In New York City, inside a lavish hall, several men in black suits were drinking and reveling. At the head of the room, sitting on a large chair, was a towering figure dressed in a white suit with a red rose pinned to his chest—a true giant.
It wasn't an exaggeration to call him that, as the women serving around him appeared like children next to a fully grown man.
This man was none other than the king of New York's underground world—Wilson Grant Fisk, known to many as Kingpin.
Relaxed and sipping his wine, Kingpin casually asked, "I hear Daredevil has disrupted some of our business again?"
One of his underlings immediately stood up. "Yes, Boss. But those were just small deals."
Kingpin nodded. "Hmm, using small deals to keep Daredevil occupied seems worth it. However," he said, his gaze sharp as he looked at the underling, "if you had the guts to eliminate Daredevil, it would be worth even more!"
The underling immediately dropped to the ground, too terrified to breathe.
At that moment, a figure in a black trench coat walked in slowly.
"It seems I've interrupted your disciplining of your men," said the newcomer.
Upon seeing the visitor, Kingpin's stern demeanor shifted to a sycophantic grin. "Ah, Director Nick Fury! When I heard you were coming, I immediately prepared food and drinks, just waiting for you."
"What brings you here?" he asked, playing the part of the gracious host.
Nick Fury ignored Kingpin's flattery, scanning the room before speaking in a calm tone. "Send everyone out. We don't need so many people here."
Without hesitation, Kingpin signaled to his men, and they all quickly and wisely cleared the room.
In front of Nick Fury, Kingpin shed his tough-guy persona, adopting a respectful stance. He knew that no matter how powerful he was in New York or even across the country, in front of Fury, the man with connections everywhere, he was playing a small game.
If Fury wanted, he could replace Kingpin in a heartbeat. After all, people like him always had enough dirt on them to be taken down.
Although Kingpin was confident he could take Fury out in a one-on-one fight, there was no point.
They were both in this for profit, and there was no need for mutual destruction. As long as each got what they wanted, there was no harm in playing nice.
Once everyone had left, Fury got straight to the point. "I need you to find someone for me in the Thirteenth District."
Kingpin laughed. "Director Fury, aren't you overestimating me? If even S.H.I.E.L.D. can't find this person, how could I possibly do it?"
"It's not necessarily a person…"
Fury didn't waste words and showed Kingpin a video. While the criminal underworld wasn't of much concern to Fury, when it came to finding people, they excelled.
After all, their underlings were like rats scurrying through the streets of New York, always the first to catch wind of anything.
"The last known location is in the Thirteenth District?" Kingpin watched the video with astonishment. He had never imagined something like this could exist in the world—a suit of armor controlled by someone, or was it a robot?
"Find him, but don't expose him. And it's best if you find him without provoking him," Fury instructed.
Kingpin couldn't help but feel frustrated. Find him, but don't expose him, and on top of that, don't provoke him? Was Fury looking for a person or an ancestor? Although he grumbled inwardly, he didn't dare express his frustration.
Instead, he responded with a flattering tone, "It's a tough task, but I'll do my best. I'll notify you as soon as there's news!"
After giving these instructions, Fury then asked, "Does Tony Stark's disappearance have anything to do with you?"
"Director Fury, I've never even met Tony Stark, the playboy. Besides, his disappearance happened in the Middle East—that's all madmen's territory. I stick to my own turf here."
Fury smirked and, with Agent Hill by his side, turned and left.
After Nick Fury left, Kingpin quickly regained his imposing presence. He pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket, which looked like a tiny toy in his massive hand.
"Search the Thirteenth District. Gather every little detail about what's been happening there," Kingpin ordered. "I want everything on my desk by tomorrow morning."
On the way back to S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury drove the car while glancing at Agent Hill sitting beside him. "You must be wondering why I asked Kingpin for help," he said.
Hill nodded.
"Coulson being discovered shows that whoever we're dealing with knows a thing or two about S.H.I.E.L.D.," Fury explained. "So we can't send any more of our people—don't want the person behind the mech to misunderstand. If that happens, it'll be hard to bring him into my plans."
Hill nodded again in understanding. So Kingpin was the bad guy in this scenario, while Fury got to play the good guy. Typical of Fury—cold-hearted as ever.
As they drove back to S.H.I.E.L.D., the roads were dark and deserted in the late night. Suddenly, a massive shadow darted across the road ahead.
Fury immediately slammed the brakes, and the car came to a screeching, drifting halt.
"Did you see what that was?" Fury asked Hill.
Hill, still in shock, nodded slowly. "It looked like a... lizard..."
Fury's expression darkened. Not that anyone could tell, since his face was already pretty dark. But he had seen it clearly—a giant, green lizard had leaped right in front of them.
"Let's get out of here!" Fury commanded. Aside from the car, they had no weapons on hand. Although the car had been specially modified, its features were designed to withstand attacks—not to fend off... monsters!
Just as Fury was about to hit the gas and speed away, a loud crash erupted from the car's roof.
Bang!
The roof dented inward, and at the same time, a clawed hand scraped across the windshield, producing a loud, grating sound. The reinforced bulletproof glass now bore several deep scratches from the claws.
"Hang on tight, we have to shake this thing off!" Fury shouted as he floored the gas pedal.
...