Chapter 45: Half-Shells for Hire

Wilson Fisk's limousine chauffered him through the city, having left the Mayor's Office and on its way to the Presidential Hotel in midtown Manhattan. The Presidential Hotel had long reigned as New York City's most iconic and instantly recognizable hotel, and Fisk had purchased it through a shell company during his time in Ryker's. He had spent quite a bit of time there over the past few years. He had even almost been married there.

But now those days were behind him. It was only time for business.

And it seemed Wesley was taking that a little too seriously for Fisk's liking. He was flipping through notes he had taken on a tablet. "... and Mister Martin Li. Briefly owner of F.E.A.S.T. soup kitchen. Now focuses more on Asian investments. He runs drugs through—"

Fisk waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, Wesley," he said in a tired tone. "I know all of this. I'm meeting the heads of the crime families of New York City, not underground mobsters shrouded in secrecy."

"Of course, sir," Wesley said. "I just want you as prepared as can—"

"Wesley." Fisk turned in his seat to face his friend. "We're here. We've earned this. The only preparation now is to exist. To recognize this new phase and embrace it. True power."

He stepped out of the limousine, leaving Wesley behind as he strode up the stairs and into the luxurious Presidential Hotel. His chief of security met him in the lobby. "Mayor," the man said. "Welcome. The guests are in the penthouse suite. Please follow me."

"How do I look?" asked Hammerhead, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket.

"Good, boss," one of the Maggia mafia members said.

"Seriously," Hammerhead said, glaring at the man. "I don't wanna find out later I had some shmutz on my suit. This evening's important, and I want everything going according to plan." He eyed Mister Negative, sitting across the table from him in the Presidential Hotel penthouse suite, suspiciously. "Where's Fisk? What's keeping him? He should have been here by now."

"Patience, Joseph," said Mister Negative, his voice deep and gravelly, almost demonic. His appearance was equally frightening; the man looked like a walking photographic negative. His suit, tie, dress pants and shoes were a stark white, while his dress shirt underneath was an inky, almost complete black. His skin was black as well, but not completely, a color closer to charcoal. His hair and eyes were the equally piercing white that his clothes were.

As Hammerhead had two of his Maggia henchmen in the room with him for security, Mister Negative had three Inner Demons surrounding him. These gang members wore suits as well, black suits to contrast Mister Negative's white suit, and each member had an ornately carved Chinese black-and-white Oni demon mask over his face. That was where they got their name, the Inner Demons, from. Mister Negative was Chinatown's Kingpin of Crime, and the bad blood between his Inner Demons gang and the Maggia was the elephant in the room.

That might have had something to do with why Hammerhead was so on edge. "You'll address me, Martin, as Hammerhead. I've earned that title."

"Exactly," said Mister Negative. "You bided your time with the Kingpin, and survived Hydra's brief reign. You can wait a little longer. And when our mayor arrives, we can carve up New York between the three of us."

"Fine," said Hammerhead, sitting back in his chair. "But we treat it like a pizza. If he's not here in thirty minutes, we get the whole pie for free."

"Everyone!" the hotel security manager said as he entered the room. "May I introduce, Mister Wilson Fisk, Mayor of New York City!"

Fisk walked into the room, diamond-tipped cane in hand, standing tall. All eyes were on him. He was used to the feeling by now, and that feeling had only intensified as mayor. He was Wilson Fisk. He ran the greatest city in the world, both officially and unofficially. These crime lords were the two biggest factions in New York City, but they still played the game by the terms he set. He played the game as well. It was a new game, as mayor, but it was still a game.

He was in control.

"Relax," Fisk said, raising his hands disarmingly as the armed thugs tensed. "This is a courtesy meeting, gentlemen. Because I am nothing if not courteous." He pulled a chair out from the head of the table and took a seat.

"It seems that over the past fifteen years, HYDRA has occupied our city. Which flies in the face of our enterprise. At first I suspected you would stand your ground and have the smarts to be able to stand up to these oppressors." He stared around the table at Hammerhead and Mister Negative, the two other crime bosses struggling to meet his gaze.

"But you didn't, did you?" Fisk pointed a finger at both of them in accusation. "No, you didn't have any fight in you until I had taken care of the problem. This cannot stand. You have lost control of my city. Of its inhabitants. Its vigilantes. So I had to purge it and start fresh. The heroes have been removed from this city. And I'll see to it that it stays that way, the animals. But we need to put right the city. Unite the various operations that teeter on chaos as a result of this global gang war. That's why I've called this meeting. For everyone. To issue my formal apology as mayor. I allowed myself to be distracted. But that time is over."

"So what does that mean, Fisk?" asked Mister Negative. "You going to clean up this gang war mess? You going to be the Kingpin again?"

"My duties as mayor still outweigh any of my previous … illicit activities," Fisk said. "But I would be a fool to think you can all manage your own territories before greed takes over."

"Oh, come on, Fisk," Hammerhead groaned. "You know how many of my men this prick killed? Screw him, and screw you if you think I'm ever going to trust him."

"Watch your tone, Hammerhead," Fisk warned. "I am not asking for your trust in each other. Nor am I asking you to trust me. I am demanding it. Now here is the deal. It's clear that you need a leader. I would gladly fill that void again, but the city needs me. My duties are higher now. So I look at you both, one disappointment after another, and offer you each the same chance at redemption. Whoever brings me the heads of the four ninja turtles will be the Kingpin of New York City."

Hammerhead and Mister Negative eyed each other, the wheels in their heads both turning.

"But be warned," said Fisk. "I am still mayor of this city. The people expect me to bring law and order, and I cannot ignore you in broad daylight. If you step out of line, if you lay hands on my citizens, then I will bring down the Hammer on you and your organizations."

At this last line, the doors to the penthouse suite opened, and Norman Osborn led the Dark Avengers into the room in his Iron Patriot suit. They flanked Wilson Fisk at the head of the table, shoulder to shoulder in a show of force. The villains didn't say a word, but they didn't need to. The crime bosses understood what was at stake.

Bring in the turtles, and power was theirs. But do it cleanly, or the repercussions would be severe.


"I'm Joan Grody, and tonight's story is about a victory … for the villains? Yesterday, Doctor Octopus took the world by storm, warning of the coming dangers of climate change and his plan to stop them. The New Avengers attempted to bring the mad doctor into custody, and it seems they've met a grim fate. Doc Ock called in to the emergency G8 summit to crow about his recent victory, badmouth local hero Spider-Man, and issue a list of demands. We go now live to Paris, France."

