"S-rank." Hill swiped his finger on the tablet, refreshing the threat level database.
A red "S" replaced the original yellow "B," and the file name changed from "Unknown Superpowered Individual" to "Mr. Judge."
Dawn broke in New York.
The shipyard safe house.
Frank stood on the scaffolding, pulled over a new waterproof tarpaulin, covered the hole in the roof, and hammered steel nails into the sheet metal.
Last night, Quinjet fighters from the Manhattan direction circled Brooklyn seven times. The frequency of their sonic scanners could unearth even rats hiding underground.
Ron sat at the folding table below. Three laptops with their batteries removed sat on the table.
Five seconds before the fighters arrived, he unplugged all the power from the safe house. Observation Haki locked onto the trajectory of every heat source in the sky; they perfectly avoided the search.
Jessica came out of the medical area carrying a bowl of cereal; Lin Xiaowei was still asleep.
She placed the cereal on the table. "Going to court again today?" Ron stood up, put on his black suit jacket, and pinned his name tag to his left breast.
"Yes. The show isn't over yet."
10:00 AM.
New York Supreme Court. The courtroom was packed.
Benjamin Donovan sat in the defendant's dock. There were no stacks of case files on the table in front of him, only a thin sheet of paper.
Ron walked to the judge's bench, sat down, and placed the gavel on the table.
"Fisk Corporation v. Hell's Kitchen Land Acquisition. Defendant Wilson Fisk is absent." Donovan stood up, his suit jacket buttoned tightly.
"Your Honor, my client is currently unreachable." He pushed the sheet of paper towards the clerk. "Given the inability to confirm the defendant's safety, the defense requests a motion to stay the proceedings." The clerk handed the motion to Ron.
Ron opened it, glanced at it, and closed it immediately.
"Motion dismissed." Donovan placed his hands on the table. "Your Honor, the defendant's disappearance is an undeniable fact; the proceedings cannot continue." Ron pushed the motion aside.
"The defendant has an obligation to appear in court on time. Disappearance is not a reason to evade justice." He pulled a blank arrest warrant from his drawer, picked up a pen, signed it, and stamped it.
"Given Wilson Fisk's unexcused absence from court, this court hereby issues a formal arrest warrant."
"A nationwide warrant." Ron handed the warrant to the court clerk, adjourned the court, stood up, and turned to walk towards the judges' passage.
Donovan stood there, looking at the arrest warrant stamped with the red seal.
Kingpin had disappeared. The ninety-third floor had been burned through. Now the court had issued an arrest warrant.
This vast criminal empire had been completely dismantled in twelve hours.
Donovan took out his phone and dialed, but only heard a busy signal. He put the phone back in his pocket and strode out of the courtroom.
Noon. Courthouse underground parking lot.
Ron walked to his black sedan, opened the door, and got into the driver's seat.
A dark figure sat in the back seat.
Nick Fury, wearing a black leather coat, leaned back in his seat. "Your car lock is too easy to open, Your Honor." Ron didn't turn around. He inserted the key into the lock but didn't turn it.
"The Director of SHIELD personally came to break into a judge's car. Looks like last night's fighter jets weren't wasted." Fury tossed a brown paper bag onto the passenger seat. "Take a look." Ron took the bag, unsealed it, and poured out a stack of photos and documents.
The first photo was a thermal image of the 93rd floor of the Fisk Tower, the dark red vortex clearly visible.
The second was a photo of Ron at work at the courthouse.
The third was a spectral analysis report of the fabric of a white overcoat, the conclusion section reading: Unknown substance.
Fury leaned forward, placing his hands on the headrest of the driver's seat.
"In the past three months, forty-two hardened criminals have disappeared from Hell's Kitchen. Add Wilson Fisk last night, and that makes forty-three."
"Where did you take them?" Ron stuffed the photo back into the paper bag and tossed it back into the back row.
"They're in a very safe place, much safer than your Raft prison." Fury sat up straight.
"Within the framework of international security, your actions constitute an uncontrolled superpowered threat. You've taken the law into your own hands; you've crossed the line." Ron turned to look at the one-eyed man.
