"My God!
I seriously don't understand why you insist on being some kind of Knight of God. Why not just open a restaurant instead?
You'd conquer half the food lovers in New York!"
David shouted while stuffing a huge chunk of braised pork into his mouth, completely ignoring the thick sauce dripping into his beard.
He had already moved into one of the guest rooms on the second floor.
"Hmph!"
Cohen snorted proudly. "I learned this from a chef at a hotel that was on the verge of bankruptcy. This is a real skill!"
"With skills like this, that place still went bankrupt? Is your country's food industry really that cutthroat?"
"Eh…"
Cohen let out a sigh. "It wasn't because of his lack of skill. It's because he added 'technological enhancements' and shady stuff to the food."
"Huh?" David, still chewing, froze mid-bite.
"In this food you made—?"
Cohen rolled his eyes. "What I eat myself, of course I wouldn't put that crap in.
Back then, the chef added it to cut costs. Unfortunately, a customer caught on, and the place shut down within days."
"Good." David let out a breath of relief.
"So… how's the investigation on those two dirty cops going—Jayden and Isaac?"
David chewed for a moment longer before replying between bites, "I hacked into the NYPD database. Found the two guys you mentioned.
They're definitely corrupt, and it looks like they're backed by a very powerful client."
"But I haven't yet uncovered the identity of the client behind them. All I've found so far is that they might be connected to a company…"
"What company?"
"It's called… United Construction Company, I think that's the name."
Cohen's heart jolted. That name was all too familiar—because it belonged to none other than the empire of New York's underground kingpin: Wilson Fisk!
How convenient.
"David, I've got a name for you—Wilson Fisk. Make him your top priority. If you find anything, report to me immediately!"
David frowned slightly. "Wil…son? Who is he?"
"Didn't you want to find out who's backing those two dirty cops?
Why don't you start with Fisk and work backward from there?"
David stopped chewing. His eyes lit up with a curious gleam. "Did God give you another vision?"
Cohen curled his lip. "Hmph, what goes on between me and God is none of your business."
To support Cohen's crusade, David had already hacked into countless surveillance systems.
Even the police department's internal communications were compromised.
Still not satisfied, Cohen took advantage of the night to install sensors and even cameras in the trickiest corners of Hell's Kitchen.
The goal: a surveillance network covering the entire district.
It cost tens of thousands of dollars, but for a top-tier hacker like David, it was pocket change.
Once the groundwork was laid, the mission began.
It was an ordinary night in Hell's Kitchen.
A man cloaked in black, wearing a demon mask, the Punisher of the wicked—finally revealed himself to the world.
…
At the docks, a cargo container was being unloaded from a ship.
Several masked men in black pried open the doors. Inside were a dozen ragged women.
There were Eastern Europeans, Black women, and Asian faces among them.
One of the masked men waved his gun and barked, "Get out! Anyone screams, and I'll shoot you!"
But behind them, a dark figure silently emerged.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots rang out. Shell casings clattered to the ground as blood sprayed into the air.
The women's terrified screams tore through the night—but when they finally calmed down, the men with guns were nowhere to be seen.
…
In the back kitchen of a seedy bar, a group of small-time thugs were divvying up bags of drugs.
They shoved and argued, each trying to grab more than the other—some even pulled out firearms to intimidate their rivals.
"I want two kilos!"
"Bullshit. You don't have that kind of cash!"
"F**k you! You looking down on the 16th Street Bloods?!"
Suddenly, a dark figure flashed past the window.
"Who's there?!"
The group rushed outside, but somewhere along the way, every light in the alley had gone out.
In the darkness, they were completely blind.
In a split second, a muzzle flash erupted like a serpent of fire. A storm of bullets from a submachine gun ripped through them.
By the time the magazine was empty, the thugs lay sprawled in a pool of blood.
…
Elsewhere, in a remote warehouse, two groups were in the middle of an arms deal.