The image on the television cut away from reporter Joan Grody in the Channel 6 Newsroom to the G8 Summit being held at the Élysée Palace in France. Doctor Octopus was speaking to the assembly virtually through the television screens inside the palace. "—to inform you that your twenty-four hours are up," said Doc Ock. "You've had ample time to go over my proposal. To study my schematics. Now I must have an answer. Will you do me this great honor? Will you allow me to end global warming? Will you let me save our world?"

From around the assembly room, votes of confidence came up from the various delegates. "China agrees."

"Japan agrees."

"Brazil agrees."

"Russia agrees."

"Egypt agrees."

Doc Ock cut them off. "I don't mean to be rude, gentlemen, but what time I have left is very valuable to me. So let me ask, does any country object?"

There was a slight pause. "If not, then the time has come to talk of payment," said the doctor. "I did not bring this up earlier, for this was never about blackmail. This is compensation for services rendered. First, for my colleagues."

The screen zoomed out to show the rest of the Sinister Six members standing behind Doctor Octopus. Sandman, Rhino, Mysterio, and Scorpion. "You will expunge their criminal records, and deposit two billion dollars in each of their private bank accounts," said Doc Ock. "And for myself, all I require is this. The construction of the Octavius Academy."

The screen changed again, showing blueprints for the academic institution Doctor Octopus had designed. "A complex that would be both the greatest institute for technology, and a shrine to my highest achievement—the day I saved you all!"

The screen switched back to Octavius. "And so I must make one last request," said Doc Ock. "I have proof that terrorists will attack my planetary defense factory, which is mass producing my micro-satellites that will be used to erect a permanent Octavian Lens in Earth's orbit. Without the satellites, my plan will fail. So I request that all nations put aside their differences and unite against this common foe! The world must come together as one to hunt down the global menace called Spider-Man!"

"Will the doctor's demands devastate this dimension?" Joan Grody asked. "Find out next, on Grody … to the Max."

Raph grabbed the television remote and switched the station. "I can't stand to listen to that guy talk," he said. "What a load of shell!"

"It's like everybody forgot he's a bad guy or something!" Casey agreed. "Spider-Man's the hero! Not this robot-armed mad scientist!"

Casey and April, along with April's dad Kirby, had all managed to gain entry into the city. Apparently they weren't as high-profile as the turtles had feared. Kirby spent his time at the F.E.A.S.T. center soup kitchen, where he volunteered for help with homeless and other refugees in exchange for a place to sleep. April and Casey stayed underground with the turtles, out of sight from the surface world.

There wasn't much for them to do other than help clean up the old lair, but there was plenty of work for the turtles to do. They had been in New York City for about a week, and the only thing they'd done so far was get their shells handed to them by Kingpin and his new automated police force. As soon as they'd healed enough from their injuries, Splinter had pushed his sons hard, getting them back in shape for the coming fight.

"Regrettably, Casey Jones, much of life is about perspective," said Splinter, emerging through the dojo's open doors. "The truth can be hard to prove."

"Well, maybe we don't need to prove anything we already know," said Raph fiercely. "Maybe we just throw down with the Kingpin, run him out of town."

Splinter grunted. "Yes, my son. Because that worked so well the last time. Now, come. If you wish to try and beat the Kingpin, you must first hone your skills."

He led Raph into the dojo, where the other three turtles knelt on the floor waiting instructions. Today's lesson would be a team sparring match. The four turtles paired up; Mikey paired up with Leo, and Raph paired up with Donnie.

The hungry turtles had been arguing in the dojo about what pizza to order for dinner. "Tuna fish and grape jelly pizza, Leo?" asked Mikey.

Leo made a disgusting face. "No way! Butterscotch and onions!"

Raph grinned. "Oh, it's on." He spun his sai in his hands. "Winning side picks toppings."

On Splinter's signal, the sparring match began. The turtles engaged against each other, Raph fighting Leo and Donnie fighting Mikey. "Raphael, move faster!" Splinter shouted, watching them fight. "Michelangelo, focus! Donatello, use your strength!"

The turtles sweat as they tried to keep up with Splinter's instructions while sparring with each other. "A team is only as strong as its weakest member," said Splinter. "You need to work together in a battle, support each other, and help each other."

"Right!" Donnie said, deflecting a punch from Raph with his forearm.

"Got it!" Leo said, taking advantage of the distraction to sweep Raph's legs out from under him. Raph hit the floor with a grunt, and growled in frustration as he got back up.

The turtles knelt in a line in front of Splinter, who looked them up and down. "Good work today. But you four still need to practice working together as a team. You have spent too much time apart, and your cohesiveness weakened because of it."

Splinter's lesson was interrupted by April's sudden bursting into the lair. "Guys!" she said. "I think we have a visitor."

Daredevil stood in the middle of the lair, wearing his signature red outfit. His appearance, especially in costume, was a bit of a shock to the turtles. But he was more than welcome in their home.

"Hope I'm not intruding," the costumed hero said.

"Daredevil!" shouted Mikey. "Good to see you, D-Man!"

"But how … how did you find our lair?" asked Donnie.

"Your scent," Daredevil said. "You might hide in the sewers, but you can't fool my nose. I can smell what toothpaste you use. A single whiff and I know what you ate for the last few days. How long since you used deodorant, and what brand it was, and how much you've been sweating since you put it on." He looked pointedly at Mikey when he said that, only making the orange turtle sweat more and let out a nervous giggle.

Daredevil glanced sideways at Splinter and said, "I know the laundry detergent your sensei uses."

Splinter's ears perked up and then flattened as his gaze narrowed.

"I can smell the people you've been around," Daredevil continued, walking slowly towards Donnie. "How much makeup they wore." The purple turtle backed up, nervous, against the wall. Daredevil didn't slow down, walking right up into Donnie's face. "Even your brand of bathroom tissue."

Donnie's eyes widened in embarrassment. "I'm feeling really uncomfortable right now."

"I know," Daredevil said, backing off the purple turtle. "Your sweat reeks of it."

"That's just great," Raph said, unimpressed. "So, let's just move on to other topics, then. What brings you to the sewers?"

"The Purple Dragons," said Daredevil.

"The Purple Dragons?" Leo echoed. "You mean, the street gang? They're our villains."

"I know," said Daredevil. "That's the point. You know these guys. Let's talk about them."

"What's to talk about?" asked Casey. "They're just a bunch of losers."

"A week ago, a hundred and fifteen blocks away, they were attacked by Hyperion," said Daredevil. "Mostly just bruises and scrapes, though Tsoi got his jaw broke. It all happened so fast, Hyperion was gone before anyone could have possibly reached him. He's been swooping down from above the streets, nabbing the Foot Clan's money from their carriers."

