A dead mafioso with a bullet wound in the forehead is zipped up in a bodybag.

Paramedics place the dead body on a stretcher and haul it away. In the distance, police officers take pictures of the crime scene whileMisty Knight stands and surveys the area. "Whoever was responsible for this knew what he was doing," she mutters to herself. A police officer walks up to her with a bullet casing in a bag, "Ma'am, we think we've located the shooter."

"Let me guess," she begins and points into the distance, "A high-powered, military grade sniper rifle. The shooter was likely on top of those containers."

"Um,... Yes, ma'am."

"The precision is obvious. This guy was a professional."

The officer clears his throat and proudly proclaims his theory, "I think it was a rival gang, ma'am. You see, my theory is -"

"Save your theory," Misty rolls her eyes, "This was no rival gang. This guy was trained military and we're talking elite. There's no reason why a soldier of this caliber would target some common criminals unless it was some personal vendetta. The person that comes to my mind is Frank Castle."

"That's... That is also a uh,... possibility," the officer stammers.

"Keep sweeping," Misty dismisses him and continues to survey the crime scene.

A nice, expensive Mercedes pulls up and the man known as Suger exits. He opens the back passenger door and Luke Cage steps out, so the officers on the scene step forward to block him. Misty quickly waves them off, "It's cool. I called him here."

"What's this about, Misty?," Luke asks.

"Remember when you asked me about the last time I saw a gun or a dead body on the street? Well, I have an answer for you now."

"What happened here?"

"You remember Amos? Famous Amos? Guy used to run around with Cottonmouth's crew?"

"Yeah, I bumped into him a few days ago and made sure he wasn't selling guns on the street?"

"Seriously? My day just got better."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I finally proved my point. Your little experiment failed, Luke. You're done."

"You brought me out here, so just tell me what's going on."

"Amos was selling guns. Right here in Harlem! You might have checked up on him but it wasn't enough. He apparently had stuff stashed away and tried to sell it to... if my guess is right,... the Carbone Family."

"Carbone Family?"

"We ID'd a few guys who work for Rosalie Carbone. Or did you not know they were buying weapons?"

"I told Rosalie Carbone personally that buying and selling guns was off limits."

"It looks like she didn't listen to you. Shocker."

"Who's behind the shooting. I'll take care of the situation."

"We don't know yet."

"Bullshit. If anyone figured it out already, it's you."

"Police matter. I'm afraid I can't tell you. This Godfather of Harlem shit ends today, Luke. You shut it down or I shut you down."

"I'll take care of this, Misty. I swear."

"It's too late for that, Luke," Misty turns and leaves.

Rosalie Carbone pours a glass of wine. Sitting in the table across from her is Tony, her new Number One. "All of them? Dead?," she asks.

Tony nods, "It seems so, ma'am."

"Was it the Punisher? Was it the Hatchets? Who?"

"We don't know yet."

"Either way, we need to start sending messages. First chance we get, we're storming into Chinese territory and -"

Tony stands up and pulls his firearm, drawing it toward the window. Rosalie stands and turns, instantly spotting Daredevil sitting in the frame.

"I'm not here for a fight," he tells them.

She signals for Tony to put his gun away before responding, "So what are you here for? If this is about Wilson Fisk I got nothing to do with him anymore."

"It's not. I'm here to talk about a parlay."

"Parlay? For who? I know you're not working with the Yangsi Gonshi. You're not with Luke Cage are ya?"

"I'm here representing this city. There will be no war. If any innocents are caught in the crossfire, I will not hesitate to bring both organizations down. You know what I'm capable of."

"You mind giving Sherry Yang the same speech?"

"I plan to," Daredevil drops out of the window and disappears. Rosalie bristles with anger.

A DJ performs onstage at Harlem's Paradise while people dance. In the crow's nest, Sugar looks down on the audience. Cage approaches him, "Hey, Sugar. So who all is here tonight?"

"None of your regular customers," Sugar explains.

"Rosalie Carbone? Sherry Yang? No one."

"Nah, man. They must not have any business to do if they're not here."

"Or they're doing their business somewhere else."

"They're not that stupid. They know not to cross you, man."

"Last night, Amos and his boys got shot up. Gun deal."

"For real?"

"You're close to the streets. How do people feel about me out there?"

"They don't say shit."

"Are they scared to say something around you? Do they just not have any faith in me? What's going on?"

"I don't know, man. Don't sweat it. You're the sheriff. Everyone knows that."

"Right," Cage goes to his office.

Jessica Jones walks down the street, taking a swig from a bottle wrapped in a paperbag. Her phone rings and she checks the name first. A curious look crosses her face before she answers, "Luke?"

Luke sits behind his desk at Harlem's Paradise, "Yeah, it's me, Jess. How have you been?"

"I've been... same as usual I guess? I'm sorry, I'm not used to you calling me. What's up?"

"A while back you said we should talk more often. To be honest, I could use someone to talk to."

"You must be pretty desperate if you call me up."

"I don't have too many friends these days."

"Friends are overrated. What's on your mind?"

"For a while there, I thought I was keeping the streets safe... Now I'm not so sure."

"We gotta do what we gotta do, right? Not everyone can be a superhero."

"I thought I could."

"In my experience, that never ends well."

"Yeah, I guess not."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah,... probably. Hey, remember when we last spoke? I said it was nice to know that someone out there was able to give a shit enough to doing something if I crossed the line?"

"Yeah?"

"Nevermind. Nice talking to you, Jess."

"Yeah. Same." She hangs up and looks concerned.