Become Kingpin and build a hero mercenary company.

Page 37

"Look! He really can control himself!"

"That's so cool! A perfect combination of intelligence and strength!"

Faced with the thunderous cheers, Dr. Green (in his professor form) wore a gentle, somewhat unaccustomed but trying-to-adapt smile. He nodded slightly to the crowd, then followed Kingpin into the headquarters building. Every step he took seemed to be a vivid testament to the association's philosophy of "inclusion and transformation."

The main part of the ceremony was held in the magnificent domed hall on the first floor of the headquarters. Celebrities from all walks of life, association heroes, and media representatives gathered together.

Kingpin stood at the podium, without a lengthy speech; his voice, deep and powerful, resonated throughout the hall through the amplification system:

"This building is more than just a building. It is the crystallization of the beliefs of countless people, a fortress to meet the challenges of the future, and a symbol of a new order."

He reviewed the association's journey from its inception, mentioned the sacrifices and victories of Tokyo Bay, and emphasized the core values ​​of "professionalism," "systematization," and "inclusivity."

"...We have proven one thing: power itself is neither good nor evil; the key lies in guidance and control. Chaos is not an insurmountable fate; order will eventually illuminate the way forward."

His gaze swept across the room, finally settling on Dr. Green beside him.

"Today, we stand here not only for the completion of a building, but also to lay the foundation for a safer and more orderly future. The Hero Association will, as always, protect this city and this planet."

The speech was brief, yet powerful. There was no sentimentality, only absolute confidence and an unquestionable declaration.

This was followed by the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Kingpin, the Mayor of New York City, and Sandman and Dr. Green, representing the heroes, jointly cut the symbolic ribbon. Amidst countless flashes of light, the association's headquarters was officially inaugurated.

After the ceremony, there was a brief networking reception. Representatives from various factions moved about among themselves, each with their own agendas.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. representative (a senior agent whose public identity was that of a federal official) looked grave as he exchanged views with his colleagues in hushed tones, his gaze occasionally glancing at the Green Doctor who was surrounded by the crowd.

The Stark Industries representatives (not Tony himself) showed more interest in the headquarters' building technology and interior facilities.

In a relatively quiet corner, an elegant and composed female envoy, who identified herself as an "environmental foundation" from a West African country, was exchanging seemingly polite pleasantries with Wesley. Her gaze occasionally swept over certain high-tech details in the hall, a barely perceptible glint of unusual curiosity flashing in her eyes. She was one of Okoye's disguised Wakanda probes.

Peter Parker, holding a glass of juice (he wasn't old enough to drink), hid behind his mask, excitedly observing his surroundings. He never imagined that he, a high school student who used to spin spiderwebs in alleyways, would one day stand in such a place, a member of this vast organization. He stole a glance at Dr. Green, who was talking to several scientists, and felt a sense of unreality wash over him.

The ceremony concluded in an atmosphere of "complete success".

The media began to report the grand occasion to every corner of the world, with headlines all emphasizing the association's strength and promising future.

As the crowd gradually dispersed, the headquarters building, like a giant being activated, lit up its interior floor by floor, signaling its imminent full-speed operation.

Kingpin stood in his private office on the top floor, overlooking New York City in a 360-degree panorama. Outside the window were the city's myriad lights, and below him stood the rising empire he had built from scratch.

He knew that this ceremony was just the beginning. Behind the gifts from various factions lay vigilance, calculation, and potential hostility.

But he was fearless.

The headquarters has been completed, the global network is being rolled out, and the S-class pillars are in place.

A new era has begun in his hands. And the Hero Association will undoubtedly become the most dazzling and undisputed protagonist of this era.

Chapter 92: Gifts from Various Forces and the Emergence of New Power

On the second working day after the ceremony, before the morning mist had completely dissipated, a man in an unmarked black trench coat, with an expression as hard as granite, appeared in the gleaming reception hall on the first floor of the association's headquarters. He had no appointment, no extra words, and simply placed a metal file box of a special material, cool to the touch, steadily on the polished countertop.

"To be opened by President Wilson Fisk personally." His voice was flat and monotone, like a machine broadcasting. After speaking, he turned and left without leaving any name or organizational information, leaving only a tiny, teardrop-shaped silver mark on the corner of the file box, gleaming coldly under the light.

In his top-floor office, Kingpin dismissed his assistants and opened the file box alone. Inside were no explosives, no biological threats, just a few pages of paper, yet they were more lethal than any weapon.