"Woah, woah, woah," Donnie interrupted. "The Purple Dragons are Foot Clan runners now? Not exactly guys I would trust with bagfuls of money."

"They aren't," Daredevil said. "But the Foot is running out of choices."

"How so?" asked Leo.

"They've been getting a lot of men hurt," Daredevil said ominously. "Now they're scared to move the cash. Someone on the inside knows all the delivery times, all the delivery routes. And they've been leaking that information with the Thunderbolts. Hyperion's stolen millions. I mean serious millions. And before they can react … he's gone."

"So?" Raph asked. "Why do we care if the Foot gets their money stolen?"

"Because with the loss of all their money," Daredevil explained, "the Foot Clan will be desperate for income, and will have to expand their territories. There's been a gang war happening with Fisk abdicating his throne. The Maggia. The Inner Demons. They tore Hell's Kitchen apart. And now with this strain on their wallets, they're gearing for war again."

"That's … not good for New York," April mused.

There were a few seconds of silence as they realized April's comment was an understatement. A gang war would tear New York City apart just as they were starting to rebuild from the Masters of Evil. "So what do you need us to do?" Mikey asked finally.

"Someone is feeding the Thunderbolts information on where the Foot's money runners are going to be," said Daredevil. "We need to either find Hyperion, or his contacts. That means you guys, my team and I are teaming up."

"Woah, woah, woah," said Raph. "You've got a team too? Sorry, but I don't exactly trust anybody I haven't met before."

"I wouldn't ask for your trust if I couldn't prove it, Raphael," said Daredevil. "I've set up a meeting for all of us. My team is there now, and I'll take you there to meet them."

The turtles glanced at each other, before turning to look at Splinter. "What's your thoughts, sensei?" asked Leo.

"My sons," Splinter said. "This is the perfect opportunity for you all to get field experience working together as a team. And, to learn how to work again with others."

They all turned back to Daredevil. "Well, then," said Leo with a grin, "I guess we're in."


Daredevil led the turtles through the sewers to an apartment building in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood. The trip there was uneventful, save for the two Synja patrols they had to stealthily avoid. According to Daredevil, Kingpin had cracked down on the populace of the city in an effort to find the four brothers.

"Last week they busted somebody named Demolition Man who was breaking up a mugging," said Daredevil. "Poor sap didn't stand a chance. They tranqued him and sent him to Ryker's while awaiting trial. I use my secret identity to fight for these heroes' rights that have been imprisoned or sent to trial. But I don't ever show my face in costume above ground. Nor do any of my friends. For now, it's too dangerous."

After changing into a suit and a pair of red-tinted glasses underground, Daredevil made his way onto the street and inside the apartment building. He led the turtles to a specific apartment and knocked on the door. It was opened by a woman with shoulder-length black hair and piercing eyes. "Matt," she said. "You found them." Opening the door, she gestured inside. "Please, turtles. Come in."

They followed the woman into one of the apartment's side rooms which was empty except for a desk, three chairs, and a bulletin board on the wall. The bulletin board had an assortment of random newspaper clippings about the Kingpin, Norman Osborn, and the different members of his Dark Avengers team, with scribblings and notes added to each one in marker. Power Man and Iron Fist were both in the room, and they greeted Daredevil.

"Well, let's get the introductions out of the way," Daredevil said to the turtles. "You all know me as Daredevil, or Matt Murdock. I've been fighting a one-man war against Wilson Fisk for years, and now that the world is starting to get back to normal, I'm picking that war up again."

Now the black-haired woman spoke. "Jessica Jones," she introduced herself. "I used to be under the mind control of a telepathic abuser. Now he's dead, and I work as a private investigator."

"Luke Cage," Power Man said. "Harlem's my turf, and I keep the streets safe. At least I did before all this no-hero bull. Been cleaning up the streets from the Stokes crime family ever since I got out of Seagate Penitentiary."

Now it was Iron Fist's turn. He shrugged simply. "What's there to say?" he asked. "The name's Danny Rand. I came back from K'un-Lun after fifteen years. Everybody thought I was dead. I run Rand Enterprises by day and fight the Hand by night."

"Altogether," said Daredevil, "we call ourselves the Defenders."

"Solid option, Daredevil," said Mikey. "But I'm gonna be honest, you guys could do way better in the name department. Especially when all of you guys have such cool superhero names already!" He stuck his arms out in front of him, as if picturing something in his mind. "Doctor Name-enstein powers activating," he mused, before his eyes popped open. "I got it! Super Ninja Karate Detectives! Brings the best parts of the whole team together in one sweet name."

Luke Cage chuckled. "I don't think we're in the market for a rebrand, thanks."

"Ignore him," said Leo. "He's got a weird obsession with naming things."

Mikey frowned. "Not an obsession when you're just the best at it, dude."

Leo rolled his eyes before beginning introductions. "We're the teenage mutant ninja turtles. I'm Leonardo. I lead the team."

"Donatello," said Donnie. "I'm the, er, brains of the operation. For lack of a better word."

"I'm Raph." Raph spun his sai for effect. "I'm the muscle. And the best martial artist on the team."

"And I'm Michelangelo," Mikey said. "But you can all call me the Mike-anator. Total party animal, total nunchuk kick-butter, and total ladies' man."

He spun in a breakdance move and laid out on the floor in a pose. The other turtles facepalmed. "Mikey, how many times do we have to say it?" asked Donnie. "No one is calling you that."

"Aww," said Mikey. "Oh well. Worth a shot." He got back up off the ground as the heroes convened around the bulletin board on the wall.

"Listen up," said Daredevil. "We're going to bring you turtles up to speed on what's been happening since you've all been gone. The other three Defenders lived in New York for most of the Masters of Evil's reign, only leaving to come to Wakanda for the battle against Doctor Doom. So they know more than anyone about the who's-who in the city now."

Jessica Jones turned towards the bulletin board. "The city is basically one big pyramid," she said. "At the top of the pyramid is Mayor Fisk. He runs the city with an iron fist and a very charismatic public appearance. Public opinion is pretty squarely in his favor. In the people's eyes, he keeps the streets clean and he keeps them safe. All of his illegal activities are off the books, and he's bribed, blackmailed, and generally intimidated everyone into buying them off. The courts, the news, even New York's boys in blue. But there's only just enough of a lack of evidence to prevent anyone going public even if they could. It's a very delicate balance, but Fisk walks the tightrope well."

