Become Kingpin and build a hero mercenary company.

Page 23

"Holy crap! Times Square has been hacked?"

"Is that a weirdo? Their ability is to force people to use their phones?"

"The Hero Association has arrived! Things seem a bit tricky?"

"Hahaha, this weirdo is practically every internet celebrity's ultimate dream!"

Jin calmly observed everything through the surveillance footage. He saw the heroes being thwarted, the helplessness of the technical department, and the rapidly rising "popularity" online, which was in turn providing nourishment for that weirdo.

"The target's capabilities are clear: it feeds on 'attention' and 'network traffic,' is a mental pollution type, has unknown physical defenses, and is extremely resistant to conventional technological means." He spoke slowly, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself.

He connected to the internal communications with the technical department: "Fitz, cease the ineffective electronic countermeasures. Concentrate resources to analyze the core frequency and propagation patterns of its mental fluctuations."

"Understood, boss!" Fitz replied immediately. Although the direction had changed, at least there were clear instructions.

Next, Kingpin accessed the real-time status list of the Association's heroes. His gaze swept over each name and portrait, finally settling on a C-rank hero's profile marked "Non-combat Support Personnel" with an ability assessment of "Psychosynthesis and Emotional Soothing."

"Notify 'Mind Master' Lin," Kingpin ordered, "prepare to intervene. Mission objective: Construct a local silence field to isolate mental pollution and assist the frontline troops in evacuating the civilians."

Instead of immediately deploying higher-tier combat heroes, he opted for the most targeted abilities. This was both efficient and a gesture—the Hero Association possessed diverse means to deal with various unconventional threats.

The farce in Times Square continues, with "traffic is king" emitting even more smug and manic laughter on the screen, reveling in this distorted moment of "top popularity".

Unbeknownst to him, a net targeting his abilities and traits had already begun to tighten quietly. The association's response shifted from initial probing to precise, professional deconstruction. This bizarre crisis at the crossroads of the world was about to face its true challenge.

Chapter 51: Technology VS Illusion

The chaos in Times Square was like a boulder thrown into a still lake, the ripples spreading far and wide, naturally attracting the attention of "professionals" who were not only from the Hero Association.

On the top floor of Stark Tower, Tony Stark leisurely browsed Jarvis's curated selection of cutting-edge technology news that might interest him, a cup of steaming coffee in hand. Suddenly, several holographic screens flickered uncontrollably, one of them automatically switching to display a distorted face and a piercing, maniacal laugh—a live feed of Times Square.

“Hmm?” Tony raised an eyebrow and put down his coffee cup. “Jarvis, explain yourself. I remember I blocked all unofficial emergency alerts and spam ads.”

“Sir, the signal source did not infiltrate through conventional communication protocols. It seems to… utilize the global network data stream itself as a carrier, forcibly occupying a portion of the bandwidth for broadcasting in an encoding method that I cannot fully decipher.” Jarvis’s voice remained steady, but his speech was slightly faster. “Preliminary analysis indicates that the signal is a mixture of high-intensity anomalous bioelectric waves and residual mental energy, and its physical properties do not conform to any known electronic attack patterns.”

Tony became interested and walked to the control panel, his hands flying across the virtual keyboard: "Mixed energy signals? Forced broadcast? Sounds like some clueless colleague's performance art. Lock onto the signal source, reverse track and jam it."

"Under trial... Sir, the standard electronic countermeasures protocol is not working well. The signal is highly adaptive and diffuse, like a virus; once a part is cleared, it will quickly regenerate from other data nodes."

“Oh? Interesting.” Instead of being discouraged, Tony’s eyes lit up with a competitive glint. “Activate the ‘Fortress’ protocol and boost the firewall’s computing power to 300%. I’d like to see what kind of thing dares to run wild on my turf.”

