The wind at such a height was ice-cold. Sasuke stood at the very edge of the Burj Khalifa observation deck, looking down. The lights of night-time Dubai spread beneath him like a scattering of jewels on black velvet. Eight hundred and twenty-eight meters to the ground. Almost a kilometer of free fall.

The Uchiha closed his eyes, remembering the first time he came here. Back then, he opened a portal almost immediately, not risking waiting until the last moment. Now he counted in seconds—three, maximum four until impact with the ground. Sasuke pushed this boundary further and further, as if playing a card game with death where each move could be the last.

He stepped forward. Not a jump—he simply allowed his body to tilt and slip off the edge. The first moments of falling were always the most intense. His stomach rose to his throat, his heart skipped a beat, all his senses sharpened to their limit. In these seconds, Sasuke was truly alive.

The air whistled in his ears, his cloak fluttering like broken wings. Sasuke spread his arms, surrendering to the free fall. The ground approached rapidly. Six hundred meters. Five hundred. Four hundred. He counted in his mind, feeling adrenaline flood his consciousness.

The lights below grew brighter, transforming from a blurred spot into a clear picture of streets and squares. Two hundred meters. One hundred fifty. His pulse thundered in his ears. Still too early. He needed to hold on a bit longer. To catch that feeling of balancing on the edge, when every cell in his body screamed of danger.

One hundred meters. Seventy-five. Fifty. The ground flew towards him at a terrible speed. Forty meters. Thirty. Twenty-five. Sasuke narrowed his eyes, making out details below. People. Cars. Streetlights. Everything so clear, so real. Fifteen meters.

Chakra rushed to his eyes a fraction of a second before impact. The Rinnegan opened, tearing the fabric of space. A portal appeared right in front of him, swallowing his falling body. The next moment, Sasuke shot out on the other side somewhere above the desert, using chakra to slow his descent.

He landed heavily on the sand, rolling several times. His heart hammered wildly, his lungs burning. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins, making every nerve vibrate with overstimulation. The Uchiha lay on his back, looking at the starry sky, and for the first time in a long while, he actually felt something.

But the euphoria didn't last long. After just a few minutes, the familiar numbness began to return. The emptiness inside, bottomless and cold, made itself known again. Sasuke sat up, brushing sand from his clothes. Next time he would have to fall even longer. Maybe then he could hold onto this feeling of being alive.

Somewhere in the distance, the city lights flickered. The Uchiha rose to his feet. He needed to return—dawn was approaching, and Fisk would surely have some new assignment for him. Another empty task to fill the endless time.

Sasuke activated the Rinnegan, opening a portal back to New York. Before stepping into the spatial rift, he cast one last glance at the horizon. Somewhere there, beyond the curve of the earth, the Burj Khalifa towered. He would definitely return there. Perhaps even this evening.

After all, what else remains when there is nothing inside but an abyss? Only to fall into the same abyss outside, hoping that one day the two voids will mutually destroy each other.

Sasuke lay on the cooling sand, feeling the adrenaline slowly leaving his body. The stars above the desert seemed unusually bright—here, far from city lights, they were especially clear. The Uchiha counted them, trying to delay the moment of returning to reality. One thousand two hundred forty-seven. One thousand two hundred forty-eight. Like the cracks on the ceiling in his room at Xavier's school, he knew their number by heart.

The phone in his pocket vibrated. Surely Fisk—lately he had been calling more and more often. Sasuke didn't move to retrieve the device. What difference did it make? Another "urgent matter" could wait. All these meetings with bosses, intimidation of unwanted persons, demonstrations of power... A cheap farce, nothing more.

Sand had worked its way into the folds of his clothing, but the Uchiha was in no hurry to get up. The same emptiness awaited him at the school, just within four walls. He could go to Brock's bar—at least he didn't pester him with conversation. But alcohol no longer brought even slight relief, not like before. His regeneration worked too quickly.

Sasuke's gaze caught on a constellation whose name he had never bothered to learn. In his world, stars formed different patterns. Everything here was foreign—from the sky to the ground. Eight months. Two hundred forty-four days in this reality. He remembered each of them, every endless minute.

The day began at dawn. Sasuke would wake up, if he had slept at all. Breakfast in an empty kitchen—he deliberately chose times when no one was there. Then training in the basement or meditation in the garden. Anything to avoid encountering other inhabitants of the school. Especially the couple consisting of Naruto and the mutant girl.

Uzumaki, as always, had made himself comfortable. Found friends, started a relationship, integrated into local life. Each of his laughs in the corridors, each touch with Rogue echoed with a dull irritation somewhere inside. The Uchiha was angry at himself for these emotions—envy was unworthy of a representative of his clan. But the feeling gnawed at him anyway, like a hungry rat.

By noon, a message from Fisk usually arrived. "Urgent meeting." "Important business." "Need a show of force." Sasuke carried out the assignments mechanically, like a well-tuned instrument. Crime bosses considered him their trump card, not understanding that he was simply killing time. Their pathetic intrigues and power struggles were nothing more than a way to keep from going crazy from idleness.

After meetings with Fisk—a bar. Sometimes several, until he found one quiet enough. Brock with his symbiote turned out to be the perfect companion for such evenings. They both understood the value of silence. Sasuke drank, Eddie wiped glasses, occasionally they exchanged a few phrases. That was enough.

Nights were the worst. When the school quieted down, and even the eternally energetic Uzumaki finally went to bed, the emptiness became especially palpable. It crept under the skin, ate away at the insides, forcing him to seek any way to dull it. That's when the rooftop jumps began, long runs through the sleeping city, and now these falls from skyscrapers.

Sasuke sat up, shaking sand from his cloak. The stars had begun to pale—dawn was approaching. That meant the whole cycle would soon begin again. Breakfast. Training. Meeting with Fisk. Bar. Nighttime wanderings around the city. Like a hamster in a wheel, only instead of a cage—an entire world. But that didn't make it any easier.

Yesterday he heard Naruto telling someone about plans for the future. Something about a joint mission with the X-Men, about helping other mutants... Uzumaki always knew how to find a purpose worth living for. And what was left for him, for Sasuke? Only an endless succession of days, each resembling the other like drops of water.

The Uchiha got to his feet. The phone vibrated again—undoubtedly Fisk was already furious about his unavailability. Well, at least that would bring some variety to the routine. It would be interesting to watch Kingpin pretend to control the situation when he was actually shaking with fear.

The Rinnegan activated, tearing space. Before stepping into the portal, Sasuke cast one last glance at the stars. How many more such dawns would he have to meet in this world? How many more days pretending that mere existence was enough?

The portal closed behind him, leaving the desert in pre-dawn twilight. Somewhere in the sky, a lone eagle flew by. Its shadow glided over the cooling sand, where the footprints of a man too powerful to die, but too lost to truly live, were still visible.

Evening Manhattan spread out beyond the penthouse's panoramic windows. Wilson Fisk stood by the window, examining the city he considered his own. His massive figure was reflected in the glass—a white suit of impeccable cut emphasized his imposing dimensions. The king of the criminal world held a glass of whiskey in his hand, but hadn't touched the drink.