She pulled a picture off of the wall, a news article detailing the unveiling of New York's newest superhero team, the Thunderbolts. A picture of the superhero villains in front of City Hall was squarely sandwiched in between the article's words. "Fisk's personal enforcer squad," she said, passing the article around for them to look at. "The Thunderbolts. Six supervillains who, for the most part, have been kept out of the rest of the world's eye. For starters, you've got Batroc, nicknamed the 'Leaper' by the criminal underworld. He leads a band of criminals from France known as the Savate Ninja. We think he's on the team because of his tactician skills."

"Then there's Ghost, an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. operative who can turn invisible and phase in-and-out of solid objects," Jessica continued. "Research suggests its some kind of power she has and not just the suit she wears. She's an elite ruthless stealth operative."

"Abomination used to be a spec-ops commander in the Royal Marines, till a combination of a failed Super Soldier Serum and some gamma radiation turned him into this monster," said Luke Cage. "Not a lot to say about him. He's a super-strong psychopath. He hasn't really made an appearance since the announcement of the Thunderbolts. Fisk likely wants to keep him out of the public eye as long as possible."

"Vulture, aka Adrian Toomes," said Daredevil. "He's essentially a black-market fence, selling highly illegal tech to the highest bidder he can find. He's designed his own flight suit and regularly pulled off heists with his crew before Spider-Man stopped him and sent him to prison. Fisk pardoned him, and he now works exclusively with the Thunderbolts."

"Mystique is one of the wild cards on the team," said Jessica Jones. "She was a part of Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants, but ever since the mutant leader disappeared and went into hiding after attacking the Foot Clan's hideout, all trace of the Brotherhood went with him. She's been roaming the world as a freedom fighter, freeing young mutants to join Magneto's Brotherhood and sabotaging anti-mutant efforts by world governments. Not sure what she's doing yet working with Fisk, although her metamorphosis powers might have something to do with it."

"The other wild card is Hyperion," said Iron Fist. "He's a member of the race of Eternals. They're a very elusive people; I only know a little bit about them from my time in K'un-Lun. Basically, the Eternals are these near-immortal synthetic beings created by the Celestials. They were sent to Earth millions of years ago to help guide the natural process of evolution. The K'un-Lun texts are pretty vague about them, but apparently Hyperion was part of the original Eternals who came to Earth during the dinosaur age, but due to an argument with the other Eternals left the planet to search for the Eternals' homeworld, Olympia. Don't know what he did or how he got back, but it seems he's on Oscorp's payroll."

"Which brings us to our last member of the Thunderbolts," said Daredevil. "Norman Osborn. He leads the team, a billionaire scientist the face of a new team of supervillains kept on Fisk's leash. He's trying to set himself up as the next Tony Stark in this post-Masters of Evil world. That explains the Iron Patriot suit. Osborn also runs Oscorp, the leading global researcher in genetics and bio-engineering."

"Lots of shady stuff going on at Oscorp," said Luke Cage.

"Don't we know it," Raph grunted. "We fought Carnage and his symbiote army a while back trying to break into Oscorp Tower and steal some Kraang mutagen."

"Oscorp Tower is gone now," said Iron Fist. "My company, Rand Enterprises, bought his building trying to curb Oscorp's influence here in the states. But it seems Norman's big comeback couldn't be stopped. He bought himself the old Avengers Tower and slapped his logo on the front. That's where he and the Thunderbolts spend most of their time now, when they're not attacking street gangs trying to save face for Fisk."

Jessica Jones pulled two pictures out from the desk and slapped them on the top of it. "Fisk campaigned on ridding the streets from both crime and vigilantes. What really happened was, he offered the gangs of New York a choice: join him or be wiped out. He consolidated all of the city's crime rings under the Fisk empire umbrella. He rakes in the profits, and the gangs get protection from prosecution. Occasionally there's a public display of a criminal getting busted by one of the Thunderbolts, just enough to trick people into thinking Fisk is really keeping the streets safe."

"That's what we think is going on with the Purple Dragons," said Daredevil. "We think Hyperion is hitting them on purpose, and they're not really losing money. But, if they weren't, then the Foot Clan wouldn't be acting so shady."

"Anyways," said Jessica, "there's only two major gangs left in New York that aren't under Fisk's rule yet. The Maggia have staked claim to the East Village neighborhood since before Prohibition. They're your average Italian mobsters. They're currently run by the Hammerhead. Nothing really special about the guy other than the adamantium-steel alloy plate implanted in his skull. The man's head is a literal battering ram."

"Hammerhead helped Kingpin back when HYDRA first took over the country," said Luke Cage. "He helped Fisk in his war against the Vizioso family, which fell apart after the Don was killed."

"What?" asked the turtles in shock. "Don Vizioso – dead?"

"And his crime family fallen apart," Jessica confirmed. "He was one of Fisk's first victims. Once the other gangs heard about Vizioso's death, they fell in line pretty quickly."

"Now new gangs have risen in prominence in the resulting power vacuum," said Iron Fist. "The Maggia is one of them. The other is known as the Inner Demons. They're usually pretty easy to spot. They're a Chinese gang that wears decorative oni masks and uses weapons imbued by negative energy. This energy comes from their leader, Mister Negative. No idea who he really is, but he's got some serious powers."

He turned to the turtles. "So, you guys know how my chi energy works? I can channel my chi and focus it into my fist, or use it to heal, or shoot a concussive blast. Basically, Mister Negative has the same power, except his chi is dark. It's more like a negative chi. It's highly destructive, even more than mine, and he uses it to charge up swords and shoot powerful blasts from his hands. Very dangerous. Do not go toe to toe with this guy unless absolutely necessary."

The turtles gathered closer to the board, examining it. "Well, now that we know all the major players," Leo said. "Who's first on the list?"

Luke Cage grinned. "I like the attitude."

"First things first," said Daredevil. "We need to find the Thunderbolts' contact. It could be coming from Fisk's office directly, or it could be coming from an outside contact. It could also be someone else on the team who has insider information. Hyperion doesn't exactly seem like a guy with a lot of friends. So we're going to be partnering up and going undercover."

"I'll try to secure a meeting with Norman at the new Oscorp Tower," said Danny. "As the CEO of Rand Enterprises, it shouldn't be too hard. And I'll bring my personal legal counsel, Matthew Murdock, with me."

"I'll hit my old contacts in the NYPD," said Luke Cage. "I know a few people in there. Good cops who still have a spine. They gotta have filed a police report on one of Hyperion's stings."

"I'll run surveillance solo," said Jessica. "I'm busy working on your guys' secret IDs, they should be ready in a few days."

