Late night in a dimly lit alley behind a neighborhood pub.
Two officers parked their patrol car by the back entrance and stepped out into the cool night air.
A 24-hour convenience store glowed at the corner, its fluorescent signs cutting through the darkness.
Jenkins, the white officer, loosened his belt to accommodate his substantial belly. "Come on, Isaac, let's grab some coffee. The shipment should be ready by the time we get back."
Isaac's face broke into an eager grin. "Hey, what are you planning to do with your cut? I'm thinking Hawaii this year—sunshine, beaches, beautiful women. Damn, I'm going to live it up!"
Jenkins rolled his eyes. "Always thinking about pleasure. Listen, I'm looking out for you here. I know people—fifty grand gets you a sheriff's badge, one hundred for captain. Interested?"
Isaac's eyes widened. "For real? Don't mess with me on this."
Jenkins scoffed. "Don't believe me? Fine, go to Hawaii. But when you get back, you'll be calling me 'sir' whenever we cross paths."
"You sure you're not just trying to hustle me out of my money?"
"I guarantee your promotion within three months. If it doesn't happen, I'll refund every penny."
Hesitation flickered across Isaac's face before he finally steeled himself. "Alright, you've got a deal. The full fifty K for sheriff."
"Smart man. Once you're sheriff, earning that money back will be child's play."
Jenkins clapped his partner's shoulder, barely concealing the calculating gleam in his eyes.
Each sheriff promotion netted a 30K kickback—60K for two officers—leaving him with a comfortable 40K profit.
Hawaii, here I come, and I'm going to make the most of every moment.
From a rooftop overlooking the alley, Jason observed the corrupt officers with cold intensity.
He'd deliberately avoided his Hell's Butcher disguise tonight. This was personal retribution, and he wanted them to recognize exactly who was delivering their judgment.
Glancing over, he caught sight of several shadowy figures slipping through the pub's back door, loading packages into the patrol car.
A predatory smile played across his lips. Let's add some spice to your evening, gentlemen.
Meanwhile, after persistent effort, Wilson Fisk had finally secured a dinner date with his ideal woman.
He collected her in his seven-meter Lincoln limousine, and they arrived at an exclusive French restaurant occupying the penthouse of a Manhattan high-rise.
The dining room offered breathtaking panoramic views through 270-degree floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing Manhattan's glittering skyline in all its glory.
A meticulously dressed maître d' escorted them to a table at the center of the restaurant.
It wasn't the most private spot with the best view—tables surrounded them on all sides. A flicker of disappointment crossed Vanessa's features.
Yet as they took their seats, she noticed the remarkable hush that pervaded the space despite its numerous patrons. Not even whispers disturbed the atmosphere.
Accompanied by the gentle strains of violin music, Kingpin conducted himself with impeccable charm, revealing his thoughts to Vanessa with measured eloquence.
He spoke of his childhood, his ideals, his ambitions, and his philosophy of life.
His perspectives were clear yet unconventional, his voice low but resonant with unmistakable power.
Initially drawn to his commanding presence, Vanessa found herself increasingly captivated by his intellect as their conversation progressed. Admiration and appreciation began to blossom within her.
What an extraordinary man.
The chemistry between them intensified with each passing moment...
Jenkins and Isaac finished their coffee and returned to the alley. The pub's back door was now locked with no one in sight.
They performed a cursory inspection of their vehicle, noting that the suspension sat noticeably lower than before.
Looks like the cargo's been loaded.
Following their established route, they began distributing the shipments to the designated locations.
Jason tailed them in a battered, heavily modified car that had seen better days.
After confirming that all six deliveries had been completed successfully, a satisfied smile spread across his face.
Without warning, he accelerated his vehicle, ramming it forcefully into the rear of the police cruiser.
"What the hell!"
Jenkins emerged from the damaged patrol car, cursing furiously.