On the table lay a hefty folder with photographs and reports—the results of his new ally's work. The Russo case and his gang had become a demonstrative example. Dozens of corpses, all killed at each other's hands. The official version—a conflict over redistribution of spheres of influence. Fisk smirked. The police didn't even suspect the true cause of what had happened.

"Russo was a thorn in my side," muttered Kingpin, adjusting his immaculate cuffs. "His connections in the police, control over the port docks, human trafficking... All this irritated serious players."

He shifted his gaze to other photographs—images from surveillance cameras where a barely distinguishable dark figure appeared in different parts of the city. Sasuke Uchiha. The perfect weapon, appearing as if from nowhere.

Fisk lowered himself into a leather chair, massive and specially reinforced for his weight. The mahogany desk was pristinely clean except for the Russo case folder and the crystal glass. Kingpin liked order in everything.

Silvermane controlled most of the illegal gambling business, the Triad held drug trafficking in Chinatown in their hands, each major group had its own niche. And Russo... Russo meddled in all spheres, didn't observe the unspoken rules, created chaos where there should be balance. Now that this thorn had been removed, it was time for a serious conversation with the leaders of the main groups.

Fisk took invitations out of the desk drawer—thick cream paper with embossing, each in a separate envelope. Old school, but such gestures were valued in their circles. A small reception at his mansion, where they could discuss the new balance of power in the city. And demonstrate a new trump card.

The air behind his back trembled slightly, as if from heat. Fisk didn't even turn around—he had already grown accustomed to the unusual way his new partner appeared. Only his muscles tensed imperceptibly, ready for any development. Years in the criminal world had taught him to always be on guard. Unhurriedly, Kingpin turned his chair to face his guest.

Sasuke stood several steps from the desk, his black cloak slightly swaying as if from a non-existent wind. His mismatched eyes—one red with an intricate pattern, the other purple with concentric circles—looked cold and indifferent. Fisk involuntarily noted that he still couldn't get used to that eerie gaze.

"What's the job this time?" the Uchiha's voice sounded emotionless, as if he was completely uninterested in the answer.

Fisk allowed himself a slight smile. He perfectly understood that he was dealing with a predator capable of destroying him at any moment. But that was the art—finding ways to form alliances even with the most dangerous people.

"A very profitable one for you," Kingpin leaned slightly forward. "Sit down. We need to discuss something interesting."

Uchiha remained standing, but this didn't disconcert Fisk. He was used to dealing with different people, and this unusual young man was too valuable an asset to pay attention to such trifles. Moreover, soon Fisk would have the opportunity to demonstrate to the entire criminal world of New York what weapon was now at his disposal.

The black armored Mercedes-Maybach S680 glided smoothly through the evening streets of Manhattan. Behind the limousine's tinted windows, the city appeared as a blurred mosaic of neon signs and street lamps. The leather interior was bathed in subdued amber light. A light aroma of expensive tobacco mingled with the smell of leather upholstery.

Fisk occupied almost the entire space of one of the couches. His massive figure in a snow-white suit contrasted with the dark upholstery. Opposite him sat Wesley—his faithful assistant, in a perfectly pressed gray suit and thin-framed glasses. Sasuke settled by the far window, as if deliberately distancing himself from the others. His black cloak merged with the shadows, and his mismatched eyes were fixed on the window, as if what was happening in the cabin didn't concern him at all.

"Is the guest list final?" Fisk extended his hand toward the crystal decanter of whiskey but didn't touch it.

Wesley took a tablet from his leather briefcase, quickly scrolling through several pages: "Practically. John Jameson confirmed his attendance just an hour ago. Given his recent articles about police corruption, this will add... the right tone to the event."

"Jameson," Fisk allowed himself a slight smirk. "The unbending fighter for truth. Who else from the fourth estate?"

"Television will be represented by Christine Everhart. She's currently the leading analyst for urban issues on CNN."

Wesley paused, adjusting his glasses—a gesture that appeared whenever he moved on to more serious topics: "As for the main guests... Silvermane will arrive accompanied by Alicia."

"The old fox won't miss an opportunity to present his daughter to society," Fisk finally poured himself whiskey, but only two fingers' worth. "I heard she received her MBA from Harvard?"

"Correct. And she has already completed several successful deals through their family investment fund. A very... talented young lady."

Behind these dry words lay much more—Alicia Manfredi was gradually taking over part of her father's business, both legal and shadowy. Her Harvard Business School was no more than a façade hiding the sharp mind and iron grip of a true heir to a criminal empire.

"Chang?" Fisk took a small sip of whiskey.

"Will arrive closer to nine. His people are already checking the perimeter."

"Paranoid," Kingpin shook his head. "Though he has reasons after his nephew was found in the docks with his throat cut..."

Fisk fell silent, looking out the window. Somewhere out there, in the shadows of the night city, lurked secrets better not spoken of even in an armored limousine.

"Black Mask?"

"Confirmed, but will be alone, without his... entourage."

"Sensible on his part," Fisk set aside his glass. "After recent events, everyone is somewhat... nervous."

The limousine smoothly turned onto Fifth Avenue. The windows of elite boutiques floated by outside, rare passersby curiously following the luxurious car with their eyes.

"What are they saying on the streets about Russo?" Fisk asked casually.

Wesley adjusted his glasses again: "There are many rumors. The most popular version—internal conflict. Supposedly one of his lieutenants decided to seize power. Some believe the Mexican cartel is behind it—Russo crossed them a month ago, disrupting a delivery."

"And what does the police think?"

"Officially—gang warfare. Unofficially... they're confused. The method of killing is unlike anything they've encountered before. They're especially concerned about the mass slaughter at Club Inferno. The surveillance camera footage is missing."

"Russo was... a problem," Kingpin said slowly. "A mad dog who decided he could become a wolf. His methods brought chaos where there should be order."

"Silvermane will be pleased with his elimination," noted Wesley. "Russo intercepted three of his shipments in the last month."

"Old Silvio doesn't like to share," Fisk smirked. "And the former soldier had the audacity to step into his sandbox."

"Chang also suffered losses. The Afghan's minions began seizing territories in Chinatown."

"Too much ambition, too little brains," Kingpin shook his head. "He disturbed the balance. In our... business, that's an unforgivable mistake."

The limousine began to slow down. Ahead, camera flashes and a crowd of reporters were already visible at the entrance to the Plaza Hotel. The red carpet was illuminated by dozens of spotlights.

"We're almost there," Wesley put away the tablet. "Security reports that the perimeter is clear. The press is already waiting."

Fisk adjusted his immaculate cuffs, then turned his gaze to Sasuke: "Today you can just observe. Look at the guests, assess the situation. After all," his lips touched with a barely noticeable smile, "even such talented young men sometimes should... unwind."

Uchiha didn't react to these words, continuing to look out the window. Only a slight movement of his head showed that he had heard.

The limousine smoothly stopped at the red carpet. Wesley was the first to slip outside, holding the door. Camera flashes danced with triple intensity when Kingpin's massive figure appeared in the doorway.

"Mr. Fisk! Mr. Fisk, a few words for the Daily Bugle!" "What do you think about the recent events at the docks?" "Is it true that your company is going to invest in the reconstruction of Hell's Kitchen?"

