The city never slept.
From the rooftops, Ethan watched the streets below, his sharp eyes scanning for movement. New York was alive with energy—cars honking, people laughing, distant sirens wailing through the air. But beneath all of it, the underworld was stirring.
Their first strike against Kingpin had sent shockwaves through the city.
Peter had intercepted a police report earlier that day. The warehouse they raided had been torched—not by them, but by Fisk's own men, covering up any remaining evidence. Some of the stolen money had gone missing before they arrived, thanks to the small-time crooks they'd leaked info to. Just as they planned.
Fisk was furious.
The Kingpin of Crime wasn't just angry about the money. He was angry about the message—the red circle Ethan had spray-painted on the wall before leaving. It was a warning. A challenge.
And Fisk didn't take challenges lightly.
Peter landed beside him with a soft thwip, the red and blue of his suit blending with the shadows. "Bad news."
Ethan smirked. "That's always fun. Lay it on me."
Peter held up his phone, showing a security camera screenshot. The image was grainy, but the large, imposing figure in a white suit was unmistakable.
Wilson Fisk.
"He's moving faster than we thought," Peter said. "He's putting a bounty out. Half a million dollars for whoever finds out who's behind this."
Ethan let out a low whistle. "Damn. I thought I was worth at least a full mil."
Peter shook his head. "This isn't funny, Ethan. Fisk has every criminal in the city looking for us now. If we're not careful, this will spiral out of control."
Ethan rolled his shoulders. "We knew this would happen. If anything, this just confirms we got his attention."
Peter exhaled, frustrated. "Yeah, but now we have to be smarter. No more leaving messages, no more direct hits unless we have an escape plan."
Ethan crossed his arms. "So what's the next move?"
Peter hesitated before answering. "We keep pressing him. But we don't just go after his money this time."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then what?"
Peter's expression hardened. "We go after his operations."
Ethan's smirk widened. "Now we're talking."
The next night, Ethan and Peter moved on their next target—one of Fisk's human trafficking hubs.
Fisk wasn't just a businessman; he was a slaver. He smuggled people in and out of the country, selling them off to the highest bidder. Some ended up in forced labor, others as test subjects for underground scientists.
Ethan clenched his fists just thinking about it.
He and Peter perched on a rooftop overlooking a run-down warehouse near the docks. Unlike their last raid, this one had more security—armed guards patrolling the area, motion sensors, even a few sniper nests.
Peter scanned the area with his lenses. "This is gonna be tougher. Fisk knows we're coming, even if he doesn't know who we are."
Ethan cracked his neck. "Then let's make sure he regrets it."
Peter sighed. "You really enjoy this, don't you?"
Ethan grinned. "I won't lie. There's something satisfying about bringing these bastards down."
Peter shook his head but didn't argue. Instead, he pointed at a shipping container near the warehouse entrance. "That's where they're holding the people. We need to get them out before we take down the guards."
Ethan nodded. "Got it. You take the snipers, I'll handle the ground."
Peter hesitated. "Don't kill anyone."
Ethan smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Peter gave him a look before firing a web and swinging off.
Ethan rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath. He could feel it—his body shifting, adapting, preparing for the fight ahead. His senses sharpened, his muscles tensed.
Then he moved.
He dropped from the rooftop, landing behind one of the patrolling guards. Before the man could react, Ethan grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head against a nearby crate—knocking him out cold.
One down.
Moving quickly, Ethan weaved through the shadows, taking out guards one by one. His body reacted before he even had to think—ducking under swings, dodging gunfire, striking pressure points with inhuman precision.
By the time Peter finished webbing up the snipers, half the guards were already unconscious.
Peter landed beside him. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you're already cleaning house."
Ethan shrugged. "I work fast."
Peter chuckled. "Alright, let's get those people out."
They moved toward the shipping container, where muffled voices could be heard inside. Ethan picked the lock while Peter kept watch. The moment the door swung open, dozens of terrified faces stared back at them.
Peter spoke first. "We're here to help. You're safe now."
A few people started crying. Others hesitated, unsure if they could trust them.
Ethan sighed. "Look, you can stay here and wait for Fisk's men, or you can follow us and get the hell out of here. Your choice."
That got them moving.
