Would You Mind If I Bought You a Drink?

"...Kate," the little girl answered timidly.

"Kate..." Wu Yanzu softly repeated her name.

Then he reached out and gently... touched the doll in her hands.

"...You like this?"

"Yes. It was you... you saved me."

Wu Yanzu's expression froze for 0.1 seconds. Had that happened? It absolutely had!

"That day... the building collapsed, and my dad..." Kate's eyes reddened. "That alien monster wanted to kill me... and then... then you appeared."

She mimicked the scene from that day. "You looked at it, and then—zzzt—the light from your eyes!"

"...I'm sorry."

Kate froze.

"I'm sorry, Kate." Wu Yanzu's voice turned hoarse. "That day... I should have been faster."

"If I'd been faster... your father... he would have..."

He did not finish.

A hero's self-reproach spoke louder than a thousand words.

"Ugh..." The accompanying reporter, a female intern, burst into tears on the spot.

The orphanage director covered her mouth as well, her eyes red-rimmed.

At last, a glimmer of light appeared in Kate's numb, vacant eyes.

She looked at the godlike man before her, the hero who had saved her and was now apologizing to her.

"No... it wasn't your fault!" Kate suddenly shouted. She threw away the doll and rushed into Wu Yanzu's arms.

"It wasn't your fault! You're a hero! You saved me!! Sob, sob, sob..."

The little girl's crying echoed throughout the entire room.

Wu Yanzu, this Homelander, gently and awkwardly hugged her back.

He raised his head and closed his eyes.

A single "heroic tear" slid down his handsome cheek at exactly the right moment.

Click—!!!!

The flashbulbs went insane.

"Ding! Popularity Points gained: +213!"

"Ding! Popularity Points gained: +480!"

"Ding! Popularity Points gained: +355!"

"..."

"Ding! Special Popularity Points gained: +10000!"

Wu Yanzu laughed wildly in his heart.

Perfect... the performance was flawless. Once Vought gets this circulating and builds up the buzz, my Popularity Points will definitely skyrocket. Everyone will love me!!

The "show" ended, and Wu Yanzu left the orphanage fully satisfied.

Instead of returning immediately, he decided to fly around above New York for a while and enjoy some "after-dinner dessert"—the cheers of the public.

Just as he flew over the chaotic area known as Hell's Kitchen...

His sharp "super hearing" caught something unusual.

"...No... please... let me go..." A woman's voice was full of suppressed terror.

Hell's Kitchen.

The name of this hellhole suited it perfectly.

Even a month after the Battle of New York had "ended," the air here still smelled utterly foul.

Jessica Jones tossed an empty liquor bottle into the sink with a clang.

In the mirror was a pale woman with heavy dark circles beneath her eyes.

Her black hair was a mess like a bird's nest, and she wore her usual black leather jacket and ripped jeans.

"Fuck."

She muttered a curse and grabbed her keys.

Jessica had superpowers.

She did not know where they had come from. That damn car accident had taken her family, yet given her this "gift"—Super Strength, along with the ability to jump from a dozen stories up without breaking her legs.

But that gift meant jack shit to her.

It had only brought trouble, isolation, and a reputation as a freak.

So she had learned to hide.

She had changed jobs countless times: cashier, bartender, even dressing up as a furry squirrel in Times Square to hand out flyers.

She had drifted through life in a daze until... the Battle of New York broke out.

That day, she had watched a Leviathan smash through the side of a building.

She had watched a blond, caped "Superman" carry a nuclear missile into a wormhole.

And right at her feet, a Chitauri soldier had been about to stab an energy spear through a little girl hiding behind a taxi.

Jessica had not hesitated.

She rushed out, grabbed that alien bastard by the head, and used the brute force she had hidden for ten years to smash it brutally into the asphalt.

She saved that girl.

From that day onward, something she had thought long dead came fucking back to life.

"Stop right there, bitch! Hand over the money!"

Hell's Kitchen, two in the morning.

Three junkies had cornered a nurse who had just finished her night shift in an alley, and one of them had even pulled out a switchblade.

"Please..."

"Please my ass!" The lead thug slapped the nurse across the face.

"Hey!"

A lazy yet deeply impatient female voice came from the mouth of the alley.

"Could you idiots use some different words? It's always bitch, hand over the money. Zero creativity."

The three thugs turned around and saw Jessica Jones.

"It's you! That leather-jacket freak!" The leader had clearly heard of her. "Guys! She's alone! We—"

Bang!

Jessica could not be bothered to listen to his bullshit.

She picked up a trash can lid from the ground and flung it like a frisbee, striking the leader squarely in the face.

His nose shattered on the spot, mixed with his teeth, and with a howl, he passed out.

"What?!" The other two were terrified out of their wits.

"Who's next?" Jessica cracked her knuckles.

"Fuck! Kill her!"

The one with the knife charged at her like a madman.

Jessica sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it the other way.

Crack—!

Aaaahhhhh—!!

The punk immediately collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.

Seeing that, the third thug turned and ran.

Jessica lunged forward, grabbed the back of his collar, and hurled him like a bowling ball at the brick wall at the end of the alley.

Boom—!

A small crater formed in the brick wall, and the man slid down like a pile of mush.

Jessica dusted off her hands, walked over to the stunned nurse, and pulled a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from one of the punks' pockets.

"Here. Take a cab home. Don't walk this route again."

"...Thank you... thank you! You... you're a hero!"

"I'm not a hero." Jessica waved awkwardly. "I'm just... Jessica Jones."

She turned and left, disappearing into the darkness.

In the shadows across the street, a man in a purple shirt and purple tie had witnessed everything.

A sickly smile curled across his lips.

"Oh... my god," he murmured. "How... primitive. How... powerful. You... are mine."

The next day, at the rundown bar Jessica frequented.

"The cheapest whiskey you've got, Jack. On the rocks."

"You went out playing vigilante again, Jones?" The bartender wiped a glass. "You're going to get yourself into serious trouble sooner or later."

"Shut up and give me my drink."

"Hey, would you mind if I bought you a drink?"

A gentle male voice spoke up.