For Riley, finding Kingpin's stronghold in Hell's Kitchen was as easy as eating and drinking. After all, for a long time, the emperor of this criminal empire had been Spider-Man's main enemy—at least, Spider-Man's main enemy in Riley's memories.
Riley recalled that in the miraculous Central Universe he had visited later, what had Kingpin been doing again? Oh, he seemed to have started some Immortality Factor business and promoted it throughout the universe. Riley remembered catching sight of him at the Sanctum Sanctorum: still broad and powerfully built, still looking vicious, with a cold smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.
Spider-Man was all too familiar with that expression. It often appeared after Kingpin had struck some unknown shady deal with a city's gang boss. Only, in that universe, it had probably been replaced by closing some huge deal with an interstellar civilization or space pirates.
Riley still remembered the instinctive muscle tension that seized him when he ran into Kingpin at the Sanctum Sanctorum. It lasted until Kingpin smiled and tried to hire him as a Multiverse salesman. Riley had run like hell then. Spider-Man had never wanted to avoid seeing Kingpin so badly in his life. Wasn't one Nick enough?
But seeing Kingpin again now, Riley felt a sense of desolation. This man, once incomparably strong and possessed of perhaps the greatest raw muscle power in the world among those not altered by special abilities, had become a fat, ugly, bloated monster.
He still wore a suit and still had Kingpin's face, but pointed ears and long fangs had grown from him. Tumors hung at his waist, tentacles extended from his back, and his perfect body—every muscle honed through countless trials—had been utterly ruined by these alien additions.
Standing in the hall of Kingpin's palace, Riley was