"Why do you guys need new secret identities?" asked Mikey.

"Our old ones will probably get compromised," said Daredevil. "And we need aliases with somewhere to hide when we aren't out there kicking butt and taking names."

"That's what I like to hear," said Raph.

"My brothers and I will patrol our neighborhoods by night," said Leo. "We know these streets like the back of our hand. We'll let you all know as soon as we find anything out."

Daredevil walked over to the bulletin board and stood in front of it. "This apartment is our base for the duration," he said. "Kingpin is planning something huge out there, and this is where we start to fight back."


The turtles spent the next week following the Purple Dragons. They wanted to find out who the gang was working for, and see if Hyperion made another appearance.

On their sixth day of surveillance, the Purple Dragons' boss finally made an appearance, at an abandoned warehouse building in the docks. Foot Clan ninja poured out of two vans to meet Fong, Sid, and Tsoi at the Pier 81 warehouse. Fishface got out of the van and walked over to the Purple Dragons.

"Fishface?" Raph asked, from the rooftop across the street from the docks. "What's he doing here?"

"He must be running Shredder's New York operations while the Shredder hides in Japan," said Leo.

Down below, Fishface eyed the Purple Dragons suspiciously and crossed his arms. "Shoot, man, it's about time!" Fong complained. "Been freezing our butts off our here!"

Fishface scowled at the Purple Dragon member. "Don't complain to me about the cold, Fong," he said, teeth chattering. "You're not cold-blooded." He glanced over the three gang members. "Where's Hun?"

"He couldn't make it," said Sid, the big one. "He had some business to do in Chinatown. Probably all nice and warm right now."

Fishface growled. He didn't like it. But it was pretty cold out here, and he didn't want to be out here longer than he had to. "You three are not in any position to complain after losing over a quarter of last week's profits," he said. "Now strip."

The Purple Dragons groaned in protest, but Fishface was unwavering. "You know the rules, boys," he said.

"Yeah, yeah …" The Purple Dragons all spread their vests wide open, exposing their chests to the icy winter wind. "L-look, ok-kay?" Fong said, shivering. "No w-w-wire."

"The pants, too," said Fishface.

"Aw, m-man," Sid complained. "Why y-you always g-gotta be like this?" The Purple Dragon members pulled their pants down until they were in their underwear, showing that they weren't wearing any recording devices.

"C-come on," said Tsoi. "I'm g-gonna have ic-c-cicles hanging out of m-my sh-shorts …"

Fishface laughed. He loved seeing these guys suffer. They were idiots, all three of them. "All right," he snapped. "Get dressed."

On the rooftops, the turtles watched as the Purple Dragons put their clothes back on, shivering and shaking in the icy weather. Suddenly movement caught Leo's eye from a nearby building. "Huh?" he asked aloud, peering at an old abandoned apartment building along the pier, just outside the gate of the docks. There was movement again, from one of the second-story windows that had been busted out. Among the star-shaped hole in the jagged glass remains of the window was a man, wearing a brown suit and a white fedora, aiming a long-range zoom lens camera down through the window towards the Foot Clan meeting below.

"Is that … ?" Leo had to get a closer look. The turtles made their way silently and stealthily over the rooftops, gaining entrance to the apartment building and moving to the room the man was in. The man was oblivious to their presence, his focus entirely on the Foot Clan members in the dockyards outside. Aiming through the camera lens, he adjusted the zoom on his camera.

"C'mon, already," the man muttered. "Make the swap …"

"You're a bit out of your element here, aren't you, Kurtzman?" Leo asked.

The man jumped in surprise and whirled around to face them. They could see Leo was right. It was Jack Kurtzman, their investigative reporter friend. He stared at the turtles with open mouth and wide eyes.

"Great Caesar's ghost!" he cried. "Are you insane? Don't sneak up on a guy like that! Almost gave me a heart attack!" He turned back to the window and groaned in disappointment. "Oh, great. I missed it. They're leaving."

Indeed, Fishface had gotten back in the van and driven off, and the Purple Dragons were gone too.

"Thanks a lot, turtles." Kurtzman started packing up his camera and gear, grumbling half to himself. "Been on these guys' trail for days, and I miss the big hand-off. Just wonderful."

"Hey, it's nice to see you too," Raph snarked.

"Yeah, yeah," said Kurtzman. He paused in the doorway and turned back to look at the turtles. "So, are you coming or not?" he asked. "Cause if we don't get a move on, we're gonna lose him completely."

The turtles grinned.

They followed Kurtzman outside back to the street, where a nondescript white van sat parked on the street. The turtles piled in with Kurtzman at the wheel. Mikey sat shotgun, while the other turtles sat in the back. Kurtzman eyed the orange turtle out of the corner of his eye as he pulled the van onto the street. "Hey, you know we're going to be heading out into traffic here."

"So?" asked Mikey.

"So," Kurtzman clarified, "you might want to get in the backseat."

Mikey blushed with embarrassment. "Oh, right," he laughed nervously, as he climbed into the back with his brothers. The turtles sat on the floor of the van, hunched down out of sight from the street as Kurtzman drove off after the Foot Clan cars.

"Sorry I was so snappy," Kurtzman said after a few moments. "I wasn't expecting to run into you guys out there. But this gig just gets weirder every day."

"A gig?" asked Donnie. "You working for a newspaper now?"

"Nah," said Kurtzman. "The papers in town are bought and paid for by the mayor's office. Something personal I'm working."

"Which is?" asked Leo.

"Nothing much." Kurtzman hunched over the wheel. "Just looking for skeletons in the closets of some of New York's finest."

"Really?" Raph asked. "Seems like an easy way to end up on Fisk's hit list."

"You're telling me," Kurtzman said. "If I had any sense at all, which I don't, I'd be at home with the heater on and a bottle of beer. But no, I had to spend the coldest night of the year at the docks taking pictures of the Foot Clan runners in this cesspool of a city. And just a week ago, I snuck into one of the mayor's events at the Van Lundt Building and copied down license plate numbers of all the cars. Mayor's security weren't too happy to find me."

"I had no idea you had such a death wish, going after the Kingpin like that," Leo said.

"'The Kingpin'!" Kurtzman scoffed at the nickname. "The man's name is Wilson Fisk. He's just a man, like any other. Except he puts himself above the law."

"That doesn't mean he is," Leo protested.

"Oh really?" Kurtzman turned to face the turtles on the floor of the van. "Then someone should go arrest him. I've got a file full of unsolved murders, extortion, obstruction of justice with his name all over it. His money will buy the witnesses. The cops. The judges. In what way isn't 'The Kingpin' above the law?"