The reporters' voices merged into a single hum. Fisk allowed himself a benevolent smile, as if their very presence gave him pleasure. His massive figure radiated the calm confidence of a man accustomed to press attention.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," his deep voice easily drowned out the crowd's noise. "Today we have gathered to support a charitable foundation helping children from disadvantaged areas. I believe that every child in our city deserves a chance for a better future."

Camera flashes intensified—Kingpin was in his element, playing the role of a noble patron. None of the reporters noticed how a dark figure seemed to dissolve in the shadows, silently moving to his position. This evening, Sasuke had a specific role that didn't require spotlight.

The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was awash in the golden glow of crystal chandeliers. High ceilings with stucco, marble columns, and mirrored panels created an atmosphere of luxury and grandeur of a bygone era. Waiters in snow-white jackets glided silently among the guests, carrying champagne and exquisite appetizers on silver trays.

Kingpin stood in the center of the hall, his massive figure in a white tuxedo attracting glances. The king of New York's criminal world played the role of a gracious host with impeccable mastery. Next to him, like a shadow, was the faithful Wesley, whose glasses gleamed in the chandelier light whenever he tilted his head to whisper something to his boss.

Sasuke, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, kept himself apart from the main mass of guests. A transformation technique concealed his Rinnegan, turning his mismatched eyes into ordinary brown ones. The Uchiha observed the proceedings with cold indifference, noting every detail to himself: the location of security, escape routes, potential threats.

Silvermane appeared accompanied by his daughter Alicia—a tall blonde twenty-five-year-old woman in an elegant black dress. The old crime boss, leaning on a cane with a silver knob, radiated an aura of power despite his advanced age. His daughter, meanwhile, exuded cold charm, her emerald eyes keenly assessing those around her.

Alicia suppressed a yawn, elegantly raising a glass of champagne to her lips. Such events had long become routine—an endless series of social gatherings where old board members and young financiers try to attract the attention of the Manfredi empire heiress. She had learned this art of socializing just as she had learned to understand financial reports and asset management—her father prepared her for the role of successor in all aspects of the family business, including those never mentioned in official documents.

The girl's gaze wandered absently around the hall, noting familiar faces until it caught on a figure near Fisk. Something in this young man's bearing seemed vaguely familiar. He took a sip of champagne and moved toward a column by the bar, and suddenly Alicia felt like she'd been struck by electricity—that same arrogant type from "Inferno."

The music in the club pounded her ears, making her insides vibrate in time with the bass. Alicia sipped her cocktail, pretending to enjoy the evening. In reality, her gaze methodically scanned the premises. Her father had given her an important assignment—to find out what Russo was up to this time. The upstart had begun seizing territories in the docks, ignoring the unspoken rules of the criminal world.

"Four snipers behind tinted glass," she mentally noted, spotting barely discernible scope reflections. Security was everywhere—an elite ten in the penthouse, not counting the usual thugs on the dance floor. Forty people, no less.

Her platinum hair shimmered in the strobe lights, her short black dress attracting glances. Perfect camouflage—just another rich girl who came to have fun. No one would suspect her of being the daughter of one of the city's most influential crime bosses.

An hour remained until the meeting with the informant. Alicia had already gathered enough data, observing the movements of security and VIP-zone guests. Now she just had to wait.

That's when she noticed him—a tall young man moving through the crowd with an inhuman grace, like water flowing around stones. His movements conveyed the restrained power of a predator. Intuition literally screamed of danger, and it was... mesmerizing.

Alicia acted impulsively. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe she just wanted some adrenaline. She stepped into his path: "Hey, handsome! Dance with me?"

He walked past without even looking in her direction. As if she were nothing. In all her life, no one had dared to so demonstratively ignore the Manfredi empire heiress.

"Jerk!" she shouted after him, feeling her cheeks burn with humiliation.

Alicia followed the retreating figure with her eyes. He was heading toward the stairs to the upper floors, where the VIP rooms and Russo's office were located. A guard tried to stop him but somehow immediately stepped aside with a blank expression.

Intuition, honed by years of working in the family business, made itself known again. Something was about to happen. Finishing her cocktail, the girl headed for the exit. Better to be far away from here when...

She heard the first screams already in the taxi. And the next day, all the news was filled with headlines about the bloody massacre at Club Inferno, where Russo's people killed each other in a fit of inexplicable madness.

Now, looking at him in the middle of the Plaza's ballroom, Alicia understood—that evening was no coincidence. And she would definitely find out who this man really was.

Platinum hair arranged in an intricate hairstyle, exposing an elegant neck. Gray-green eyes flashed when she caught his fleeting glance. Oh yes, he recognized her too.

"Wilson," her father extended his hand in greeting, leaning on his cane with the silver knob. "A lovely evening."

"Glad to see you in good health," Fisk returned the handshake. "Miss Manfredi, you are as charming as ever."

"Thank you, Mr. Fisk," Alicia smiled, but her attention was riveted to the dark figure by the column.

Chang appeared accompanied by two bodyguards, his traditional silk suit contrasting with the Western attire of the other guests. After his nephew's murder, the Triad leader had become even more paranoid. His gaze darted around the hall, searching for threats in every shadow.

Black Mask arrived last, unaccompanied. His dark suit and eerie mask created a frightening dissonance with the festive atmosphere of the reception. He nodded briefly to Fisk and took up a position by the far wall, ignoring social conventions.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Fisk raised a glass of champagne. "I am pleased to welcome you to this modest reception. Today we have gathered not only for charity but also to celebrate... a new era of prosperity for our great city."

Chang nervously adjusted his collar: "Business matters later?"

"Exactly, my dear friend," Kingpin allowed himself a slight smile. "Now is the time to enjoy the evening. We will have an opportunity to discuss work matters in a more... private setting."

Alicia waited for the right moment, when her father became engrossed in conversation with Fisk, and headed for the bar. Her path, of course, led past the still-unknown young man. This time he wouldn't just walk by.

"Well, what a meeting," her voice was soft, with a slight huskiness. "Last time you refused me a dance."

He glanced at her, his eyes sliding over her without the slightest interest: "I don't remember that."

"Really?" Alicia moved closer, invading his personal space. She smelled of expensive perfume and danger. "I remember every detail of that evening. Especially what happened afterward."

For a fraction of a second, she thought she saw something red flash in his eyes, but the illusion immediately disappeared. The young man turned his head slightly, and now his gaze was fixed on her like a predator assessing a potential threat.

"The club was so... noisy," she continued, taking a sip of champagne. "Not like here. Although the end of the evening turned out quite... dramatic."

"You have a vivid imagination," his voice sounded indifferent.

"Perhaps," Alicia smiled. "Or a good memory for faces. Especially those that appear in interesting places before something... unusual happens."

The young man was silent, but she could feel the tension emanating from him. Like a string ready to snap at the slightest touch. This only fueled her interest further.

"You know what's different between that evening and tonight?" Alicia leaned closer, her lips almost touching his ear. "Now I know who you are."

"I doubt it," these words sounded almost like a threat.

