Hearing the name Kingpin, Jack already knew exactly who these men belonged to — the most well-known figure in New York's criminal underground, the man behind an entire empire.
So I've touched Kingpin's operation. He was genuinely curious how many heroic points taking down someone like that would earn him. Kingpin was far more dangerous than Tombstone, far more ruthless — but that didn't mean he feared him.
He got the location of the second trading point from the gang member, then tied all three of them together and locked them inside a storage room below deck.
The trading site had one other ship. From what he'd been told, there were around seven to ten men on board — a light number.
Since the numbers are low, this is a good chance to test the Plumber suit in a real fight. It needs more data to be useful later.
Instead of trying to fully operate the captured ship, Jack adjusted its course just enough to bring it close, letting it drift the rest of the way.
The second vessel was already there, sitting low in the water with its running lights on.
As the ships drew alongside each other, the men on the opposite deck spotted him — standing there alone in the Plumber suit, no crew behind him.
"Who are you? Where's the usual guys?" the man who looked like he was in charge called out.
"They went to their mother-in-law's place," Jack replied.
That landed oddly enough that the entire group went still for a second, genuinely trying to work through what he'd just said.
"ENEMY ATTACK!"
All ten men raised their guns at once.
Jack didn't wait. He stepped off the edge of the ship. The suit's thrusters kicked in a beat late — just enough to carry him across, but he hit the opposite deck harder than planned, boots slamming down with a heavy clang, balance off for a split second.
Shots rang out immediately. Then several more.
The suit tightened slightly around his torso as the first rounds connected. The shock absorbers dulled the impact and he didn't feel much, but the hits were registering. He pushed forward anyway.
He closed the distance to the nearest man fast, dropped low, and swept his legs clean out from under him. One punch to the face as he hit the deck.
With Jack in close range, the others hesitated — they couldn't shoot without risking their own man. He used that half-second. A heavy punch sent the next one stumbling backward off his feet.
The rest came at him together, grabbing whatever was within reach. Seeing them closing in from multiple sides, Jack triggered the energy shockwave from the suit — a single burst that pushed the surrounding men back hard, leaving several of them dazed and flat on the deck.
He didn't give them time to recover. He moved through them one by one, fast and deliberate, until it was done.
When it ended, the deck was quiet again.
Jack stood still for a moment, breathing harder than he'd expected.
Ten guys at once with only the suit — that was genuinely hard.
[Suit Energy Decreased by 10%]
"Even one shockwave drained ten percent," he muttered, exhaling slowly.
He looked around at the men scattered across the deck. None of them were getting up anytime soon.
"Red Queen, tip off the police to handle this."
"Yes, Master."
[Host destroyed a weapon trade]
[Heroic Points +25]
[Total Heroic Points: 343 → 368]
He moved along the deck, checking the containers one by one. Most were sealed tight, stamped with fake labels that didn't match the weight or the smell coming off them. Weapons, most likely. Maybe more.
He popped one latch halfway, just enough to confirm — metal parts, packed tight in grease paper.
Yeah. Definitely not legal.
He let it close and stepped back.
That's when he heard it.
A faint sound, easy to miss under the low hum of the ship's engine.
Ring. Ring.
Jack turned.
On a small metal table near the cabin door, a satellite phone vibrated slightly with each ring, slowly inching toward the edge.
He walked over and picked it up, turning it over in his hand. Old model. Durable. The kind of phone people used when they didn't want calls traced.
Timing's not a coincidence.
He stared at it for half a second longer, then answered.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
No background noise. No breathing. Just a clean, empty line.
Jack frowned slightly.
"Hello?" he tried again.
A voice came through. Calm. Deep. Controlled.
"Who is this?"
Jack leaned lightly against the table. "You called this number. You tell me."
A short pause.
Then —
"You're not one of mine."
It wasn't a question.
"Guess not," Jack replied.
[Silence…]
"You're standing on my property," the voice continued, steady as ever. "Using my equipment. Speaking through my line."
"So you're the boss of those people."
Jack glanced briefly at the unconscious men spread across the deck, then looked back out at the dark water. "Your guys picked a bad place to do business."
Something close to amusement came through the phone — not quite a laugh, but the shape of one.
"I choose my locations very carefully," the man said. "Which is why I'm curious how you found this one."
"Honestly? I just randomly looked around and found it pretty easily," Jack said.
[Silence…]
"…What happened to my men?" the voice asked finally.
"Alive," Jack said. "They'll be at a police station soon."
Another pause. Shorter this time.
"I see."
Just acceptance — like he was already three steps ahead and adjusting.
"Are you police?" the man asked.
Jack tilted his head slightly. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Hm."
Thoughtful.
"If you were police," the voice continued, "you would have identified yourself by now. You'd be asking very different questions."
Jack smirked faintly. "You sound pretty sure about that."
"I am."
A beat.
"Which means you're not an official."
Jack didn't respond.
On the other end, the man exhaled quietly — not frustrated, just calculating.
"You've interfered with one of my operations," he said. "Cost me time. Resources. People." Still completely calm. "If this is a misunderstanding, you still have an opportunity to correct it."
Jack let out a short breath through his nose. "Yeah, I don't think that's happening."
Silence.
"You're confident," the man said. "That can be useful. Or it can be very expensive."
Jack glanced toward the horizon. In the distance, faint lights were starting to appear — police boats, still far out but steadily closing in.
"You know," Jack said, "the last guy who told me something like that ended up behind bars."
A pause.
Then —
"Hm."
Different this time. Colder.
"I don't end up behind bars," the voice said quietly. "I build the bars."
The line stayed open a second longer. Just enough for the weight of that to settle in.
Then —
"You'll learn."
Click.
The connection cut.
Jack lowered the phone slowly, staring at it for a moment.
That had to be Kingpin.
He set it back down on the table and looked out at the water. The blue lights were closer now, the sound of boat engines cutting steadily through the quiet.
Jack took one last look across the deck. Containers were scattered everywhere, and fallen men lay unconscious across the ship.
Seeing police boats getting closer to the area, Jack quickly left the scene.
Somewhere in New York, inside a high-rise office overlooking the city—
"The Steel Rats' trade got hit. Someone took out the whole crew."
The big man's voice sounded calm, but the anger hidden underneath was impossible to miss.
"Find whoever did it," he continued coldly. "And bring him to me alive."
"Yes, boss," the other man replied immediately. "I'll handle it."
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