Peter led them toward a hidden exit, where an unmarked van—one of Peter's safe transport vehicles—was waiting. As they helped people inside, Ethan felt a sense of satisfaction.
This wasn't just about revenge anymore.
This was justice.
But before they could finish, a deep booming voice echoed from the warehouse entrance.
"You think I wouldn't see this coming?"
Ethan turned.
Standing at the entrance, flanked by heavily armed men, was one of Fisk's top enforcers. A towering figure in a bulletproof vest, with a scar running down his cheek and knuckles the size of bricks.
Peter groaned. "Great. Who's this guy?"
Ethan smirked. "I think we just met Fisk's new guard dog."
The enforcer cracked his knuckles. "Boss wants you alive. Lucky for you, I don't."
Ethan rolled his shoulders, stepping forward. "You wanna dance? Let's dance."[1]
The enforcer charged
And Ethan met him head-on.
The enforcer moved like a wrecking ball, his massive frame cutting through the air with terrifying speed.
Ethan barely had time to react before a fist the size of a cinder block came flying toward his face. He ducked, feeling the shockwave as the punch sailed past him and smashed into a metal container. The impact sent a deep dent through the thick steel.
Shit, this guy hits hard.
Ethan twisted away, rolling across the ground before springing back to his feet. His body was already adapting, his muscles tightening, his bones hardening. He could feel it—his cells reinforcing themselves, adjusting to withstand the sheer force this guy was throwing at him.
The enforcer cracked his knuckles. "You're fast. Let's see how long that lasts."
He lunged again, this time swinging both fists downward in a hammer strike. Ethan jumped back, but the ground beneath him exploded from the impact. A wave of dust and debris shot into the air.
"Ethan, we don't have time for this!" Peter called, webbing up two of the last remaining guards. "We need to go, now!"
Ethan exhaled. He could feel his adrenaline spiking, but his mind remained sharp. Peter was right—this wasn't a fight they needed to win. They just needed to get the hell out.
He made a decision.
The enforcer charged again, but this time, Ethan didn't try to dodge. Instead, he sidestepped at the last moment and grabbed the guy's extended arm. With a sudden twist, he redirected the force, using the enforcer's own momentum to send him crashing headfirst into a nearby crate.
The wooden box exploded into splinters as the enforcer skidded across the floor.
Peter didn't waste any time. "That's our exit!"
Ethan didn't argue. He sprinted toward the van, where the last of the captives were already inside. Peter fired a web-line, yanking himself into the driver's seat.
The enforcer was already getting back up, his head bleeding but his expression furious.
"No way in hell you're leaving!" he roared.
Ethan jumped into the van, slamming the doors shut behind him. "Drive, Pete!"
Peter hit the gas.
The enforcer lunged, his hands gripping the back of the van as they peeled out of the warehouse. The entire vehicle shuddered, tires screeching against the pavement.
"Jesus, this guy does not give up!" Ethan yelled.
Peter swerved, trying to shake him off. "Any bright ideas?"
Ethan glanced at the side mirror, seeing the enforcer clawing his way up. The guy's raw strength was insane. If he got inside, they were screwed.
Ethan's eyes locked onto a utility pole near the road.
"Turn right, now!" he shouted.
Peter didn't hesitate—he yanked the wheel, and the van veered sharply. The sudden turn threw the enforcer off balance just as Ethan kicked open the back doors.
The enforcer's grip slipped, and he flew off, slamming face-first into the pole. The impact was brutal, the sound of cracking metal and bone echoing through the night.
Peter let out a breath. "Okay. That was kinda awesome."
Ethan smirked, shutting the doors. "Told you I work fast."
The van sped off into the city, disappearing into the night.
They'd won this round.
But Fisk wasn't going to take this lying down.
(Line break)
The van sped through the dimly lit streets of New York, weaving between cars as Peter kept the accelerator pressed down. The tension inside was thick, the only sound being the heavy breathing of the captives in the back and the distant wail of police sirens echoing through the city.
Ethan sat in the passenger seat, his body still buzzing from the fight. His muscles ached, bruises forming where he had barely managed to dodge attacks. But the pain was nothing compared to the rage simmering beneath his skin.
Kingpin.
The bastard who had his parents killed.
The man who had kidnapped and experimented on him.