"You're Fisk's right hand," her breath tickled his neck. "A man who solves... delicate problems. Like Russo, for example."

The young man turned slowly, their faces dangerously close: "You should be more careful with such assumptions."

"Or what?" mischievous sparks danced in her eyes. "You'll ignore me again?"

Instead of answering, the young man simply stepped aside, dissolving into the crowd of guests. Alicia followed him with her eyes, feeling her heart pounding. She had gotten to him, she knew it for certain. And this was just the beginning.

Waiters continued to glide between guests with trays laden with appetizers and champagne. Jazz sounds flowed through the hall—the quartet had just begun to perform a Duke Ellington composition. Journalists and politicians engaged in social conversations, not suspecting that their presence here was merely a decoration for a meeting of people who held the shadow power over the city in their hands.

Alicia leisurely headed toward her father, who was quietly conversing with Chang. Her walk was perfectly measured—not a single muscle betrayed her inner tension. The Silvermane empire heiress knew how to present herself.

"Excuse me," she gently touched his elbow. "Dad, can I have a minute?"

Her father apologized to his conversation partner and slightly inclined his head, allowing his daughter to bring her lips to his ear. Alicia noticed how Sasuke froze by a distant column; his posture seemed relaxed, but she already knew—it was just a mask.

"I know him," she whispered, barely moving her lips. "Saw him at 'Inferno' a few minutes before the massacre."

Silvio's face didn't change—years in the criminal world had taught him to control every muscle. Only his fingers gripped the knob of his cane a little tighter. He slowly turned his head and locked eyes with the young man standing by the column.

At that moment, Sasuke saw how Silvermane's thin lips quivered in a barely perceptible smile. The old fox understood much more than his daughter. After all, he hadn't held power for so many years in a city where most of his competitors ended up in graves or behind bars for nothing.

Alicia stepped back, feeling as if an invisible thread of tension had stretched between the two men. Her father continued to smile, but now there was something predatory in this smile. He turned to Fisk, who was just telling something to Black Mask:

"Wilson, my friend," Silvermane's voice sounded almost cheerful. "I think it's time to move on to a more... substantive conversation?"

Kingpin nodded slightly: "Please, gentlemen, let's go to my office."

Alicia caught the young man's last glance before he moved after the bosses. In his eyes, there was neither triumph nor threat—only a cold emptiness. And somehow, that scared her the most.

The girl brought a glass of champagne to her lips, hiding a smile. Well, she had definitely caught his attention. And that was already half the victory.

For her, it had become something more than just a game. That arrogant handsome man from the club who had ignored her flirtations no longer existed. Now before her was a dangerous predator, behind whose elegant mask lurked a power capable of making allies kill each other.

The VIP hall on the top floor of the Plaza Hotel was strikingly different from the noisy ballroom one floor below. Here reigned an atmosphere of old-fashioned luxury—dark oak panels on the walls, a massive crystal chandelier, heavy burgundy velvet curtains. A fireplace with marble facing created a cozy warmth, the flames casting bizarre shadows on the faces of those gathered.

Fisk took his place at the head of the long mahogany table. His massive figure in a snow-white tuxedo seemed even more imposing against the dark leather of the chair. To his right sat Silvermane—the old crime boss moved with the unhurried grace of a predator who no longer hunts himself but is no less dangerous for it.

Mr. Chang settled opposite them, his silk suit impeccable as always. The Triad leader maintained a show of calm, but his fingers repeatedly and nervously adjusted his collar. Bodyguards took positions by the doors, merging with Fisk's men like shadows with shadows.

Black Mask silently lowered himself into a chair at the far end of the table. Even through the eerie mask, his barely contained aggression was palpable—he clearly felt out of place among this ostentatious luxury.

Uchiha stood by the window, looking out at nighttime Manhattan. He deliberately kept his distance, his dark silhouette seemingly cut from the same material as the night outside. In the glass reflection, Sasuke saw Alicia Manfredi sit next to her father, her emerald necklace glimmering in the chandelier light like the eyes of a predatory beast.

Wesley glided silently between guests, pouring whiskey into crystal glasses. Only Chang refused the drink, preferring green tea.

"The Sentinel operators are getting greedier," Fisk said this almost thoughtfully, looking at the amber liquid in his glass. "Yesterday they demanded twice as much from me for clearing a block from patrols. Can you imagine, that pup Ramirez dared to hint that otherwise, his machines might 'accidentally' check some of my warehouses."

"Not just from you," Silvermane tapped his fingers on the knob of his cane. "Last week those bastards ruined an important delivery at the docks. Three Sentinels no less 'accidentally' appeared exactly where they shouldn't have been. Had to pay triple the price to make them leave."

"It's not about the money," Chang set down his tea cup. "They've developed a taste for power. My informant at city hall says the operators have begun lobbying to expand the program. They want to double the number of patrols."

"And triple their income," Black Mask snorted. "First create a problem, then sell its solution. An old trick."

"The problem is deeper," Fisk leaned forward. "They've started coordinating their actions. Ramirez, Chen, Kowalski—previously each controlled his own district. Now they're working together."

"Like a cartel," Alicia ran her finger around the edge of her glass. "Monopolizing the market of protection from their own machines."

"Exactly, dear," Silvermane nodded approvingly to his daughter. "And if we don't respond in kind, they'll continue to twist our arms."

"A Syndicate?" Black Mask leaned forward. An ominous glint flashed in the slits of his mask. "An old idea. I remember how Russo also proposed uniting. We all know how that ended."

"Russo was an upstart," Fisk cut him off. "A greedy boy who imagined himself king. His methods attracted too much attention."

"Speaking of methods," Alicia cast a quick glance at the dark figure by the window. "Rumors say his men simply went mad. Started killing each other for no reason."

"Paranoia is a terrible thing," Silvermane drawled. "Especially when someone... skillfully directs it. Right, Wilson?"

"Russo himself provoked... certain consequences," Kingpin allowed himself a slight smile, "my specialist has a special talent for working with the human mind. Uchiha Sasuke, also known as Shinobi," he finally introduced the young man.

Alicia cast a quick glance at the dark figure by the window. So that's it. She had been wondering how an ordinary gang fight could end in such total madness. Now the picture was coming together.

"A mutant?" Black Mask's voice sounded contemptuous.

"No," Fisk shook his head. "Something... much more interesting."

Sasuke finally turned away from the window. His eyes momentarily flashed red, and Black Mask flinched as if struck. Alicia felt goosebumps run down her spine. What kind of creature was this? And why did it excite her even more?

"Let's get back to business," Chang clearly wanted to change the subject. "What exactly are you proposing, Wilson? How exactly should this Syndicate work?"

"Four equal shares," Fisk began counting on his fingers. "Each maintains autonomy in their sphere. I control construction and real estate, you, Mr. Chang—ports and international trade, Silvermane—gambling business, Black Mask—weapons and mercenaries."

"And the profits?" Chang asked in a businesslike manner.

"Common fund," Kingpin spread his hands. "Thirty percent from each operation goes to the Syndicate's treasury. This money is used for common needs—bribing officials, paying off Sentinels, eliminating competitors."

