"I've sobered up. I've realized that aside from making weapons, I can actually contribute much more to the world."
"So, I've decided to shut down Stark Industries' weapons division, effective immediately!"
"Until I find a new direction for the company—one aligned with the highest interests of the nation and with what I consider right."
On the television screen, Tony stood at the podium announcing his decision. His words stunned everyone present, and everyone watching at home as well.
After all, Stark Industries was built on the weapons business.
What Tony had just done wasn't cutting off an arm—it was cutting off the entire foundation his company stood on.
And the ones hit hardest were the shareholders.
Ever since the news of Tony's disappearance in the Middle East, Stark Industries' stock price had plummeted nonstop. Shareholders had been on the verge of collapse. They had finally waited until Tony returned safely and thought salvation was at hand.
Now it seemed they would've been better off if Tony had just died in the Middle East.
"Tony Stark, f*** your mother! Refund my money!"
"How could you do this to us!"
"Can Stark Industries' stock still rise? Very unlikely!"
"It's over. As soon as I heard Tony returned, I increased my holdings. Forget it, I need to head to the rooftop before all the spots are taken."
"…"
Inside a noisy restaurant in Hell's Kitchen, wails and curses filled the air. Investors glared at Tony on the TV screen as though they could devour him alive.
Daniel sat in a corner, enjoying the scene with interest.
He had to admit, the NPCs in this game were incredibly well-made—so much better than stiff, scripted characters.
Especially that curly-haired fat guy up front. His expression looked as if Tony had personally betrayed him. He kept spitting out Morse-code-like curses, so agitated he even knocked over the cup on the table.
But the blind man sitting next to him caught the falling cup with a single steady motion.
Hmm?
A blind man caught a cup?
Daniel immediately sensed something was off. He pointed at the man in sunglasses and shouted, "System! The game bugged again, right? How can a blind man catch a falling cup!?"
[Ding. No abnormalities detected.]
The blind man seemed to hear Daniel's complaint. Without changing expression, he quietly placed the cup back on the table.
Daniel narrowed his eyes.
Based on his experience, this guy was definitely not ordinary.
With that in mind, he picked up the untouched plate of food he had in front of him, stood up, walked straight over, and sat down at the empty seat opposite the pair.
The curly-haired fat man looked puzzled. "Uh… can we help you?"
Daniel grinned and placed his plate on the table. "Nothing much. I just want to get to know you two."
The fat man frowned. "But we don't know you—"
"Two hundred dollars. Friendship fee."
"You came to the right people! Matt and I love making new friends!"
The fat man instantly switched to a big, enthusiastic smile. "I'm Foggy Nelson, and this is my partner, Matt Murdock. And you are?"
"Just call me Daniel."
"Nice to meet you, Daniel."
Foggy quickly handed him a business card.
"Let me introduce us properly—we're lawyers. We just opened the 'Nelson & Murdock Law Office' nearby. If you ever need legal help, come to us. We'll give you a great discount."
Daniel accepted the card cheerfully. "So you're lawyers. Perfect. I actually have a legal question."
Foggy puffed up confidently. "Ask away! Don't worry—we're pros."
Daniel nodded seriously. "I just want to know… if a pregnant woman gets into a fight with someone, does it count as group assault?"
Foggy: "…"
Matt: "…"
Foggy clearly didn't expect such a bizarre question. He struggled for several seconds before finally answering uncertainly, "Uh… probably not. Strictly speaking, you need at least three people for it to count as a group fight."
"But what if the pregnant woman is carrying twins?"
"…"
Foggy's expression froze instantly. His brain had clearly crashed.
Who on earth asks something like this!?
Seeing Foggy couldn't answer, Daniel shook his head regretfully and turned to Matt, who had stayed silent.
"Your eyes can't see?"
Despite the blunt question, Matt didn't get angry. He simply nodded calmly. "Yes. I lost my sight in an accident when I was young. Also, please don't reach into my pocket. I may be blind, but I can still sense what you're doing."
"Haha, just kidding."
Daniel awkwardly withdrew his hand from Matt's pocket.
That confirmed it.
This guy was definitely not simple.
With Daniel's near-max-level pickpocketing skill, no ordinary person could notice him, especially not an unguarded blind man.
This guy might very well be a hidden NPC—possibly a key character for a special storyline.
While Daniel was still considering this, Matt suddenly spoke.
"You don't seem like a local. Why did you come to Hell's Kitchen?"
His tone remained calm, but there was a subtle edge of inquiry.
Everyone knew Hell's Kitchen had the highest crime rate in the entire United States—no contest.
Gangs ran rampant, and almost every crime imaginable could be found here. Even NYPD patrols moved cautiously in this neighborhood. Other than fearless corporate wage slaves, no normal person would voluntarily walk into Hell's Kitchen.
"To find someone."
Daniel answered straightforwardly. No need to hide it.
"Who?"
"A man. Codename Iron Head. I think his real name was Harold or something?"
Foggy scratched his head. "Iron Head? Never heard of anybody like that around here."
Matt's brows subtly tightened behind his sunglasses. "You wouldn't happen to mean Joseph Harrow, would you?"
"Oh, yeah! That's the one!" Daniel slapped his thigh. "You know him?"
"Not personally. Just heard of him."
Matt shifted his posture slightly. "He's the biggest boss of the Maggia crime family. They call him Hammerhead. According to rumors, he's a bulletproof, unkillable monster. He's extremely dangerous. Do you have business with him?"
"Something like that."
Daniel glanced at the clock on the wall, then stood up. "Ah, time's up. I've got something to do. I'll talk to you guys another day."
Before the two could respond, Daniel walked briskly toward the restaurant entrance.
Listening to his quickly fading footsteps, Matt absently rubbed the handle of his cane, a thoughtful expression hidden behind his sunglasses.
"Matt! Matt!"
Foggy's anxious voice snapped him back to the present.
"What's wrong?"
"That guy didn't pay for his food! Go catch him!"
Matt: "…"