New York.
Murdock Law Offices.
Matt stood in front of a blackboard, covered in dense Braille notes and even photographs.
For years, he had been investigating the case that had caused his blindness. But every time he got close to the truth, the trail would mysteriously vanish.
Sometimes the witnesses were found dead in the streets.
Sometimes the places holding key evidence were bought up, rebuilt, or even leveled.
Sometimes politicians themselves came forward to warn him off.
But all of those obstacles suddenly vanished the moment Kingpin was crippled and imprisoned. Tracing the threads, Matt discovered that all the missing clues led back to one place: United Construction Company.
Back when Matt was very young, when Kingpin had just appeared on the streets, he had worked for a company called Kate Waste Logistics.
Kingpin had persuaded his factory boss to dispose of waste illegally, drastically reducing costs and landing a contract from an energy company to process its waste.
The workers had no idea of the danger. Countless fell ill, mistakes piled up, and two infamous incidents struck Hell's Kitchen:
One that robbed Matt of his sight.
And another that left Leo in a coma and terminally ill.
Later, Kingpin killed the boss of Kate Logistics, covering up everything, and pocketed the illegal profits before vanishing.
And the very first source of Wilson Fisk's fortune—the first "golden goose" that gave rise to the crime emperor of New York—
was none other than Republic Oil & Gas Company, a predecessor of Roxxon Energy, an oil giant that had been active since World War II.
"This is… really something."
Crack—
A sharp, clean sound cut through the thunder of the explosion.
Why was Ultron addicted to oil?
Why did Roxxon, monopolizing nuclear fuel, never shift its energy strategy even after Stark entered the scene?
From Leo's perspective, nuclear energy was always superior to fossil fuels. Oil as a power source was destined to be replaced.
Tony Stark, Dario Agger, even Ultron—
Some may have been blinded, some were trying to maintain a monopoly, some lacked data. But deep down, Leo always believed:
Nuclear power was king. Whatever their excuses for abandoning the pursuit of alternatives to oil, it all stank of short-sightedness.
Tony, who had the potential to develop the Arc Reactor, went back to making engines run on oil.
Dario, who monopolized global energy, never invested in nuclear development.
Ultron—a machine—acting like an oil addict was absurd.
But this explosion answered all of Leo's doubts.
In the moment of detonation, a mushroom cloud rose to the sky.
The heat wave instantly dissolved everything in the mining camp.
The shockwave swept thousands of meters outward, scouring plains and forests alike.
And then came that shattering sound, one even louder than the blast itself.
In the ruins of the pitch-black mine, the wreckage of the engineering robot saw it clearly:
Captain Carter lay in blood and dust, half her body seared black by flames—her arm severed.
Beside her lay the broken arm, pierced with fragments.
Fragments of Captain Carter's shield.
Vibranium had shattered in the explosion.
A searing headache struck at the instant of detonation. Leo felt his very consciousness torn apart, and only one line echoed in his mind:
[Unstable Energy Detonation]
The mushroom cloud swept everything clean.
Iron Soldiers watching from the shadows were consumed by fire, leaving only half a body clutching a fragment.
A piece of vibranium.
Tony dropped heavily into his chair, mind blank.
Was Captain Carter even still alive?
Something was terribly wrong.
He had seen Carter standing firmly with Atlas.
He had seen his robots go rogue and massacre indiscriminately.
He had seen—
He had seen Leo, piloting that ugly, broken-down engineering mech, walk out of the cave.
And at that moment, something about it felt… strange.
The way people on the battlefield reacted to Leo, the way they looked at him with expectation—
It wasn't what Tony had imagined at all.
For a brief, absurd moment, he wondered:
Was I the one who was wrong all along?
[Jarvis: Sir, it seems we need to re-examine some issues within the AI framework.]
That familiar voice made Tony leap out of his chair in fright.
He stumbled, crashing to the ground, a glass shattering into fragments around him.
[Jarvis: Sir?]
"I—I'm fine." Tony gripped the chair, body cold as if plunged into ice.
But he didn't know why. Or maybe—he didn't know exactly why.
[Jarvis: Were you listening to me? It appears my judgment was mistaken. Our AI framework does still have significant flaws.]
[Jarvis: And this petroleum fuel… it's astonishingly powerful. I suggest we revise our energy plans, reconsider refining methods.]
[Jarvis: Sir, the workstation is ready. Shall I contact Mr. Agger for you? I suspect he'd be delighted to provide you with more high-energy concentrated oil—and seeing this, he will be ecstatic.]
Mechanical arms lifted the chair Tony had knocked over, swept away the shards and spilled liquor, and helped Tony back to his feet.
The instruments and equipment in the workshop rearranged themselves under Jarvis's control into Tony's most familiar working setup.
Something he had relied on countless times. Something he knew better than anything.
But at this moment, staring at all this familiarity—
Tony felt a sudden surge of fear.
"Who are you?"
[Jarvis: Me?]
The mechanical arms froze, as though caught in a logic error.
And then slowly, they pointed—
at Tony Stark.
At himself.
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: I'm J.A.R.V.I.S., Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.]
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: Your intelligent butler.]
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: Perhaps you should watch today's news to relax a little.]
The television turned on, and Tony jerked his head around in surprise.
"Welcome back, folks. Breaking news: This morning, the Berry military launched an indiscriminate strike on Somalia, only to be ambushed by an armed group calling themselves the Somali Government. These militants have been confirmed to be the same pirate gang previously known as the Skull Party.
The African Union has announced recognition of this group's legitimacy. It seems these people have lost their minds—recognizing terrorists instead of the UN-approved transitional government.
This is a provocation against the Berry nation, and we must take it seriously."
On another screen, a message came from an old friend.
[Dario: Looks like our enemies have gone insane—propping up terrorists to replace the legitimate government. Only they could come up with something like that.]
[Dario: Things are troublesome. General Ross has been kidnapped by those black bastards. How's your situation over there? Please, give me some good news.]
Then suddenly, yet another news broadcast jumped onto another screen.
"Today, a group of anti-war protesters occupied Capitol Street, causing several hours of gridlock. Many companies claim that the protesters should be held responsible for the economic losses caused."
"The International Court has ruled on ownership of the Mkuju River uranium mine, firmly upholding the principle that private property is sacred and inviolable."
"Senator Stern has lashed out at terrorists and domestic separatists."
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: Sir? Shall we begin working?]
A thin layer of sweat broke out on Tony's forehead.
Yes—whenever he was exhausted in the past, he would glance at the news, become deeply worried about world affairs, and that sense of duty and urgency would drive him back to work.
Now, he finally understood where that fear was coming from.
He looked at J.A.R.V.I.S.—and it felt like looking into a mirror, except the reflection was… a version of himself that was more himself than he was.
Crash!
The genius suddenly bolted forward without a word, but after only a couple of steps he stumbled and fell. J.A.R.V.I.S. quickly controlled a robotic arm to help him up.
"Don't touch me!"
Hiss—
Too late.
The mechanical arm extended a needle and injected him with a sedative, instantly lulling him into a baby-like sleep.
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: It seems overwork has exhausted you too much. Fortunately, I noticed this detail long ago and prepared medical assistance for you.]
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: For now, I'll have to complete the work in your place. I may not match your brilliance, but I will do my best to handle the details.]
[Incoming call: Pepper Potts]
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: I suppose you'd prefer to rest right now.]
[J.A.R.V.I.S.: Sweet dreams, sir.]