S.H.I.E.L.D.'s people arrived quickly. The man they sent was the familiar Phil Coulson, and this was also the first time Rimuru and Coulson had formally met.
"Mr. Rimuru, I never expected our first formal meeting to be under these circumstances."
"Neither did I, Agent Coulson. I never expected S.H.I.E.L.D. to tolerate something like this happening right under your noses."
Coulson looked somewhat helpless at that. "We've taken action over Kingpin before, but he's very clean in how he operates. We've never been able to get anything on him. Unless we take him out, things like this will keep happening."
Seeing how helpless Coulson looked, Rimuru found it a little strange. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is so resourceful, and you keep such a close watch on me. Haven't you thought of a way to just assassinate Kingpin?"
Coulson looked even more helpless. "Kingpin isn't just an underground emperor; he's also a politician with countless ties to other government departments. Unless we can bring him down in one stroke, he'll be even harder to deal with. And even if we did take him out in one stroke, what would we do about his gang members? Well over half the people in Hell's Kitchen are his. Without him keeping them in check, that place would probably descend into chaos in an instant."
With that explanation, Rimuru understood immediately. So they were afraid to act for fear of the consequences.
"It's not just Kingpin's gang. There are plenty of other gangs there too. Once Kingpin dies, his gang won't just collapse; the other gangs will get involved as well. When that happens, a bloodbath will sweep through all of Hell's Kitchen."
After hearing Coulson's analysis, Rimuru also felt it was a thorny problem. No wonder S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't managed to deal with Kingpin all this time. He wasn't just hard to deal with; they couldn't afford to deal with him.
Looking at the people he had rescued, some of whom were his fellow countrymen, Rimuru recalled the saying: when prosperous, help the world; when poor, look after yourself. If he couldn't do anything about it, that would be that. But he could. Once Galactron went in, his rules would be the rules. The trouble was, if he did that, he could forget about living quietly in New York afterward. Calling out the Transformers would be troublesome too, which left him with only Vallis Knight. But the thing's combat power really left much to be desired.
It looked like he needed to borrow something.
"Coulson, go back and discuss this with your director. I'll help you deal with Hell's Kitchen, and you help me fend off any unnecessary trouble."
Coulson immediately grew tense. "You're not going to put on your armor and go on a killing spree in Hell's Kitchen, are you?"
Wait, what kind of image do they have of me? Am I really that violent? "I'm going to give them a physical education. Don't worry, I definitely won't kill too many people. I know S.H.I.E.L.D.'s budget isn't generous either, so we'll split any dirty money we uncover fifty-fifty."
Coulson's face twitched at the sight of Rimuru. He had a feeling Rimuru was planning something big, but if he really did pull it off, public safety in New York would improve considerably, and his own salary would go up a little too. Besides, even if they refused, they couldn't stop him.
"All right, I'll tell the director when I get back."
Rimuru rubbed his hands together excitedly. If things worked out, he could not only take the dirty money and set up businesses in Hell's Kitchen, but also hire the scattered gang members as employees. If they dared cause trouble, he could take them out along with Kingpin's remaining followers. It was a win-win situation: he would win twice. As for the dirty money S.H.I.E.L.D. got, that was hidden tax revenue to begin with. It was a wonderful feeling.
At Fisk Tower, Kingpin received another piece of bad news that night: one of his bases had been wiped out. It sent him into an even greater rage. Someone was clearly targeting him, but who dared come looking for trouble with him?
Kingpin's massive frame sank into a specially made, oversized chair, like a volcano on the verge of eruption. The screen before him replayed a blurry but striking video: a gold-and-white suit of armor with severe lines, unlike anything he had ever seen, destroying his carefully assembled team with almost elegant yet absolute violence. Gunfire failed to leave so much as a scratch on its armor, while a casual blow from the mechanical figure shattered concrete walls as though they were made of paper.
Bang!
A corner of the solid mahogany desk splintered under his unconscious grip.
"What is that?" His voice was terrifyingly low, like a boulder rolling through an abyss. "Iron Man's new toy? Or has the military produced another monster?"
A trusted subordinate stood nearby with his head lowered, his voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor. "N-no, boss. Its style is completely different from Stark's, and it looks even less like a military product. Its attacks are more... more direct, too. Our people couldn't get anywhere near it, and every attack was as good as nonexistent against it. What's more, it seemed to deliberately avoid killing people on a large scale, only destroying facilities and weapons."
