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Chapter 12: A Cure for All
"Boss, there's something else you need to know."
"Spit it out."
"Superman... he's developed a new power. Our agent monitoring Tony Stark reported that the arc reactor in Stark's chest is gone. He's looking like a regular person again. It seems he's been detoxified, and all this happened after a meeting with Superman."
Nick Fury raised an eyebrow. "So what's the big deal?"
"According to our experts, Superman might have the ability to cure diseases... potentially any illness known to humankind."
Nick's expression darkened. "You mean cancer? AIDS? Are you telling me he could cure all of that?"
A nod from his subordinate sent a ripple through the room. This could change everything. The rich, the powerful—everyone would go mad for a cure-all like that. "The Academy of Sciences wants us to convince Superman to cooperate with their research..."
"Research? Do they have a death wish? SHIELD isn't about to poke that bear. Let them try to convince him themselves."
"But, sir... they've already informed Congress, the president, and the military. We're being ordered to step in."
Nick slammed his fist. "Those idiots! They're playing with fire, and Superman's no friend to fools. If he turns, we're looking at absolute destruction."
After a tense silence, he finally muttered, "Fine. Contact Stark. He's got history with Superman—maybe he can talk him down."
"Yes, Director!"
---
Chapter 18: The Crime Kingpin's Ambition
Meanwhile, in a high-rise building, crime boss Wilson Fisk—known as Kingpin—was watching footage of Superman demolishing two monstrous foes. Kingpin's eyes glittered with ambition.
"Imagine wielding that power," he murmured. "With it, I'd reign supreme."
His henchman's voice was laced with caution. "But, boss... how do we control a monster like Superman?"
Kingpin sneered. "Threats. Find someone he cares about and use them. Even Superman will obey if we have leverage."
"Sir, according to our intelligence, he's an orphan, no close ties."
Kingpin cursed, frustrated. "How is that lucky nobody so powerful?"
A shadow in the corner stirred. Bullseye, Kingpin's right-hand assassin, smirked. "Don't worry, boss. He'll come around."
---
The Bar Showdown
In a bar across town, a group of rowdy drinkers fell silent as Bullseye—a bald man with a target tattoo on his forehead—stepped inside, exuding danger. Ignoring the murmurs, he ordered a drink, his cold presence unnerving everyone.
A drunken patron stumbled into him, oblivious to the threat. "Watch where you're going!"
Bullseye's gaze was lethal. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yeah, I am! What are you gonna do about it?" the drunk taunted, spurred on by the crowd's cheers.
Bullseye merely turned away, unimpressed. But as the man continued to provoke him, Bullseye's hand flicked almost imperceptibly.
The heckler suddenly crumpled to the floor, lifeless. A hush fell over the bar as realization dawned.
"My god," whispered a terrified onlooker. "That's Bullseye... Kingpin's 'killing machine.'"