However, almost the instant the "Bastion" protocol was activated, a huge, constantly rotating "thumbs up" icon suddenly popped up on an auxiliary screen in front of Tony, along with flashing neon words: "Bro, 666! Follow the streamer and you won't get lost!"

Tony: "..."

Jarvis: "...Sir, we appear to have been marked. A trace amount of anomalous psychic energy has been detected attempting to penetrate the armor's built-in neural interface."

Tony's face darkened: "Clear it out! Also, scan my biosignature to see if it's been contaminated!"

"The trace abnormal energy has been isolated and cleared. Your biosignals are stable, and no signs of mind control have been detected. However, the other party's abilities seem to have a special 'affinity' and interference with highly interconnected electronic systems."

Just then, Tony saw on the screen the scene of the Association heroes "Iron Wall" and "Swift Shadow" attempting to attack but being thwarted. He especially noticed Swift Shadow's momentary daze and hesitation.

"Ha!" Tony couldn't help but laugh, a hint of schadenfreude in his voice. "Looks like even Kingpin's masked circus can't handle this thing? They can't even get people close? Really..."

Before he finished speaking, his gaze swept over the technical support vehicles of the association's technical department, which were clearly helpless, and the sarcasm on his lips deepened.

"It seems it's time to show some people what real technology is."

A moment later, accompanied by a powerful roar of thrusters, the gold and red Iron Man armor ripped through the New York sky and landed with a classic superhero-style slam, crashing heavily onto the edge of Times Square, just outside the temporary cordon set up by the association.

"Step back, the professionals are entering." Tony's voice, amplified by a megaphone and carrying his signature arrogance, came from beneath his visor. He ignored the slightly complicated gazes of the association heroes beside him, raised his palm, and his palm cannon blazed with a dazzling white light.

"Jarvis, analyze the target's energy structure and identify the core frequency."

"Analysis in progress... The target energy field structure is abnormal, and the core frequency is constantly changing, making it impossible to lock onto. It is recommended to conduct a wide-range EMP shock to attempt to forcibly interrupt its energy supply."

“Approved. Let’s keep it gentle, don’t break all these ‘bricks’ (referring to pedestrians’ cell phones).” Tony snapped his fingers (although it was a bit comical to do this while wearing his armor).

An invisible electromagnetic pulse emanated from Iron Man, spreading in a fan shape towards the giant screen in the center of the plaza. Where the pulse passed, several nearby streetlights flickered, and the electronic signs of some shops briefly dimmed before returning to normal.

However, the screen in the very center, and the distorted face on it, only flickered a few times as if there was a bad television signal, before returning to normal, and the maniacal laughter even became louder.

"Useless! Useless! I am the traffic! I am the popularity! The laws of physics cannot bind me!!" The strange man's voice was mocking.

Tony frowned beneath his visor: "Jarvis?"

"The EMP impact was 1.7% less effective than expected. The target energy field is not purely dependent on external electricity; its core is highly bound to the bioenergy of the mutants and... a kind of incomprehensible 'collective attention.' Conventional energy disruption methods have limited effectiveness."

“Then let’s try a different approach.” Tony’s armor opened on his shoulder, revealing two rows of tiny firing ports. “Try this, ‘Miniature Armor-Piercing Rounds’ array, turn that damn screen into a sieve!”

Whoosh whoosh!

Dozens of high-velocity armor-piercing projectiles, each the size of a fingernail and trailing wisps of flame, were precisely aimed at the giant screen. However, a bizarre scene unfolded. Just before the projectiles were about to hit the screen, an invisible, viscous field of resistance seemed to appear in front of them. The projectiles' speed decreased dramatically in a way that defied the laws of physics, ultimately hovering just centimeters above the screen like insects trapped in amber, before falling helplessly to the ground.

"What the hell?!" Tony exclaimed in astonishment.

“A high-intensity spatial distortion and cognitive interference field has been detected. The target’s ability… seems to be able to distort reality perception and generate an instinctive defense against ‘malicious attacks’ directed at it.” Jarvis’s tone also became serious. “Sir, this goes beyond the scope of conventional physical and energy attacks.”

