Marvel and Beyond

Max drifted through the streets of Harlem in his car, searching for the address of Cell Labs. 

Given the nature of the lab and its funding issues, it was obvious that the team of scientists couldn't afford to station the lab in a prominent landmark of Harlem. 

Still, it wasn't far removed from the hustle and bustle of the area; just tucked into a quieter corner, away from the usual trouble.

Max stopped his car and looked around for a parking space but couldn't find anything near the lab location. 

After some searching, he parked in a spot a little farther from his destination. He stepped out and walked toward the lab, glancing around. 

The surroundings made him question whether a facility like this could sustain itself here. Though he found nothing overtly suspicious, he had an inkling that security might not be ideal in this neighborhood.

If Max planned to initiate research into confidential or sensitive projects, this location would be unsuitable and difficult to protect in case of espionage. 

He found it hard to imagine keeping corporate secrets safe in a place like this. Not to mention the long-term safety of his staff; especially when he would eventually expand the team in every department, whether in research or management.

When he reached the lab, a modest, unassuming building with no eye-catching signage or aesthetic appeal: he walked straight in, giving his name at the reception desk. 

The woman at the counter responded immediately, almost as if they'd been waiting for him or more likely, because visitors were a rarity in a place like this.

As he moved through the facility, guided by the receptionist, he took in the environment. 

The scarce resources, minimal equipment, and borderline absurd working conditions all stood out starkly. 

It was clear these constraints would be major obstacles in building a world-class research institution.

Suddenly, Max noticed a man approaching from down the hallway. He was slightly older, wearing a well-worn white lab coat that made his role unmistakable.

 Max recognized him instantly, he had reviewed the man's background before making the trip. 

This was Alex, the representative and head of Cell Labs, the man who had cobbled together a team of outcasts, determined to prove they still had something valuable to contribute to the world.

Alex approached, extending his hand. His brow was damp with sweat, and his nervous expression was too obvious for Max to miss. 

The man radiated anxiety, his grip during the handshake was tight, almost rigid.

"Hello, Mr. Knight. Welcome to Cell Labs. I'm Alex, the head of the team," he said quickly.

Max nodded with a modest smile. "Hello. I've seen the reports and some of the plans my father left. It's my pleasure to visit a place where people dared to stand against the tide and show the world what they're capable of."

His words were carefully chosen; not openly revealing his ambitions for the lab or its researchers, but still keeping Alex on edge while subtly expressing admiration. 

Max also hinted at his knowledge of the lab's precarious situation, making it clear he had done his homework. 

At the same time, he referenced his father's unfinished plans, offering Alex a flicker of hope for future collaboration.

Alex was visibly apprehensive, but the moment Max mentioned Arthur's plans, something shifted. A glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes, and excitement briefly overtook his nerves.

"Yes… yes, Mr. Arthur had spoken with us," Alex began, his voice trembling slightly. "But regrettably, he left us before anything could move forward. My condolences to you, you've had to take on such a heavy role at such a young age."

Alex clearly held deep admiration for Arthur. Perhaps the older Knight had left a lasting impression on the reclusive scientist. 

His passing seemed to have shattered the last hopes Alex had for the lab's future. 

And now, in front of him stood Arthur's successor: young, composed, and assessing everything with a sharp gaze. 

Yet Alex's thoughts had a clear purpose: to find someone who believed in their work and could invest in it.

Max nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging Alex's words without letting sentimentality weigh him down. 

"I wanted to visit the venture my father held in such high regard. If possible, I'd like to see what your team is currently working on. Perhaps you can show me around before we discuss anything substantial."

Alex swallowed nervously, his hands trembling just enough for Max to notice. 

"Of course. Why not?" he said, and turned to lead Max through the lab. The receptionist, sensing her part was over, quietly returned to her station.

As Max followed Alex, he couldn't help but shake his head slightly at the man's demeanor. 

It confirmed his suspicions: these scientists had no flair for business, no talent for bluffing or projecting strength. 

That likely explained why many had lost credibility in their previous institutions.

In today's world, Max thought, innovation wasn't enough. Developing breakthrough technologies meant little if you couldn't secure your patents or protect your research. 

Intellectual property was currency and without a shield, someone else would always steal the prize.

Watching Alex, Max concluded that if the leader lacked cunning and negotiation skills, the rest of the team likely wasn't much different.

 It was hard to imagine anyone with business acumen trusting Alex with critical deals.

'Well, whatever,' Max mused with a quiet chuckle. 'This is a good starting point for me.'

As they walked, Max observed the other researchers, who quickly moved aside at the sight of him, their posture and expressions betraying unease.

 Eyes darted his way, filled with curiosity and fear. Their behavior amused him.

'They must know who I am…their last hope,' he concluded. Their transparent reactions made them easy to read.

Still, their lack of guile didn't bother him. Max didn't need a team of slick negotiators or cunning strategists. 

He needed legit scientists, ones who could execute the vision he had in mind. 

And if they had no experience in guarding secrets or managing visibility, all the better. It meant he could keep critical layers of his operation hidden even from them.

Their behavior also gave Max another insight: if he took control of this venture, no one here would challenge his authority unless, of course, he made the same mistakes their previous employers had. 

These people had already tasted abandonment, betrayal, and professional humiliation. Their loyalty wouldn't be based on admiration, it would be based on survival.

Max exhaled softly, observing the dim lighting, the faint chemical odor, the scattered files on worn-out desks, and the buzz of malfunctioning equipment. 

It wasn't glamorous, but it was working. And in its raw, broken state, he saw something more valuable than polish: potential, and the chance to build something out of it.

….

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