The Ancient One Steps In?

As Kingpin spoke, he set the scroll on the coffee table. Its golden patterns glowed dark red under the light, like blood slowly flowing through a vein.

His fingers paused at the edge of the scroll. He wasn't hesitating; he was gathering his words, the way someone did before telling a story they hadn't told in years.

"A priest gave me this when I was young and traveling on business in the Vatican."

Russell's brow twitched.

The Vatican, a priest, a golden scroll. Together, they reminded him of something.

More precisely, they reminded him of a certain ancient Lord of Hell in the Marvel Universe who liked posing as a priest.

Of course, that Vatican priest—elegant on the outside, a Demon from Hell beneath—wouldn't give away a golden scroll for no reason. Not unless the recipient had something that interested him.

"What did the priest look like?"

Kingpin fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he searched his memory.

"He looked very old, with wrinkles all over his face and black eyes, but he was exceptionally polite and carried himself with elegance.

"He looked at me and said, 'You're hard to kill, but the road ahead of you won't be easy. This scroll will help you when you need it.'"

"And you believed him?"

"Not at the time," Kingpin said quietly. "But I took it. I had nothing to lose.

"After I returned to New York, I had plenty of experts examine it. Some said it was medieval. Some said the writing belonged to no known civilization. Others said the whole thing was a fake.

"But I could feel there was something different about it, so I locked it in a safe. It stayed there for twenty years."

Russell reached out without touching the scroll and activated Atomic