Chicago
Reporters stand in an NFL press room and take pictures. At the front of the room, a few coachs and managers sit at a large table; the center seat belongs to a young man who stands and waves to the cameras. A nearby ESPN journalist talks into a camera, "It has just been announced that rising star quaterback Phil Grayfield has signed with the Chicago Bears after months of rumors and debate." As Phil waves, one of the managers stands up and whispers in his ear, "I know you wanna get plenty of facetime with the press, Phil, but I don't need to remind you that you're in danger here. Remember the death threats? The letters?" Phil whispers back, "From the crazy guy calling himself The Cockroach? Yeah, I remember. I'll be fine. You know my bodyguard."
Behind the journalists, a man in a dark trenchcoat stands watch. He slowly approaches the front of the room as he begins to open the coat. Soon, something begins to emerge: a shotgun. He goes unnoticed as Phil continues to wave to the cameras, all eyes on him. He hefts the shotgun into his hands and begins to raise it when...
"Phil, get down!," Luke Cage shouts s he stands ready, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. The Cockroach turns and grimaces at Cage, his cover blown. Grayfield, meanwhile, does what he's told and ducks behind the press table. Cage races toward the Cockroach as people scream and quickly give them space. The Cockroach fires a shot at Cage, which bounces off his chest, pushing him back slightly as he storms forward. He fires another blast which ricochetes off as well. As Cage gets near, the Cockroach begins to reload, but Cage grasps the barrel and bends it in half. A palm is shoved into Cockroach's chest, sending him across the room where he falls into a table full of beverages.
Later, the cops cart Cockroach into the backseat of a squad car as the journalists mill about outside. Grayfield comes over to Cage and shakes his hand enthusiastically.
"Luke, I can't thank you enough," he tells him.
"Just doing my job," he says with a sure smile.
"Well, you were worth it. Hey, how would you like season tickets?"
"I'll be heading back to New York, man. I'm only in Chicago for a short time."
"You're a busy man, huh?"
"Hey, no rest for the wicked, y'know? Besides, right now, all these reporters want the scoop from you. I wanna leave before they start asking me questions too."
Cage chuckles and leaves the area quietly. Later, he sits alone in a hotel room, staring at his phone. A picture of Jessica Jones is on the screen and he appears sombre. He slides his finger to the Call button, but hesitates to press it as his mood seems to get darker. He stares at the picture some more before finally deciding to toss his phone on a nightstand and hold his head in his hands.
New York
Curtis Carr is a young African American man with nice clothes and a large duffle bag under his arm. He happily makes his way down a sidewalk before going into his family residence. "Hey, what's for dinner?," he calls out as he sets his bag by the door. His middle-aged mother comes into the living room and gives him a big hug, "Hey, baby!" "Hi, mom," he greets her after kissing her on the cheek. His middle-aged father comes in next along with his younger brother, Calvin.
"Hey Curtis," his dad gives him a hug, "How's the new job?"
"Great, dad. My supervisors are really excited about my new project."
"Y'know, when I worked for Mainstream Motors, I was just a factory man. Now my boy's doing research for `em. How'd that happen?"
"Hey, Curtis," Calvin runs over to him, "Blow something up again!"
"Blow something up?," his father asks with a wry smile.
"... Again?," his mother adds.
"Thanks for keeping it on the DL," Curtis groans.
"Curtis has a new project," his brother continues, "He showed me last week. We blew up rocks in the backyard."
"Are you working on explosives or something?," his dad asks curiously.
"Not exactly," Curtis picks up his bag, "I can show you guys."
"You're not blowing things up in my house!," his mother warns.
"Don't worry, mom. It's safe. Come out to the garage."
A few minutes later, the four of them are in front of a shop bench in the garage. Curtis has three glass vials of liquids (brown, yellow, and green) held up on trays. Curtis wears a set of goggles and has rubber gloves while his family stands behind him.
"All three vials look like they're filled with different liquids but they're not," Curtis explains, "They're just variations of the same formula. It's a chemical compound that, depending on how it's processed or what it's used on, can transmutes matter on a subatomic level."
"What does all that mean?," his mother asks.
"I'll show you," Curtis holds up a pencil, "This pencil is made of wood and lead, obviously. Now let's see what happens when I put it in the first vial." Curtis dips the pencil in the vial where it begins to bubble, releasing a small amount of steam. They look closer and inside the vial, they can see the pencil change form, becoming more smooth and once he removes it, they see that it's now shiny metal. "The pencil is now solid steel," Curtis taps it on the edge of the table to show how hard it is, "Really, it's not even a pencil anymore. Now, watch this." He dips it in the next vial, and like the one before it, it begins to change in the liquid as it bubbles. When he removes the silver pencil, they see it change color. "I switched it from steel to copper," Curtis places it inside the last vial, "Now comes the fun one." He dips the copper pencil in the last vial and it begins to make more bubbles and steam. When Curtis pulls it out, the pencil turns green and begins to break apart as it dissolves. "This last vial completely eats through metal," Curtis explains, "So far, I've come up with hundreds of variations of this stuff. It could change the way we manufacture products."
"So what do you call it?," his father asks.
"I call it the Chemistro Formula."