"The law? Where was the law last night when Fisk kidnapped a sixteen-year-old girl on the ninety-third floor?"
"Where was the law when Ben Urick was poisoned in his home?" Fury didn't avert his gaze.
"I'm not here to arrest you. Captain Rogers doesn't consider you an enemy, and I'm inclined to give him a chance to prove himself." Fury held up one finger. "First, the place where you're holding people must be subject to SHIELD's supervision and spot checks."
Second finger. "Second, your operations are limited to New York City; you must notify us in advance if you go outside of New York."
Third finger. "Third, in exchange, S.H.I.E.L.D. will not reveal your identity, and we will provide you with the necessary intelligence support." The car fell silent.
Ron tapped his fingers twice on the steering wheel, then pulled a black metal USB drive from his inside suit pocket.
"I have a counter-proposal."
He handed the USB drive to the back seat. Fury took it, pulled an encrypted tablet from his leather coat, and plugged in the USB drive.
The screen lit up, and a video began to play.
Fisk Tower rooftop conference room. Three months ago.
Wilson Fisk sat at the table, opposite a gray-haired man—Gideon Malik, a member of the World Security Council.
Malik's voice came from the video: "Deal with those uncontrolled superhumans—your way. Leave no trace. In exchange, the Senate will ensure Fisk Corporation receives the next round of defense infrastructure contracts, seven billion dollars." The video ended, the image freezing on the Council emblem on Malik's left cufflink.
Fury's pupils constricted instantly. He flipped the tablet over and placed it on his lap.
Ron turned back, looking at the concrete wall in front of him.
"Your superiors, the World Security Council, authorized Kingpin to carry out the superhuman elimination plan in New York. Did you know that?"
Fury didn't speak.
Ron started the car engine, the engine vibrating low.
"Of course you know. You just chose to ignore it."
"Because you need Kingpin to deal with those you can't handle, you need him to do the dirty work for you in the mud." Ron shifted gears.
Fury unplugged the USB drive and stuffed the tablet back into his coat. "What do you want?" Ron slammed on the brakes.
"First, S.H.I.E.L.D. will not interfere with my Impel Down. No attempts to monitor, no attempts to infiltrate."
"Second, provide the coordinates of all known Hydra safe houses in North America."
"Third, the complete Winter Soldier project. Including the technical details of the brainwashing program." Fury looked up. "Bucky Barnes, are you in your hands?"
"Yes."
"What do you need his brainwashing program for?"
"To erase it," Ron replied.
Furry's coat rubbed against the leather seats. "In exchange?"
"As long as your Avengers don't get in the way of justice, I don't have time for them." Ron glanced in the rearview mirror. "If I come across any trash you can't handle, I don't mind cleaning it up. Also, all intelligence on Kingpin's criminal network, except for the Impel Down portion, is to be handed over to S.H.I.E.L.D.
Furry stared at the back of Ron's head for a long time.
"You're not negotiating. You're telling me what you're going to do."
Ron released the brake. "Right." Fury pushed open the car door, stepped one foot out, then stopped.
"Rogers said you're not an enemy, I haven't confirmed that yet." The door slammed shut. Fury walked into the shadows of the exit.
Ron floored the gas pedal, and the black sedan sped out of the parking lot. Sunlight shone on the windshield; he had regained control.
Once the Winter Soldier's file is in hand, the purification process can begin. Five thousand Justice Points for a peerless sword—a sure-fire win.
Washington, D.C. Tri-Wing Building.
Top Floor Office. Alexander Pierce stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the shimmering Potomac River.
The holographic projector on his desk was lit, an encrypted report floating in the air. Title: Fisk Tower Incident Assessment.
Below the report was a fragmented video. A white beam of light shot into the sky, Kingpin disappeared into a dark red vortex.
Pierce turned and walked to the desk, reaching through the holographic projection.
An agent in a suit stood in the doorway reporting: "Wilson Fisk is missing. S.H.I.E.L.D. has taken over Fisk Enterprises' data center, and our informant inside has been evacuated." Pierce picked up his water glass and took a sip. "Kingpin was just an agent; he's gone, he's gone."