"Who will manage the fund?" Black Mask leaned forward.

"The Council," Fisk replied. "All decisions are made by majority vote. Each has an equal vote."

"And equal responsibility?" Silvermane narrowed his eyes.

"Of course. If someone has problems—for example, with federal agents or competitors—we solve them together. The Syndicate's resources work for all its members."

"Including your... specialist?" The old man gave Sasuke a meaningful look.

Alicia noticed how the young man's fingers trembled almost imperceptibly. It seemed the prospect of becoming a "common resource" didn't appeal to him.

"That's part of a broader conversation," Fisk diplomatically replied. "As is the question of each of our special resources. You, Silvermane, for instance, have your own... talents in the political sphere."

"What about new territories?" Chang inquired. "After Russo's departure, a power vacuum has formed in several districts."

"We'll distribute them fairly," Kingpin nodded. "Taking into account each one's spheres of influence. The docks will go to you, gambling establishments to Silvermane, and so on."

"Sounds tempting," Black Mask drawled. "But how can we be sure this isn't an attempt to take control of all operations? After all," he nodded toward the window, "your 'specialist' has already demonstrated what he's capable of."

"Because that would be unreasonable," Fisk spread his hands. "Why risk a war when you can get more through cooperation? Especially now, when the Sentinel operators are trying to dictate terms to us."

"We either unite," Silvermane said weightily, "or in six months we'll be paying them half our income. And then they'll create their own syndicate, and we'll find ourselves playing second fiddle."

"Exactly," Kingpin nodded. "I suggest taking time to think. Consider the details, consult with trusted people. In a week, we'll gather here again and make a final decision."

"A week," Black Mask rose. "Well, that sounds reasonable."

"Quite," agreed Chang, also standing. "Although I think for some of us, the decision is already obvious."

Silvermane smirked, leaning on his cane: "Indeed, old friend. Times change, and we must change with them."

Those present began gradually dispersing. Chang was the first to head for the exit accompanied by bodyguards, nervously adjusting the collar of his silk suit. Black Mask silently followed him, keeping to the shadows. Silvermane unhurriedly rose, leaning on his cane with the silver knob.

Alicia deliberately lingered, pretending to adjust the strap on her shoe, fussing with the clasp longer than necessary while surreptitiously watching the dark figure by the window. Shinobi stood motionless, looking at the night city. In the light of street lamps, his profile seemed carved from stone.

As if listening to something, the young man slowly turned his head. Without a word, he stepped toward the window. The glass silently slid aside—he hadn't even touched the handle. A gust of night wind rushed into the room, stirring up the curtains.

Alicia froze with a half-unfastened strap. Her eyes widened as Sasuke simply stepped into emptiness. Her heart skipped a beat—they were on the fifty-second floor. The girl rushed to the window, forgetting about her shoe.

Uchiha landed on the roof of the neighboring building, lightly as if he'd jumped off a step. Without even looking back, he pushed off from the edge and jumped to the next one. His dark silhouette flashed a couple more times between skyscrapers and dissolved into the night.

"God..." Alicia exhaled, feeling her heart pounding. "Does he always do that...?"

A quiet chuckle sounded behind her. The girl turned around—Fisk stood by the table, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. A slight smile played on his lips.

"You get used to it," Kingpin shrugged. "Although I must admit, his exits through windows from the fiftieth floor impressed even me... the first time."

Alicia turned her gaze back to the panorama of the night city. Somewhere there, between the shining skyscrapers, moved an elusive shadow, defying the laws of physics. She shivered, but not from fear—from anticipation. Perhaps her father's little empire had just become much more interesting.

Wesley silently closed the window. Fisk took the last sip of whiskey, his massive figure reflected in the glass.

"Let me give you some advice, dear," he said, not looking at the girl. "Some shadows are better not to try to catch. Especially those that can walk on air."

But Alicia was no longer listening. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon where, among the lights of the night city, a dark figure that had defied gravity flashed and disappeared. Her lips involuntarily curved into a predatory smile.

Alicia would never forget the day she first saw blood on her hands. She was fourteen, and her father's bodyguard had just taught her how to hold a gun properly. The first shot at the firing range sounded deafening, reverberating in her wrist, and a bloody abrasion appeared on her thumb from the slide. Her father, known in certain circles as Silvermane, silently observed this scene, and when Alicia, overcoming the pain, continued shooting, she saw approval in his eyes.

The daughter of one of New York's most influential crime bosses understood from childhood: in their world, one could never show weakness. After her mother's death, when Alicia was only six, her father became the only constant element in her life. Despite his reputation as a ruthless head of a criminal syndicate, he always made time for his daughter. Perhaps the loss of his wife made him more attentive—he never remarried, dedicating himself entirely to business and raising his heir.

Alicia grew up in luxury, but without a mother's love. A succession of nannies and governesses replaced one another while her father handled the affairs of the Manfredi empire. He provided her with the best education: private schools, etiquette lessons, martial arts, shooting. "In our world," he would say, "you must know how to shine at a reception and how to stand up for yourself." These words became a kind of mantra for the girl.

Her childhood was filled with a strange contrast between high-society receptions and the harsh reality of the criminal world. At fourteen, Alicia already knew how to properly hold a dessert fork at a formal dinner and how to effectively use it as a weapon. By sixteen, she could maintain social conversation in several languages while clearly understanding which conversations should never be trusted even to secure phone lines.

Her relationship with her father was always complex, built on a mixture of love, respect, and fear. Silvio never punished her, but his disappointment could wound more deeply than any blow. He raised her not just as a daughter, but as a successor, and this responsibility weighed on the girl from an early age. Every action, every decision was evaluated through the lens of whether she was worthy to inherit the Manfredi empire.

In her teenage years, Alicia began seeking ways to assert her own individuality. She was drawn to danger, to thrills. Perhaps this is why she was so charmed by Spider-Man. He combined strength and mystery, danger and nobility—everything that was lacking in her father's entourage, where every second person was either a coward or a brainless thug.

Their first meeting occurred during one of Spider-Man's forays into the city's criminal district. Alicia had deliberately put herself in danger, knowing the hero would come to her aid. That adrenaline, those few stolen kisses on a skyscraper rooftop—everything gave her a sense of freedom that was so lacking in the golden cage of her father's mansion.

But Alicia was not a naive girl in love with a superhero. Behind the romantic facade lay a sober calculation: each meeting with Spider-Man gave her information she could use. She learned from him—movements, tactics, ways of thinking like heroes. All this later proved useful when Alicia began her career under the name Silver Sable.

The decision to become a mercenary wasn't spontaneous. After several years of living as the "proper daughter," Alicia realized she needed something more. She wanted to prove, primarily to herself, that she was capable of more than just being the heir to her father's empire. Silver Sable became her alter ego, a means of self-expression and proof of her own capability.

The training was grueling. Alicia honed each movement to automation, transforming her body into a perfect weapon. She learned to use her femininity as an advantage, making opponents underestimate her. Her specialization became complex infiltrations and extractions—assignments requiring not just physical preparation but also intellect.

Her father suspected her second life but never spoke directly about it. Perhaps he even took pride in how skillfully his daughter led a double life. By day—a successful businesswoman helping manage the legal part of the family business. By night—a dangerous mercenary whose name was whispered in certain circles.

