[June 1933 - Federal Courthouse, New York]
Al Capone walked out of federal custody a free man, his conviction overturned on "procedural grounds" that had cost Alexander nearly a million in judicial investments. The press was in a frenzy.
"Mr. Capone! How does it feel to be free?"
"Are you returning to Chicago?"
"What are your plans?"
Capone, looking healthier than he had in years thanks to Sterling pharmaceutical treatments administered during his "medical evaluation" visits, smiled for the cameras. "I'm grateful for justice being served. As for my plans, I'm now employed by Sterling Enterprises in a legitimate executive capacity. My days of crime are behind me."
The reporters laughed, thinking it a joke. Alexander, watching from his car, knew better. Capone's criminal empire had been seamlessly integrated into Sterling's "legitimate" operations. Same network, same efficiency, different paperwork.
"Think he'll stay grateful?" Torrio asked from beside him.
"He'll stay useful. That's what matters." Alexander signaled the driver. "Besides, he knows what happens to executives who disappoint me."
"What does happen?"
"They find better opportunities elsewhere. Usually very far elsewhere. Amazing how many job openings there are in South American mining operations."
"That's cold, kid."
"That's business, Johnny. Sentiment is a luxury I can't afford. Not with what's coming."
[September 1933 - Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York]
The charity gala was everything Alexander despised about high society—performative generosity wrapped in champagne bubbles and empty promises. But it was also where deals were made, alliances forged, and enemies identified. So he smiled, shook hands, and played the part of the young philanthropist.
"Mr. Sterling!" Senator Walsh approached with the enthusiasm of a man whose campaign debts had recently vanished. "I was just telling the Governor about your innovative employment programs in Chicago."
"Creating jobs is both a moral and practical imperative," Alexander replied smoothly, neglecting to mention those jobs primarily involved moving quasi-legal goods through creatively interpreted regulations.
God, I'm becoming one of those assholes who speaks in press releases. Kill me now. Wait, been there, done that, got the reincarnation t-shirt.
"Indeed! Young men like you give me hope for America's future."
If you knew what I was really building, Senator, you'd shit yourself so hard you'd achieve orbit.
"Alexander Sterling?" A new voice cut in. British accent, crisp as winter air. Expensive suit that whispered rather than shouted its price. "Thomas Gloucester. I believe we have mutual interests to discuss."
Alexander's blood chilled. Gloucester. Council of Nine. The Secret Empire's shadow leadership—the same Thomas Gloucester who'd orchestrated the '29 crash and was still pulling strings from the darkness. He'd known they existed, but direct contact this early wasn't in his calculations.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. This is like aggroing an elite mini-boss while you're still grinding in the tutorial area.
"Mr. Gloucester," Alexander extended his hand, mind racing. "I wasn't aware you were in New York."
"I make it my business to meet promising young industrialists." Gloucester's smile never reached his eyes. "Particularly ones who showed such... prescience about the market correction."
They noticed. Of course they noticed. Nothing says 'I have supernatural knowledge' like perfectly timing the biggest crash in history.
"Lucky timing," Alexander deflected. "And conservative investment strategy."
"Yes, quite lucky. Almost as if you knew exactly when to move." Gloucester sipped his champagne. "Tell me, Mr. Sterling, do you believe in coincidence?"
"I believe in pattern recognition and probability analysis. Also in not having this conversation without my lawyers present."
Gloucester actually chuckled. "Cautious. I admire that. I represent a group of like-minded individuals. Industrialists, financiers, men of vision. We're always recruiting those who see... further than most."
The Council of Nine's recruitment pitch. Fan-fucking-tastic. Time to play dumb. Or at least dumber.
"I'm flattered by your interest, Mr. Gloucester, but Sterling Enterprises has its own vision."
"Of course. But visions can align. Consider this an open invitation." Gloucester produced a card. "When you're ready to think beyond mere national concerns."
