At Alan's home.
Although there was a little spat at the dining table, it didn't affect the bond between Gwen and Pikachu once they got off the table.
In the kitchen, Alan was washing the dishes while Gwen and Pikachu played in the living room.
"Pikachu?"
During their play, Pikachu noticed the web-shooter on Gwen's wrist and couldn't help but become curious.
Seeing Pikachu's interest, Gwen felt a little smug.
This was something Alan made for me!
You don't have one, so you can't bribe me with chocolate biscuits.
Gwen then demonstrated the web-shooter's abilities by firing a web, which made Pikachu jump up and down in applause.
"So, Pikachu, am I awesome or what?"
Gwen proudly looked at Pikachu.
Alan, washing dishes in the kitchen, quietly listened to their bickering.
Girls, they always want to compete in everything.
Gwen originally thought Pikachu would be awed by her, eyes shining with admiration. But to her surprise, Pikachu, in a very human-like manner, raised a tiny finger and waved it dismissively, saying, "Pika... Pika..."
It looked as though it was saying, "That's not impressive."
Gwen immediately got fired up. This web-shooter was something Alan made for her. It was with its help that she could swing through New York City and fight crime. And now Pikachu was looking at it with disdain.
"Hmph! Pikachu, I'm not talking to you anymore."
Gwen turned away, pretending to be angry.
Seeing Gwen upset, Pikachu quickly shook her hand, trying to coax her out of her mood. Then it patted the two little red spots on its cheeks, saying, "Pika... Pika..."
Gwen glanced at Pikachu, puzzled. "Do you have something to show me?"
Pikachu nodded vigorously, "Pika... Pika..."
Gwen immediately straightened up, looking at Pikachu with curiosity. Could Pikachu have a skill of its own?
But what happened next completely stunned Gwen.
Pikachu clenched its little fists, mustering all its strength as it shouted, "Pika... Chuu..."
Crackle, crackle...
From the two red spots on its cheeks, golden electricity quickly appeared. Two streams of electricity shot out from the red spots, converging into one, and then zapped towards the wall in front of them.
In an instant, the once-white wall was scorched black.
Gwen was left speechless at the sight.
Pikachu actually...
Can generate electricity?
"Alan... Alan... Pikachu... He can generate electricity!"
Just as Alan was stepping out of the kitchen, he glanced at the scorched wall. It didn't seem to have the power of 100,000 volts. He wondered if Pikachu was holding back or if it simply couldn't release that much voltage yet.
Alan explained, "It's nothing. Pikachu is a genetically engineered pet, so it's normal for it to have some special skills."
Is it really normal?
Gwen looked at Pikachu, thinking back. When Dr. Connors turned into the Lizard, he also gained a monstrous regeneration ability.
Looking at Pikachu again...
Hmm, I guess it is pretty normal.
Curious, Gwen reached out to touch the two little red spots on Pikachu's cheeks. Pikachu lightly released some electricity, making Gwen's hand tingle slightly.
Gwen couldn't help but laugh.
Seeing how much fun the two were having, Alan warned, "If the two of you start electrocuting things in the house again, your snacks will be confiscated."
Hearing Alan's threat, both Gwen and Pikachu immediately lowered their heads in shame. "Sorry..."
Alan chuckled and turned on his computer.
On the screen were all the details about Kingpin, organized by the Red Queen. After a morning of investigation, with the Red Queen's abilities, she had almost hacked into every network in the world.
Any information related to Kingpin from around the world had been gathered.
As Alan read through these alarming reports, he furrowed his brow.
How could someone like this thrive in the United States? It couldn't happen without those in power turning a blind eye.
To them, as long as their regime remains stable, they don't care what's happening below. Occasionally, when public outrage peaks, they push Kingpin forward as a scapegoat to take the blame for everything. And then it's business as usual.
"Oh? He still has a few pending cases in New York?"
Alan noticed that Kingpin still had a few minor lawsuits in New York City.
These minor lawsuits, without exception, were cases where other companies were accused of infringing on Fisk's interests. They were then taken to court and forced to pay enormous settlements. If they couldn't pay, they had to give up their companies as collateral, handing over management directly to Kingpin. It was a clever scheme to gain something for nothing.
Alan had various documents in his possession, which the Red Queen had organized. It quickly became apparent that all of them had been tampered with by Kingpin's people. Any digital records had been altered by Kingpin's hackers.
However, companies with stronger defenses were harder to fool, so Kingpin targeted smaller, emerging companies with no significant backing. Although these companies weren't large, their numbers were plentiful.
As Alan reviewed the information on his computer, a perfect plan began to form in his mind.
"Next, let's see who can help me take down Kingpin," Alan murmured as he looked through the upcoming cases involving Fisk. His eyes finally settled on one particular case—more precisely, on the lawyer handling it.