Spider-Man's disappearance along with other heroes eight years ago became a turning point. Not because Alicia was in love with him—those teenage feelings had long passed. But his disappearance symbolized the end of an era when there was still room in the world for real heroes. After that, everything became too... predictable.

Work as a mercenary lost its appeal. Alicia immersed herself completely in the family business, proving she could be just as tough as her father. She learned to enjoy complex negotiations, the subtle game of power and influence. But inside remained an emptiness that neither money, nor power, nor casual lovers could fill.

In the world of big business and crime, Alicia quickly understood—the body could be as effective a tool as threats or money. She never experienced false shame or embarrassment using her sexuality where it could bring advantage. Business partners, politicians, competitors—some issues were resolved faster in bed than at the negotiating table. For her, sex was simply another means to an end, without excess emotions or attachments.

She always remained in control, carefully choosing with whom and when to share a bed. Each such episode was her conscious choice, a carefully calculated move in the bigger game. Many thought afterward that they had gained power over her, only to later realize—it was she who had used them, not the other way around.

The men in her life were predictable: either trying to use her for access to her father's influence or fearing her. Her father regularly attempted to find suitable matches among the children of other influential families, but they all seemed bland to Alicia, incapable of understanding the fiery passion for life that still smoldered within her beneath the mask of a cold businesswoman.

Contradictions always battled within Alicia. Thirst for freedom and a sense of duty to family. The desire to be an ordinary woman and the understanding that she could never allow herself this. The pursuit of thrills and the need to maintain a cool head for business. This internal struggle made her stronger but also left an indelible mark on her soul.

Looking in the mirror each morning, Alicia saw not just a beautiful woman with perfect makeup, but all her masks: crime boss's daughter, successful businesswoman, former mercenary, socialite. Sometimes she herself couldn't say with certainty which of these masks was real and which was merely a role.

Over the years, Alicia learned to read people, to see weaknesses and use them to her advantage. But she herself remained an enigma—few could boast of knowing the real Alicia Manfredi. Even her father, despite all his insight, was sometimes surprised by his daughter's actions.

And now, when life seemed mapped out for years ahead, when each day resembled the previous one, he appeared—a mysterious young man with eyes that revealed the same internal struggle she saw in the mirror every morning. His indifference in Club Inferno didn't just offend—it shook her familiar world. All her life, men either ingratiated themselves with her, trying to gain access to the family's influence, or backed away in fear of the surname. But this stranger... he simply walked past, as if Alicia were an ordinary girl in a club, not the heir to one of New York's most influential criminal families. This absolute indifference to her person evoked a strange feeling—a mixture of irritation, curiosity, and an inexplicable desire to solve the puzzle.

When he appeared at the mafia bosses' meeting and just as suddenly disappeared, without even giving his name, Alicia realized that something unpredictable had finally entered her life. Something that couldn't be calculated or bought. Something that made her heart beat faster, as in those distant days when she was just beginning her path as Silver Sable.

At twenty-five, Alicia Manfredi knew her worth and abilities. She was not just her father's daughter but an independent force in New York's criminal world. She was respected not for her surname but for her intelligence and ability to make tough decisions. She had learned to take pleasure in her work, in the power she held. But somewhere deep inside, that girl who dreamed of adventures and real feelings still lived.

Now, when the mysterious stranger had awakened in her a long-forgotten interest in life, Alicia felt something else stirring inside—either anticipation of new thrills or a premonition of danger. And she was ready to follow this feeling, wherever it might lead her.

The luxurious black limousine headed toward Fisk Tower, where one of the most important assemblies in the history of New York's criminal world was to take place. Alicia knew that today's decision about creating a syndicate could change the balance of power in the city forever. Her father possessed the deciding vote—if he approved Fisk's initiative, neither Chang from the Triad nor Black Mask would dare oppose it.

However, now the thoughts of the Manfredi empire heiress were far from the upcoming negotiations. Sitting next to her father, Alicia reviewed the results of the past few days' searches. Thanks to an advanced facial recognition system developed specifically for the family, they had access to recordings from virtually every camera in the city—from bank terminals to private surveillance systems. Over the past few days, their specialists had analyzed terabytes of data, tracking every appearance of Shinobi in the city.

Images alternated on the screen: here he walks along Fifth Avenue, stops at an electronics store window; an hour later—already in Brooklyn, buying something in a small Japanese shop; by evening the same day—in Queens, conversing with some homeless person. Each of his movements, each contact was recorded and analyzed.

But the most interesting were recordings from a Japanese restaurant in the Lower East Side, where Uchiha met with that same mysterious glowing man whose appearances several months ago had caused such a stir on the internet. Alicia enlarged the image, peering at their faces.

"He's not a mutant," she said, reviewing the data yet again. "Our detectors were silent. But he's not an ordinary person either."

Silvio glanced sideways at his daughter. Over the years, he had learned to notice the slightest changes in her mood. Now in Alicia's voice sounded notes he hadn't heard for many years—since she had been fascinated with Spider-Man.

"This golden guy appeared simultaneously all over the world," he tapped his finger on the tablet screen, where the system had matched dozens of surveillance camera recordings from different countries. "Tokyo, London, New York—all at the same time. We've spent considerable resources trying to figure out what this phenomenon is, with no results. And now this... acquaintance of yours turns out to be somehow connected to him."

Alicia pursed her lips, noting how her father emphasized the word "acquaintance." He had always been able to read her like an open book. On the tablet screen, search results continued to flash: recordings from subway cameras, screenshots from social media, fragments of news reports from incident scenes where Uchiha might have been spotted.

"Be careful," Silvio said quietly, looking out the window at Fisk's approaching building. "We know nothing about him. Even our best tracking systems can't trace him at certain moments—he's like a ghost. And in our world, the unknown is always dangerous."

"I haven't been little for a long time, Dad," steel notes appeared in Alicia's voice.

"That's exactly why I worry," Silvio smiled slightly. "As a little girl, you were far more predictable."

The limousine stopped at Fisk Tower. Alicia knew—today's meeting would change the balance of power in New York's criminal world, for Silvermane had already made his decision.

But her thoughts kept returning to the mysterious young man. There was something about him... beyond the normal concepts of possible and impossible. And she was determined to solve this puzzle.

"Let's go," Silvio touched her shoulder.

Alicia glanced one last time at the photograph on the tablet screen, where Sasuke was talking about something with his friend, and resolutely closed the case. The time for reflection was over—the high-stakes game was beginning.

Silvermane slowly placed the crystal glass on the polished table surface. The silence in the VIP room became palpable—everyone present was waiting for his decision. He felt Kingpin's heavy gaze upon him, along with the wary looks from Chang and Black Mask. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his daughter leaning slightly forward, her eyes fixed on the Shinobi's figure by the window.

"Your proposal, Wilson," the old man ran his finger over the silver knob of his cane, "sounds reasonable. After all, order is better than chaos."

Fisk nodded almost imperceptibly, but satisfaction flashed in his eyes: "I'm glad we both understand this, old friend."