After Gloucester departed, Alexander found a quiet corner and examined the card. Just an address in London. No names, no identifiers. The Council was careful even in their recruitment.
"Making new friends?" Torrio materialized beside him, eyes tracking Gloucester's movement through the crowd like a predator marking prey.
"The kind of friends who'd stab you with a smile and charge you for the knife," Alexander pocketed the card. "Have our security teams dig into Thomas Gloucester. Carefully. These aren't the kind of people you investigate openly."
"That bad?"
"Worse. They're competent."
[October 1933 - Sterling Enterprises Advanced Materials Division]
"It's called vibranium," Howard Stark Jr. announced, producing a small sample that seemed to hum with possibility. "Rarest metal on Earth. Absorbs vibration, stores energy, practically indestructible."
Alexander examined the sample, hiding his excitement. In the original timeline, Howard wouldn't acquire vibranium for years. His influence was accelerating things.
Great. I'm butterfly-effecting the timeline. Next thing you know, Captain America will be created in 1935 and I'll have to deal with super-soldiers before I finish puberty.
"Where did you source this?"
"That's the expensive part. Small African nation called Wakanda. They're... protective of their resources. This cost more than most buildings."
"Can you get more?"
"Maybe. If we're willing to pay prices that would make Midas weep." Howard leaned back. "What's your interest? This isn't exactly steel production."
"Call it future-proofing. Wars aren't won with conventional materials anymore." Alexander handed back the sample. "Make them an offer. Whatever it takes."
"You're serious."
"Deadly. And Howard? Keep this between us. The kind of people who'd be interested in vibranium aren't the kind we want knowing we have it."
Howard nodded slowly. "Speaking of interested parties, I've been hearing rumors. Government types asking about enhanced manufacturing capabilities. Military applications."
"Let them ask. When they're ready to pay, we'll be ready to provide." Alexander smiled. "That's the beauty of neutrality. Everyone's a potential customer."
"Until they're not."
"Then we'll be Switzerland with better weapons and fewer mountains."
[January 1934 - Sterling Tower, Executive Floor]
Alexander's office had evolved into a command center. Maps covered one wall—red pins for Sterling operations, blue for competitors, black for potential threats. The Gloucester situation required careful handling.
"The Council's pushing," Torrio reported. "Subtle pressure on our European suppliers. Some banking irregularities in our Swiss accounts."
"They want me to come begging for membership," Alexander mused. "Think I need their protection."
"Do we?"
"No. But it might be useful to let them think we do." Alexander moved to his desk. "Arrange a meeting. Neutral ground. Make it seem like I'm finally interested."
"That's dangerous, boss. These aren't street thugs."
"No, they're worse. They're true believers with decades of experience manipulating markets and governments." Alexander pulled out Gloucester's card. "But every organization has weak points. Even shadow cabals bent on world domination."
"And if they don't buy the act?"
"Then we go to war. Corporate war, but war nonetheless." Alexander smiled coldly. "I've been preparing for that since day one."
[February 1934 - Abandoned Warehouse, Newark]
The meeting with Gloucester was everything Alexander expected—theatrical, vaguely threatening, designed to impress. The Council of Nine apparently watched the same movies he did.
Next they'll be putting their base in a volcano and demanding one million dollars. Evil organizations have no imagination.
"Mr. Sterling," Gloucester stood in carefully arranged shadows. "I'm pleased you've reconsidered."
"I'm considering many things. Your organization among them."
"We prefer to think of ourselves as architects of necessary change. The current world order is chaos. We would bring structure."
You mean you'd bring fascism with extra steps and a side of world domination. Hard pass.
"And my place in this new structure?"
"Your industrial empire would thrive. Protected markets, guaranteed contracts, elimination of competition through... various means."
"In exchange for?"
"Loyalty. Resources. And when the time comes, manufacturing capabilities for specialized projects."
Translation: Build weapons for us when we try to take over the world. Yeah, that won't backfire spectacularly.
