‘You bald, one-eyed bastard.
You just want to analyze what’s in my Vitality Tonic, don’t you?
Nice try, Fury.
Not happening.’ Calvin ended the call with a quiet laugh.
Not that Fury would have been able to learn anything from it anyway.
The system had an unwritten rule regarding its rewards.
Weapons and tools were bound to Calvin personally, which meant no one else could properly use them.
Consumables such as the Vitality Tonic and enhancement serums could be given to other people, but the moment anyone tried to analyze their composition, the sample would simply turn into ordinary water.
Trying to reverse-engineer a system reward?
Good luck with that.
A familiar series of notifications sounded in Calvin’s mind.
[Mission: A Delicate Condition — Complete.] [Rewards Obtained: EXP +1,500.] [Nick Fury Favorability +10.] [Item Obtained: Demolition Truck.] [Demolition Truck: A fully functional truck that can also be remotely detonated.] [Nick Fury has issued you two new missions.] [Mission One: Surveillance] [Objective: Monitor Tony Stark’s activities and physical condition.] [Rewards: EXP +1,000, Nick Fury Favorability +10, Random Item ×1.] [Mission Two: Unusual Activity] [Objective: Investigate the abnormal activity at the designated location in Hell’s Kitchen and report your findings.] [Rewards: EXP +500, Nick Fury Favorability +5, Random Item ×1.] Calvin could not stop himself from grinning.
The missions just kept coming.
For months, he had been running all over New York looking for work wherever he could find it.
In hindsight, he had been making life unnecessarily difficult for himself.
Who said joining the HYDRA-infested mess that was S.H.I.E.L.D.
was a bad idea?
This place was fantastic.
He could take missions from S.H.I.E.L.D.
with one hand, pick up lucrative work from Tony Stark with the other, then keep accepting private jobs around Hell’s Kitchen whenever he had spare time.
With several sources feeding the system at once, the rewards were finally beginning to pile up.
For the first time since recovering the memories of his previous life, Calvin felt as though he had begun moving in the right direction.
Of course, “the right direction” was still a very long way from being strong enough to comfortably survive every disaster the Marvel universe might eventually throw at him.
He needed to keep grinding.
…
That night, in Hell’s Kitchen, a truck with the license plate 666 sat parked at the end of a narrow alley.
The cargo compartment was dimly lit by several candles.
Inside, two men faced each other across the cramped space, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.
One wore a red tactical suit stretched almost comically tight across a massive, newly enhanced physique.
His muscles pushed against the fabric so aggressively that it looked as though the suit might tear if he breathed too deeply.
That man was Daredevil.
Across from him stood another man dressed entirely in black, a large white skull emblazoned across his chest.
Frank Castle—the Punisher.
Frank looked Matt up and down with open contempt.
“What happened to you, Daredevil?
Finally decide to start juicing?” His gaze lingered on Matt’s enormous arms.
“All that swollen muscle somehow looks even more ridiculous than your pathetic ideals.” Matt answered calmly.
“My strength came from a gift from a friend, not steroids.” His expression hardened.
“And there’s nothing ridiculous about what I believe.
Hell’s Kitchen can only be saved if people still respect rules.
The moment you abandon them entirely, there’s nothing separating you from the murderers you claim to punish.” Frank gave a humorless laugh.
“Your precious rules are exactly why the bastards who murdered my wife and children got to keep breathing.” Anger sharpened every word.
“Your laws became their shield.” “Killing doesn’t end evil,” Matt replied.
“It only creates more hatred.
I still believe the law can—” “Enough!” Frank’s voice dropped into a growl.
“Rules?
Law?” His eyes burned with fury.
“The people who got murdered don’t get to see another sunrise.
Your laws protect the pieces of shit who killed them.” He jabbed a finger toward Matt.
“I protect the people who are still alive.” Frank spoke the next words slowly and deliberately.
“And every time you let one of those monsters walk away knowing they’ll do it again, you share some of the blame.” Matt’s expression changed.
The muscles in both arms tightened, making his already strained suit creak ominously.
“You want to fight about it?” His voice remained controlled, but the warning was obvious.
“Because this time, Frank, I’ll put you in a cell myself.” Frank stepped forward without hesitation, one hand settling near the weapon at his waist.
“Go ahead and try.” Before either man could make the situation worse, an exhausted voice interrupted them.
“Can you two please go five minutes without trying to kill each other?
