clenched his fists, his face impassive, "Jason, there's a bottle of 20-year-old Scotch in the bar downstairs. Help yourself."

His voice was cold and calm, like the eye of a hurricane.

"Alright." Jason replied, heading downstairs with his gun.

In the dimly lit bar, he scanned through the bottles and found the Scotch.

After popping the cork, he poured a glass and swirled it, savoring the aroma. Meanwhile, from upstairs came Anne's terrified screams.

Jason paused, but then returned to sipping his whiskey, unaffected.

Upstairs, Wesley hadn't killed anyone in years, but it seemed he hadn't lost his touch.

Jason took a long sip, savoring the rich flavor, as Anne's screams eventually faded.

Wesley descended the stairs minutes later, his face pale as he dropped into a seat beside Jason, looking drained and broken.