An awkward silence fell over the van. Maybe taking the Kingpin down wouldn't be as easy as the turtles had first thought.

Donnie finally broke the silence. "Anyway, Kurtzman, how does Fishface cross your path if you're looking into cops?"

"Saw a cop pass some kid a few kilos of drugs that disappeared from police evidence, so I thought I'd follow him and see where it ended up. Led me to Fishface. He's leading the Foot Clan and spearheading the Brazilian mob in New York, if you can believe it. Turns out he's got quite an operation going, and the Foot Clan are a big donor to the Mayor's re-election campaign fund, in the bargain."

They parked the car across the street from the Foot Clan hideout, the abandoned cathedral that the Foot used for their base of operations. Kurtzman turned around in his seat to face the turtles again. "What about you guys?" he asked. "How'd you come to be trailing Fishface? Or were you following me?"

"Believe me," Raph grumbled, "I'd rather be doing just about anything else with my time other than seeing how Fishsticks spends his wintery New York evenings."

"Ugh, I know," Mikey grumbled. "You know how much Crognard the Barbarian I could be watching instead? I have so much to catch up on before the season finale next week, dude!"

They explained their situation to Kurtzman, who nodded deep in thought. "Ah, I see," he said. "Well if that's what you turtles are trying to do, I may have some information that can help. Meet me at my apartment tomorrow night, ten o'clock. It's time I introduce you to my team."


Ten below, a stiff wind out of the north, and a foot and a half of snow on the ground. Way too cold for crimefighting, Luke Cage thought as he sat watching the projects of Staten Island fly past him, sitting shotgun in an NYPD cruiser being driven by his friend and officer, Misty Knight. His face scrunched up and he lurched forward, letting out a massive sneeze into his jacket sleeve.

Sitting next to him, Misty jumped at the sudden exclamation. "Warn a girl next time, Cage!" she said, smacking him on the shoulder.

Luke sniffled, wiping his nose with a tissue from his pocket. "I thought 'bless you' was customary, Misty."

"For a sneeze? Yes," Misty said. "For a moose bray? No."

"Sorry," Luke said apologetically. "I think I picked up a bug."

Misty stared straight ahead at the road. "Well, keep your bug on your side of the car."

"Thank you, nurse," said Luke sarcastically. He sat back in his seat.

"Been a long time since I had a ride-along, Cage," said Misty.

"Been even longer since I felt comfortable in a police car," Luke shot back. "But this is important. You know I wouldn't risk meeting with you like this unless it was."

"I know," Misty said. "Fisk's got all our hands tied. One of the first things he did in office was replace our police force with a security contractor. Like the ones the military uses overseas. Nobody knows where all these goons came from, but they're Fisk's private enforcer army. I'm one of the few who's still on the street. Most of the other boys have been sent home. It's always the Stockman bots that get sent out whenever we get a call. Us flesh-and-blood cops always get the calls for Chinatown and the East Village, the only two territories Fisk doesn't control. He marketed it as a way of helping the 'understaffed police force'. Yeah, right. He's just helping himself." She shook her head, sighing. "Sometimes I wish I knew what happened to our city. How did things get so bad that we got Fisk running around like he owns the place? I guess he does now."

"Not for long," Luke said. "We're working to take him down. But we need something big. Some evidence that they can't bury. And we think we've got a lead."

"What's up?" Misty asked.

"What do you know about these Thunderbolts?" asked Luke.

Misty shrugged. "Not a whole lot. Just some new superhero team that he's got under his thumb. Ironic, for someone promising to rid the city of supers. They seem legit. We've got no criminal records on any of them."

"That's not right," Luke mused. "I know for a fact at least a few of them are, or were, serious big-time supervillains before the invasion. Fisk must have had their records expunged."

"That makes sense," said Misty. "Explains why they're so squarely under his thumb now. They owe him big. Now they're his private enforcer squad. Occasionally he sends them out for hits against the crime bosses to boost PR, but those never go anywhere. Other than that, Fisk just uses them to target his opponents. Or whenever he needs a general intimidating presence."

"You said he uses them for hits against the crime families," Luke said. "Is that what he's doing with Hyperion?"

"You talking about the hits on the Foot Clan runners?" asked Misty. "Most likely. Fisk still has all his old connections with the other crime families. Other than the Maggia and Inner Demon neighborhoods, crime in New York is pretty low according to the stats. Personally, I think Fisk is just using those stupid Stockman bots to cover up the crime in his territories, and keep us boys in blue out. But I can't prove it."

"So any time public opinion dips too low, Fisk sends Hyperion out for a public display of justice," said Luke. "Ironic, since he campaigns so hard against superheroes."

The police cruiser's headlights were lighting up the street in front of them, and Luke spotted a woman lurching through the street, her hands over her head, wearing nothing but a basic nightgown. "Woah," he said. "This isn't right."

Misty pulled the police car over to the side of the road. "Barefooting in the slush? Don't think so," she said grimly, shutting off the engine and getting out of the car. "Ma'am?"

The woman didn't turn or say anything, she just kept stumbling forward, keeping her head covered. Behind them they heard a door slam, and turned to see a rough-looking Caucasian male, with a scraggly beard, earrings, and a serpent tattoo on his arm step out of an apartment complex. He ignored both Misty and Luke and instead stomped after the woman. "Marie! Marie, come back here!" he yelled.

"Here comes the groom," said Misty, her jaw clenching. "I'll handle him."

"You sure?" asked Luke.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, an icy venom creeping into her voice that Luke recognized. Misty was furious. "Go after her," she said shortly, gesturing after the woman before stalking off to intercept the tattooed guy.

Luke caught up with the woman, who was huddled against a newspaper vending machine. She looked so young and frail, trembling underneath the thin layer of fabric protecting her from the cold night air. "You all right, miss?" he said, kneeling beside her. She didn't respond, only shivered. "Is that your husband?" he asked, jerking a thumb at the guy talking with Misty.

The woman lowered her hands from her face, and Luke fought the urge to cringe. She was young, probably no older than twenty-five. She was pretty, too; a natural beauty that most women craved, with shoulder-length wavy brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes. Well, the eye he could see was brown. The left eye was swollen shut in one of the nastiest black eyes Luke had seen since his days at Seagate. A thin white scar ran from her right nostril around the right side of her mouth, and her right cheek boasted a fresh gash that was still bleeding. "We're not married," she said, her quiet voice manifesting itself in the cold air with a burst of fog from her mouth. "But I guess he's my husband."