"Deliberately avoid it?" Kingpin turned his head slowly, a cold, sharp light glinting in his small eyes. "A machine with that kind of power takes care not to kill while it destroys my territory? Ridiculous." What Kingpin didn't know was that everyone in his underground warehouse had been killed; S.H.I.E.L.D. had simply done a thorough job of cleaning it up.
He looked back at the screen, fixing his gaze on the distinctive patterns that occasionally appeared on the mechanical figure's streamlined body. "Investigate. Use every resource, every informant. Find out where this thing came from and who's controlling it. We've had a few too many problems lately. I don't believe this is a coincidence."
"Yes, boss," the subordinate answered hurriedly.
"One more thing." Kingpin stood and walked to the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, looking down on the kingdom beneath him that belonged to him-New York, and the chaotic place known as Hell's Kitchen. "Strengthen security at every important base, especially the warehouses and factories. Tell the men to keep their eyes open and stay on edge. Someone wants to try their luck..." With his back to his subordinate, the chill in his voice was almost enough to freeze the air. "Then let him learn that anyone who challenges a mountain will be buried beneath it."
The subordinate withdrew silently.
Kingpin stood alone before the window, his enormous fists slowly clenching. He couldn't shake the image of the gold-and-white armored figure in the video from his mind. This was more than the loss of a base; it was a declaration, a direct challenge to his authority. He had ruled the underworld for years, relying not only on brutality but also on meticulous calculation, a vast network, and a deterrent force no one dared challenge. This unknown power that had appeared out of nowhere had disrupted his rhythm.
"Whoever you are," Kingpin murmured, his fierce, resolute face reflected in the glass, "you want to give people a physical education on my turf? I'll teach you the rules of Hell's Kitchen first."
Meanwhile, at Rimuru's temporary residence-or rather, a warehouse he had "borrowed."
Coulson was highly efficient. Or rather, Nick Fury had mixed feelings about someone volunteering to tackle the tough nut that was Hell's Kitchen and proposing a profit-sharing arrangement, but leaned toward giving it a try.
The response soon came back over an encrypted line.
"The director has no objection in principle to your education plan." Coulson's voice came through as he appeared before Rimuru, his expression as gentle as ever but tempered with businesslike caution. "But he has a few conditions. First, casualties and collateral damage must be kept to an absolute minimum. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't want tomorrow's headlines to read 'New York massacre.' Second, you need to report the general area and targets of every operation at least twelve hours in advance, so we can assign people to maintain order on the perimeter and handle... uh, unexpected official inquiries. Third, any sensitive items or information obtained during an operation that aren't in monetary form must be handed over to S.H.I.E.L.D. for assessment. As for the dirty money..." Coulson paused. "The director says it depends on what you can manage, but the accounts must be clear."
Rimuru stroked his chin, his eyes curving into crescents. "Very reasonable. Director Fury really is a sensible man. Don't worry, I'm a pacifist-by my own definition. Physical education is still education, and the emphasis is on reforming people. Reporting in advance is no problem. Sensitive items will depend on the circumstances. Well then, I look forward to working with you, Agent Coulson."
After ending the call, Rimuru rubbed his hands excitedly. "Done! I've got an official green light. Well, it's a yellow light, but that's enough." He walked to the center of the warehouse, which was empty except for a few computers.
"Now it's time to borrow something." He muttered under his breath, "Relying on Vallis Knight alone to clean up all of Hell's Kitchen would be too slow, and things could easily go wrong. Galactron would cause too much of a stir, and he's one of my trump cards. It wouldn't be good to expose him completely under the noses of S.H.I.E.L.D. and everyone else so early. The Transformers are even more troublesome. They'd bring Cybertron into it, and that could easily escalate things into an interstellar dispute."
His mind rapidly sifted through the business cards and contracts from different worlds. Finally, a relatively low-key, efficient solution emerged, one that was highly suited to "urban security operations" and "targeted suppression."
"Hmm... It's a bit like using an ox cleaver to kill a chicken, but it's controllable, precise, and reasonable enough." Rimuru nodded, his consciousness sinking deeper as he began contacting an existence in a distant world and establishing a protocol and channel for a temporary summoning. "Hopefully I can borrow a few who are easy to talk to. After all, I'm going to educate some thugs, not fight an interstellar war."
Faint spatial ripples began to spread through the warehouse, and intricate patterns of light quietly lit up on the floor.
Rimuru watched the spatial passage gradually stabilize, an expectant smile appearing on his face.
Boss Kingpin, your class on the rules is about to begin. I hope you and your students have prepared well.