"Ha! Pleasure doing business with you. Come to me next time, I'll give you ten percent off."
"Appreciate that in advance."
"You're buying a lot of firepower. Planning something big? Need help?"
"Hmph. You're asking too many questions."
"Alright, alright, no more questions. Let's just do the deal. You hand over the—"
Click!
Suddenly, every light in the warehouse went dark.
"Bastards! Are you trying to double-cross us?!"
"Kill them all!"
Gunfire erupted in a chaotic symphony.
But no one noticed the figure moving like a predator through the shadows—silent, swift, merciless. Life after life ended in his wake.
…
In just three days, Hell's Kitchen was drowning in fear and rumor.
In the past, good people didn't dare step foot in Hell's Kitchen after dark.
Now, neither did criminals.
New York Police Department Headquarters.
George Stacy, freshly promoted to Commissioner, was roaring at his officers.
"Why haven't you found anything?! It's been three goddamn days!
Do you have any idea how many people that demon-faced psycho has killed?!
Fifty-seven!
Fifty-seven people in three days! Even American soldiers on the battlefield in Afghanistan don't rack up numbers like that in so little time!
This is a full-on slap in the face to the NYPD!"
Someone muttered under their breath, "But... the ones who died were all criminals and gang members…"
"Who said that?!"
George Stacy's eyes flared with fury.
"I don't care whether they deserved to die. That's not for some street vigilante to decide! That's the job of the law!
We tolerated that red-suited guy, barely. But this? This is straight-up execution. It's gone too far!
This is an insult to the police, to the government, to the law itself!
I don't care what it takes—find that demon-faced bastard and bring him in!"
"Yes, sir!"
The commanding officers in the room snapped to attention.
In an instant, the entire NYPD roared into motion.
…
But it wasn't just the NYPD that was hunting Cohen.
Every gang in Hell's Kitchen was after him now too.
In fact, they even called a temporary truce and held a clandestine summit.
"Hmph! If we let Demon Face keep tearing through our ranks, how the hell are we supposed to keep doing business?"
"Starting today, we're issuing a bounty from the entire underworld!
One hundred thousand dollars for credible intel.
Five million dollars for anyone who kills him!"
"Also, when you get back, lean hard on the cops and the politicians we've got in our pocket. Pressure them.
We'll take him down—black and white together!"
Someone chuckled darkly.
"Hell, maybe we should throw Daredevil on that hit list too. Let's off them both."
"Good idea."
"Do it!"
…
At Emma Church.
Cohen had temporarily gone quiet. He'd recently received a few new system packs, and his strength had grown significantly.
With a thought, he opened his system panel.
Name: Cohen
Age: 22
Race: Human
Status: Normal
Strength: 10
Speed: 13
Defense: 7
Endurance: 7
Spirit: 15
Skills: Master of Hand-to-Hand Combat, Handgun Proficiency, Trap Proficiency, Swimming Proficiency, Sniping (Skilled)
Abilities: Night Vision, Compound Eyes
Items: None
Instances: Locked
Parallel Universes: Locked
Main Quest: The guilty must face punishment.
Iron-Rank Prey: 4 / 17
New Mission: Bronze Hunt
Bronze-Rank Prey: 0 / 1
Creed: Through slaughter, attain redemption.
In addition to unlocking 13 points in attributes, Cohen had also gained two new skills—Swimming Proficiency and Sniping (Skilled).
By now, he was fairly certain that technical skills were divided into several tiers. His current guess: Skilled, Proficient, Master… and possibly even higher, though that remained unknown for now.
As the quota for Iron-Rank prey continued to rise, killing low-level thugs was becoming less and less rewarding.
It was time to shift focus—to Bronze-Rank targets.
And he already had one in his sights: Carson Wolf, a senior agent from Homeland Security.
A corrupt officer involved in CIA drug trafficking—
The same man who shot David off that bridge.
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