New York beneath the night sky, neon pulsed through the steel canyons like veins.
The giant billboards of Times Square alternately flashed the scarlet letters of "Stark Industries" and "The Daily Bugle."
The glow of holographic superhero beverage ads cast warped reflections across the rain-soaked asphalt.
In an alley in Hell's Kitchen, a fire escape suddenly let out a metallic wail—Daredevil's billy club carved sulfur-colored sparks through the darkness, only to be drowned out the next second by the muffled reports of gangsters' silenced pistols.
Three blocks away, atop an apartment building in Queens, Spider-Man hung upside down by a window, his gaze following the direction of a passing police car.
On his phone screen was a text from Aunt May: "Curfew extended until two in the morning."
Inside Su Ming's underground base.
Nick Fury, freshly showered and changed into clean clothes, casually picked out what appeared to be a classic album from the CD rack.
After a few simple operations, he comfortably settled into the genuine leather sofa nearby.
Melodious music slowly began to play.
The tune seemed to carry Su Ming back to the years of war.
Su Ming made the director a cup of coffee, while he himself drank freshly brewed Monkey King tea from a large white porcelain mug...
That white porcelain mug was half the size of Su Ming's head, with two flamboyant characters written across it:
"Keep a low profile."
Nick Fury took a sip of the coffee Su Ming had made. Missing Agent Hill, he took out his fully charged phone and fiddled with it for a moment before turning the screen toward Su Ming:
"Listening devices everywhere."
Su Ming's pupils contracted at the sight.
Tony had clearly helped build this base. How could it contain S.H.I.E.L.D. equipment?
Then he thought about it.