Surveillance and Plan

"Tell me, why are we surveilling a high school student?"

The young man stood beside a newsstand, holding up a newspaper as if reading it, though his eyes remained fixed on the distant target without the slightest lapse in attention.

"It's just routine procedure," his colleague's voice came through the earpiece.

Across the street, a middle-aged man leaned against a car. Every so often, he raised his wrist to check the time, as though waiting for someone.

"According to the information we received, this high school student named Sean Sipes was threatened by some gang thugs a week ago. Those men are now lying in the hospital. Later, one of their bosses went after him as well. Just yesterday, fourteen bodies were found in an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Queens, including that boss."

"What does that prove? That a high school student killed fourteen armed gangsters?" The young man curled his lip, clearly unconvinced.

"Of course not. But there are too many coincidences, so we need to investigate Sean Sipes as a suspect."

The middle-aged man spoke quietly. He likewise did not believe that a high school student who had lost his parents at a young age could have killed fourteen gang thugs on his own. But according to headquarters protocol, they had to track and monitor any suspicious target once or several times, until that person could be cleared from the list.

"Maybe it was just an ordinary gang conflict," the young man said casually. "That boss's superior is Frank D'Amico of the West Coast. He's been fighting the Hand from Japan and the Irish gang for Hell's Kitchen territory lately. Who knows whether one of those groups was responsible?"

"Mm, that makes sense. Remember to include that in the report."

The middle-aged man agreed. Beneath New York's glamorous surface, there was no shortage of hidden darkness and filth. Those gang forces were constantly fighting one another to the death over territory and illegal businesses.

"Speaking of Hell's Kitchen, there are some people there who need watching too."

"Several people have made the list—Daredevil, known as Hell's Kitchen's Red Devil. He's a strange figure who appeared recently, fighting criminals at night. He possesses exceptional combat skills and senses beyond those of ordinary people. Then there's Punisher. He's ruthless and shows criminals no mercy. Judging by his methods, he's likely a rigorously trained soldier or mercenary."

The young man read out several names from the list. They were all targets requiring close surveillance. The reason they were only being watched to a certain extent was that they were not yet considered dangerous individuals. They lacked the ability to threaten the federal government or homeland security, so it was enough to have a general grasp of their whereabouts and range of activity.

"None of these people are easy to deal with. Come to think of it, there seem to be more and more weirdos like them."

The middle-aged man shook his head. When had New York started producing people like this? In the past, they had dealt with transnational underground organizations and terrorist groups. Now they also had to deal with a bunch of freaks who liked wearing tights and costumes.

"All right, today's surveillance mission ends here. Target Number 76, Sean Sipes. Everything normal."

The young man lowered the newspaper in his hands and glanced at the distant high school student. Sean had been sitting in the comic book store the entire time, seemingly engrossed in the exciting plot of a comic and having forgotten it was time to go home.

How the hell did they connect a comic-loving high school student with a cold-blooded killer? the young man thought.

The sun gradually sank below the horizon, and warm orange afterglow blanketed the city. Traffic streamed along the roads while pedestrians hurried home, ending another fast-paced day. People longed to find a little relaxation and peace in their families.

Only after the two men left did Sean slowly put down his comic book, relief gleaming in his eyes.

"What a meticulous intelligence agency. They wouldn't even let a tiny coincidence like this go."

Sean, listening with focused attention, had caught every word exchanged by the two agents. How could they have known that the high school student under surveillance actually possessed powers beyond ordinary imagination? Every aspect of his body had been enhanced, including his senses.

"Daredevil, Punisher... So S.H.I.E.L.D. has been monitoring these street-level heroes all along." From the agents' conversation, Sean had learned some highly valuable information.

Hell's Kitchen had once been a famous slum on Manhattan Island, primarily inhabited by working-class Irish immigrants. It was known for its chaotic and rundown living conditions, severe ethnic conflicts, and high crime rate. Later, it became a paradise for criminals, producing countless offenders and gang bosses. In recent years, however, its proximity to Manhattan's Midtown business district had brought rapid development through continued investment by real estate developers.

"There also seems to be a very famous real estate tycoon there—Wilson Fisk."

Sean sorted through more information from his old memories. It would help him understand the state of this world. He was still just a nobody and had no desire to confront a behemoth like S.H.I.E.L.D. And those extraordinary Superheroes who could fly through the skies and move across the earth had yet to fully emerge. If he wanted to gain more benefits as quickly as possible, he would have to begin making plans.

Who should he start with?

After giving it serious thought, Sean decided to deal with Frank D'Amico first. It would be a perfect way to divert S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention and keep those people from wasting their time on him.

Having made up his mind, Sean returned home, changed into a compression vest, and worked up a sweat in a spacious room he had remodeled. All kinds of fitness equipment filled the room. Defined muscle lines had already begun to show on the youthful body of this high school student. His strong young body underwent uninterrupted, high-intensity physical training. Every time he drained the last bit of strength from himself, he could feel himself becoming a tiny bit stronger. The improvement was minute, but any progress was worth celebrating.

Huff, huff, huff!

Sean's chest heaved like a bellows, each breath deep and heavy. Through high-intensity training at the limits of his endurance, he continuously strengthened his body. The feeling of growing stronger bit by bit was simply intoxicating.

He had a vague premonition that if he kept up this training, then once he broke through a certain limit, he would receive far greater rewards.

"It's time to play the superhero who cracks down on gang crime."

A faint smile appeared on Sean's lips. He had originally intended to pay Mr. Frank D'Amico a visit after some time, but S.H.I.E.L.D.'s appearance had changed his plans. If another figure worthy of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention emerged, those agents would naturally stop focusing on him. It would not only divert their attention, but also solve his financial troubles.

After buying a great deal of fitness equipment and high-calorie food to replenish his energy, Sean had nearly spent the generous compensation payment. Taking down the West Coast drug lord would let him rob the rich and help himself in the process. It was truly killing two birds with one stone.

"If I'd transmigrated as Iron Man, I probably wouldn't have these troubles."

Sean laughed at himself. The initial process of building up capital was always long and arduous, but as long as he took a solid first step, the road ahead would naturally become much easier. Countless riches and a position that commanded awe—sooner or later, he would have them all.