Luke brought the girl over, and Misty wasted no time in getting her into the back of their cruiser and wrapped in a blanket. Luke stood arms crossed at the front of the car, glaring at the tattooed guy the whole time. He almost looked like Guy Fieri, if Guy Fieri had served a couple months in prison.

"I lost my job," the guy explained to Misty. "It's been a lousy week. We had a fight about money."

Luke could tell by the expression on Misty's face that she was having none of it. "No excuse to take a shot at her," she said coldly.

The guy spread his arms defensively. "Like I said, we had a fight."

"That's an excuse?" Luke snapped. Misty shot him a look that said, Shut up and let me handle this.

The guy made his way to the police cruiser, pressing his face to the window. "Come on home, Marie," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Marie sat in the car, not looking at him, her hand over her face and her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Luke's blood was boiling. He grabbed the guy by his arm and yanked him away from the police cruiser, holding him inches from his own face. "Maybe you wanna fight me?"

The guy paled visibly, even in the snowy surroundings. "Uh?" he squeaked.

"Yo." Misty Knight grabbed Luke's arm. "Slow down there, cowboy."

Her voice brought Luke back down to earth, and he let go of the guy and backed off. Behind them the police car door opened and Marie stepped out, still wrapped in the blanket. "Excuse me?" she said weakly. "Bill didn't mean nothing. Just … let us go home, okay?"

Bill threw his arm around Marie and helped her over to the apartment building's front door, apologies and promises spilling from his lips. Misty and Luke watched them go. Misty turned her head and walked back over to the driver's side of the cop car. "I hate domestic calls," she muttered, getting in.

"That's it?" Luke asked, following her. "They go home?"

"You heard her," Misty said. "She's not going to press charges." Her voice betrayed her frustration.

The apartment door shut closed behind the couple. Luke stared at it for a few minutes until his fists unclenched. "So what happens now?" he asked, as Misty turned the key in the ignition.

"What?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"To them," Luke said. "What happens?"

Misty let out a mirthless chuckle. "They live happily ever after. Or she puts roach killer in his coffee tomorrow. Or he hits her hard enough next time to kill her. But for now, my job is done here."

"It's not right," Luke said, shaking his head.

"It's not my department, Luke," Misty shot back. "There's nothing more I can do." She stared straight ahead as they drove back to the station. "You always hurt the ones you love," she said softly after a minute. "No law against that yet."

There was another pause, before Misty was talking again. Clearly she had something she needed to get off her chest. "I used to want justice, you know. I used to need it. The arrest, the prison time, the stats. Closing a loop that nagged at me day in and day out. But now, with Fisk running the show, I don't care about 'justice' anymore. I just want to stop crime. Like you. I used to wonder if you were still alive, or just laying low under Fisk's no-vigilante law. Either way, it's good to see you back."

"It's good to be back," Luke said. "The work's not done. Not by a long shot."


"Great find, Luke," Jessica said over the phone. "This might be the lead we need. Meet me at my apartment as soon as you can."

"I might be late," Luke said. "Something came up. Just a little bit of business."

"Don't be too long," Jessica said. "See you."

Luke hung up and headed right back to the street, getting in his car and driving back to Staten Island. He remembered the building they went into, deep in the projects. Ignoring the tweaking heroin user just inside the door, he made his way through the building. It wasn't too hard to find their apartment, on the second floor. He could hear the shouting, even though the door was closed.

"You want me in jail?" a man yelled from inside the apartment. Luke recognized his voice as the guy who Marie had called "Bill." "You want that, Marie? How'm I supposed to find a job if I'm in jail? You ever think of that? 'Course not! You only think of yourself!" His voice had been getting steadily louder as the rant went on. "You ever think of what I'm going through?

"Please," he heard Marie say, though he almost couldn't hear her, she spoke so softly. "The baby …"

It took everything in Luke not to burst the door down right then and there. "You know what, Marie?" he heard Bill roar. "You make me sick! You both make me sick! If you don't straighten up, there's gonna be hell to pay!"

There was a brief pause, and then Marie asked, "Where you going?"

"Out!" Bill snapped. "And when I get back we're gonna talk some more."

Luke made his exit, heading down the stairs to the main lobby. Above him, he heard the apartment door slam as Bill left, making his way through the back door of the building out into the night alley. He hadn't made it more than ten steps before Luke was on him, throwing him across the alley with one hand into the brick wall. Bill gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs, and he felt at least three of his ribs shatter on impact.

He lay in the snow dazed as Luke approached him. Gasping for air, his eyes widened in horror at the recognition of Luke's face. "It's you?"

Luke grabbed the man by his shirt front and hauled him up to his face. Bill let out a cry of pain as Luke snarled, "Don't go home again. Ever. Keep on travelling and never come back. I hear you came within a hundred miles of them? Then we'll have a 'talk'."

He shoved Bill viciously, sending him sprawling into the snow. Bill took one look back at Luke and took off running. Good, Luke thought, watching the man go. He understands.

I'm lucky, he realized, as he made his way back to his car. Cops don't usually get to see swift justice like I do. He wondered how Misty dealt with it.


The next day, the turtles were back in the lair. Leo was working out on the sparring dummy while Raph worked to repair the broken pinball machine. "Sewer apples!" he said, kicking the broken machine. "I think this thing's been damaged beyond repair."

"I can take a look at it if you want, Raph," Donnie offered. "Once I finish tinkering with my new invention."

"Whatcha working on over there, Donnie?" asked Mikey, skating over to his brother.

Donnie removed his welding goggles to glare at Mikey. "For your information, it's a flying turtle vehicle, yet to be named. And it would be a lot easier to work on this if you'd cool it with all the skating around!"

Mikey chuckled. "You're making another flying vehicle, Don? Does it come with flight lessons and a tutorial?" He laughed as he skated off. "There isn't enough room to skateboard cooped up down here. I'm taking it to the tunnels!"

"We don't have time, Mikey," Leo told him. "We're supposed to go meet Kurtzman right now."

"You think he's got anything good for us?" Donnie asked.

"It's Kurtzman," Leo said. "If I know anything about him, it's that he's determined. If he's trying to unravel a conspiracy or some criminal racket that Kingpin has going on, he won't stop."

"He's gonna get himself seriously hurt if he's not careful," Raph said, walking over towards Leo as he finished up on the dummy. "Trust me, Leo. These guys don't mess around."

"That's why we're going to meet him tonight, Raph," Leo said. "Kurtzman needs someone with experience taking on the Kingpin if he's going to go after him."