And now, he was running a human trafficking operation right under the city's nose?
Ethan clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm.
Peter stole a glance at him. "Hey… you okay?"
Ethan exhaled, loosening his grip. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
Peter didn't push, but the concern in his voice was evident. "We did good tonight. We got those people out."
Ethan turned slightly, looking at the rescued captives in the back. Most of them were still in shock, their eyes hollow, their bodies trembling. They had been through hell. If he and Peter hadn't shown up, they would have been sold off to god-knows-where.
He forced himself to relax. "Yeah… We did."
Peter focused back on the road. "I'm taking them to a safe house. An underground network that helps trafficking victims. They'll be taken care of."
Ethan nodded, but his mind was elsewhere.
Fisk.
This was bigger than he thought. It wasn't just about his parents anymore. The man was running a full-scale operation, and Ethan had barely scratched the surface.
And there was no way in hell he was going to let this continue.
"Pete," Ethan said after a moment. "This isn't over."
Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know."
Ethan turned to him, his expression hard. "I want to take Fisk down."
Peter's hands tightened on the wheel. "Ethan…"
"I'm serious."
Peter sighed. "I get it, man. Believe me, I do. But we can't just storm in and take him out. Fisk is untouchable. He's got politicians, cops, and judges in his pocket. Even if we expose him, they'll just sweep it under the rug."
Ethan leaned back, thinking. Peter was right. Fisk wasn't just some thug running a crime ring—he was a king in a castle, protected by layers of money, power, and corruption. Taking him down wasn't going to be easy.
But Ethan had something now.
His adapting body, his newfound strength, his knowledge of Fisk's operations.
He could use them.
"We'll find a way," Ethan said, his voice firm. "We have to."
Peter didn't answer for a while. Then, finally, he nodded. "Yeah… we will."
They fell into silence as the city lights flickered past, the night stretching on.
Ethan had made up his mind.
Fisk had taken everything from him.
It was time to return the favor.
(Line break)
The van rolled to a stop in front of an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The place looked abandoned—rusted metal doors, broken windows, and graffiti-covered walls—but Ethan could tell it wasn't. The moment they arrived, a side entrance slid open, revealing a man in dark clothes.
Peter hopped out first, waving a greeting. "This is Mark. He runs the safe house."
Ethan followed, stepping out of the van and stretching his sore limbs. Mark was in his mid-forties, with graying hair and sharp eyes that studied Ethan carefully before nodding in approval.
"You the new guy?" Mark asked.
Ethan hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah."
Mark didn't ask for more details. Instead, he turned toward the people inside the van. "Alright, let's get them inside. We've got food, medical supplies, and a warm place to sleep."
The captives moved hesitantly at first, but as soon as they realized they were safe, relief flooded their faces. One woman, barely in her twenties, clutched Ethan's arm before stepping down. Her voice was shaky. "Thank you…"
Ethan didn't know how to respond. He just nodded.
Peter patted his shoulder. "Come on, let's talk."
They stepped away as Mark and his team guided the rescued victims into the safe house. Peter leaned against the van, crossing his arms.
"So… now what?"
Ethan sighed. "Fisk won't stop. He'll just find more people, build another operation. We need to cut him off at the source."
Peter nodded. "Agreed. But that's the tricky part. Fisk doesn't leave loose ends. If we're going after him, we need proof—something that sticks, something his money and connections can't erase."
Ethan frowned. "And we don't have that."
Peter hesitated. "Not yet. But… I might have a lead."
Ethan turned to him. "Go on."
Peter pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. "You know how I made that cybersecurity app?"
Ethan nodded. It had only been out for two months, but people were already talking about how effective it was at preventing cyber threats.
"Well, turns out one of the companies that bought my app is actually connected to Fisk."
Ethan blinked. "Wait—what?"
Peter exhaled. "Yeah. One of Fisk's shell companies, 'Granite Holdings,' has been using my app to protect their data. It was supposed to be just another business, but when I looked deeper, I found that they don't actually sell anything. No products, no services—just money moving in and out."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "A laundering front."
Peter nodded. "Exactly. And the guy running the books for Fisk? His name's Damian Cole. He's one of the top financial heads in Fisk's organization, and he's careful—almost paranoid. But he still needs to access his accounts, which means he has to log in somewhere."