The first page features a high-resolution satellite image, a perspective scan of the association's headquarters building and its deep underground structure. A precisely marked area in red is the approximate location of the "main energy core," constructed with the system's assistance. The accompanying technical analysis report, in a chillingly calm tone, concludes: "...the estimated peak energy output reaches the city-level power grid load; the technical principles exceed the known physical framework; potential risk of runaway: extremely high."

The second page contained a personnel list. It listed over twenty names, from B-class Daredevil Matt Murdock to several newly recruited C-class heroes with distinctive abilities, and even several highly efficient technicians from the logistics department. Each name was followed by a brief comment: "Complex background, historical entanglements with Hell's Kitchen," "Tight financial situation, potential for being tempted by external interests," and "Has had indirect contact with peripheral members of the Hand." The list's title was glaringly direct—"Potential Security Risk Observation and Recommendations."

The third page was a collection of newspaper clippings, each headline more alarming than the last: "The Aftermath of the Battle of Tokyo Bay: A Report on Abnormal Fluctuations in Marine Ecology," "A Preliminary Exploration of the Impact of 'Dragon-Class' Energy Residue on Space Stability," and "The Ethical Dilemmas and Gaps in International Law Regarding the Use of Unconventional Weapons." In the margin, someone had handwritten a line in sharp pen: "Power comes with responsibility; loss of control is disaster. We are all watching."

This "gift" is cold, harsh, and full of undisguised warnings and condescending scrutiny. It tells Kingpin that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s eyes have never left; they know the Association's core secrets (or at least know of its existence); they have inside information about the Association's personnel; and they are always ready to launch sanctions in the name of Earth's security if the Association "crosses the line."

Kingpin's thick fingers tapped lightly on the smooth tabletop, producing a dull thud. Fury's intentions were clear: he was exerting psychological pressure, trying to make the association more cautious in its expansion, and even hoping to incite suspicion and division from within.

“Wesley.” He pressed the intercom.

"President, please give your orders." James Wesley's voice came immediately, as calm and steady as ever.

“Treat the people on the list normally, keep an eye on them, but don’t do anything unusual, lest you alienate the brothers.” Kingpin’s voice was unreadable. “Also, give our ‘friends’ a gift in return.”

"what do you mean?"

"Anonymously send reports of any three or more high-level freak incidents that we've detected globally where 'S.H.I.E.L.D. failed to respond or handle in a timely manner' back to their Security Council representatives. Remember to use their assessment criteria, and attach the estimated completion time, damage assessment, and predicted probability of civilian casualties if our association were to handle the situation." Kingpin's tone was calm, yet sharp as a razor. You want to put me on the spot? I'll counter your "responsibility theory" with even greater efficiency and lower losses.

"Understood." Wesley understood immediately. This was a silent game, a contest of real performance.

Unlike S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cold warning, Tony Stark's "gift" was high-profile and technically sophisticated, carrying his unique cynicism.

That same afternoon, a sleek, silver-blue Stark Industries drone hovered with near-fancy precision outside the huge floor-to-ceiling window of Kingpin's office. After obtaining internal system permission, the drone placed a silver-white metal box bearing the Stark Industries logo steadily on the balcony, then silently ascended vertically and disappeared into the clouds.

The box opened, revealing no offensive weapons, only a futuristic, Stark-style lightweight exoskeleton system—"Stark Guardian - Prototype 1." Next to it was an electronic card, Tony's signature, slightly illegible handwriting appearing on its surface:

To Chairman Fisker:

Congratulations on moving to your new home. I've heard you're good at 'assigning work' to people, so I think employee safety is also very important.

This little gadget might save your logistics guys some effort when moving boxes. (Of course, if your technicians can understand it and replicate it.)

PS: The core energy source is a miniature arc reactor. Don't even think about disassembling it; it will explode. Trust me, I'm serious. :)

—Tony Stark

This "gift" was brimming with technological ostentation and condescending mockery. Tony was declaring in his own way that Stark Industries remained at the forefront of true cutting-edge technology, and that the Association's "pragmatic" black technology was nothing more than gimmicky tricks in his eyes. His description of this clearly military prototype as something for logistics personnel was dripping with sarcasm.

Kingpin gazed at the exquisitely designed, aesthetically pleasing exoskeleton, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips. He showed no anger, and directly connected to the equipment development department's communications system.

"Leo, there's a 'gift' on the balcony, a gift from Stark. Go open it... no, I mean take a look at it."

Leo Fitz's voice immediately came through the communicator, his tone trembling with excitement: "Stark's latest prototype?! That's fantastic, Chairman! We can reverse engineer its micro-energy structure and joint transmission design, which might solve the energy consumption and flexibility bottlenecks of our mass-produced 'Defender' armor!"

"Yes, produce the analysis report as soon as possible. Also, send a return gift to Mr. Stark in the name of the association."

