"You've got guts walking in here alone," the woman called out, her voice sharp, confident.
Michael raised a brow as he eyed the striking Asian beauty sitting casually at the desk.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She smirked, crossing one leg over the other.
"Me? The name's Tye. Leader of Black Lotus. The new drug lord around here. And who are you, kid, walking in like you own the place?"
Michael chuckled and casually pulled a chair, sitting across from her.
"A new drug lord, huh? Guess you didn't hear what happened to the last one."
"No? What happened to him?" she asked, leaning forward.
"I killed him," Michael said with a cold grin.
The woman's playful smile vanished for a moment before returning as a mocking laugh.
"Hah! You've got balls, I'll give you that. But kid — even if you take me down, someone else'll rise up. That's how this world works. Drugs, power, blood… nobody really wins. Why don't you drop the tough guy act and work with me? Kingpin's gone. You look like someone with ambition. Together we could own this city."
Michael shook his head.
"Not interested."
In one smooth motion, he flicked his hand — an invisible force slammed into her chest, sending her crashing back in her chair, blood spraying from her mouth as she gasped.
"Gahhh!"
She struggled to rise as alarms blared and armed men poured in, raising their weapons.
"Boss, what happened?!" they shouted.
But Tye held up a hand, blood on her lips, glaring at Michael. She could feel it — his power was no joke. This wasn't some street punk.
"He's strong… stronger than anyone I've fought," she thought, wiping the blood off her mouth.
Still, pride held her steady.
"You sure you wanna start a war, kid?" she asked, gritting her teeth.
Michael stared her down coldly.
"Not a war. Just cleaning up trash. End your drug business in this city and leave. You've got one chance."
He turned and walked toward the door, not sparing the armed men a second glance.
Tye stayed frozen, her men unsure whether to attack or let him go.
She clenched her fists, but deep down, she knew she couldn't beat him now.
"Tch… dammit…" she muttered under her breath as Michael vanished into the night.
"Damn it… no one told me this city had a monster like him," Tye muttered, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth. Her pride stung, but she wasn't stupid.
She grabbed her comm and barked into it.
"Call it off. Shut it all down. Black Lotus pulls out of New York. Pack up and move overnight. I don't want a single trace of us left by morning."
Her men hesitated.
"Boss… are you sure?"
"I said move!" she snapped.
Within hours, the streets saw the Black Lotus disappear — their hideouts emptied, their dealers gone, their shipments rerouted. New York was no longer theirs.
Tye wasn't like other crime bosses. She knew when to fight and when to cut her losses. And after that small display of power from Michael — just a flick of his hand — she knew she couldn't win. Not now. Not with the exo-armor. Not with her best fighters. Not even if she called in every ally she had.
But his face…
That calm, uncaring expression…
It stayed with her.
"Tch… this isn't over," she whispered to herself, sitting alone in her office as the last of her men cleared out.
Even monsters bleed.
She'd find a way.
Someday.
**
Michael, meanwhile, sent a message to Viper.
"No more Black Lotus. They're gone."
He smirked a little, knowing she'd appreciate the news.
Viper replied quick.
"Good. Less trash in my city. I'll handle the rest."
Then she went back to her business, handling the remaining scraps of old gangs still too stubborn to leave.
But Michael's mind was already on something else. A new problem. Or maybe a new opportunity.
The news mentioned it quietly, like it wasn't a big deal — but it was.
The Darkhold.
Some unlucky guy in New York had found it in a basement. Nobody knew where it came from. When a S.W.O.R.D. team went in to secure it, the whole squad ended up dead. Every last one of them. Rumors said one of their own turned on the team after reading a page. Wiped them out in minutes.
Now S.W.O.R.D. had the book locked away somewhere, top-secret. But Michael knew better.
Nothing stayed buried forever.
"Guess I've got my next stop," he muttered, cracking his neck as he looked out over the city lights.
And just like that, he vanished — already plotting his move for the Darkhold.
A few hours later, under the cover of night, Michael stood on a rooftop near the Hudson. The air was cool, the city still alive with distant noise, but here it was quiet.
He had eyes on a secured convoy moving through the streets. Black, unmarked SUVs — government style. S.W.O.R.D. was relocating something, and Michael didn't need a guess to know what it was.
"Got you," he smirked, pulling out a small device. It was signal jammer that jamm all signal in one mile radius.
Cameras went out, signals scrambled. Nobody would see what happened next.
As the convoy crossed an empty intersection, Michael moved. One flicker of shadow, and he appeared right in front of the lead SUV.
"What the hell—!" the driver shouted, but it was too late. Michael slammed his hand down, the hood crumpling like paper, the vehicle screeching to a stop.
Before the others could react, he was already at the next car, ripping open the door. A soldier raised his rifle — a bad call. In a blink, the weapon was crushed, and the soldier was out cold.
Michael's eyes locked on the last SUV, the one in the center. Reinforced. Sealed tight.
"That's the one," he muttered.
The back doors swung open. Out came a squad in tactical armor, guns drawn.
"Stand down! You're interfering with a classified operation!"
Michael tilted his head, a grin on his face.
"Yeah, and you're in my city. So guess what — I don't care."
One of them charged. Michael caught him by the throat mid-air, slamming him to the ground hard enough to crack the concrete. The others hesitated.
The team leader barked an order — "Fall back, secure the package!"
Too slow.
Michael was already at the back of the last SUV. He ripped the doors clean off their hinges. Inside, sitting in a thick, chained case, was the Darkhold. Even sealed up, the thing radiated power — dark, ancient, alive.
"Bingo," he said, reaching in.
The team tried to fire again, but Michael raised a hand — a pulse of dark energy blasted out, sending them flying like ragdolls.
Grabbing the case, Michael looked down at it, his eyes narrowing.
"Let's see what secrets you've got for me."
And in a swirl of shadow, he vanished, leaving the wrecked convoy behind.
*******
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