Chang fidgeted in his chair, nervously fiddling with the collar of his silk suit. His gaze darted to Black Mask, as if seeking support, but the latter gave no sign of anxiety.

"If Don Manfredi considers this reasonable..." Chang paused, gathering his thoughts. "The Triad is ready to join the syndicate."

"I support this," Black Mask said in a muffled voice. "Provided all the agreed-upon terms are met."

Alicia noticed how her father's shoulders relaxed—barely noticeable, but she knew him too well. It was a sign that the situation was developing exactly as he had anticipated. The girl shifted her gaze to the young man by the window, but he seemed to completely ignore what was happening, continuing to look at the night city.

Fisk rose from the table: "In that case, gentlemen, I suggest we go down to my private hall. I think such a historic event deserves... appropriate celebration."

Wesley was already opening the doors leading to the elevator. Chang was the first to head for the exit, his bodyguards silently gliding after him. Black Mask rose unhurriedly, adjusting his suit.

Silvermane lingered, leaning on his cane: "Alicia, dear..."

"I'll be down in a minute, Dad," she smiled, adjusting her necklace. "I want to freshen up my makeup."

Her father looked intently at his daughter, then shifted his gaze to the motionless figure by the window. Concern flashed in his eyes, but he remained silent, merely nodding slightly before following the others.

When the elevator doors closed, Sasuke finally turned away from the window. His movements were fluid, like those of a predator ready to attack or dissolve into the shadows at any moment. Without saying a word, he headed for the stairs leading to the private hall.

Alicia followed him with her eyes, feeling her pulse quicken. She deliberately waited several seconds before following him. After all, hunting requires patience.

Fisk's VIP room was located two floors below. By the time Alicia came down, Sasuke had already taken a place at the bar, where Wesley was pouring drinks with his usual imperturbability. The girl paused momentarily at the doorway, noting how the subdued lighting accentuated the sharp features of his face.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her father's concerned gaze, but resolutely headed to the bar. Tonight could become the beginning of something bigger than just a new chapter in New York's criminal history.

"Whiskey. Double," Uchiha curtly told the bartender.

"The same for me," said Alicia, settling onto a high barstool next to him.

Sasuke didn't react to her presence at all, as if there was no one beside him. This only intensified the girl's interest—she was used to men fawningly catching her every movement.

"You know," she remarked casually when the bartender placed their drinks before them, "most people consider it rude to ignore Silvermane's daughter."

Uchiha slowly turned his head, giving her an indifferent look: "Most people place too much importance on titles and surnames."

Alicia felt a chill run down her spine—in his eyes there was neither fear nor desire to impress, only endless weariness and something else she couldn't quite name.

"And what do you value?" she asked, taking a sip of whiskey.

"Nothing," he simply replied and turned back to his glass.

Behind them, Fisk was delivering an elaborate toast to the future of the Syndicate. Silvermane was quietly discussing something with Chang, their voices merging with the crackling of logs in the fireplace. But here, at the bar counter, it was as if a separate world existed, where time flowed differently.

"There must be a reason," Alicia persisted, "why you agreed to work for Fisk."

"There's always a reason," Sasuke took a sip of whiskey. "But that doesn't mean it should interest you."

"And if it does?"

He turned again, and his eyes flashed red—or perhaps Alicia only imagined it: "Then that's your problem, not mine."

The girl unhurriedly took a thin tablet from her purse. Her movements were casual, but her eyes carefully watched her companion's reaction.

"You know," she ran her finger across the screen, "our city has many interesting surveillance cameras."

The screen displayed an image of a cozy Japanese restaurant. Sasuke saw himself and Naruto at a table by the window. The footage was of good quality—one could even distinguish the steam rising from the ramen cup.

"And this," she switched the video, "became a real sensation online."

Amateur footage showed a golden glow in the sky over Manhattan, gradually taking on human outlines. When the glow subsided, Naruto's figure could be distinguished.

"You have interesting friends," Alicia leaned slightly forward. "But I'm more interested in you."

The air around Uchiha thickened almost imperceptibly. Strange shadows ran across the walls, and the glass in his hand seemed to darken from within. When he turned to the girl, his eyes flashed red again:

"Curiosity can be dangerous," his voice was quiet, but each word seemed to vibrate in the air. "Especially when you stick your nose into others' shadows."

Alicia felt the air around her thicken and grow heavier, as if before a storm. An invisible pressure weighed on her shoulders, making her heart beat faster. Every instinct screamed of danger, demanded immediate retreat, but she couldn't take her eyes off his, where the red flame slowly faded, returning to its usual dark shade.

Fear ran in a cold wave down her spine, but with it came something else—a sharp, intoxicating feeling of excitement. That very thrill of anticipation she hadn't experienced for many years. Alicia slowly placed her hand on his, still gripping the whiskey glass.

"You know," her voice became lower, almost purring, "sometimes shadows can be... seductive."

Sasuke looked at her hand lying on top of his own. The touch resonated with a strange dissonance somewhere inside. In his home world, he would have already disappeared, dissolved into a spatial rift, leaving yet another persistent individual alone with her desires. But something kept him in place.

Perhaps the emptiness inside, eternally hungry and insatiable, demanded new sensations? Or was it something else? From the corner of his eye, he noticed Fisk animatedly discussing something with Silvermane at the other end of the room. The sounds of their conversation, the noise of voices, even the crackling of logs in the fireplace—everything seemed distant, unreal.

Uchiha involuntarily recalled the morning sounds from Naruto's room, the muffled moans and Rogue's laughter. Something stung inside—not quite envy, rather an echo of old rivalry. Naruto, as always, had plunged headlong into a new life, finding his place even here, in a foreign world.

His thoughts were becoming confused, losing clarity. Perhaps it was the whiskey. Or perhaps it was how Alicia's fingers slowly slid up his arm, leaving a trail of warmth. Her touches were skillful, confident—she clearly knows what she wants.

"I have a penthouse not far from here," Alicia whispered, leaning closer. She smelled of expensive perfume and something else, elusive and predatory. "With an amazing view of the city."

Sasuke remained silent, looking into his glass. Something resembling curiosity stirred inside. Not passion, no—he didn't feel anything like that. Rather... interest in a new way to kill time. In something that might temporarily silence the eternal hum of emptiness in his head.

Pride demanded he reject such an explicit offer. But was it real pride—or just a habit of keeping distance? In this world, where all connections are severed, all anchors lost, perhaps it was worth trying something new. If only to feel... something.

For the first time in his life, Sasuke felt a strange uncertainty. Before, such things seemed unworthy of attention—a waste of time, a distraction from true goals. Revenge, power, control—that's what matters. Physical intimacy had always remained beyond his interests, something so insignificant that it wasn't worth even a fleeting thought. But now, when all previous goals had lost meaning in this alien world, even such a "trifle" suddenly seemed... intriguing. Although he had no experience in such matters—Uchiha never backed down from new challenges.

Alicia waited, not rushing him for an answer. In the dim light of the bar, her eyes appeared almost black, like whirlpools drawing into their depths. Sasuke raised his glass, slowly finished the remaining whiskey. A hot wave rolled down his throat, but brought neither clarity nor resolve.

