(The system settings in the first three chapters were changed; many people asked for changes to the previous settings.)
Wilson Fisk, or rather, the soul of a transmigrator who inherited this physique — burly enough to make any fitness coach die of shame — and the entire New York underground empire, let out his thirty-seventh heavy sigh of the day, staring at the cliff-diving performance curve on his tablet.
It felt like you ambitiously opened a Fortune 500 company, only to find your subordinates were either slackers or backstabbers, your competitors were all unscrupulous, and a bunch of "enthusiastic citizens" in bizarre outfits constantly blocked your door, either trashing the place or urging you to do good.
"Another three percent drop…" His fingers, thick as Roman pillars, glided over the screen, controlling the force just right so as not to press it into expensive biscuits. "James, explain."
His chief assistant, James Wesley, a man always impeccably dressed as if he had just stepped off the cover of 'Gentleman's Quarterly,' was now reporting in an almost tragic tone: "Boss, the 'goods' handover in the East District… was ruined by Daredevil again. We lost five men, plus a batch of goods worth three million. The Vladimir family took the opportunity to snatch two blocks of our 'entertainment' business. Also, our 'Technology Innovation Department'… they successfully replicated ten percent of Stark Industries' cleaning robot's functions, at fifty times the original cost, and it crashed through the lab wall yesterday."
Kingpin silently put down the tablet. He feared that if he held onto it any longer, it would spontaneously explode from the unbearable weight of this harsh reality.
Transmigrating as Kingpin, the infamous crime lord of the Marvel Universe, sounds pretty cool, doesn't it? Wealth, power, making the New York night tremble with a single command?
But only by truly sitting in this chair does one realize that this job is a damn Universe-level "prison sentence"!
Being a villain is incredibly demanding! A hundred times more demanding than when he was a corporate drone rushing projects in his previous life! At least back then, he had weekends and social benefits! Here? No days off, self-assumed risks, and the biggest perk might be a higher success rate of counter-killing when enemies come knocking.
He had to feed and pay his subordinates, and also prevent them from embezzling, job-hopping, or being turned; various gray industries faced multiple sieges from official bodies (S.H.I.E.L.D., NYPD), rivals (The Hand, Russian gangs), and those "vigilantes" prancing around in tight suits; not to mention the endless socializing and quid pro quo required to maintain this vast network, enough to make a mathematician break down.
"Stable, sustainable, low-risk…" He stared at his fierce reflection in the glass window, muttering a few words that were completely out of character for him (the original owner). With this face, applying for a security guard job would probably scare the interviewer to tears. Getting a regular job? Only in his dreams.
He was fed up with this life of dancing on a knife's edge, constantly risking a superhero kicking down his door, or being dragged to prison to pick up soap because of his idiotic subordinates. He wanted to retire! He wanted a career change! He wanted to get out of this business!
He even started seriously considering the feasibility of cashing out his assets and buying an island in the Pacific to retire (provided he could evade all his enemies and the tax authorities).
Just as he was wildly complaining internally, feeling utterly weary of the current situation, and even beginning to miss the mundane life of his previous existence, where he could at least enjoy skewers after work, despite being busy—
"Ding! Detecting the host's strong and continuous desire for 'order reconstruction,' 'stable profit,' and 'standardized management'… Soul fluctuation frequency matched successfully!"
"Loading 'Hero Association System' 1.0 Beta… "
"Loading complete! Welcome, future Association President!"
A voice, with a hint of electronic synthesis but inexplicably… cheerful?, suddenly echoed directly in the depths of his mind.
Kingpin's massive body stiffened abruptly.
A hallucination? Was the stress finally causing him to have a mental breakdown? Or was it a new type of prank weapon concocted by those bastards at Stark Industries?
He cautiously looked around. The office was empty except for him and a worried Wesley. Wesley seemed completely unaware.
"Newbie guidance experience mission has been issued. Please check it as soon as possible, host~!"