Ethan crossed his arms. "And your app lets you see that?"
Peter shook his head. "No. I didn't build it to spy on people. But it does give me metadata—like how often someone logs in, how many failed attempts, and what kind of security they use. And this guy? He's been super active lately. I don't know what he's doing, but something's got him working overtime."
Ethan thought about it. "If we can get to him, we can find out where the money is going."
Peter smirked. "Now you're thinking like me."
Ethan exhaled. "Alright. How do we get to him?"
Peter turned the phone around, showing a photo of Damian Cole. It looked like a security cam image—a well-dressed man in his forties stepping out of a luxury car.
"This guy is careful, but he's also a creature of habit. He takes the same route to work every day, stops at the same places, even eats at the same restaurant every Friday."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That's… stupid."
Peter grinned. "Rich criminals get lazy. They don't expect anyone to come after them because they think they're untouchable."
Ethan looked at the image again. "So what's the plan?"
Peter's grin widened. "We stalk him."
Ethan blinked. "Excuse me?"
Peter shrugged. "We follow him. See where he goes, who he talks to, and when he logs into his accounts. If we find an opening, we move in."
Ethan sighed. "That's a terrible plan."
Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's our terrible plan."
Ethan groaned. "When do we start?"
Peter smirked. "Tomorrow morning."
Ethan shook his head, already regretting this. But deep down, he knew—this was the only way forward.
Fisk thought he was untouchable.
It was time to prove him wrong.
The following day, Peter and Ethan were up before dawn, the weight of their mission hanging heavily in the air. Peter, ever the optimist, was ready to dive into the plan. Ethan, on the other hand, was still processing everything—still trying to make sense of his new reality.
They met at a café near Damian Cole's office, a bustling corner spot with people coming and going. Peter had insisted on blending in, which meant they weren't dressing in their usual attire—no spandex or high-tech gadgets for this mission. Instead, Peter was wearing his usual hoodie and jeans, while Ethan had on a simple black jacket and dark sunglasses. They had to look normal, even though both of them knew they weren't.
Peter checked his phone as they waited for their coffee, tapping through a few screens. Ethan watched the people around them, keeping an eye out. The city felt different to him now, more dangerous, more alive in its criminal undercurrents. He was no longer just an observer—he was part of it.
"So, here's the deal," Peter said, breaking the silence. "We're going to tail Cole today. See where he goes, track his habits, figure out his schedule. The weakest link is always his routine."
Ethan nodded, still unsure of how this was all going to play out. He knew Peter was a genius, but this plan felt risky—risky in ways that could backfire horribly. Still, he didn't have many options. Fisk's empire was vast, and they were barely scraping the surface.
Peter kept his eyes on his phone, and after a beat, he grinned. "Alright, it's time to go. Cole's on the move."
Ethan took a deep breath. "Let's do it."
They exited the café and moved into the street, blending into the crowd of morning commuters. Their target—Damian Cole—had just stepped out of his upscale apartment building across the street, his expression unreadable as he adjusted his tie and headed toward a sleek black car waiting for him.
Ethan's instincts flared. This was it. They were on him.
Peter glanced over. "We'll follow from behind. Stay at least two cars away—don't get too close."
Ethan nodded and pulled his jacket tighter around him, slipping into the crowd of pedestrians. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of stalking someone, but it wasn't as if he had any other choice. He just had to keep his focus. This wasn't about right or wrong anymore—it was about survival, about making sure that Fisk didn't get away with the things he'd done.
They followed Cole's black sedan for the next twenty minutes, weaving through traffic as it wound its way through the city. Peter kept pace in a beat-up old car he'd "borrowed" from a friend, while Ethan stayed a few cars back, making sure they weren't being noticed. The chase wasn't dramatic—no speeding or dodging through alleyways. It was more of a subtle dance, one where they had to stay in the background and not make a scene.
Finally, Cole's car slowed and turned down a narrow street, coming to a stop in front of a small café. Cole exited the vehicle and walked inside, not looking around or giving any indication that he was aware of the people watching him.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "He's just… stopping for coffee?"
Peter nodded from the driver's seat. "Looks like it. Let's keep it low for now. Stay in the car."
