Time sometimes flies faster than a sniper bullet.
Especially in this city where there's never a shortage of big news.
A week is enough time for many people to forget a devastating fire and a dead sheriff.
They even forgot about the Azazel in the night.
Manhattan, a coffee shop.
The television on the wall was broadcasting the morning news.
"Yesterday afternoon, Tony Stark, dressed in a humanoid suit of armor, shot down three unidentified armed helicopters high in the sky near Long Island."
The news anchor's voice was extremely high-pitched, and her face was full of excitement.
" Stark Industries ' stock price surged 15% within five minutes of the market opening today!"
"Reliable witnesses say that after the operation, Stark landed on the roof of a donut shop and ate a double cheeseburger."
In front of the television, two white-collar workers were having a heated discussion.
"This guy is absolutely awesome! I heard that suit of armor can now be folded into a briefcase?"
" Mark V portable armor? This Stark even gave himself a cool codename."
What's your name?
Iron Man.
"That's a really flashy name."
The office worker couldn't help but laugh, "But it really suits my taste."
"But seriously, aren't there a lot more of these flying things in the sky lately?"
Another office worker, holding a coffee cup, pointed to the skyscrapers outside the window.
There was a huge poster for Vought International hanging there.
The poster features a muscular man in a white suit with blue stripes, showing off his exaggerated muscle definition to the camera.
"And who is that?"
" Vought International just launched their new hero last week, ' Heavy Artillery '."
"I remember there was just a woman named ' Flash ' who came out last month?"
"Dude, there are more superheroes than stockbrokers on Wall Street these days."
"Even politicians have to step aside in Vought's presence."
Vought International's star-making machine is running at full power.
The timeline shifts rapidly, with new heroes being introduced by Vought International one after another.
Iron Man has also come into the view of New York Yorkers.
This epochal tide, led by Superman, is completely reshaping the world's perception.
Brooklyn, a hidden underground billiards room.
Steve Rogers is wiping a pool cue with chalk.
His face was more stern than it had been a few months ago, and a thick, bluish stubble had appeared on his chin.
The Super Soldier Serum's restorative power is flawless, but a certain conviction deep within him has been shattered by cruel reality.
Dum Dum - Dugan pushed open the wooden door and walked in, carrying a brown paper document bag.
"Have you watched TV? That arrogant young master of the Stark family is now a veritable national idol."
Dum Dum threw the file folder onto the edge of the pool table.
He found his way.
Steve bent down and aimed at the white ball.
With a bang, the white ball smashed through the pile of balls, and the three colored balls fell cleanly into the pocket.
"Dump the cumbersome hydraulic drive and switch to lightweight, close-fitting armor. That kid's learned his lesson."
Dum Dum expertly poured himself a glass of dark beer.
"He has his way of revenge, and we have ours."
Steve put down his cue, walked to the table, and untied the binding thread on the file folder.
A large stack of photos and top-secret files covered in markings fell out.
Are these people reliable?
Steve picked up the top photo.
The photo shows a burly, one-eyed man with a face full of scars and a hideous skull tattooed on his neck.
"They're all on S.H.I.E.L.D..'s extremely dangerous blacklist."
Dum Dum took a sip of beer, smacked his lips, and said, "He has a terrible temper, is completely unruly, and is ruthless."
"Also, as you requested, I've screened out all those 'goody-two-shoes' who only know how to sit in the office and write evaluation reports."
"That guy named John infiltrated an militant camp alone on an overseas battlefield and killed twelve people in one night. His methods were so brutal that even the military had to cover it up."
"And this woman, a top assassin from a secret Eastern Europe training camp, who became a lone Grim Reaper after leaving the organization, working for money."
Steve gathered the files together and neatly stacked them.
" Peggy is right. We can no longer constrain ourselves with S.H.I.E.L.D..'s weak and ineffective rules."
"Those underground Wolf's Lair the Shocker organization established in South America, Doctor Shinigami's inhuman experiments, cannot be destroyed through negotiation and rules."
"We will fight back with even more brutal methods."
Steve closed his eyes, his mind replaying the image of Bucky being transformed into a killing machine, the Shocker Rider No. 1 who brutally crushed him.
When do we make our move?
"Once all the troublemakers have assembled," Steve said, locking the file folder in the corner safe.
"First stop, straight to South America."
There was a knock on the door of the billiard room.
Dum Dum picked up a shotgun and released the safety.
Steve walked to the door and pulled the bolt.
Frank Castle walked in, bringing with him the night wind and the acrid smell of Gunpowder.
His tactical bulletproof vest had several holes in it, and the cuffs were stained with half-dried blood of unknown origin.
"Is it raining outside?" Dum Dum lowered the muzzle of his gun.
"They've really gone all out." The Punisher walked to the table, picked up the remaining beer from the Dum Dum, and took a big gulp.
"Any concrete news about Daredevil?"
Steve turned around and asked.
For the past few months, they have used every available underground channel to try to find traces of the Hand.
But that ancient organization seemed to have vanished into thin air, disappearing into the night along with the man with the broken spine.
Frank shook his head.
"No, we didn't find a single trace."
"That old hag Madame Gao, has turned Hell's Kitchen into a testing ground. Now that place is completely out of control; it's more chaotic than a battlefield."
Steve frowned.
"Isn't the police going to do anything about it? Are they just going to let the Carnage at the 15th Precinct go by so easily?"
"The 15th Precinct doesn't even have a single person alive to answer the phone right now."
Frank sneered repeatedly.
"That's dozens of lives!" Dum Dum's eyes widened.
"So what? The official assessment is that it was just a minor chemical plant gas leak accident."
Frank pulled up a chair and sat down.
"While you're busy causing trouble for Shocker in South America, I'm rummaging through trash cans in New York. The situation there is a hundred times more complicated than before."
"What exactly happened?" Dum Dum asked impatiently.
Frank took a deep breath, the image of that mindless monster in the factory flashing through his mind.
Those inhuman eyes, that image of Daredevil breaking Daredevil's spine with his bare hands.
The bartender who used to pour beer for the poor died on that rainy night.
The body he now occupies is merely a painless killing machine meticulously crafted by the Joker.
"That green-haired madman has completely muddied the waters; his gang of Joker- masked thugs are causing explosions every day."
" The Hand ninjas haven't been idle either; they've been secretly reaping lives."
"And then there's Kingpin, that fat guy who disappeared for a while and has regrouped the remaining gang forces, intending to take back territory."
"So, there are now three powerful forces vying for control of that no-man's-land?" Steve put down the photo.
"No, it's four forces."
Frank looked up, his eyes sharp. "The fourth is Bane after he regained consciousness."