"Crime rates in Hells Kitchen hit an all-time low."
"NYPD fully mobilized; can the issues in Hells Kitchen be fundamentally resolved?"
All the headlines were reporting on the new changes in Hells Kitchen.
Harry smiled and looked at some minor news in the corner that no one noticed:
"Red-clad weirdo? A friendly masked man specializing in helping old ladies catch cats."
"Black masked man, mysterious vigilante of Hells Kitchen. Police Chief Stacy: All vigilantes are criminals at heart!"
Seeing Harry suddenly laugh at the news, George Stacy, who was nearby, walked over to him:
"The situation in Hells Kitchen is encouraging; this has never happened before, thanks to you and your father. On behalf of the citizens of New York, I express my gratitude to you."
"As a citizen of the United States, it's what I should do." Saying this, Harry pulled out his phone, "What do you think of these news stories? I saw media reports saying you once commented on this black-clad vigilante."
"Taking the law into one's own hands without a legal trial is just another self-righteous criminal."
Hearing the words of the NYPD Director, Matt seemed a bit displeased. Harry looked at the two of them and decided to stir the pot.
"So, what about you, Matt?"
Stirring the pot was effective. Matt immediately threw out arguments like 'You're not from Hells Kitchen, you don't understand this place' to counter. Police Chief Stacy, not to be outdone, held firmly to the core argument that 'violating the law and using extrajudicial punishment makes one a criminal.' Harry listened to their debate with great interest.
This visit to Hells Kitchen was at George's invitation; the Chief seemingly wanted to show Harry the results of their work.
One must know that Harry had contributed several hundred Police exoskeletons at cost, even allowing them to purchase some on credit.
Now the streets were full of patrolling Police, and those gang members had all gone into hiding; it looked much safer.
But most of the Police force deployed this time were still local Hells Kitchen officers. Harry knew this was a major hidden danger.
Seeing that Matt was about to turn the heat toward Harry's 'justifiable self-defense' actions, Harry stopped him just in time.
"Police Chief Stacy, I have a question. According to my understanding, while the crime rate in Hells Kitchen has dropped recently, the instances of severe crimes seem to have increased rather than decreased?"
Indeed, while robberies and brawls had decreased, homicides were cropping up one after another. According to daredevil Matt's investigation, this was Kingpin destroying evidence—by killing those who might have information but weren't part of his criminal empire.
Faced with the facts, Director Stacy could only say they were working on it.
Harry didn't mind. Their defensiveness showed he'd hit a sore spot; Kingpin was truly finished this time.
"Something's wrong."
Harry noticed Matt suddenly stop and immediately paid full attention—
Boom!
The sound of an explosion came from the distance. Judging by the noise, it was a massive blast!
"Command center, command center, calling command center! Calling..." Urgent voices suddenly rang out from the walkie-talkie, and Police Chief Stacy hurriedly responded.
"No, run!" Matt shouted as he lunged toward the two of them—
Boom!
Another explosion occurred, and the building in front of the three of them instantly collapsed!
Bang!
"Oh my God! Police Chief Stacy! Mr. Osborn!" the surrounding officers shouted, but after a few seconds, the figures of the three reappeared in the smoke.
"Cough, cough... Harry, Mr. Murdock, are you two alright?"
The three of them struggled to get up from the ground.
At the critical moment, Harry had grabbed the two of them and thrown them away from where the debris was falling.
However, to hide his powerful physique, he had to fake some injuries—Harry didn't want to over-demonstrate, but he also didn't want to be as flashy as the future Iron Man; he just wanted the public to think he was a strong man.
"Oh my God, Harry..." George was terrified by Harry's appearance.
Harry's clothes were torn by debris and stones, his body was covered in wounds, and one arm hung at his side as if it were broken.
The explosions continued, and the walkie-talkie on the ground buzzed frantically.
"You guys, take Mr. Osborn to the hospital immediately!" George ordered his subordinates to take Harry to the hospital.
But Matt seemed to sense something. Just as he was about to speak up to stop them, Harry stood up unsteadily and gestured for him to remain silent.
"I can walk myself. I'll just borrow your car then."
A few officers nodded to George and got into the car—it seemed their plan had succeeded.
Yet when Harry sat in the car, whether it was their imagination or not, the vehicle rocked violently, as if a tiger had been put inside.
Matt silently mourned for them—in his perception, those few policemen definitely had problems.
But Harry was no pushover either; there was clearly nothing wrong with his body, and the so-called broken bone was faked.
In Matt's perception, Harry's heartbeat was as dazzling as the Sun.
He decided to go do what he needed to do; this Mr. Osborn would definitely be fine.
"So, this probably isn't the way to the hospital, is it?" Harry cracked his neck. "I'm guessing this is the way to Fisk's Clubhouse, am I right?"
The policemen beside Harry glanced at each other and pulled out a phone.
"Mr. Osborn is indeed clever. I would like to invite you for a chat; I hope you won't refuse." The one speaking was indeed Kingpin, though his tone was much colder than the last time he called.
"So you think kidnapping me can solve the problem? You should know that everyone who could potentially become a witness and strike a blow to your criminal empire is under Police control, right?"
"Haha, Mr. Osborn, you must be joking. Look at these men beside you—which one of them isn't a policeman?"
Harry fell silent.
"Furthermore, in fact, my invitation this time is not to coerce you, but for business."
The car soon arrived at the destination, a private art gallery.
As soon as he got out of the car, Harry saw the man, over two meters tall, standing at the door like a guardian deity. Although Harry liked to call him a big fat man, when an ordinary person stood before him, the thought that he was fat would never cross their mind; he was a monster.
Of course, that was only for ordinary people. In reality, if Harry hadn't controlled certain aspects of the Spartan Biological Modification Surgery, his height would also have exceeded two meters, but that change would have been too obvious.
Even now, Harry's height was nearly 1.9 meters, and his weight even exceeded Kingpin's, so he didn't feel that this guy's size was suffocating.
"Welcome, Mr. Harry Osborn. Let's go inside to talk."
The fat man made an inviting gesture, appearing extremely respectful, but Harry walked inside without even looking at him.
It seemed Mr. Kingpin intended to soften his stance, but would Harry let him off?