He put down the glass, his fingers tapping on the table. "But what is that power that can make people vanish into thin air?" The agent looked down. "The Science Department is analyzing the remaining energy fluctuations. Preliminary assessment: it doesn't belong to any known technological system." Pierce walked to the holographic projection and zoomed in on the screenshot of the dark red vortex. The patterns at the edge of the vortex conveyed a profound sense of space.
"How's the progress of Project Insight?"
"The three sky carriers are undergoing final power tests and are expected to be airborne in two years."
Pierce shook his head. "Too slow. Speed things up, a year and a half. I want to see them flying." The agent stood at attention, accepted the order, and turned to leave the office.
Pierce walked back to the floor-to-ceiling window. An uncontrollable variable had appeared in New York, a variable that burned through ninety-three floors, vanished Kingpin, and captured the Winter Soldier.
He took out a miniature communicator from his pocket and pressed a button. "Activate the backup plan for 'Operation Winter.'" A faint buzzing sound came from the communicator. "Sir, the backup plan is still in the testing phase."
"Activate." Communication was cut off. Pierce gazed at the Washington Monument in the distance; the situation was beginning to spiral out of control.
Manhattan. A corner café.
Natasha Romanoff sat by the window, dressed in a plain beige trench coat and wearing black-rimmed glasses.
A laptop sat on the table, its screen displaying an unfinished press release, "Justice Reconstruction in Hell's Kitchen," authored by Natalie Rushman.
She picked up her coffee cup, her gaze passing over the rim to the entrance of the New York Supreme Court across the street. The black sedan had just pulled out of the underground parking garage.
The invisible miniature earpiece in her ear transmitted Fury's instructions: "Target confirmed. Maintain distance. Record all his daily activities. No contact, no probing." Natasha set down her coffee cup and typed "Roger" on the keyboard.
Across the street, Ron's car was stopped at a traffic light.
Ron, in the driver's seat, tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping across the traffic and landing precisely on this window seat in the café.
Natasha's fingers hovered in mid-air as she typed.
Ron looked away. The light turned green, and the black sedan merged into the traffic.
Natasha picked up her cup and finished the last sip of her coffee. She closed her laptop, stuffed it into her bag, stood up, and walked out of the café, disappearing into the bustling crowd.
Shipyard safe house.
Ron pushed open the metal door. Jack was lifting weights in the corner, the dumbbells now weighing eighty kilograms; the deteriorating serum was gradually improving his muscle density.
Frank sat at a folding table, a pile of gun parts on it, intently cleaning a gun.
"How's it going at the court?" Frank asked without looking up.
Ron took off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. "The arrest warrant has been issued. Kingpin is legally a dead man."
He walked to the entrance of the medical area and glanced inside. Lin Xiaowei sat on a cot, twisting a Rubik's Cube; the black veins on her arm had completely disappeared.
Jessica sat beside her, crushing a metal walnut into a flat disc.
"She's recovering quickly," Jessica said.
Ron nodded and turned to walk back to the main factory. The system panel popped up in his field of vision.
[Received encrypted data packet.]
[Source: S.H.I.E.L.D.]
[Content: Coordinates of Hydra North American safe house (location 17). Complete file on the Winter Soldier project.] Ron pulled out a chair and sat down. Fury acted quickly; the deal was done.
He pulled up the Winter Soldier's file; lines of code and brainwashing instructions scrolled across the screen. Keywords, trigger words, memory suppression program.
Ron closed the file and stood up.
"Jack." Jack put down the dumbbells. "Here."
"Go and bring Barnes out." Jack wiped his brow and headed towards the basement entrance. Bucky was locked in a specially made iron cage in the basement, his hands cuffed with seastone handcuffs.
Two minutes later, Jack brought Bucky up.
Bucky's metal left arm hung limply at his side, his long hair obscuring half his face. Without the triggering of a brainwashing command, he was in a dazed, standby state.
Ron walked up to Bucky.
Bucky looked up. His eyes were unfocused, like a machine that had been unplugged.