Vanessa Gallery.
Wilson Fisk—known to the criminal underworld as Kingpin—stood contemplatively before a canvas filled entirely with white paint.
Vanessa Marianna approached from behind, her voice soft with amusement. "There's an old children's riddle. Someone holds up a blank sheet of paper and asks: 'What is this?'"
Fisk remained silent, absorbed in the artwork.
Vanessa smiled warmly. "It's a rabbit in a snowstorm."
She observed the imposing man studying her favorite piece, curiosity blooming within her. "What does it make you feel?"
Fisk turned toward her, his lips parting to respond, when a deep, resonant voice interjected from behind.
"Loneliness. It evokes boundless, infinite loneliness."
Fisk froze, his intended response suspended as he pivoted slowly.
His expression transformed instantly at the sight before him.
A figure dressed entirely in black, face concealed behind a devil mask, stood casually among the gallery patrons.
Kingpin quickly regained his composure, stepping subtly to position himself between Vanessa and the intruder. "All of Hell's Kitchen is hunting for you. I'm surprised you'd appear so... publicly."
"Move aside, baldy."
Jason waved dismissively before offering a slight bow toward Vanessa. "Good evening, distinguished lady. If I purchase this particular painting, might I have the honor of dining with you tonight?"
Confronted by the notorious vigilante whose violent exploits dominated recent headlines, Vanessa visibly tensed, her voice betraying discomfort. "Mr. Hell's Butcher, if you're genuinely interested, I'd be happy to simply gift you the artwork."
"No, no," Jason replied, advancing a step. "In truth, I possess minimal artistic understanding. I merely assumed that art created by someone so beautiful must possess equivalent aesthetic value."
Confusion registered across Vanessa's features. Is this masked killer... flirting with me?
Dear God, he's not some kind of cannibal, is he?
After being conspicuously ignored, Fisk finally intervened. He stepped forward decisively. "Mr. Hell's Butcher, I've long desired to establish an acquaintance with someone of your... distinctive talents. Perhaps we could dine together this evening?"
Jason assessed him contemptuously. "What culinary experience could a chrome-domed gangster possibly offer?"
A dangerous smile formed at the corners of Fisk's mouth, his eyes reflecting calculated malice. "I've anticipated meeting you for some time. Perhaps you might grant me this opportunity? We could potentially establish a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"You," Jason responded, amusement evident in his tone, "are a criminal entrepreneur specializing in narcotics distribution, human trafficking, homicide, arson, kidnapping, sexual assault, and forced prostitution. What conceivable 'arrangement' could appeal to me?"
Fisk's complexion blanched. He lowered his voice to a menacing whisper. "Do you understant your actions? You're deliberately provoking extremely dangerous consequences."
Jason narrowed his eyes, replying with casual indifference. "Is that so? How curious—I feel as though I'm merely toying with an overconfident criminal."
"You're death!"
Enraged beyond restraint, Kingpin launched a devastating punch. Jason raised his arm defensively, but the impact's sheer force—despite his enhanced 15-point strength—proved overwhelming.
He retreated several steps to absorb the tremendous kinetic energy.
Nevertheless, his augmented speed attribute should provide sufficient advantage.
The two men engaged in combat, generating powerful atmospheric displacement while consciously limiting collateral damage to the gallery.
Interesting, Jason thought.
Eliminating Kingpin—a Silver-level target—clearly presents greater complexity than anticipated.
As expected from someone capable of trading blows with Spider-Man. Beyond his tactical intellect, raw muscular power appears to constitute his primary physical asset.
Kingpin maintained relentless offensive pressure while Jason primarily focused on evasion.
"My, my," Jason taunted between movements. "The criminal kingpin finally reveals his true nature! Your bespoke suit created a convincing façade of legitimacy, but underneath remains merely an underworld thug."
Glancing toward the horrified Vanessa, Jason retreated strategically from Kingpin's reach. "Since my presence appears unwelcome, I'll postpone our interaction. Miss Vanessa, I sincerely hope you'll consider my dinner invitation when next we meet."
Fisk recognized his inability to apprehend his adversary and reluctantly allowed his departure.
Watching Jason's retreating figure, Fisk's internal fury approached critical threshold.