Alexander pretended to consider this. "I'd need guarantees. Protections. My operations are complex."
"Of course. We're not unreasonable. Consider this a partnership of equals."
Equals. Right. Until you don't need me anymore and I have an 'accident.' I've seen this movie.
"I'll need time to consider fully."
"Naturally. But don't wait too long. The world is changing faster than most realize. Those who aren't with us..." Gloucester let the threat hang.
"Will be against you. Yes, I grasp the concept." Alexander stood. "I'll be in touch."
As he left, Alexander made mental notes. Three guards visible, probably six hidden. Gloucester favored his right side—old injury, perhaps. The warehouse had two exits they wanted him to see, which meant at least one they didn't.
Information was ammunition, and he was loading for bear.
[March 1934 - Sterling Enterprises Board Meeting]
"Gentlemen," Alexander addressed his board, a collection of ambitious men who understood that legality was more guideline than rule. "Sterling Enterprises has grown 3000% in five years. We now control major stakes in steel, shipping, early aviation, and pharmaceutical research. Our government contracts are secure through 1940. But this is just the beginning."
He clicked a button, revealing expansion plans that made several members gasp.
"Oil production in Texas and California. Electronics manufacturing in New York. Chemical plants in New Jersey. Each positioned to supply military needs when—not if—America enters the coming conflict."
"Mr. Sterling," one member ventured, "you speak of war as certainty."
"Because it is. Germany is rearming. Japan is expanding. The Soviet Union is industrializing. The only question is timing." Alexander's voice carried absolute conviction. "When it comes, Sterling Enterprises will be America's arsenal. And arsenals are profitable."
The board exchanged glances. They'd tied their fortunes to a teenager who spoke like Caesar and planned like Machiavelli. Too late to back out now.
"Any other concerns?"
Silence.
"Excellent. Oh, one more thing. We're recruiting a Dr. Abraham Erskine from Germany. Biochemist, brilliant, likely to need extraction soon. Arrange it quietly."
"Why him specifically?" Capone asked, looking healthier than ever in his legitimate executive suit.
"Because his research into human enhancement will be worth more than all our current holdings combined. Trust me on this."
They did. They had to. Alexander Sterling had been right about everything else.
[April 1934 - Sterling Tower, Late Night]
Alexander stood at his window, looking out over Depression-era New York. The city below struggled, but from up here, he could see the bones of what it would become. What he would help it become.
The phone rang. Private line.
"Sterling."
"It's done," Torrio's voice. "Erskine's extraction is arranged. Should be stateside within the month."
"Good. And Gloucester?"
"Still thinks you're playing hard to get. His people are watching, but not moving."
"Let them watch. They'll see what I want them to see." Alexander hung up, returning to his contemplation.
In five years, he'd built an empire from nothing but future knowledge and ruthless ambition. In five more, that empire would help win a war. And after that...
After that, the real game would begin. When gods and monsters walked the Earth, when the line between hero and villain blurred beyond recognition, Sterling Enterprises would be ready.
Because Alexander Sterling didn't plan to be a bit player in the Marvel Universe.
He planned to be a major antagonist. The kind that made heroes question their principles and villains reconsider their methods.
The kind that won by making everyone else play his game.
Fuck being a hero, he thought, raising a glass of scotch to his reflection. Heroes die. Villains get defeated. But the man who owns the game board? He just keeps collecting rent.
Tomorrow, he'd continue recruiting. Building. Preparing.
Tonight, he allowed himself one moment of satisfaction. He was exactly where he needed to be, exactly when he needed to be there.
And if that meant playing corporate villain to save his own skin when the real threats arrived?
So be it.
Welcome to Sterling Enterprises. Where the only principle is profit, and the only rule is don't get caught.
Now let's go make some money and try not to destroy the timeline too badly.
Narrator: He would, in fact, destroy the timeline quite badly.