"…Kate," the little girl answered timidly.
"Kate…" Marcus Lee repeated the name softly.
Then he reached out and gently touched the doll in her hands.
"…Do you like this?"
"Yes… it's… it's you. You saved me."
Marcus froze for a brief moment. Did it really happen? Of course it did.
"That day… the building collapsed, and my dad…" Kate's eyes welled up with tears. "That alien monster tried to kill me… and then… then you appeared."
She mimicked the scene: "You looked at it, and then bam! a beam shot out from your eyes!"
"…I'm sorry."
Kate was stunned.
"I'm sorry, Kate." Marcus's voice was hoarse. "That day… I should have been faster."
"If I had moved faster… my dad… he would have…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
A hero's self-reproach spoke louder than words ever could.
"Uh…" A nearby intern broke down crying on the spot.
The orphanage director covered her mouth, eyes reddened.
Finally, a flicker of light returned to Kate's wide, numb eyes.
She stared at the man who had saved her like a god and now was apologizing to her.
"No… it's not your fault!" Kate suddenly shouted, tossing the doll aside and throwing herself into Marcus's arms.
"It's not your fault! You're a hero! You saved me! Waaa…"
The little girl's sobs echoed through the room.
Marcus Lee the Patriot awkwardly and gently embraced her back.
He tilted his head and closed his eyes.
A single "hero's tear" slid perfectly down his handsome cheek.
Flash!
Cameras fired in a frenzy.
Ding! Popularity +213!
Ding! Popularity +480!
Ding! Popularity +355!
…
Ding! Special popularity +10000!
Marcus laughed inside.
"Perfect… flawless performance. Once Watt Company capitalizes on this, my popularity will skyrocket everyone will love me!"
After the "performance," Marcus left the orphanage satisfied.
He didn't return directly to his apartment. Instead, he decided to circle over New York twice, savoring the final dessert the cheers of the crowd.
As he flew over the chaotic Hell's Kitchen,
his superhuman hearing picked up something unusual.
"…No… please… let me go…" A woman's voice choked with fear.
Hell's Kitchen.
The name fit perfectly.
Even a month after the Battle of New York had "ended," the air here still reeked of decay.
Jessica Jones threw an empty bottle into the sink with a clatter.
In the mirror: a pale-faced woman with dark circles under her eyes.
Her black hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest. Same as always, dressed in a black leather jacket and ripped jeans.
"Damn it."
She muttered, grabbing her keys.
Jessica had powers.
She had no idea why only that the accident that killed her family left her with this "gift": superhuman strength and the ability to jump from a ten-story roof without breaking her legs.
To her, the gift was worthless.
It brought only trouble, isolation, and a reputation as a weirdo.
So she learned to hide.
She worked all sorts of jobs cashier, bartender, even dressed as a squirrel handing out flyers in Times Square.
She drifted along until… the Battle of New York erupted.
That day, she saw a Leviathan smash through the side of a building.
She saw a cloaked, blond "superman" carrying a nuclear bomb into a breach in the sky.
At her feet, a Chitauri soldier raised an energy spear, aiming at a little girl crouched behind a taxi.
Jessica didn't hesitate.
She lunged, grabbed the alien's head, and used the strength she'd hidden for ten years to slam it hard onto the asphalt.
She saved the girl.
From that day, she felt something long dead stir back to life.
"Stop, bitch! Hand over the money!"
Hell's Kitchen, 2 a.m.
Three addicts cornered a nurse finishing her shift in a narrow alley; one brandished a switchblade.
"Please…"
"F*** you!" The leader slapped her.
"Hey!"
A lazy, annoyed female voice cut in from the alley entrance.
"Can you idiots ever change your script? It's always 'bitch' and 'money' so boring."
The three turned and saw Jessica Jones.
"It's you! That freak in the leather jacket!" The leader roared. "She's alone we "
Bang!
Jessica didn't bother talking.
She grabbed a trash can lid and threw it like a frisbee, smashing it into the leader's face.
His nose broke, teeth flew, and he screamed as he collapsed.
"What?!" The other two froze.
"Next," Jessica cracked her knuckles.
"F*** kill her!"
The knife-wielder charged like a maniac.
Jessica sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and bent it backward.
Crack!
"Ahhh !!"
The thug fell, clutching his broken arm.
The third ran.
Jessica lunged, grabbed his collar, and slammed him into the brick wall at the end of the alley.
Crash!
A chunk of wall collapsed, and the man slid down like wet cement.
Jessica brushed off the dust, pulled a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from a moaning beggar's pocket, and shoved it into the stunned nurse's hand.
"Take a cab home. Don't walk this street again."
"…Thank… thank you! You… you're a hero!"
"I'm not a hero." Jessica waved. "I'm just… Jessica Jones."
She turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Across the street, a man in a purple shirt and matching tie lurked in the darkness, watching every move.
A sick smile curved his lips.
"Oh… my God," he whispered. "So… primal, so… powerful. You… are mine."
The next evening, Jessica returned to her usual dimly lit bar.
"Jack, the cheapest whiskey you've got. On the rocks."
"Jones, playing vigilante again?" the bartender asked, wiping a glass. "One day you're gonna get yourself into big trouble."
"Shut up and pour."
"Hey, mind if I buy you a drink?"
A soft male voice interrupted her.