This Is Getting Pretty Messy

"Have some coffee, boss!"

Jack took the coffee cup from Director House's hand. After taking a small sip, his eyes lit up. That unique taste, and that aroma...

"Not bad. You're drinking Colombia's finest coffee."

"Looks like Hell's Kitchen is quite profitable."

Facing Jack's teasing, Director House forced an ugly smile onto his face.

Hell's Kitchen's profits were substantial—not just in all of New York, but among the best in the entire world. The essence of America's underworld was gathered here, with countless transactions taking place every day.

Guns, baby formula, people—if you wanted it, you could buy anything with money.

As the director of the Hell's Kitchen Precinct, House had held this position securely for so long. Without some backing, there was no way he could have remained in such a lucrative seat for years.

Ever since Jack gave him that little beating last time, he had been constantly thinking about how to kill Jack.

Then... someone slapped him awake...

Warnings from a mysterious force, followed by a face-to-face emotional exchange with Kingpin—after that double blow, Director House finally recognized reality. The man before him was someone he could not afford to provoke.

But... I know I can't provoke you, but you always show up whenever I'm handling important business. Isn't that a little too much?!

After receiving another vicious beating, House decided this guy could come whenever he wanted from now on...

Couldn't beat him... couldn't beat him...

Jack mooched coffee from Director House for nearly four or five hours. After supervising him at work for three hours, he finally left the office under House's hopeful gaze.

Before walking out, Jack turned back to Director House and said, "Your coffee is good. I'll come by every morning from now on."

The moment House heard that, his vision went dark, and he nearly collapsed to the floor.

If he had known this would be the outcome, he should have served Jack whiskey earlier!

Get Jack drunk, then sink him in the river!

People disappeared in Hell's Kitchen every day anyway. What difference would one more Jack make?

House was not some spineless coward who would obediently kneel after getting beaten up. It took more than just connections for him to hold this position so firmly!

"I heard a new assassin has arrived in Hell's Kitchen recently. I wonder how much it would cost to make him take this job!"

At six in the evening, Jack met Sergei at a Russian restaurant near Central Park... The name was too long, so Jack chose to call him the Hunter directly.

This Russian giant, standing one meter eighty-three, nearly made Jack turn around and leave when he saw the eye-catching leopard-print tights and sleeveless, unbuttoned leather vest covered in animal fur.

"That outfit is way too outrageous..."

"I thought Tony's red-and-gold color scheme was flashy enough. Today, I learned there's always someone flashier—there's no such thing as the flashiest..."

Forcing himself to sit across from this man whom everyone considered an S&M enthusiast, Jack lowered his head, terrified that someone he knew might spot him.

"You're Jack?"

"That's me..."

"Fine. I'm a straightforward person, so I'll be honest with you. Kingpin introduced you to me because you're with S.H.I.E.L.D., and I don't have the slightest favorable impression of S.H.I.E.L.D. Understand?"

"Mm..."

"So our deal is simple. I pay for the intelligence in your hands—the kind of intelligence I want."

"Okay..."

"Hm? Are you a man of few words? I thought Americans were all lively, like rabbits in heat."

"It's mainly because those leopard-print tights make everyone think I'm an S&M enthusiast..."

The Hunter: "..."

Half a minute later.

The host resold S.H.I.E.L.D.'s classified level-six mid-to-high-level intelligence to an assassin. Evil Points +200,000

Two hundred thousand Evil Points might have excited Jack before last month's settlement day, but with more than thirty million in debt, this amount of Evil Points felt like nothing more than dessert.

After accepting the Hunter's one million dollars, Jack left the restaurant carrying a briefcase. Once he got into his car, he sent Hawkeye a message, telling him to prepare for tonight's arrest operation.

Yes, after taking the Hunter's money, Jack was going to take the man himself too.

Although being discovered would damage his reputation in Hell's Kitchen and draw Kingpin's hostility, Jack had no choice.

That truckload of baby formula from last night would not be erased from Black Widow's memory.

So, once Fury learned that Jack intended to infiltrate Kingpin's criminal organization as a black agent, the corresponding task force had to begin forming.

Although the priority was low, and Jack was currently the only one holding things together.

If the gains kept coming, though, Jack would receive S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources.

And finally...

The Evil Points for robbing criminals were even higher!

After accepting the Hunter's money, the host immediately sold him to S.H.I.E.L.D. Evil Points +500,000

Sell intelligence, then sell the buyer as well. After going back and forth, he made a pure profit of seven hundred thousand Evil Points. Jack really wanted more deals like this.

After settling the Hunter's matter, Jack called Typhoid Mary using the number on that little slip of paper.

"Oh~ It's baby Jack~ I'm at the Duran Hotel on Twenty-Seventh Street right now~ Are you coming over?"

Kingpin's gold-medal right hand and little beauty had invited him to meet at a hotel. How could Jack refuse?

He floored the gas pedal and sped straight toward the Duran Hotel.

After parking, Jack followed the room number she had given him. Holding a bottle of whiskey, he knocked gently on the door like a gentleman.

When the door opened, the massacre inside and the woman crying as she stood in a pool of blood made Jack roll his eyes.

"Sure enough, multiple personalities..."

"That personality does all the bad things, then leaves the kind personality here."

Jack walked in and said to Mary, "All right, stop crying. Your other personality did that. Now let's get out of here."

Mary raised her head at his words. Her red, swollen eyes stared straight at Jack as she said in dissatisfaction, "You're such a killjoy. When you see a woman standing in a pool of blood, shouldn't you immediately come over, kiss me, and take off my clothes?"

"Since when have S.H.I.E.L.D. people liked exercise in normal settings?"

Looking at the five male corpses on the floor, their eyes still wide open in death, Jack sincerely felt that this personality of Mary's was completely insane.

So he turned and walked toward the door. A handsome man was standing behind him, and the circular target on his black mask made Jack freeze for a second.

Before the other man could act, Jack spoke first. "Bullseye, I'm the employer for your unfinished job."

Bullseye, who had just pulled a dagger from his waist, paused. Then his eyes narrowed. Realizing something, he punched the doorframe.

"Fuck! How did I end up running into this bullshit?!"