Monday Morning.
Vincent Hall emerged from the ocean depths.
Since mastering Hydro-Kinesis, the sea felt like home. He walked onto the beach of his new estate, the saltwater sluicing off his skin and obeying his command to return to the ocean, leaving him instantly dry.
He dressed for school.
Graduation was a month away.
Vincent pondered the future. College?
With his wealth and power, a degree was meaningless. The lectures were boring, the social climbing tedious.
But... dropping out of high school sounded trashy. Maybe he'd just donate a library and get an honorary doctorate later.
What about Gwen?
He pictured her smile. If he went to Columbia University, would she follow? And if he ran into Tony Stark mocking his alma mater, should he give Iron Man an Ice-Explosion Enema?
"I just want to make money," Vincent decided. "Or rather, earn Wealth Points."
Suddenly, the System chimed.
[Darkness Descends.]
[The name 'Ice Demon' echoes in Hell's Kitchen, but you have angered the Emperor in the shadows.]
[Mission: The Demon's Contempt.]
[Objective: Tonight, Wilson Fisk is hosting a gala in Manhattan. Crush the Fat Man's reputation. Send him to meet Satan in the name of the Demon.]
[Difficulty: White.]
[Accept Mission?]
"White Tier?"
Vincent laughed. So Kingpin is just a White Tier threat now?
It confirmed his growth. To the System, the Kingpin of Crime was no longer a boss fight. He was a tutorial mob.
This realization lifted a weight off Vincent's shoulders.
Since gaining the Ice-Ice Fruit, he had been cautious, unsure of his place in a world of gods and monsters. But SHIELD showing up had paradoxically freed him.
The masquerade was over.
"I am the Ice Demon. I don't need to hide anymore."
He accepted the mission.
"Starting with Fisk. I'll declare war on the underworld."
Midtown High.
Vincent arrived at school with a new resolve. He wouldn't bother with college. But first, he had to secure Gwen.
She was his first love in this world. And first loves were special.
He walked to her locker. Gwen was already there.
Vincent put his bag away and extended his hand naturally.
Gwen blinked, surprised. Usually, she initiated the contact. But seeing his confidence, her lingering annoyance about the weekend vanished.
She took his hand, lacing her fingers with his.
"Are you staying at the penthouse tonight?" she asked.
"Yes. The Long Island estate is set up now. It's just for vacations," Vincent explained.
"Then we should go this weekend. I hear the private beach is nice," Gwen hinted.
"The future mistress of the manor should definitely inspect the decor," Vincent teased. "I need your eye for design. It's a bit... bachelor right now."
Gwen blushed. "I'm not the mistress of anything!"
"Well, I'm inviting Miss Stacy to help me. In return, I'll cook you an authentic Chinese dinner."
"Authentic?" Gwen's eyes lit up. "Deal."
Vincent's phone buzzed.
Matt Murdock calling.
Vincent declined the call.
He didn't want Matt involved. Daredevil was a street-level hero with a human body. The coming war with Kingpin and the supernatural threats would get him killed.
Let Matt handle the Hand. Vincent would handle the King.
"Gwen, you have your Oscorp internship later?"
"Yeah. Dr. Connors made a breakthrough in cross-species genetics," Gwen said excitedly. "He found the missing decay rate algorithm."
Vincent nodded. So Peter gave him the formula. The Lizard is coming.
Manhattan. Trump International Hotel.
Wilson Fisk, the philanthropist, was giving a moving speech at a charity gala.
"New York is a city of second chances..."
The applause was thunderous.
But Fisk's mind was elsewhere. Specifically, a lab beneath Hell's Kitchen.
Tonight was the night. The Super-Collider was ready. He would tear open the multiverse and bring back Vanessa and Richard.
"Mr. Fisk, wonderful speech," a senator gushed, shaking his hand.
Fisk smiled warmly. His public persona was impeccable. To the world, he was a gentle giant of industry. Only the shadows knew he controlled 40% of all crime in the United States.
Suddenly, the massive screen behind the podium flickered.
The charity logo disappeared.
A grainy video began to play.
It showed Fisk in a back alley, beating a man to death with a car door.
Then, documents flashed on the screen—bribes to judges, police payrolls, and orders for assassinations signed by Wilson Fisk.
The ballroom went silent.
"Turn it off!" Fisk roared, his mask slipping. "CUT THE POWER!"
But the video continued.
A distorted voice—Vincent's—boomed over the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Meet the real King of New York."