While Commissioner George Stacy fumed through overtime shifts, Hell's Kitchen's criminal underworld received word of the Gambino family massacre.
In a luxurious office sequestered behind heavy curtains, Wilson Fisk—the Kingpin—conducted an urgent conference call with the remaining crime lords.
"Gentlemen, I can confirm with absolute certainty that it was HIM. If we continue to operate independently, he'll pick us off one by one," Kingpin's voice resonated with controlled fury. "I propose we unite our resources and eliminate this threat once and for all."
An elderly woman's voice crackled through the line. "I concur with Kingpin. This 'Hell's Butcher' may be more formidable than we initially assessed."
"And how exactly do you propose we kill him?" another voice challenged.
Kingpin paused deliberately. "I previously assembled a hunting team that failed. This time, we require superior resources—more professional assassins, greater numbers, and a flawless strategy." His voice dropped to a menacing rumble. "Furthermore, I will personally oversee the operation on-site."
A pregnant silence followed before someone finally asked, "Are you certain that's wise?"
"I intend to confront this man face-to-face," Kingpin declared.
The proposal received unanimous approval.
The elderly woman spoke again. "What's the first phase of your plan?"
Kingpin's lips curved into a calculating smile. "First, we allow him to continue his revenge—unchallenged."
Jason's campaign of vengeance proceeded smoothly.
After dismantling the Gambino family, he delivered devastating blows to both the Algerian and Irish criminal organizations.
Now he stood atop a high-rise, surveying his next target. Earlier that day, David had discovered that the Lanska brothers—key figures in the Russian mafia—might appear at the bar below.
The brothers presented a unique challenge, not because of their combat prowess but their exceptional talent for evading detection. The same could be said for Jason's remaining targets. Kingpin, in particular, had not only escaped but had also abducted Vanessa—an unforgivable transgression.
Jason's mind buzzed with elaborate scenarios for retribution, though he had no one with whom to share these creative impulses.
Two inebriated figures soon emerged from the bar entrance, each accompanied by an elaborately made-up woman. They staggered toward a vehicle parked along the street.
Jason focused his concentration, and the scene before him transformed instantly.
His vision zoomed with preternatural clarity, bringing the distant figures into sharp focus. The familiar faces of the Lanska brothers appeared as if merely feet away—every detail visible, down to their unshaven stubble.
This was a new ability Jason had developed in recent days: Eagle Eyes. Simply put, it granted him extraordinary long-range vision. Even targets as small as rabbits or mice could be clearly discerned from distances of several kilometers.
Combined with his other enhanced senses, this ability flooded his mind with vast quantities of visual information whenever he surveyed his surroundings. After his attribute increase, he had allocated five points to his will attribute to better process this sensory influx.
He still had five attribute points in reserve. The healing effect triggered when allocating points could prove valuable in emergency situations.
Below, the Lanska brothers approached their car, women in tow.
David's voice crackled through Jason's earpiece. "You'd better take them down now. That beat-up pickup truck of yours won't keep pace with their Cadillac."
"I want to track them to their hideout," Jason replied.
"Don't worry. Without these two moderately intelligent bosses, those brutish Russian foot soldiers won't be able to conceal themselves effectively."
"Fair point."
Jason raised his rifle, took aim, and fired two rapid shots.
The bullets should have struck both brothers squarely in the chest, but at the critical moment, the shorter brother stumbled unexpectedly.
The bullet whizzed past his head.
A scream pierced the night. As the shorter Lanska turned, he witnessed a bright crimson fountain erupting from his brother's chest.
Little Lanska's heart seized with terror. Recognizing the imminent danger, he acted without hesitation, diving through the open car door.
BOOM!
A thunderous impact resonated from the car's roof.
BANG! BANG!
The bullets failed to penetrate—the vehicle was armored.
"Drive! NOW!" Little Lanska roared, his gaze fixed on his brother sprawled in a widening pool of blood on the asphalt. Big Lanska's eyes locked with his, the blue irises shifting slightly as if struggling to communicate one last message.
But blood spilled over his lips and teeth, and the familiar eyes gradually dimmed.
SCREECH!
The tires violently gripped the road, releasing clouds of blue smoke that momentarily obscured visibility.
In the next instant, the Cadillac lurched forward, carrying Little Lanska away from the scene.
From his vantage point, Jason adjusted his aim for the tires. BANG!
The car briefly lost control before stabilizing, though its speed diminished significantly.
Jason stowed his sniper rifle with a bemused expression. Lucky bastard.
But at that reduced speed, can you really outrun my old pickup?
A frenetic chase erupted along the city streets.
Jason's ancient pickup truck roared to eighty miles per hour, maintaining pace with the compromised Cadillac. He drew his sidearm and fired repeatedly, each impact leaving ghostly white craters across the luxury car's windows.
Under normal circumstances, with his master-level pistol skill, he could concentrate fire on a single point to eventually overcome the bulletproof glass. However, the pickup's poor suspension caused severe vibration, hampering his accuracy.
The situation called for "The Executioner."
Little Lanska noticed the weapon upgrade and screamed at his driver: "EVADE!"
BOOM!
The Cadillac's reinforced rear window finally surrendered to the impact, a gaping hole torn through the material.
However, Little Lanska had anticipated the shot, dropping low with his hands protecting his head. His foresight saved his life.
As Jason prepared to fire again, the Cadillac abruptly veered directly toward him.
Shit!
Though Jason possessed exceptional combat skills, his driving abilities were considerably less refined. According to the system's rating, his driving proficiency was mediocre at best.
The Lanska driver's skill clearly surpassed his own. Moreover, Jason genuinely feared that his decrepit pickup would disintegrate upon impact, forcing him to retreat.
Still, the Cadillac's damaged wheel prevented it from building sufficient speed to escape the pursuit.
As Little Lanska's anxiety peaked, his phone rang.
The voice on the line was immediately recognizable—Kingpin.
"If you wish to survive, follow my instructions precisely."
After the brief conversation, Little Lanska's expression darkened considerably.
Kingpin had revealed that a trap had been prepared, instructing him to lure his pursuer to the designated location.
Little Lanska suddenly recalled how one of his lieutenants had been uncharacteristically insistent about going out that evening after days of confinement. The brothers had relented, bringing their entourage for an evening of recreation.
The realization crashed over him—I've been used as bait.
Murderous rage surged through him, but he recognized his powerlessness in the moment.
With a resigned sigh, he instructed his driver, "Turn right at the next intersection. We have a new destination."
Shortly thereafter, the Cadillac descended into the underground parking facility of a nondescript building.
Jason followed, but quickly lost visual contact within the labyrinthine garage.
His communication with David had also been severed.
Damn it! Should have invested in that Ferrari after all.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the empty concrete structure: "Welcome, Hell's Butcher."
Jason located the source—a speaker mounted near a surveillance camera.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "You've got the wrong guy. I'm the new hero, Iron Man. I know the vigilante you're referring to—handsome and formidable as he is—but that's not me."
"Ha ha ha..." A deep, familiar laugh resonated through the speaker. "You might fool those incompetent police officers, but you can't deceive me, Hell's Butcher."
Kingpin.
Jason remained silent for a moment, neither confirming nor denying the accusation. Finally, he smiled coldly. "So you've become just another coward hiding behind a computer screen, Wilson Grant Fisk? Face me directly if you have the courage, you miserable bastard!"
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