Cage walks down the sidewalk in Harlem, stopping when his phone rings, "Hello?"

"It's Jessica Jones from the Pulse."

"Hey. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I noticed you've gotten pretty popular recently."

"It's crazy, right? I'm even getting recognized on the street."

"Well, I've been doing some research. Remember how Seagate Prison is owned by Syndyne? Well, guess who owns that company?"

"Who?"

"Your boss, John McIver," Jessica looks at a photo on her computer monitor showing McIver and the heads of Syndyne, "It'ss a subsidiary of McIver International."

"Huh. Didn't know that. Wonder why he didn't tell me."

"Probably because he wants to keep you on the payroll. You're good for the image of his business. Why do you think he asked you to have a stage name?"

"I guess that's how it works. I'll ask him about it when I have time."

"Look, I'm really worried about where this might be going. I don't trust Syndyne and I don't trust your boss."

"You're worried about me, huh?"

"I don't want to see anyone get hurt. Be careful, Carl. Or should I call you Cage, now?"

"Call me whatever you like."

"Heh. I'm serious. McIver isn't trustworthy."

"C'mon. He's giving me a steady job. That's all I ask. He has me doing PR work, fine. It's not like I gotta make an ass out of myself doing commercials or anything."

Then comes the commercial. Cage is on a stage wearing a yellow and blue spandex outfit complete with silver cuffs around his wrists and a belt made of chains. He holds an energy drink in his hand, thrusting toward the camera while screaming, "Drink Power-Thirst. The sports drink that gives you POWWWEEERRRR!" Cue the logo and massive, orgasmic explosions, followed by a poorly rendered CGI lion. "Cut," the director calls out, "That's a rap". Cage tosses the energy drink to a stage hand and immediately begins taking off the costume.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he tells McIver as he approaches.

"Relax. I know the CEO of this company. I did him a favor once, so I owed him. Besides, it keeps you in the spotlight. It's all a part of your community service, remember?"

"Yeah. Think I'd rather be in prison than do another one of these."

"Fine. No more commercials."

"By the way, what do you know about Syndyne?"

"What? Why do you ask?"

"There's a rumor you own that company. Just something I heard."

"My company once financed it as a subsidiary but that was a long time ago. I don't have much of anything to do with them any longer."

"Huh. Okay."

"At any rate, I have a new assignment for you. This one comes all the way from the FBI."

"Wow. We're moving up from police work?"

"Seems so. There is a drug smuggler in New York named Anton DeWitt," McIver hands him a photo of DeWitt, "He has been moving back and forth from South America. The FBI know of his wherebouts but their hands are currently tied in red tape. Due to a loophole, a private operative can give him to them. The only thing is, you have to catch him in the act. Try to get as much evidence as possible before you move in. They will be in the area to bring him in if you catch him."

Cage looks at the photo, "Give me 24 hours."

It's night. DeWitt comes out of a shady hotel with a briefcase. He checks the area and quickly moves down the street. Cage rounds the corner and follows him. Several minutes later, DeWitt comes to a condemned building and quickly goes inside. Cage notices a skylight on the roof and runs to the rear of the building where he ascends up a fire escape; once he comes to the roof, he looks inside.

A few lights hang from the ceiling, casting only a small amount of light on the men standing around a table. The men on one end all wield guns. Anton places the briefcase on the table and flips it open, exposing a few pounds of cocaine. Cage activaters the GPS on his phone, "Let's see how fast you boys can get here," he says to himself. "Straight from Columbia as promised," Anton tells them. Cage begins to take pictures as one of the men prepares to test the drug. "That should do it," Cage says aloud, shoves the camera in his jacket, and then jumps.

The glass shatters as Cage plummets through the skyline, hitting the concrete hard enough to crack it under his shoes. The men spin around, asking no questions as they open fire. Bullets hit him, forcing him back as sparks fly but he does not fall. He dashes forward, hurling one of them across the room, then backhands another one into the wall behind them. Meanwhile, Anton scrambles to put his drugs back in his briefcase. Cage raises two gunmen into the air and slams them together before dropping them. Anton takes his briefcase and bolts for the door. Cage notices this and kicks the table, sending it through the air where it hits him in the back, knocking him down. He groans and climbs out from under the table, looking back just in time to see Cage dispatching the last of his associates. A moment later, he is snatched up and pinned him down as Cage shows him a picture of himself on his phone.

"This you?," he asks.

"Y-Yes," Anton replies.

"Good," he scrolls down, showing the reward money, "This is how much money I'm gonna make when I bring you in."

"What?"

"Thought you might like to know. You have a pretty sweet price on your head. It's impressive. I mean, I've caught quite a few guys so far and this is the highest I've been paid yet. Should be an honor for you."

"Who... Who are you?"

"Luke Cage, who do you think?"

Anton laughs, "Ah man, I should've known it was you. I saw you on TV."

"Uh... thanks?"

"I'm probably going to prison, huh?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Ah well, won't be the first time."

Later, they stand outside the building, Cage holding his arms behind his back. "The feds should be showing up, soon," Cage tells him.

"Look man, I got some information for you."

"For me? Why're you giving me information."

"You're from Harlem, right? I grew up there. I like you and you need to know something."

"Okay, whatcha got?"

"I heard weapons are on the street."

"No kidding. A lotta people got weapons. Your boys in there got weapons."

"Not like these. Think about it, Cage. What was your first case? Taking out some bank robbers with dynamite and a damn rocket launcher? Where'd they get those, man? Think about it. There's probably more ot come."

Two black cars pull up. Federal agents rush out of one car and into the building, guns drawn, to arrest the dealers inside. Meanwhile, two more agents move toward Anton. "FBI, Mr. Cage," one agent explains as he shows his badge, "Thank you for your help. We'll take it from here." They take Anton away and before he is placed in the backseat of the car, he gives Cage a warning look. Cage watches them go silently.