The voice sounded again, and at the same time, a blue translucent light screen, full of technology and minimalist to the point of being almost asexual, whooshed open directly in front of his vision. In the center of the light screen, an emblem composed of a shield and olive branches slowly rotated, with several options below: [Mission], [Shop], [Warehouse], [Hero Roster] (grayed out), [Association Construction] (grayed out).
Kingpin: "???"
He blinked his bell-like eyes, and the light screen remained steadily in place.
Wesley, seeing his boss suddenly freeze and then make strange gestures like rolling his eyes and squinting at the air, cautiously asked, "Boss? Are you… unwell? Should I call a Doctor?"
Kingpin waved his hand, signaling him to shut up. His entire attention was drawn to this sudden, uniquely styled thing.
A system? The standard golden finger for web novel protagonists?
But… "Hero Association System"?
He looked at the emblem on the light screen, which was practically overflowing with righteousness, then looked down at his own reflection in the glass, a standard villain boss image capable of stopping a child's night terrors.
An extremely strong, almost absurd sense of incongruity washed over him.
For him, Kingpin, the top crime boss in New York and even the World, to run a… Hero Association? To maintain World peace?
Did the programmers get drunk when this system was released from the factory? Was the matching mechanism chosen with their feet?!
He tried to mentally tap the [Mission] option.
The light screen content switched.
"Newbie Experience Mission: A Small Test"
Mission Objective: Go to the entrance of XX Milk Tea Shop in Queens and deal with a Wolf-Class wack who, due to the limited edition pearl milk tea being sold out, had an emotional breakdown, accidentally awakened, and mutated into a "Milk Tea Addict." (Target location is thoughtfully marked).
Mission Hint: Target threat level is extremely low, but please be aware of its potential "pearl" attacks (physical damage is minor, but stickiness is extremely strong, not friendly to high-end suits).
Mission Reward: System formal activation energy x1, points x100, [Newbie Happy Pack] x1.
Failure Consequence: The system will determine the host lacks cooperative potential, automatically unbind, and seek the next fated person~ Good luck!
Kingpin's mouth twitched violently.
"Milk Tea Addict"? Wolf-Class wack? The system is going to run away because of this thing?
The comedic level of this system was directly proportional to the level of "unemployment" risk he faced!
But the words "automatically unbind" made him clearly realize that this inexplicable system had the ability to leave him. Although there was no sense of coercion, yet… looking at the futuristic interface in his mind and the vague, seemingly era-transcending technical blueprints in the Shop… letting it run away like this seemed a bit of a loss?
He once again cast his gaze out the window, looking at the location marked on the system map, a faint and emotional red dot emanating from a street corner in Queens.
Maintaining World peace? Starting with a cup of pearl milk tea?
He, Wilson Fisk, Kingpin after transmigration, the underground emperor of New York, was now facing a choice even more preposterous than annexing The Hand.
Should he continue down this increasingly competitive and uncertain path of the underworld, or… accept this bizarre system's invitation, switch careers to become the president of the "Hero Association," and experience the "joy" of managing superheroes with KPIs?
He looked at the system interface in his mind, which seemed to be winking at him, and then at Wesley, who had a "is my boss crazy" expression.
After a long while, he turned around, the fierce aura of a crime lord slowly receding from his face, replaced by an extremely complex expression, a mix of absurdity, curiosity, and a hint of… intrigued playfulness.
"Wesley."
"Yes, Boss."
"Get the car ready." Kingpin's voice was low and steady, betraying no emotion.
"Where are you going? Do you need extra men?" Wesley immediately went into work mode.
Kingpin paused, seemingly weighing his words. Finally, he spoke in an almost somnambulistic tone, with a hint of giving up:
"To Queens… to buy a milk tea."
Wesley: "…???"
Seeing his assistant's instantly collapsing expression, Kingpin suddenly felt a strange sense of relief.
Perhaps, a different way of life wasn't so bad after all?
At least, this new "project" sounded a little more interesting than dealing with gang messes.