As if to verify Jarvis's words, the face on the screen turned towards Iron Man, its gleaming eyes fixed on him.

"Iron Man... Tony Stark... Haha! The biggest traffic magnet! Got you!"

A mental shock several times stronger than before, like an invisible giant wave, crashed down on Tony. Although the armor's nervous system protection layer activated immediately, filtering out most of the impact, a very small portion still managed to penetrate.

In an instant, the tactical interface in front of Tony's eyes blurred, and countless random pop-up ads exploded like a virus—

[Get a phone for free, limited-time offer!]

If you're a true brother, come and fight me!

[Shocking! Stark Industries stock price to plummet tomorrow!]

You may be a victim of software piracy...

At the same time, a cloyingly sweet female voice, sounding like a cheaply synthesized voice, rang in his ear (or rather, in the armor's internal communication channel): "Ding! Detected premium user 'Tony Stark'. You have obtained a 'Supreme VIP Experience Card'. Do you want to recharge immediately to unlock all privileges?"

Tony was annoyed by this sudden, low-level, and bizarre mental pollution, and his actions momentarily faltered. He shook his head violently and roared, "Jarvis! Get rid of this garbage!"

"We are working hard to eliminate... Sir, we suggest temporarily leaving the core area, as the enemy's capabilities are particularly effective against highly integrated intelligent systems."

Tony looked at the smug face on the screen, then at the crowd around him still immersed in the "like" frenzy, and at the association heroes standing guard but unable to do anything in the distance. A sense of frustration welled up inside him.

He, Tony Stark, genius, inventor, billionaire, philanthropist, Iron Man… actually got humiliated by a weirdo who mutated by “seeking attention”? And in front of everyone, no less?

This was even more painful for him than being choked by Obadiah and thrown out of the window.

"Tsk..." He clicked his tongue in annoyance, ignited his thrusters, and gained a little altitude, temporarily escaping the core area of ​​that disturbing mental pollution. He didn't leave, but hovered in the air, his eyes beneath his visor becoming serious.

“Jarvis, record all the data. This guy… is a bit strange.”

He knew that brute force wouldn't work. Perhaps a different approach was needed to decipher the true nature of this eccentric's abilities.

On the ground, inside the command vehicle of the Association's technical department, Minister Leo Fitz watched the entire process of Iron Man's humiliation through the monitor. Instead of laughing, he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Even Stark’s armor got caught… It’s definitely not just an electronics problem.” He turned to his assistant and said, “Send the abnormal peak data of mental fluctuations that we just captured to the ‘Mind Master’ and tell him that this might be the breakthrough!”

The battle reached a stalemate, but the real contest had only just begun. For the first time, the brilliance of technology seemed somewhat powerless in the face of a distorted "concept," foreshadowing that resolving this crisis would require relying on some more unconventional forces.

Chapter 52: Daredevil's Perfect Counter

The chaos in Times Square continues, like a digital nightmare from which there is no end. Iron Man's setback has not dampened the arrogance of "traffic is king"; on the contrary, it has only fueled the frenzy by attracting the "attention" of this top-tier internet celebrity. Invisible ripples of mental pollution spread in concentric circles, drawing more innocent bystanders into the frenzy of mechanical likes.

The atmosphere inside the association's technical command vehicle was heavy. Leo Fitz frowned as he looked at the scattered data fragments transmitted synchronously, showing the Iron Man armor suffering from mental contamination.

“Even Stark’s digital fortress was forced to display pop-ups… This is beyond what we can overcome technically.” He rubbed his temples, his gaze falling on the communication ID on the screen marked as “Non-combat Support Personnel”—“Meditation Master” Lin.