A flicker of fear crossed his face, though he quickly consoled himself that at least all deliveries had been completed. Otherwise, they'd be facing serious problems.
Beside him, Isaac was equally livid. He drew his service weapon without hesitation, though his police training prevailed enough to keep him from charging blindly forward. Instead, he approached cautiously, gun held at the ready.
Jenkins pounded on the driver's window of the offending vehicle. As the glass lowered, his expression froze in shock.
"You? The Asian nobody?"
The white officer's face contorted with disbelief. "Hey, Isaac, check this out! This guy's still breathing. I thought he'd been dead for weeks."
The Black officer holstered his weapon and circled to the front of the car. Upon recognizing Jason, he affected an exaggerated tone. "Damn! How come Hell's Butcher didn't finish you off? Is Hell's Kitchen getting soft these days?"
Jason exited his vehicle, wearing a pleasant smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Officer Black, Officer White—it's been too long. I've... missed our little chats."
The sarcasm in Jason word instantly ignited their tempers.
Isaac's hand twitched toward his holstered weapon, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "Jenkins, didn't you say last time that the timing and location weren't right for me to deal with hime permanently? How about now? Seems perfect to me."
"Yeah, perfect time, perfect place," the white officer agreed with a nod.
Before either could act on their intentions, Jason moved with lightning speed, delivering two devastating blows to their kidneys.
Both men doubled over in agony. "My... kidneys..."
"Thud!"
Two precise strikes to the backs of their heads rendered them instantly unconscious.
Jason loaded them into his car and drove to a remote pier, where a shipping container awaited.
Inside the container, a powerful electric current jolted them back to consciousness.
Jenkins's eyes fluttered open to find himself and Isaac suspended from the ceiling of a rusted metal chamber.
A dim, swinging light bulb cast eerie shadows across the space. A video camera stood on a tripod, its red recording light blinking steadily. A figure lurked in the darkness beyond the light's reach.
Based on his last conscious memory, Jenkins knew it had to be the Asian man they'd tormented.
Sure enough, a familiar voice emerged from the shadows. "Gentlemen, let's play a game."
Rage surged through Jenkins's veins. "You piece of shit! Let us go! We're officers of the law—you're committing a serious offense. If you want to live, release us immediately—"
"Zzzzzzt!"
Another powerful electric current coursed through his body.
Jenkins's muscles seized, his body convulsing violently as foam formed at the corners of his mouth.
Fury and terror warred within him as the pain confirmed the gravity of his situation. This was no bluff—the man before him had lethal intentions. Jenkins knew he couldn't withstand many more shocks of this intensity.
How is this possible? How could this nobody has such courage?
The voice spoke again from the darkness. "Listen carefully. If you don't want another shock, you'll cooperate and play my little game."
Naturally, Isaac had suffered the same electrical punishment. Gasping for breath, he managed to ask, "What... what kind of game?"
"Heh heh..." A chilling laugh emanated from the shadows.
"Starting now, you'll each tell me one secret every thirty seconds. If you refuse or try to feed me with false information... well, you know the consequences."
Jenkins and Isaac exchanged desperate glances.
Jason's voice took on a cheerful tone. "Time's ticking! Ten, nine, eight..."
Panic seized Jenkins. "I'll talk! I'll talk!"
He gritted his teeth and shot Isaac a meaningful glance. "Though my partner is Black, I secretly consider myself something of a racist..."
As he spoke, he winked at his partner, trying to convey a hidden message.
Isaac played along, feigning outrage. "You son of a bitch! After all these years working together, you're telling me you're a racist—"
"Zzzzzzt!"
Another current surged through them both.
"Gentlemen, please," Jason chided. "Don't insult my intelligence with stories about racism. Did you think I wouldn't investigate you thoroughly before our little reunion? Final warning—if you don't want this game to end prematurely, dispense with the theatrics."
"Now then, thirty-second countdown begins. Your turn, Officer Isaac."