Matthew Michael Murdock.
This was the same Daredevil who had helped Alan fend off some thugs late one night.
Daredevil and Kingpin were long-time adversaries.
Alan calmly instructed, "Red Queen, anonymously send all the details of the case Murdock is handling to him. Also, revert all the changes made by Kingpin's hackers and send the details of those changes to everyone involved."
"Understood, Master," the Red Queen replied.
Curious, Gwen asked, "Alan, what are you doing?"
Alan smiled, his eyes on the computer screen, and said, "Nothing much, just helping a friend with a lawsuit."
But in his mind, Alan thought to himself: Kingpin, your nightmare is about to begin.
Gwen glanced at the screen but didn't ask further.
Meanwhile, in New York City.
At Murdock's law firm, Matthew Murdock was organizing his case files when he heard a notification from his computer—it was the sound of an incoming file.
Murdock furrowed his brow and said to his female assistant, "Check who sent that file."
"Alright, Mr. Murdock," the assistant replied, moving to Murdock's computer to review the new file. As she read through it, she was utterly stunned.
"Mr. Murdock, we're guaranteed to win this case…"
Murdock smiled wryly and shook his head. "Even though we're up against Kingpin, a notorious criminal, we haven't found any solid evidence of his crimes. How can you say we're guaranteed to win? Even I can only do my best to secure the victims' legal rights."
Murdock sighed, shaking his head again. It was precisely because the world was so dark that he had devoted himself to being a lawyer, even if it meant making only a small difference.
He wanted to fight for the dignity of innocent people wronged by injustice, at least to make the situation less bleak.
The assistant looked at Murdock. She had never thought of his blindness as a problem before, but now she felt it was truly a shame he couldn't see this.
Even with his heightened senses, some things required eyesight. What you can't see, you can't see.
"No, Mr. Murdock. We really are guaranteed to win," she insisted. "Because the files that just came in contain all the evidence of Kingpin's crimes."
Murdock thought she was joking and said sternly, "We're on a tight schedule. Don't joke around."
But even the assistant was starting to question if she was dreaming. In her twenty-plus years of legal practice, she had never seen such comprehensive evidence of criminal activity.
...
"Do we even need to go to court for this? Just hand this over, and it's done!"
But Matt couldn't see, and he didn't believe it.
"Mr. Murdock, I'm serious. This anonymous file contains actual evidence of Fisk's crimes," the assistant insisted. "I'll print them in Braille for you."
Soon, she got to work. Before long, a stack of Braille documents was placed in front of Murdock. As he read through each page with his fingers, his reading pace was rapid. Gradually, Murdock's expression grew increasingly grim.
"Stop printing. Go verify the truth of some of the claims in these documents and report back to me quickly!"
"Yes, Mr. Murdock!" The assistant hurried out of the office.
Murdock fell into silence. "Who... is helping me?"
It wasn't just Murdock. The same scenario played out across New York City. Almost without exception, the people receiving this information were those who had been previously wronged by Fisk.
In the past, they had lacked evidence, and their appeals had gone unheard. But now, the evidence had found its way to them. Many people wept with joy, clutching the proof they needed to finally take revenge.
As a result, numerous law firms and police stations in New York were overwhelmed with visitors that day.
At the NYPD...
George sat in his office, watching the endless stream of people coming in to file reports. His head was spinning.
A detective walked into George's office.
George immediately asked, "What's going on? What's the situation now?"
The detective replied, "Chief, all these people outside are here to file reports."
"No kidding. I can see they're here to file reports!" George snapped. "I'm asking you who they're reporting!"
The detective, looking bewildered, said, "They're all here to report Fisk."
George tried to stay calm. "All these people showing up at once, each holding evidence and all of it pointing to Fisk."
He tapped his fingers on the desk, realizing that someone was clearly targeting Fisk. To mobilize this many people and arm them with solid evidence—could it be...?
George immediately considered one possibility. This situation could only be explained if someone higher up had decided to take down Fisk. Otherwise, it didn't make sense.
"Recall all the detectives outside and process every case that comes in."
"But, Chief... we're dealing with Fisk!" the detective said in a low, anxious tone. Fisk wasn't just anyone.
George had risen to the rank of commissioner because he could see the bigger picture. "Just do as you're told. Stop whining!"
"Yes, Chief!" The detective quickly complied after George's stern order.
Left alone in his office, George was lost in thought. He couldn't figure out why someone would suddenly go after Fisk. But it didn't matter.
George had wanted to rid New York of this underground cancer for a long time. Fisk's operations had always been airtight, and his team of lawyers had ensured that he could stay out of jail despite the lack of evidence.
But today was different...
Meanwhile, Alan sat in front of his computer, watching the chaos unfold at police stations and law firms across the city. A cold smile played on his lips.
Revenge...
Had begun.
...
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