Ethan groaned but did as Peter asked, settling back into the seat with his arms crossed. He'd expected more—a meeting with someone important or a stop at some high-profile location, not a mundane coffee break. But it wasn't about the destination. It was about what happened next.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the front door of the café. Ethan could barely contain his curiosity—what was Cole doing in there? Was he meeting someone? Was this a setup? He needed to know more.
Peter, still scanning the scene, spoke up. "Alright, I think it's time. Let's move."
They parked a little further down the street and waited. After another ten minutes, Damian Cole stepped out of the café, his hands full with two cups of coffee. He didn't speak to anyone—just got back into his car and drove off again. This time, however, he took a different route, heading into a less-populated area of the city.
Ethan furrowed his brow. "Where's he going now?"
Peter checked his phone quickly. "Let's find out."
They followed him again, this time through quieter streets. The city had a different vibe here—less glamorous, more gritty. They drove past abandoned warehouses and boarded-up storefronts. The air felt thicker, like they were moving deeper into the heart of Fisk's territory.
Finally, after another twenty minutes of winding through the streets, Cole's car slowed to a stop in front of a large, unmarked building. The place looked like a storage facility—empty, anonymous, and unremarkable.
Peter's grip tightened on the wheel. "This is it. This is the place."
Ethan's instincts screamed at him. "We need to get inside."
Peter turned to look at him. "You sure? This place is Fisk's backdoor operation. It's not going to be as simple as walking in."
Ethan nodded. "We don't have much choice. If Cole's here, then Fisk is probably involved. We need to find out what's going on in there."
Peter sighed. "Alright. But we move fast. We can't afford to get caught."
They parked a few blocks away, and Peter led the way through the streets. They made their way to the back of the building, slipping into the shadows, trying not to make a sound. The place was dark and unlit, with only the faint hum of machinery in the distance.
Ethan's heart beat in his chest as he pressed against the wall, watching as Peter reached for the door handle. It was locked, but Peter quickly disabled the security system with a quick flick of his hand—he'd spent years perfecting his skills as a tech whiz, and it showed.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. They moved cautiously, their footsteps silent as they crept through the facility. There were no sounds, no people—just the distant echoes of what could have been a lab or a warehouse.
They reached the first room, peering inside. It was filled with large crates and shipping containers. Most of them were marked with Fisk's logo—a symbol Ethan had learned to recognize over the past few weeks.
Peter's eyes narrowed. "This is where they keep the goods. This is the real operation."
Ethan's pulse quickened. He had to know more.
They moved deeper into the building, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The Adaption power within him hummed, sensing the danger, ready to react if needed. But for now, they were in control.
Then they heard footsteps—soft, but unmistakable.
Peter gestured for Ethan to stay low, and they crouched behind a stack of crates. Through the cracks, they saw Damian Cole speaking to a man in a suit, a briefcase in hand. The two men exchanged words, though their conversation was too muffled to hear clearly.
Ethan strained his ears, trying to catch anything useful. Peter remained focused, his eyes tracking every movement. They were getting closer. They could hear the muffled thuds of doors opening and closing, voices echoing in the hallways. But it wasn't until they heard a name that things clicked.
"Fisk," Peter muttered under his breath. "He's moving something big, something important."
Ethan's heart skipped a beat. "We need to find out what."
As the words "Fisk" echoed in the dark, Ethan's mind started to race. He had been so focused on gathering intel, but now the reality of what they were dealing with hit him. They weren't just dealing with a corrupt businessman—they were uncovering a web of secrets that stretched far beyond what either of them had imagined.
Peter's gaze never left Cole and the man he was speaking to. He motioned for Ethan to stay low, the urgency clear in his eyes. The stakes had just gotten higher.
Ethan's heart pounded as he crouched behind the crates, trying to steady his breath. His Adaption power was alert, scanning the environment for anything unusual. But right now, everything felt like a potential trap. His body had been adapting since the experiments, growing stronger, faster, and more resilient with each encounter. But that didn't mean he couldn't still be caught off guard.
Peter leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper. "I think Fisk has a major operation going on here. This isn't just about him building an empire—he's planning something."
Ethan's fingers tightened into fists. He wanted to move—now. The urge to confront whatever was happening was gnawing at him, but Peter was right: they couldn't afford to be reckless.