"Return to what?"

"Pack up one set of our mass-produced 'Defender' armor (basic version) and one copy of the 'Electromagnetic Paralysis Grenade' (non-core version) used last time, and send them back to him. Include a card: Thank you for the gift, received. This is a partial list of our basic equipment, for your reference. If Mr. Stark is interested in learning more about our technical system, he is welcome to apply for the position of Technical Consultant in his personal capacity. Excellent compensation and full benefits."

If you try to show off with a prototype, I'll respond with mass-produced equipment and a formal "job posting," implying that the association's technology is not only on par but has also achieved large-scale, practical application, and we might even extend an invitation to a genius like you. If you try to tease me, I'll respond in the most formal and business-like way, and see who can't hold back their laughter first.

Of all the "gifts," the most discreet and difficult to detect came from Wakanda.

General Okoye, disguised as an envoy from the West African Cultural Foundation, did not leave New York immediately after the ceremony. Using her superb stealth skills and a miniature vibranium device that could slightly distort light, she moved like a cheetah blending into the shadows, conducting a more in-depth exploration of the headquarters building's public exhibition areas, rest areas, and even some semi-open technology experience areas.

She didn't try to break through those forbidden zones that clearly had a high level of energy sensing; her targets were more basic, and more deadly: materials, energy traces, and internal operating processes.

Her fingers, clad in nanosensor gloves, seemingly unintentionally brushed across the surface of the massive load-bearing column in the hall. Instantly, the sensors transmitted the analytical data back: a high-strength composite material never before recorded, whose molecular structure stability and energy conductivity were close to vibranium, but whose synthesis path and elemental composition were completely different, carrying a sense of... meticulously designed perfection.

She observed the automated robots moving through the corridors, performing routine cleaning and maintenance. Their movements were precise and efficient, with virtually no delays or conflicts when working together; the control algorithms and energy endurance behind them were astonishing. In particular, when she saw a robot deftly pick up a piece of non-metallic debris from the floor (possibly composite material dropped during the debugging of some hero's equipment) and put it into an entrance labeled "Resource Recycling - Molecular-Level Reconstruction," she realized that this system's utilization and recycling of resources had reached an almost demanding level.

In a semi-open rest area overlooking the city, she "bumped into" Bruce Banner, who was holding a cup of coffee and looking out the window as if deep in thought (he was in a normal human form).

“Dr. Banner,” Okoye greeted with impeccable manners and a perfectly measured curiosity, “Congratulations on finding a new home. The atmosphere here… is quite impressive.”

Banner snapped out of his reverie, adjusted his glasses, and replied gently, “Thank you. This place… has truly given me an unprecedented peace, allowing me to focus on my research instead of… running away.” His eyes were clear, carrying a sense of tranquility that came from finding a place to belong.

Okoye left no physical gifts; what she brought was the Wakanda royal family's deepest vigilance and most meticulous observation. When she finally left headquarters quietly, transmitting all the intelligence back home in encryption, King T'Challa and Princess Shuri saw a potential adversary (or ally) with a unique technological approach, extremely high organizational efficiency, and strong centripetal force and "transformation" capabilities. This intangible "assessment report" was Wakanda's most significant "gift."

Just as Kingpin finished dealing with these external "gifts" and was preparing to refocus his attention on global anomalies, two internal reports that arrived on his desk almost simultaneously caught his attention.

The first report came from the city's energy monitoring center. It noted several recent incidents of unusual, high-purity energy loss from the New York power grid, a pattern strikingly similar to that of Max Dillon, the "Electromancer" who could transform into electricity, active a few years ago. However, unlike the previous rampant plundering, this energy extraction appeared...more regular, even cautious, as if merely "foraging" rather than causing destruction. The report concluded by recommending: "The target's control over energy has significantly increased, and its behavioral patterns have changed. A reassessment of the threat level is recommended, considering the possibility of non-hostile contact."

The second report came from the Safety Monitoring Team of the Technical Department. It briefly described a small-scale explosion that occurred in an abandoned industrial area on the outskirts of the city, at the site of a former nuclear physics laboratory. The energy signature matched known data from early experiments conducted by Otto Octavius, formerly known as "Dr. Octavius." Fragments of the mechanical tentacles remaining at the scene indicated uncontrolled and dangerous evolution in their alloy structure and internal wiring, far exceeding Otto's previous designs. The report concluded: "The target technology has entered a dangerously unstable phase, highly susceptible to triggering a larger accident. It is recommended that it be controlled or…contained before it causes significant harm."

