Chapter 38: Choosing a Proxy

Chapter 38: Choosing a Proxy

Over the weekend, George spent most of his time practicing newly learned spells, occasionally taking breaks to visit Hagrid and learn more about magical creatures, using his telepathic abilities to communicate with the creatures Hagrid cared for.

During this time, he didn't see Harry or Ron, who were reportedly being punished for crashing a car into the Whomping Willow.

By the second week, George continued his relentless point-gathering while absorbing as much magical knowledge as possible, learning and practicing new spells.

Meanwhile, in the Marvel world, after more than ten days of investigation, things were starting to come together.

One evening, George rode his modified motorcycle from the mutant school in the suburbs toward the Bronx, closer to the city.

At a checkpoint along the way, he flashed a high-quality fake ID to get through.

Over the past ten days, he had not only gathered information on the dozens of families and gangs in the Bronx but also paid a hefty sum for a fake identity.

Of course, this fake ID could only fool ordinary police. If he ran into the CIA, S.H.I.E.L.D., or the FBI, it wouldn't hold up.

Not to mention using this identity to open a bank account, deposit money, and buy Stark Industries stock.

So, from the start, George had no intention of buying Stark stock himself. His body was a lab creation with no official identity, and a fake ID wouldn't cut it.

He needed a proxy, but not just anyone.

First, this person needed to have some social standing. Otherwise, buying Stark stock on his behalf might raise suspicions and attract the attention of various organizations.

In fact, George suspected that even if he robbed every gang in the Bronx and used all the cash to buy Stark stock, it would still be a drop in the bucket for a giant like Stark Industries.

After all, he could only steal cash and maybe force the gang leaders to withdraw their liquid assets. He couldn't take all their wealth.

While the cash might seem like a fortune in the impoverished and chaotic Bronx, to Stark Industries, it might not even compare to the value of the artwork in Tony Stark's mansion.

The wealth of the truly rich was beyond the imagination of the poor.

A single painting in Tony Stark's room could be worth hundreds of millions. But for George, even a fraction of that would be enough to provide a stable life for the mutant children.

Right now, he didn't need to get involved in major schemes or go head-to-head with powerful organizations. He just needed stability to study magic and improve his abilities.

If it weren't for the looming threat of the Chitauri invasion and the possibility of Earth falling if the Avengers failed, he wouldn't even be staying near New York.

Second, the proxy had to have ties to the Bronx and couldn't leave. Otherwise, with so much money under their control, they might just run off, and George would have no way to track them down.

People would do anything for money, and he didn't believe a few months of interaction would earn him unwavering loyalty. He wasn't that charismatic.

Fortunately, after more than ten days of groundwork, he had a potential candidate in mind.

Tonight, he planned to watch a show. If everything went well, he could finalize his choice of proxy.

---

Parking his motorcycle in an alley, George wrapped himself in a black cloak and put on a common mask bought from a street vendor. Then, he activated his powers to their fullest.

The specially designed soles of his shoes, embedded with iron plates, lifted him slowly into the air.

After weeks of practice, especially with the influence of his wizard bloodline, his control over magnetism had improved significantly. He could now manipulate objects weighing over a hundred pounds, surpassing the lab's initial assessment of his potential.

If he faced X-24 now, he could toy with the adamantium-laced clone, making it unstable with his magnetic control.

So, at full power, he could barely manage to levitate himself using the iron-plated soles of his shoes.

Of course, the speed was slower than walking, making him an easy target in combat.

But in certain situations, it was incredibly useful.

For example, right now, he could easily reach rooftops, moving above the streets to avoid surveillance and slip into heavily guarded areas without being tracked.

---

On the rooftop of the seventh floor of a strip club controlled by the Chebel family, a man in his seventies sat in a wheelchair, watching a middle-aged man who had been beaten to within an inch of his life.

"Leon, you've been exceptional. I truly admired you and treated you like a son.

But unfortunately, today you must die here."

"Mr. Chebel, I didn't betray you! I've been framed! I've always treated you like a father. How could I ever betray you? You have to believe me!"

The middle-aged man, covered in blood, struggled to his feet, desperately pleading his loyalty.

He was the child of a drug addict. His mother had abandoned him when he was young, unable to endure their hopeless life.

At thirteen, he had accidentally saved Mr. Chebel from an assassination attempt by a rival family. From then on, he had been taken under Chebel's wing and lived the life he had always dreamed of.

Over thirty years, he had used his intelligence and dedication to help the Chebel family grow from a small gang to one of the thirteen major families in the Bronx.

But now, after a single assassination attempt, he was being executed as the mastermind behind a plot to seize control of the Chebel family. It was unbearable.

He had a loving wife, loyal brothers, and a newborn daughter. He had devoted most of his life to this family.

"I know you didn't betray me. The assassination was staged by me. Otherwise, with your current status and reputation in the family, I wouldn't have been able to execute you so easily."

Chebel sighed, his expression complex.

Hearing this, Leon's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Why? Why would you do this?"

"I had no choice. I'm old. The doctors say my body, riddled with injuries, has at most two years left.

But my son is only twenty. He's just taken over the family business and isn't ready in terms of ability or reputation."

Chebel coughed, his gaze filled with sorrow. He did care for Leon, but no matter how capable Leon was, he could never replace his own son.

"You were worried I'd replace the young master? But you know my loyalty! I would never do such a thing!"

Leon collapsed to the ground, as if all his strength had been drained.

Chebel wheeled closer and shook his head.

"Leon, I believe in your character, but not in your subordinates.

In my position, sometimes it's not about whether you want to sit in it. Your men would push you into it."

(End of Chapter)