Out on the dark water off a remote New Jersey beach, the cargo ship drifted slow and steady, engines idling low. The deck lights cast a dull yellow glow over stacked containers, long shadows stretching across the metal floor.
Three men stood spread out along the deck, rifles in hand, more bored than alert.
"I'm telling you, this whole setup's weird," one of them said, shifting his weight as he glanced out at the empty water. "Why bring the shipment all the way out here just to split it up again?"
The second guy shrugged, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "Rumour is it's because of those vigilante guys in New York. The ones who wrecked Tombstone's operation."
The first snorted. "Yeah, I heard that too. Sounds like something other crews made up to mess with us. Boss doesn't scare easy."
"Hey!" a voice snapped from further down the deck. "Less talking, more watching."
"Relax, man," the first guy called back. "Who's even gonna come out here? NYPD? Coast Guard? Or that fast lizard dude?"
"Yeah," the second added with a grin, raising his gun and mimicking a shot. "Guy sticks to New York. If he shows up here, I'll —"
"Really?" a voice said from right behind him.
"Yea —"
He stopped mid-word.
There were only supposed to be three of them on deck.
Slowly, he turned.
A figure in a white suit stood a few feet behind him. No face. No markings. Just still.
For half a second, nobody moved.
Then instinct kicked in. The man snapped his gun up and fired. The others followed immediately — gunfire tore through the quiet, sharp and loud, echoing off the water. They didn't stop until their magazines ran dry, until all that was left were hollow clicks.
Smoke drifted in the air.
The figure hadn't moved.
"You guys ever actually practice with those?" Jack said. The words landed flat.
"Drop him!" one of them shouted, already charging. He came in fast, swinging wide.
Jack leaned back just enough. The punch passed close — close enough to feel the air shift. He caught the man's arm mid-swing, twisted hard, and stepped through the motion. The guy lost his footing instantly. Jack drove his elbow into the side of his face.
Solid hit. The man dropped.
The second one didn't hesitate. He rushed in, throwing a quick punch that clipped Jack's shoulder. The impact landed — but the suit absorbed most of it, dulling the force.
Jack stepped in instead of back. A short jump, a direct kick to the chest. The man stumbled hard, boots sliding on the slick deck before he went down on his back.
The third didn't move right away. He stayed where he was, watching. Thinking.
Then his hand went into his jacket.
Jack saw it too late to stop the throw. A small object came flying toward him.
Grenade.
Jack reacted on instinct, his arm snapping up and firing. The energy blast hit it mid-air. The explosion went off early — loud, sharp, contained but strong enough to send a shockwave across the deck. The third man took it full force, knocked off his feet and slammed into the metal floor.
He didn't get back up.
Silence settled in again, broken only by the faint sound of water against the hull.
Jack stood still for a second, scanning the deck. No movement.
Good.
Heroic Points +10
Total heroic points: 343
He had come out to New Jersey as his first move beyond New York, and Red Queen's lead had been accurate. Remote location. Cargo ship. Weapons deal.
He crouched next to the nearest man — the one who'd charged first — and grabbed his collar, giving him a firm shake.
"Hey. Wake up."
No response. Jack slapped him lightly, then again, a bit harder.
The man groaned, eyes opening slowly. For a second he looked disoriented, then he focused on the white suit in front of him. His expression hardened.
"Man… screw you."
"Who do you work for?" Jack asked, calm.
The guy let out a short breath through his nose. "Yeah, that's not happening. You wanna kill me, go ahead."
Jack studied him for a second, then spoke without looking away.
"Red Queen. Run his ID."
"Yes, Master. Processing."
The man blinked, eyes shifting slightly like he was trying to figure out who Jack was talking to. What the hell —
A short pause.
"Master, I have the information. Subject uses the alias 'Jinx.' Extensive criminal history. Based on device data and recent network activity, he is affiliated with a gang known as the Steel Rats — a subordinate group operating under Kingpin."
Jack nodded once, then looked back at him.
"So," he said, almost casually, "you work for Kingpin."
The man's face changed — just a little, but enough. The anger didn't disappear, but something else slipped in under it. Surprise. Unease. How the hell did he —? He clenched his jaw, forcing it down.
"You've got no idea what you just stepped into," he said. "Boss isn't gonna let this slide."
Jack didn't respond right away, just looked at him for a second longer before standing up.
The man kept staring up at him, breathing a little heavier now.
"Yeah," he said, his voice rough.
"You're dead."
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