Kingpin leaned back in his wide chair, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the two reports. External pressure was like an iceberg pressing down, while internally, these "destabilizing factors," once seen as trouble and threats, were quietly changing in the shadows.

Should we continue to treat them as potential enemies and take preventative measures, or... perhaps try a different approach?

He pressed the communicator and connected with James Wesley.

“Wesley, pass the word to initiate the ‘Non-Hostile Contact Assessment’ procedure for ‘Electro’ Max Dillon and ‘Doctor Octopus’ Otto Octavius. I need to know their current status, and… the possibility and value of recruiting them into the Association.”

"Understood, Chairman. I will arrange the necessary personnel immediately."

Chapter 93: Recruiting "Electric Man"

Staten Island, New York, 7th District Substation. Night falls, and the massive transformer complex hums dully in the darkness. High-voltage power lines form a giant black net overhead, and the air is thick with the peculiar smell of ozone and heated metal. This is a critical node supplying power to Lower Manhattan and the epicenter of a recent series of unusual energy loss incidents.

Spider-Man, Peter Parker, crouched on a thick cable, his red and blue suit standing out starkly in the occasional sparks of electricity. He shifted his position uneasily, muttering into his communicator, "...Seriously, Ms. Lin, do we really have to talk here? I feel like my hair's about to stand on end." He had a feeling he was about to be electrocuted to a crisp any moment.

Not far below, the meditation master, Lin, stood quietly on a relatively clean concrete surface, dressed in an elegant, association-issue long dress. Her eyes were slightly closed, and she exuded a reassuring aura of peace. Her voice came through the communicator, clear and steady: "The energy is most active here, Peter. He needs here, and he will appear here. Stay focused, feel the flow of energy, not fear it."

Peter pursed his lips, but still tried to relax as instructed. He could indeed feel that the free-floating ions in the air were much more active than usual, like a group of restless sprites.

Time ticked by. As the midnight bells seemed to ring out in some corner of the city, the lights in the core area of ​​the substation suddenly dimmed and then returned to normal, but the humming sound suddenly rose in pitch, becoming sharp and powerful.

Above the main transformer, fine blue arcs of electricity began to flicker in the air. These arcs were not chaotic; rather, as if guided by an invisible hand, they rapidly converged and intertwined, ultimately outlining a humanoid silhouette composed of pure electrical energy. The dazzling blue-white light gradually stabilized, revealing Max Dillon's face—somewhat blurred by the abundance of energy, yet tinged with deep weariness and a hint of wariness. He hovered in mid-air, his body enveloped in a vibrant current that seemed to dance and pulsate, drawing upon the immense energy emanating from the substation.

"Electro!" Spider-Man somersaulted and landed lightly on the ground, standing side by side with Lin. He raised his hands to indicate that there was no hostility. "Hey, Max, relax! We're not here to fight!"

Electro—Max's gaze swept over Spider-Man, finally settling on the calming master, Lin. He instinctively felt uneasy; it was as if an invisible domain existed around the woman, subtly calming his restless energy core, which made him feel threatened.

“Spider-Man…” Max’s voice, low and suppressed, crackled with the static characteristic of electricity, “and… a new face. A lackey of the Association? What, has Kingpin finally had enough of me and is cleaning house?” The electricity around him suddenly intensified, revealing his inner turmoil. His past experiences had instilled in him a deep distrust of any “big shot” or “organization.”

“We’ve come to talk, Mr. Max Dillon.” Lin stepped forward. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it strangely pierced through the noise of the electricity, resonating directly in Max’s heart with a comforting power. “We’ve noticed the change in you. You’re no longer destroying things recklessly, but rather acquiring energy in a controlled manner. This shows that you are still striving to maintain the rationality of a ‘human being’ rather than completely succumbing to power.”

The restless electricity around Max paused slightly. He remained silent, offering no rebuttal. Yes, he craved energy, like a person needs to breathe, but he also feared losing control completely and reverting to the monster that everyone feared and even he loathed.

Peter seized the opportunity to interject, his tone carrying his characteristically talkative sincerity: "Listen, man, I know you've had a tough time. Being ignored, being bullied… I know that feeling (though he considered himself at best an ignored nerd). But the Association is different! There are many people here just like you, who gained abilities for various reasons and are trying to use them for good. Like Sandman, he used to… well, anyway, he's a reliable big guy now! We're not here to judge your past!"

“The past…” Max repeated softly, a complex pain flashing across his blue face. Being ostracized by colleagues, exploited by his boss, that life-changing accident… and the subsequent experiences of being feared and rejected by society haunted him like a nightmare. He craved power, and even more so, he craved recognition, longing to live in the sunlight like a “normal person.”

