NYPD Hell's Kitchen Precinct

"S.H.I.E.L.D. business!"

Jack's stiff remark drew glances from the officers inside the Hell's Kitchen Precinct. Quite a few of them, upon seeing Jack, looked at him with undisguised resentment and hatred.

It was all because of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the DEA's so-called anti-gang operation some time ago, which had turned Hell's Kitchen into something like a Middle Eastern battlefield.

Now, they did not even dare patrol the streets, afraid of getting caught up in the gang war between those two factions.

After all, gangs elsewhere in America would at most use automatic rifles like M4A1s or AK-47s if they wanted to make a big show of things.

The gangs in Hell's Kitchen, on the other hand, had already evolved into the era of RPGs and high-tech weapons.

But the high casualty rate on the streets was far less infuriating than having their extra source of income cut off.

The chaos in Hell's Kitchen continued. Kingpin, who should have been maintaining order, had unusually started playing dead this time, allowing the gangs below to fight over the vacant territories.

Without the gangs' money, there was no need to say how miserable the people at the Hell's Kitchen Precinct were.

Certain special little hobbies required money to maintain.

So when Jack, a temporary S.H.I.E.L.D. clerk, came to Hell's Kitchen, he was basically cutting off their gray income while still having the nerve to show up at their workplace.

It was practically suicidal behavior, as if he were afraid no one would beat him up.

Jack swept his gaze over these officers who took money without doing their jobs, then resented others for cutting off their gray income. He responded with a villainous, mocking sneer.

That exceptionally taunting sneer enraged several hot-tempered officers so much that they rose to their feet.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. trash! What the hell are you laughing at, you piece of garbage?!"

"Son of a bitch!!!"

"Fuck you!"

Seven or eight broad-shouldered, burly officers cursed at Jack. He simply removed his sunglasses and used his intensely Evil Gaze to intimidate everyone present.

The moment the Evil Gaze appeared, both the gangsters locked in the temporary holding cells and the Hell's Kitchen officers were nearly scared out of their wits.

What kind of villain had to possess such a gaze?

The Evil Gaze, with its mental impact, made everyone afraid to meet Jack's eyes...

Hm? That handsome guy in sunglasses over there? He seemed to be looking at me?

No... he seemed more like he was sensing my direction!

Jack noticed a man in a suit holding a briefcase, standing beside the reception desk. While the officer at the desk had been frozen by his gaze, the man had not even moved his head.

Such a special person immediately piqued Jack's interest.

Anyone who could ignore his gaze was either more evil than evil itself, or he was blind...

In Hell's Kitchen, the odds of encountering a blind person were 0.00000001%.

No blind person would choose to take a walk here. If you fell, not only would there be no kind citizen to help you up, the Hell's Kitchen gangsters standing nearby might even sell you straight to organ traffickers.

So the answer to who this blind man was was obvious.

The righteous lawyer—Matt Murdock.

AKA: Daredevil, the Man Without Fear.

One of the few men in the Marvel Universe with two aliases.

So what had brought Daredevil here?

Jack did not care.

But he knew another way to farm Evil Points had just appeared before him.

As a lawyer who defended civilians, part of Daredevil's work involved Hell's Kitchen. But everyone knew what kind of place Hell's Kitchen was.

So when it came to cases in Hell's Kitchen, nine out of ten basically ended without a result.

Jack decided to lower that success rate directly to zero percent.

Since they could not win anyway, why struggle so desperately?

After withdrawing his gaze, Jack puckered his lips at the empty air in front of the officers frightened by his gaze. The naturally taunting kissing sound angered quite a few officers once again.

Unfortunately, Jack had no intention of giving these pieces of trash another chance to perform.

After punching straight through a thick wooden desk, he walked up to the second floor of the Hell's Kitchen police station amid dead silence. He was here to see the precinct chief, not play some stupid little game of "who's scarier" with this bunch of worthless losers.

When he reached the second floor, before he even knocked, Jack heard heavy panting from inside, along with the sound of hands slapping flesh and rough curses.

"Tsk, the Hell's Kitchen Precinct is even worse than I thought..."

"The precinct chief is playing this hard in his office in broad daylight. No wonder it's the worst precinct in the NYPD. It's rotten from top to bottom."

Jack laughed inwardly, though his expression was extremely serious. He kicked open the precinct chief's door and saw two piles of pale flesh on the desk.

The three stared at one another. Precinct Chief Stanis House roared, "Who the fuck are you?!"

Jack pulled out his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge and identification from his pocket. Though he had temporarily been demoted to a clerk, that was an internal punishment. To outsiders, he was still a Level Six Agent.

This was also to prevent senior agents like Jack, who had been punished, from encountering emergencies outside that required their rank to handle, only for matters to spiral out of control because their clearance was insufficient.

While the man and woman hurriedly got dressed, Jack walked over and sat on the sofa beside the office coffee table.

Jack opened his briefcase and took out a stack of documents. Then he said to Chief House, who had just pulled up his pants, "Chief House, please hurry up. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't interested in your daytime private affairs. We only care whether our business goes smoothly."

"Bullshit S.H.I.E.L.D..." The fat House muttered a curse. This precinct chief in his forties did not have the slightest favorable impression of S.H.I.E.L.D.

If S.H.I.E.L.D. had not launched that anti-gang operation some time ago, he would not have been doing this in broad daylight just to vent his frustration.

Jack did not stop him from being disrespectful toward S.H.I.E.L.D. He was not some loyal S.H.I.E.L.D. lackey anyway. The more outsiders disliked S.H.I.E.L.D. and the more enemies it made, the happier he was.

If this had also happened because of him, and he could earn some Evil Points from it, Jack would be even happier.

After Chief House straightened his clothes, he glared at Jack, then wrapped an arm around the woman and kissed her for a full half minute before finally letting her leave.

But the direction she left in was not the hallway, but the secretary's office.

Seeing this, Jack finally could not help whistling. "Not bad, Chief House. Your secretary is really something!"

Chief House rolled his eyes and sat in his office chair. He slapped the desk and said irritably, "If you have something to say, say it fast. Don't waste my time!"

Jack did not move from his seat. He pointed at the small sofa beside him. "Please sit over here. Before I stop having even the last shred of respect for you, you still have a chance to sit beside me and listen to me speak to you calmly."

House had already been annoyed that Jack had interrupted his fun. When he saw Jack actually ordering him around, he slammed his palm onto the desk and roared at Jack, "What the fuck did you just say? You want me to sit next to you because you told me to?!"

"Are you fucking insane?!"