I asked you here because I need information.” Calvin stood nearby holding a map, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
Daredevil and the Punisher clashed over philosophy almost every time they were in the same room.
Sometimes the arguing became fighting.
That had been inconvenient before.
Now that Matt had been enhanced, Frank almost certainly could not beat him in a straight fight.
More importantly, Calvin could not afford to let either of them seriously injure the other.
Matt was one of his best sources of information whenever he operated in Hell’s Kitchen, while a significant portion of Calvin’s private combat assignments came from Frank.
They were both useful NPCs.
Destroying one another would be extremely inefficient.
Matt and Frank turned away from each other with matching expressions of irritation before reluctantly sitting down.
Frank still could not resist one final jab.
“Calvin kills people too.
Funny how I never see you trying to stop him.” Matt answered with complete honesty.
“He’s too strong.
I can’t beat him, so I can’t stop him.” Frank stared at him.
Then he snorted.
“Well, at least you’re honest.” “All right, enough.” Calvin unfolded the map between them.
“Tell me what you know about this area.” He pointed to one of several locations Fury had marked as suspicious.
The spot was not far from the house Kingpin had blown up.
Frank glanced at the location, and his expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“What do you want to know?” “S.H.I.E.L.D.
has reports of a lot of people disappearing around there.” Calvin tapped the map.
“I’ve been assigned to find out why.
I figured I’d ask you two first instead of wasting half the night investigating from scratch.” Matt shook his head.
“I haven’t heard anything useful.” Calvin turned toward Frank.
The Punisher was silent for several seconds.
Then he asked, “You know about vampires?” Calvin blinked.
“Vampires?” Of course he knew Marvel had vampires.
He simply had never encountered one himself.
After spending months running through practically every filthy corner of Hell’s Kitchen without seeing anything remotely vampiric, Calvin had begun wondering whether they even existed in this particular universe.
“You’re telling me there are vampires in Hell’s Kitchen?” “There always have been,” Frank replied.
“There’s an underground club near the location you just pointed out.
They use it as a local gathering place.” He tapped another part of the map.
“Their largest concentration in New York is up in the Bronx.” Calvin frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.” He knew the area.
“That place was practically in my backyard.
I’ve even been inside that club before.
I never noticed anything unusual.” Frank gave him a strange look.
“That’s because they were scared you’d kill them.” Calvin stared at him.
“What?” “They’ve been deliberately avoiding you.” Frank said it as though that should have been obvious.
“Whenever you went near the club, they disappeared before you got there.” Calvin’s confusion quickly turned into suspicion.
“Hold on.” His eyes narrowed.
“You’re saying they can detect me before I detect them?” Frank nodded.
“Apparently, some vampires have an ability that lets them judge roughly how dangerous a person is from their blood.” He leaned back against the side of the truck.
“My guess is that one of them crossed paths with you at some point, realized you were way above their weight class, and flagged you as someone the entire group should avoid.” “That ability is one reason they’ve managed to survive in the shadows of major cities without attracting too much attention.” Frank paused.
“I got the information from someone I trust.
It’s reliable.” “Wait.” Something else suddenly clicked into place.
Those vampires had lived surprisingly close to Calvin’s old house.
They could sense him.
They knew where he lived.
And when Kingpin wanted Calvin dead, Fisk’s people had somehow managed to get inside that house, plant explosives, and set up a perfect ambush without Calvin ever figuring out how they had located him.
Calvin’s expression darkened.
“Does Kingpin work with the vampires?” Frank did not hesitate.
“Not ‘does he.’ He does.” His voice was certain.
“They were probably interested in your blood long before Fisk put a bounty on you.
They just knew you were too dangerous to approach directly.” That explained far too much.
“Those motherfuckers!” Calvin shot to his feet.
He had spent days wondering how Fisk had found his home so quickly.
Now he finally had the answer.
That oversized bastard had been working with vampires.
Calvin pulled out his S.H.I.E.L.D.
phone, stepped out of the truck, and called Fury immediately.
He explained everything Frank had told him.
There was a short silence on the other end.
Then Fury exploded.
“Motherfucker!” Calvin pulled the phone slightly away from his ear.
“So those sewer-dwelling bastards are crawling back out again.” Fury’s voice was low now, but the anger underneath it was unmistakable.
“Calvin, I’m changing your assignment.” A brief pause followed.
“You have one objective.” “Kill every last one of them.” Calvin’s eyebrows rose.
“And the mission bonus?” “Triple it.”