In the next second, five shiny black Cadillac Escalades, full-sized SUVs like steel monsters, came whistling toward them.
They showed no intention of slowing down, carrying a suffocating sense of pressure as they drove directly onto the sidewalk, cutting in sideways to dominantly block the retreat of those municipal official vehicles.
The car doors popped open in unison.
At this moment, the air pressure in the factory seemed to drop instantly.
Over a dozen elite individuals in suits and ties, carrying uniform black briefcases, stepped out.
Their suits were exquisitely tailored, without a single wrinkle.
Their eyes were cold as knives, devoid of any emotion.
On everyone's lapel was pinned a golden badge.
A spiraling double helix of DNA—the logo of the Osborn Group.
That aura of top-tier predators, long-hardened in battle and in control of everything, instantly crushed all those small-time bureaucrats covered in the smell of cigarettes.
Matt Murdock, who had looked helpless just a moment ago, suddenly snapped his head up.
He smelled expensive cologne and heard the steady heartbeats found only in top Wall Street vultures.
Heartbeats that were confident, arrogant, and lethal.
"Leonard?" Matt whispered a name with a complex tone. "The Chief Legal Counsel of the Osborn Group, the Shark of Wall Street."
That was the other side of the legal World.
It didn't represent justice; it represented the absolute power of capital's will.
Leonard adjusted his expensive silk tie and strode into the factory.
He didn't even give the health inspector a glance, as if the man were nothing but air.
Behind him, over a dozen top lawyers fanned out like a well-trained wolf pack, precisely locking onto every law enforcer.
"Stop."
Leonard's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chill that commanded authority without anger.
The inspector's hand jerked, and the yellow seal fell to the ground.
He had seen this face on TV; this was the man to whom even the mayor had to show deference.
"I am Leonard, the Chief Legal Representative of the Osborn Group."
Only then did Leonard walk up to the inspector, pull a document from his briefcase, and slam it against the inspector's chest.
"This factory has accepted strategic investment from the Osborn Group and has been integrated into the supply chain system of Osborn Biological Laboratories. It has passed the ISO-22716 top-tier certification as well as the Military's Biosafety Level 3 standards."
Leonard looked down at the fat man, who was now covered in cold sweat, with eyes as if he were looking at an insect.
"You want to shut down Osborn's supply chain? Who gave you the nerve? Or would you prefer the Director of the Health Department to personally come to Osborn Tower tomorrow to explain why our stock price fluctuated because of your stupidity?"
On the other side, a lawyer wearing gold-rimmed glasses blocked the IRS agents, smiling as he handed over a gold-embossed business card. His tone was gentle but made one feel as if they had fallen into an ice cellar.
"Gentlemen, all of Ms. Wilson's tax matters have been taken over by a team of senior partners from PwC under Osborn. We have reason to suspect that you two are abusing your authority to maliciously harass an Osborn partner without conclusive evidence. This is a formal lawyer's letter. Furthermore, we will be filing a complaint with the Treasury Inspector General for Tax Administration regarding your non-compliant operations. I suggest you start worrying about your pensions now."
In front of the nitpicking firefighter, the third lawyer merely gave the fire extinguisher a faint glance.
"According to the Queens Tech Innovation Enterprise Exemption Memorandum signed by the Mayor's Office this morning, this place enjoys a six-month fire safety rectification exemption. Do you need me to call the Fire Commissioner now to confirm? He's a golf buddy of our board of Directors; just last week, he was complaining about how his temporary workers were too ignorant."
Matt Murdock stood quietly to the side, listening to it all.
The principles he had spent so much effort explaining earlier to no avail were resolved by this group with a single sentence, or even just a glance.
This wasn't because the principles had changed, but because the person speaking them had.
Justice wasn't late; it had simply been bought out by capital.
In the distance, the smug smile on Justin Hammer's face in the Lincoln had completely frozen. He didn't even notice the cigar burning his fingers.
"Osborn? That madman Norman?"
Hammer slammed the steering wheel in frustration, his voice becoming sharp and out of tune due to terror.
"Why would he help this damn little workshop?"
Just then, his private phone on the dashboard suddenly vibrated.
A name that made his heart skip a beat flashed on the screen.
Norman Osborn.
Hammer tremblingly answered the call, his throat dry: "Nor—Norman?"
Norman's voice on the other end was as cold as if it had just crawled out of an abyss.
"Justin, has your hand been reaching a bit too far lately?"
"No, Norman, let me explain..."
"That is my Umbrella Corporation," Norman interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "If you dare reach out your dirty claws to touch it again, I don't mind making all of Hammer Industries' Military orders for this year void. You know I can do it."
Beep—Beep—
The call ended.
At the factory gate.
The group of inspectors and agents, who had been so overbearing just moments ago, were now scurrying back to their cars like rats crossing the street, not even daring to leave a harsh word as they started their engines and fled in panic.
Leonard finished handling everything and turned to walk toward Alice.
He glanced at Matt Murdock, who stood beside Alice with a complex expression, and gave a slight nod as a professional courtesy before turning to Alice and bowing slightly.
"Miss Mason, the trouble has been resolved. Mr. Osborn asked me to tell you that he looks forward to the day the Umbrella Corporation is unfurled."
Alice nodded, her expression remaining calm: "Thank Mr. Osborn for me, and please tell him that Umbrella Corporation never defaults on its contracts."
As Osborn's black motorcade receded like a tide, the suffocating pressure vanished, and peace returned to the factory gate.
Sarah's legs went weak, and she almost sat on the ground.
She panted heavily, glancing at the still-silent Matt, then at her niece who seemed like a stranger: "Alice, what's going on? Why would a behemoth like the Osborn Group help us?"
"Aunt Sarah, in this jungle, even an Umbrella Corporation can become a lethal sword if its handle is held by a giant."
Alice looked at the Manhattan skyline in the distance, her expression neither happy nor sad.
Matt Murdock turned his head. Although he couldn't see, he could feel a depth and danger in this girl that was inconsistent with her age.
"Miss Mason, the Osborn Group is no charity. This Umbrella Corporation might be more dangerous than the rain itself."
"I know, Attorney Murdock. Thank you for the advice," Alice turned to look at the future superhero. "But at least for now, this Umbrella Corporation can keep us alive."
"Alright, the flies have been swatted. Back to work."
Alice clapped her hands, returning to the tone of a diligent entrepreneur.
"The noble ladies of Long Island are still waiting for our Serum. That is our capital for fighting against this World."
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