"Lin, did you hear that? We've detected several abnormal peaks in the target's mental fluctuations, and the data has been transmitted to you. Try constructing a directional silence force field, using a frequency-based inverse model based on the peaks, to see if we can create a 'no-concern' blind spot around him!"

A moment later, a gentle yet firm spiritual force, like a clear stream, began to seep from the edge of the square into the turbid sea of ​​fervor. The fervor in the eyes of the people touched by this force subsided slightly, their unconscious clicking fingers slowed down, and a brief look of confusion appeared on their faces.

"It's working!" one observer shouted.

However, this period of popularity was short-lived. The eccentric figure on the screen, "King of Traffic," seemed to immediately sense the force attempting to "cool down" his popularity.

"Who?! Who dares to cut my internet cable?!" he roared angrily, his flashing "eyes" suddenly turning towards the direction of the meditation master, Lin Zhida.

The next second, a more concentrated, sharper mental shock, filled with the malice of "cyber violence," pierced through the silent field constructed by the meditator like a poisoned arrow and crashed into his mental core!

"Ugh!" Lin, who was in a safe area far behind and had his eyes closed, was suddenly jolted, his face turning deathly pale, and a trickle of blood seeped from his nose. The silent force field he had constructed shattered like glass struck by a heavy hammer. The malicious backlash made him dizzy and almost unable to stand.

"Lin! Report the situation!" Fitz called out anxiously.

"I...I'm sorry..." Lin's voice was weak and pained, "His power...was too strong...and...it was full of malice...I couldn't completely block it out..."

Even the "Mind Master," specifically designed to counter mental pollution, has been defeated! A deathly silence fell over the command vehicle. Iron Wall, Swift Shadow, and other combat heroes were helpless against this intangible attack. Stark's technological methods were ineffective, and now even the specialized support heroes were injured… Did they really have to wait for this monster to absorb enough "flow" to evolve, or for it to cause even greater chaos?

At this stalemate, Kingpin, atop Fisk Tower, calmly scanned the hero status list, finally settling on a name marked "Class B" with the status "Ready"—Daredevil.

Without the slightest hesitation, he directly connected to Matt Murdoch's private communication channel.

In a small law firm in Hell's Kitchen, Matt Murdoch had just finished a difficult phone call with a client. The client's case was thorny, and the firm's bills were looming. He rubbed his temples, taking in the myriad sounds and smells of the city vibrating through the air—the distant sirens of ambulances, the steam from the coffee machine next door, the cacophony of heartbeats and whispers from pedestrians on the street, and… a discordant “noise” emanating from the direction of Times Square, filled with twisted desires and collective unconsciousness.

The noise made him feel instinctively disgusted and uncomfortable.

Just then, his personal communicator (a special model issued by the association, equipped with Braille touch display) vibrated. He glanced at it; it was a direct communication from the association's highest-level authorized personnel.

“Mr. Murdoch,” Kingpin’s deep voice came, without any pleasantries. “Times Square, a Tiger-level mental pollution threat, codenamed ‘Traffic is King.’ Its ability is to forcibly absorb attention and distort cognition; conventional methods are ineffective. A mind-controller has already tried and was injured. Your mission: find its true form and eliminate it.”

Matt remained silent. He could hear the chaos and maniacal laughter of Times Square coming from the other end of the communication line. He could "smell" the anxiety permeating the air and that nauseating, cloyingly sweet scent of mental pollution, like spoiled honey.

Help Kingpin? Help this...system built by the man whose dark past he knew so well? He was filled with conflicting emotions.

But... what about the ordinary people trapped in their mental prisons? What about the injured fellow "mindfulness therapist"? What about the twisted force that is polluting this city?

His sense of justice and his instinct to protect the innocent ultimately outweighed his wariness of Kingpin and his association.

“…Send me the information.” Matt’s voice was a little hoarse. He picked up his white cane leaning against the wall and walked to the wardrobe, where his red battle suit was hanging.