Struggling to regain composure, he turned to apologize to Vanessa—only to witness her instinctively recoiling from his gaze, as though physically repelled.
His heart constricted painfully. He attempted speech, reconsidered, and ultimately departed in profound silence.
...
The night breeze carried a refreshing coolness as Jason made his way through the city, his mood surprisingly elevated. He'd been privileged to witness a pivotal moment in the relationship between the underworld's emperor and his reluctant queen!
This evening had proven unexpectedly worthwhile.
News of Hell's Butcher's reappearance spread rapidly among the various factions monitoring Hell's Kitchen. They converged upon the gallery with remarkable speed.
By the time they arrived, both Jason and Kingpin had already departed.
Police units, criminal enforcers, and contract killers gradually dispersed, finding no immediate targets.
However, both S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives and Daredevil had noted Kingpin's involvement with intense interest.
...
The following morning, disregarding external circumstances, Jason led several devoted parishioners in prayer. David had joined them, having discovered this activity surprisingly effective for stress management.
Their contemplative silence was abruptly interrupted when a young boy—perhaps twelve or thirteen—burst through the church doors.
The child immediately seized Jason's hand, his expression frantic. "Father! Something terrible has happened—my neighbor's sister is possessed by a demon!"
The congregation's collective focus shifted instantly, everyone gathering around the distressed youth.
"The girl next door went out last night and returned this morning. She immediately locked herself inside. Initially, I thought she was tired, but then she screams this horrifying sound! Veins appearing across her skin as she thrashed violently on her bed!"
David frowned skeptically. "If she's your neighbour, how did you know of these details?"
"Through a small hole in our connecting wall," the boy explained. "We often speak through it. She's definitely possessed by something evil! Please help her, Father!"
"Well..." Jason hesitated.
A congregation member recognized the child. "Don't panic, Danny. We'll help you."
"With God's grace and Father Jason's guidance, no demonic entity can prevail!" another parishioner declared confidently.
"Father Jason completed a year-long Vatican internship," someone added. "Such divine blessing ensures his ability to banish any unholy presence!"
"Is that true, Father?" Danny pleaded. "She's always been kind to me. Please save her!"
Amid the confident assertions, Jason maintained a forced smile while internally panicking.
God? Exorcism? Can I possibly decline?
In his original reality, he would have readily attempted such intervention, regardless of efficacy.
But this was the Marvel Universe.
Demons genuinely existed here!
With his current capabilities, Jason estimated only a 50% probability of defeating Captain America in direct combat. How could he possibly confront an authentic infernal entity?
Mephisto, Dormammu, Satannish, Lucifer, Asmodeus...
Those major demonic powers remained well beyond his reach. Even lesser entities like elemental demons—wind, water, earth—currently exceeded his combat parameters.
David noticed Jason's expression and discreetly moved closer. "What's wrong? You seem disturbed."
"I'm genuinely concerned about encountering actual demons," Jason admitted quietly.
"Haha, surely you're joking. How could this world possibly—" David's amused expression faltered mid-sentence. "Wait... seriously?"
Jason rolled his eyes impatiently. "If God exists, why wouldn't devils?"
David considered this logic momentarily. "Aren't you supposedly God's appointed knight?"
"So now you believe me?" Jason challenged.
David's eyes widened. "I've always believed in you—perhaps not completely until now. If you can genuinely exorcise demonic entities, I swear I'll never doubt you again!"
"Ugh!" Jason sighed heavily. "God never actually instructed me in exorcism procedures!"
Confronted with Danny's desperate expression and the congregation's expectant faces, Jason reluctantly agreed.
Accompanied by David, he soon arrived at a dilapidated apartment building.
They located the young woman's door.
It remained locked, with no discernible movement from within.
Jason gripped the doorknob, inhaling deeply as he focused.
CRACK!
His hands glowed with crimson energy as he effortlessly crushed the locking mechanism.
When he pushed the door open, the room contained no visible demonic entity—only an unconscious young woman lying across her bed.
Jason exhaled with relief, stepping forward to examine her condition when an unexpected system notification manifested:
[Ding! Special race discovered. Vampire bloodline unlocked.]