Manhattan, Hell's Kitchen, Chrysler Building.
"Ever since last week, when Thor, the God of Thunder, descended into our world, the international situation has changed abruptly—especially among religious groups in various countries. Members of different faiths have held demonstrative marches more than once.
The United States government has yet to make any public statement. Today, we've invited Professor Borg from Yale University, who will explain the secrets of Norse mythology for us."
Beep.
A thick hand holding a remote control turned off the television, and an icy gaze looked down hard at the underling kneeling on the floor.
Kingpin, the emperor of New York's underworld, spoke calmly, though enormous killing intent hid within his words.
"Kurt, I'm very disappointed in you over this incident."
"B-Boss, I—I'm sorry! Spare me, please, give me one more chance."
Bang!
A bullet spun into his temple, and blood sprayed through the air, carrying with it a faint reek of gore.
A subordinate in a blue skintight combat suit, a bullseye painted on his head, lightly blew the smoke from the gun barrel and said disdainfully, "Useless trash!"
Then he looked at Kingpin, who sat in his office chair, and asked, "Boss, do you need me to step in and kill all these traitors?"
The cold emperor sat upright on the wooden chair, his massive frame filling the entire seat. He gently turned the short cane in his hand, and with nothing but silent stillness, a trace of tension rippled through the air.
Only after a long while did he wave a hand.
"Go, Bullseye. Not just these turncoats, but the people stirring things up behind them—I want them all—"
Thump, thump!
A powerful heartbeat suddenly cut off Kingpin's words. He lowered his eyes to the corpse on the floor. That corpse was trembling.
**Thump, thump!