"Data transmitted. Frontline command is temporarily transferred to you. Ironwall and Swift Shadow Squad will cooperate with your operations." Kingpin's voice was completely calm, as if he had already anticipated his choice.

A few minutes later, a swift red figure, like a bat in the dark, silently darted between the skyscrapers, precisely avoiding all surveillance and sight, and quietly slipped into the edge of Times Square.

Matt landed steadily in the shadow of a billboard. He didn't need to look at the huge screen displaying grotesque, distorted faces; the intense visual information was ineffective for him, even a distraction. He completely shut down the redundant visual information, maximizing all his senses.

In his "eyes," the world became an incredibly clear holographic picture composed of sound, smell, vibration, and temperature.

He "heard":

• A subtle electrical noise emanating from the speakers on the screen, masked by the maniacal laughter.

• The monotonous, externally guided heartbeats of countless controlled people.

• The steady but slightly rapid breathing as the iron wall maintains the energy barrier.

• In the air, the chaotic waves of mental pollution, like the superposition of countless whispers, are constantly shifting in their core frequency, attempting to interfere with any perception that tries to lock onto it.

He "smelled" it:

• The smell of sweat, perfume, and greasy hot dogs from the street.

A faint yet remarkably distinct biopheromone, belonging to a specific individual, mixed with the scent of surging adrenaline and the smell of overheated electronic components. This scent wasn't coming from the screen, but rather…from below the plaza?

He "senseed" it:

• The vibrations from the ground caused by countless chaotic footsteps.

• An unusual, subtle flow of energy originating from underground is connecting to the huge screen above through laid fiber optic cables and electrical cables, supplying "nutrients" like an umbilical cord.

Visual illusions? Mental pollution? These are meaningless to Matt Murdoch. His world is built on a dimension beyond the reach of ordinary vision.

“Iron Wall, Swift Shadow,” Matt commanded through the association’s communication channel, his voice as calm as a scalpel. “The target is not on the screen. He is below you, about fifteen meters southeast, near the subway vent, disguised as… a tourist who is ‘live-streaming’. He has an enhanced mental barrier around him, but his physical protection is unknown.”

Iron Wall and Swift Shadow were both taken aback upon hearing this, as they hadn't noticed anything amiss. However, based on their obedience to the association's orders and their current helpless predicament, they chose to believe it.

"Received!" Iron Wall immediately adjusted the direction of the energy barrier and began to compress it toward the area Matt had indicated.

Xunying transformed into a blur, bypassing the crowd still obsessed with giving likes, and headed straight for the subway ventilation shaft.

The strange figure on the screen seemed to sense something; its maniacal laughter abruptly stopped, and for the first time, a look of surprise and uncertainty appeared on its twisted face: "What...what do you want to do?!"

Matt ignored it; his senses, like the most sophisticated radar, firmly locked onto the source hidden among the crowd, emanating a unique "scent" and "energy vibration." He could "hear" the strange man disguised as a tourist's heart suddenly pounding, and he could "smell" the panic pheromones he secreted due to his plans being disrupted.

"Now!" Matt shouted.

Almost as soon as he spoke, Xunying rushed in front of the "tourist" wearing a windbreaker and holding a phone, seemingly live-streaming. To the man's horrified gaze, Xunying shattered the phone (a crucial medium) emitting abnormal energy fluctuations in his hand with a single punch, followed by a precise chop to the side of his neck.

The strange man didn't even utter a sound before collapsing to the ground.

The instant he fell, the giant screen in the square went black. All the controlled people froze, like puppets with their strings cut. The fanaticism in their eyes vanished, replaced by deep confusion and bewilderment. The jarring noise of mental pollution also receded like the tide.

The bustling Times Square fell into an eerie silence.

Matt Murdoch stood in the shadows, letting out a soft breath. He "listened" to the gradually returning heartbeat and the sounds of conversation, sensing the dissipation of that nauseating, twisted aura.