The conversation between Cole and the man grew louder, and a few words floated to Ethan's ears.
"…shipping containers... shipment... tonight…"
That was enough. Ethan's pulse quickened. He had to get a better look. He motioned for Peter to follow as they carefully crept down the hall. Every step felt like a calculated risk, but Ethan wasn't about to back down now. Not when they were so close.
They reached the end of the hallway, which led to a series of locked doors. The sound of the conversation grew fainter as Cole and the suited man turned into another room, but Ethan wasn't about to let them slip away without a fight. He could feel the familiar power of his Adaption ability welling up inside him—ready to react, ready to adapt to whatever situation came next.
Peter turned to him with a questioning look. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Ethan nodded. "We can't let them get away. We need to get inside that room."
Peter seemed to consider the situation for a second, then gave a subtle nod. "Alright. On three. You ready?"
Ethan took a deep breath and nodded again. His body was already reacting to the challenge, ready for whatever came next. They moved forward, keeping to the shadows as they approached the door.
Peter pulled out a small device from his pocket—a tool that had become his go-to in situations like this. He expertly worked it into the door's security system, bypassing the lock in a few swift movements. With a soft click, the door creaked open.
Inside, the room was dimly lit, with crates stacked high, some marked with what appeared to be Fisk's insignia. But it wasn't the crates that caught Ethan's attention. It was the large table in the center of the room, covered with blueprints, documents, and an assortment of high-tech devices.
Ethan's mind raced. This wasn't just a warehouse—it was a hub of operations, a place where deals were made, where things came and went. He could see the plans on the table—maps of the city, with certain buildings highlighted, and notes in Fisk's handwriting scribbled all over the documents. This was where Fisk's power was being consolidated.
"Damn," Peter muttered under his breath. "This is bigger than I thought."
Ethan's eyes locked on the papers, scanning through the scribbled notes and detailed plans. The words were difficult to make out from the distance, but one thing stood out clearly: Fisk was planning something tonight.
It was right there, written in bold red ink.
"Shipment. Midtown. Tonight."
Ethan's mind processed the implications. Whatever Fisk was sending out, it had to be important. They couldn't let it go through. This was their chance to stop him, to gather the intel they needed.
Peter turned to him. "We have to act fast. If we leave now, they might move the shipment before we can find out what it is."
Ethan's eyes hardened. "No. We go now. We stop this."
Peter didn't hesitate. With a quick glance, he motioned for Ethan to follow. They crept out of the room, making their way back to the hallway. As they reached the end of the corridor, Peter paused, his head tilting as he listened. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the other side.
Ethan's instincts kicked in. They needed to move— fast.
Without thinking, he reached for Peter's arm, pulling him into a nearby maintenance closet just as the footsteps drew closer. They both held their breath, standing still in the dark, only the faint hum of the building's machinery in the background.
The footsteps passed by, and the air seemed to still. Peter exhaled quietly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
"That was too close," Peter whispered.
Ethan glanced at the door, calculating their next move. The Adaption power in him began to hum again, ready for action. "We need to get to Midtown. Fast."
Peter gave a quick nod. "Alright. Let's go."
They moved out of the closet, trying to keep a low profile. With no time to waste, Peter led the way toward the exit. They didn't have a car nearby, but Peter's Spider-sense and agility would make sure they could reach Midtown before anyone noticed they were gone.
As they moved through the building, Ethan's mind raced. This was it. This was their chance to stop Fisk before he could do any more damage. The Adaption power within him stirred again, but this time, it wasn't about adapting to physical danger—it was about adapting to the situation, making the most of the opportunity before them.
They reached the exit without further incident, slipping out into the cool night air. The city was alive with its usual hustle, but there was a quiet tension hanging in the air. They could feel it—something was about to happen, something that could change everything.
Peter turned to him, eyes serious. "We don't know what's coming, but we can't let Fisk win. We stop him here, Ethan. We stop him tonight."
Ethan nodded, his expression grim. "Agreed."
With that, they set off toward Midtown, determined to stop whatever Fisk's shipment was and to get one step closer to uncovering the truth about Kingpin and the man who had ruined so many lives—including his own.
[1] Bro wants to be Madara