Just then, a deep and authoritative voice broke the silence of the night.

"What they said represents the association's stance."

Heavy footsteps approached from afar, and Wilson Kingpin's mountain-like figure emerged from the shadows. He was alone, without any attendants. Ignoring the dangerous arcs of electricity leaping around him, enough to instantly carbonize an ordinary person, he calmly stared at the electric man suspended in mid-air.

Max's pupils contracted sharply, and his body instinctively crackled with electricity, forming a shield. His fear of Kingpin far exceeded that of Spider-Man and the Mentality Master. The man's power and authority instilled a tremendous sense of oppression in him.

“Max Dillon,” Kingpin stopped, his voice steady yet carrying an undeniable authority, “I have no intention of delving into your past. The Association values ​​the present and the future. You crave energy, stability, and acceptance from this world. And the Association can give you all of that.”

He raised his hand and pointed to the massive power substation beneath his feet: "Is this the kind of life you want, secretly drawing energy like a rat scavenging for food? Living in constant fear, never knowing what tomorrow will bring, forever living in the shadows and being hunted?"

Max fell silent. This was certainly not what he wanted.

“Join the Association.” Kingpin’s voice carried a strange allure. “Become a registered hero. The Association headquarters possesses an energy core far beyond your imagination, providing you with a near-limitless and absolutely stable energy supply. You can use your abilities openly and honestly, earn the compensation, respect, and… a sense of belonging.”

The word "belonging..." struck Max's most vulnerable spot. He looked at Kingpin, his blue, electrified eyes filled with struggle and longing. "How...how can I trust you? You big shots always say such nice things..."

“Trust requires a foundation.” Kingpin seemed to have anticipated this question. “You can come back to the Association headquarters with me and see the energy core I’m talking about for yourself. Experience it firsthand. Meanwhile, our system will conduct a comprehensive evaluation of you and tailor control equipment and development plans to your individual needs. Until you make your final decision, you are our guest, not a prisoner.”

King's frankness surprised Max. There was no coercion, no threats, but rather a seemingly fair choice. Unlimited energy, a stable life, social recognition... all the things he had dreamed of were now laid out before him.

The electricity surrounding him dimmed and stabilized at a visible speed. He slowly descended from the air, his feet touching the ground. His body was still made of electricity, but the violent aura had subsided.

“…Okay.” Max’s voice trembled slightly, but more than that, it was filled with relief. “I’ll go with you.”

Association headquarters, competency assessment room.

Max Dillon stood in the center of the room, looking somewhat nervously at the detection devices around him that he couldn't understand. A soft beam of light scanned his energy body.

The cold, electronic system voice sounded:

[Target: Max Dillon]

[Status: Incomplete transformation into a higher-energy life form]

Energy affinity: Extremely high (leaning towards the electromagnetic system)

[Potential Rating: S- (Potential to grow into a strategic-level energy source)]

[Psychological state assessment: A desire for acceptance and stability exists, along with long-term feelings of inferiority and wariness stemming from rejection; current emotional state is trending towards stability.]

[Recommendation: Provide a high-purity energy supply, issue "energy channeling wristbands" for stable output, and conduct basic combat and teamwork training.]

Technicians quickly delivered a sleek, shimmering blue metal wristband. Max put it on under their guidance (the wristband automatically adapted to his energy form). In an instant, he felt the previously restless energy within him become docile, and both output and input became more controllable and efficient.

“This…this feeling…” Max looked at his more solid and stable hands, and for the first time, a childlike surprise and joy appeared on his face.

He was then taken to the Department of Energy. When he felt the vast, ocean-like pure energy emanating from the deeply buried "Main Energy Core" (the version displayed in the system simulation), he was almost moved to tears (if energy beings had tears). This was his true destiny!

A few days later, a simple yet formal induction ceremony was held within the association. Max Dillon, dressed in a specially made energy-guided combat suit bearing the insignia of an A-class hero, solemnly received the badge representing his hero status from Kingpin.

“Welcome to the team, Electro,” Kingpin said in a deep voice, looking at him.

Max, no, now the A-class hero "Electroman," straightened his back, his blue face filled with an unprecedented radiance and determination.

"Thank you, Chairman. I... I won't let you down!"

He is no longer the monster hiding in the shadows, surviving by stealing electricity, nor is he the marginalized person feared and rejected by society. He is "Electric Man" of the Hero Association, and he will use this power to protect ordinary people who, like him, once yearned for light and recognition.

In his office on the top floor of headquarters, Kingpin stared intently at the system indicator showing Electro's status as "Loyal." The first step had been successful. Next, it was time to meet that even smarter, and more troublesome, "Dr. Octopus."