"Well, if you turtles are going to be busy tonight, somebody's gotta keep the streets safe," Casey said, walking out of the lair's kitchen with a slice of pizza in hand. "Leave it to Casey Jones."

The turtles packed up their gear and prepared to head out. Raph fist-bumped Casey before he left. "Anything happens, you call me," he said. "And be careful. More anti-vigilante patrols on the streets lately."

Casey snorted. "These robo-freaks got nothing on Casey Jones, man. Don't you worry."


Kurtzman's apartment was like your typical bachelor pad. Pizza boxes scattered across the floor with empty soda cans. The blinds drawn and shut over the windows to prevent any peeping toms. Posters and paraphernalia hung the walls, threads strung between them to outline conspiracies and connections.

Kurtzman swept his hand across a cluttered desk, sending a lamp, an assortment of papers, and a half-eaten sandwich to the floor. "When I said I was going to introduce you to my 'team', that might have been a bit of an exaggeration," he said. "I really only have one person I've been working with so far."

He pulled out a fancy-looking laptop computer and booted it up. "I go online late at night after my stakeouts," he said. "I visit a variety of forums and talk to all sorts of interesting people. That's how I found the Whisperer."

Donnie's eyes went wide. "The Whisperer?" he asked. "Like, the Whisperer? The real Whisperer?"

"You know that guy?" asked Leoac.

"Anyone involved in the computer world knows who this guy is," said Donnie. "He's a cyber-activist and one of the best and most wanted hackers in the world. He acts for the public good. He'll leak sensitive and derogatory government information, or he'll target corporations and leak proof of their corruption. His most famous hacking incident was when he hacked Farmers and Merchants Bank and released all kinds of evidence of their fraud—"

"Alright, Don, we get it," Raph groaned. "The guy's a major dork like you."

Donnie glared at his brother.

"The Whisperer has been in hiding in New York City," said Kurtzman. "I've paid him a small fortune to hack into the accounts of Fisk Industries and Oscorp to dig up dirt on them. Fisk is good at covering his tracks. Osborn, not so much."

Kurtzman sat down at the laptop and started typing into the chatbox.

Kurtzman: JK here. Any updates?

Whisperer: Offshore payments from Fisk to private security contractors. Not much else. But I'll keep digging.

Kurtzman: What about Oscorp?

Whisperer: Interesting development. Possible blacksite location for illegal off-the-books experiments. Sending files now.

Two separate data packages emailed themselves to Kurtzman's laptop. He copied the information onto two separate thumb drives, handing the turtles a copy of one of them. "You boys take this information back to your team, and see what you can do to stop Fisk," the reporter said. "I'll see where the Oscorp lead goes."

"Sounds good," Leo said. "Just be careful. Last time we ended up in an Oscorp secret lab—well, let's just say it didn't end well."


"The scanners are pretty quiet tonight," Casey said, skating over the rooftops of Chinatown and monologuing to himself. "Sounds like Kingpin and his cops are more worried about catching the turtles then stopping real crime. It's a good thing Casey Jones is here to do something about that."

Even as he said the words aloud, he wished there was something to do. He'd been out here for two hours, and so far nothing had happened. Maybe all the added police presence on the streets searching for the turtles had helped a little to stop crime. But even here, in Chinatown, he'd expected to run into some drug dealers, or something. Anything.

Then the police scanner on his hip beeped with a crackle. "All units in Chinatown, we have a 10-52 in progress. Silent alarm triggered at the Ming Fang storage facility. Sending in units now."

"10-52?" Casey asked. "10-4 to that, officer. Casey Jones is on the scene!"

He skated quickly towards the Ming Fang warehouse in Chinatown, feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins. He was so excited to finally get some action, use his fists again. As he skated over one of the rooftops, he caught a flash of movement from the rooftops across the street. A shadowy figure was sprinting away from the warehouse, flipping over obstacles and leaping from building to building.

From here Casey could see where the figure was headed, and quickly backtracked to cut them off. As the mysterious runner leaped off of the apartment building and landed on the rooftop next to him, he emerged from the shadows, hockey mask over his face. "Hey," he said, "where do you think you're going in such a rush?"

The woman stood up to face him, and Casey's jaw dropped. She had a fantastic body, wearing a black leather outfit that was tight against her form. She wore tall white boots to match her hair and the fur stitched around the neck of the outfit. Casey caught himself imagining what she would look like if the outfit's collar was unzipped just a little bit more. Her brown eyes stared intensely at him from behind a black eye mask, taking him in.

Wow, Casey thought. Didn't know she was a woman. Or hot.

"You know," he said, leaning back on his hockey stick and doing his best to act cool, "you're a pretty big step up from the usual riffraff I find sneaking around the rooftop in the middle of the night."

Suddenly his hockey stick fell out from under him. "Woah!" he shouted as he fell to the ground, jumping up and acting as if nothing had happened. He could feel his face blush a bright red underneath his hockey mask, but he ignored it. "Now, why don't you—"

There was a faint smile at the corners of the lady's mouth, showing her slight amusement at the kid in the hockey mask trying to play vigilante. But she didn't have time for this. She leaped backwards over the edge of the roof and disappeared.

"Hey!" Casey shouted, skating quickly to the roof. Was this chick nuts? She'd just flung herself off of a seven-story building. He ran towards the edge and peered over. There was nothing in the streets below. Confused, he scanned the side of the building before he spotted her. Using some kind of climbing claws attached to her gloves, she was climbing along the side of the building down towards a roof below.

Casey wouldn't let her get away that easy. He made a dash for the fire escape, running down it and reaching the roof the mysterious woman was running across. She was fast, but he had skates. Skating quickly, he caught up with her, and skated alongside her as she ran. "You know, if I didn't know any better I would think you're trying to avoid me," he said. "You don't seem all that into—"

His sentence was cut off as the woman threw a kick out that caught him off-guard, striking him in the chest and knocking him back a few feet on his skates. Another kick came flying towards his head which he raised his hockey stick in time to block. "Lady!" he yelled. She knew karate, and she was good at it.

Casey skated around her in a circle, and grabbed an incoming punch with his glove hand. "Hey, chill out!" he said, reaching for the button on his glove to activate the taser built inside. But the woman flipped him over her head and subdued him before he could do that. He hit the ground with a whomp, the air knocked out of him.

"Crossed a black cat," the woman said, standing over him. "Seven years bad luck." She ran off, stepping on Casey as she left. He looked up in pain, watching her vault over the rooftops and out of sight.

Did I just have seven years bad luck? he wondered. Or am I going to have seven years bad luck?