Inside the Fisk Building, a gangster was sent flying by Allens' punch, crashing heavily into the wall behind him. His internal organs shattered, blood gushed from his mouth, and after a brief struggle, he collapsed—dead.
Even though his superpowers had been suppressed by the Primordial Magic Seal, Allens' physique still far surpassed that of any normal human. With the body of a super soldier, he easily broke through the Fisk Building's security systems and entered the complex.
Everyone who tried to stop him was killed with a single punch. Some reached for their guns—but before they could fire, a coin, propelled by Allens' psychokinesis, pierced through their skulls.
To outsiders, the Fisk Building might seem like a legitimate charity organization. But everyone in Hell's Kitchen knew the truth—it was the base of Wilson Fisk, the underground king of New York's criminal empire.
"What's going on? What happened?"
The building's head of security, Lambert Blair, stormed in wearing a black suit that could barely contain his bulging muscles.
"Hey, kid," he barked. "You're the one causing trouble in Fisk Tower? Good. Looks like you've got a death wish."
Lambert clenched his right fist and swung at Allens.
Crack!
Allens raised his own fist and met Lambert's punch head-on. The impact shattered every bone in Lambert's arm. Screaming in agony, Lambert dropped to the ground, clutching his broken hand.
"Tell me," Allens said coldly, stepping forward. "Where's Fisk?"
He stomped on Lambert's other hand. Crunch! Bone fragments cracked and splintered beneath his boot.
"Hiss… F–Fisk… top floor…" Lambert gasped, his face twisted in pain.
As a hardened gangster, Lambert had seen his share of death, but the killing intent in Allens' eyes made him break instantly. Wilson Fisk ruled through fear—and now that same fear turned his men into cowards.
Allens kicked Lambert in the chest, sending him crashing into the wall. Without looking back, he straightened his clothes and walked into the elevator.
He pressed the button for the top floor. His eyes darkened. To Allens, Wilson Fisk wasn't even worth noticing—even though Fisk's strength had once given Spider-Man a hard time.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open. A dozen armed gangsters aimed their guns at him. Allens smirked.
Coins floated from his pocket, spinning rapidly in the air.
In the blink of an eye, they shot forward at supersonic speed—
Shnk! Shnk! Shnk!
Several coins pierced through the men in the front row, ricocheting off the walls to strike the rest from behind.
They didn't even have time to pull the trigger before being slaughtered. Though his psychokinesis had been weakened, weeks of honing it had pushed its destructive potential to a new level.
One by one, bodies hit the floor with dull thuds. Allens didn't even glance at them. He simply pushed open the heavy doors ahead.
"Persuader Allens… I didn't expect you to come to me so soon," said a deep, commanding voice.
Sitting behind an enormous desk was Wilson Fisk. His towering, muscle-bound frame radiated intimidation. His dark eyes gleamed with anger and cold calculation—like a beast ready to devour its prey.
"The so-called Kingpin of New York," Allens said mockingly. "You really are as fat as the rumors say."
Fisk's expression darkened. "Bullseye. Teach this fool a lesson."
Bullseye grinned and pulled out a dagger from his pocket. "Yes, boss."
He flicked his wrist—the blade shot through the air with perfect precision, slicing straight toward Allens' forehead.
Whssst!
But before it could reach him, the dagger froze midair and clattered to the ground at Allens' feet.
Bullseye's eyes widened. A split second later, a silver streak flashed through the room—
Pshhk!
A coin tore through Bullseye's chest, piercing his heart. His body hit the floor with a thud, eyes still wide in disbelief.
Fisk's expression grew grim. He rose slowly from his chair.
"Mr. Allens," he said, his tone suddenly formal, "why are you making an enemy of me?"
Allens smirked. "You think too highly of yourself, Fisk. You might be powerful among ordinary men—but to me, you're just another insect."
Fisk's face hardened. "Don't underestimate me, Allens."
With a roar, he lunged forward, throwing a massive punch that sent shockwaves through the air.
Boom!
The impact cracked the floor tiles beneath them. But Allens caught Fisk's fist effortlessly. The strength of a super soldier coursed through his arm, stopping Fisk cold.
With his free hand, Allens summoned the dagger from the ground—it shot upward, spinning through the air—
—and stabbed clean through Fisk's back.
Shhhk!
Even the man's rock-hard muscles couldn't withstand the psychokinetic force behind the blade.
The giant collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. Allens stared down at the fallen Kingpin, eyes cold and emotionless.
"No matter how powerful you are," he said softly, "you're still just an ant before me."
He touched the keychain hanging from his waist. Two beams of light shot out, landing on the floor and rapidly expanding into full-sized Skrulls.
The shrunken Skrull spaceship, miniaturized by Pym Particles, glowed briefly before returning to normal size.
"Use your abilities," Allens ordered calmly. "Replace Fisk and Bullseye."
"Yes, sir."
The Skrulls' bodies began to twist and transform—one morphing into the massive frame of Fisk, the other into Bullseye's lean figure.
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