Somewhere deep in his consciousness, an unbidden thought flashed—perhaps this was a chance to catch up with Naruto in at least something? Uchiha immediately dismissed the idea. It was ridiculous to even think about it. If he accepted Alicia's offer, it would only be because he had nothing else to do tonight. Nothing more.

He turned to her, meeting her expectant gaze. After all, what difference did it make how to fill endless time? One night would change nothing. Just another way to fill the inner void.

"Fine," he said briefly.

Alicia peered intently into his eyes, trying to catch at least something familiar. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to reading men: the lust of wealthy clients, the insecurity of aspiring businessmen, the poorly concealed fear of her father's competitors. But Sasuke's gaze told her absolutely nothing.

For the first time in her life, Alicia felt uncertain. Usually by this point, men were already in her power—she knew exactly which strings to pull, which words to whisper. But here... here all her tricks seemed meaningless. He agreed not because Alicia had seduced him, but as if... out of boredom? As if choosing how to spend another empty evening.

This should have offended her, but instead only further ignited her interest. After all, she had always loved complex challenges.

Sasuke rose first—smoothly, without a single unnecessary movement. Alicia noted to herself this feline grace: each of his gestures seemed like part of some complex dance. She stood up after him, momentarily catching her reflection in the mirror surface of the bar—perfect makeup, confident smile. Everything as usual, except for the feverish gleam in her eyes.

"Dad," she lightly touched Silvermane's shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Fisk. "I'm going for a walk."

Silvio slowly raised his eyes to his daughter, then shifted them to the motionless figure by the door. Concern flashed in his eyes—that same expression that appeared whenever he felt the situation was slipping out of control. Kingpin, pausing mid-sip of whiskey, raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"To new beginnings and success in all ventures!" Fisk toasted, raising his glass. A strange mixture of irony and curiosity sounded in his voice.

Alicia felt that the elevator was moving unbearably slowly. Sasuke stood by the opposite wall, looking somewhere through the mirrored panels. In the dim lighting of the cabin, his profile seemed carved from stone. Not a single muscle twitched on his face during the entire ride down.

The cool night air hit her face when they exited the building. A black limousine was already waiting at the entrance—Alicia always preferred to have a backup plan. The elderly chauffeur, who had seen enough not to ask unnecessary questions, silently opened the door.

"To the penthouse, James," she said, sinking into the soft leather seat.

Sasuke slid into the cabin after her, settling on the opposite end. His eyes were half-closed, but Alicia could feel his attention on her skin. This must be how ancient shinobi observed potential targets—outwardly relaxed, but ready for action at any second.

She reached for the mini-bar, took out a glass and a bottle of her favorite wine. The sound of liquid pouring seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the cabin. Alicia was used to controlling situations, calculating every step, but now all her experience seemed to lose meaning. She couldn't read his intentions, couldn't predict the next move.

Usually by this point, men would already be trying to touch her, start a conversation, make an impression. But Sasuke just sat, motionless as a statue, surrounded by an aura of cold indifference. This should have been alarming, but instead only intensified her interest. Rich experience suggested that Alicia was getting involved in something dangerous, perhaps even deadly. But wasn't that what she had always been looking for?

Alicia took a sip of wine, watching the night city lights rushing past the tinted windows. Somewhere in the back of her mind pulsed the thought that she might be making a mistake. But for the first time in a long while, she was genuinely curious about what would happen next.

The penthouse greeted them with subdued light and panoramic windows, beyond which the night New York sparkled. Alicia casually kicked off her shoes, heading to the bar:

"Whiskey?" she turned around, noting how Sasuke surveyed the premises. His movements contained the hidden wariness of a predator in unfamiliar surroundings.

"Hn," a short nod was his only answer.

The sound of pouring liquid broke the silence. Alicia extended the glass, deliberately touching his hand with her fingers. Sasuke's skin was cool, but the touch seemed to send an electric spark through her.

"You know," she took a sip, not taking her eyes off his face, "usually men are more... talkative in my company."

"I'm not a usual man," a hint of mockery flashed in Sasuke's voice.

"That I've already figured out."

Alicia slowly approached, stopping dangerously close. She smelled of expensive perfume and something elusive and predatory. Sasuke didn't step back, but didn't move forward either—he simply stood, watching her with mild curiosity, as if observing an exotic insect.

Alicia reached for his face, but before her fingers touched his skin, he caught her wrist. Not roughly, but firmly enough for her to feel his strength. A red glint flashed in his eyes:

"You're playing with fire."

"Maybe," Alicia smiled slightly, "that's exactly what I want."

Sasuke slowly loosened his fingers, allowing her to touch his face. Her touch was light, almost weightless—as if she were studying his features, memorizing every curve. Uchiha remained motionless, but something changed in the air—as if an invisible tension thickened around them.

"You've never..." Alicia fell silent, noticing how his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. "Is this your first time?"

"Does that matter?" his voice remained as steady as before, but something resembling irritation flashed in his eyes.

"No," Alicia slid her hand down his neck, feeling how quickly his pulse beat beneath the skin. "Absolutely none."

She leaned forward, her lips almost touching his, but at the last moment Sasuke pulled back slightly:

"Why me?"

"Because you're different," her fingers slipped under the collar of his shirt. "Because you're dangerous. Because for the first time in a long while, I'm actually... interested."

Uchiha remained silent, looking at her with his bottomless eyes. There was neither passion nor desire in them—only a shadow of curiosity and something else, deep and dark.

"Relax," whispered Alicia, pressing closer. "Let me..."

Her words were interrupted when he finally moved forward himself, covering her lips with his own. The kiss was awkward, almost rough—she tasted blood, but that only ignited her desire more.

Alicia ran her fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss, showing without words how it should be done. Sasuke learned quickly—after just a few moments, his tongue slid over her lips more confidently, exploring, tasting. She moaned softly when his hands finally moved from their place, sliding along her back.

"Bedroom," Alicia breathed, breaking away from his lips. "To the right."

They moved in the half-darkness, not turning on the lights, stumbling over furniture. Alicia pushed the door, drawing him after her. In the darkness, Sasuke's eyes seemed almost luminous—two red lights, hypnotizing, entrancing.

Her dress fell to the floor—expensive silk rustled, flowing down her skin. Sasuke froze, examining her naked body in the moonlight streaming through the panoramic windows. His gaze was studying, almost clinical—like a scientist examining an interesting specimen.

"Like what you see?" Alicia slowly approached, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"You look good," Sasuke said without particular emotion, as if stating a fact.

She laughed:

"I don't hear enthusiasm."

His skin was hot under her fingers, muscles tense as if before battle. She sensed his wary uncertainty, hidden behind a mask of indifference. This excited her even more—the opportunity to be the first, to teach, to show...

Alicia pulled him to the bed, sinking onto the cool silk sheets. Sasuke loomed over her, eyes still glowing red in the darkness. She drew him closer, kissing him, allowing her hands to wander over his body, exploring every scar, every curve of muscle.

"Let me show you," whispered Alicia, turning him onto his back.

Sasuke's skin smelled of thunderstorms and something ancient, unfathomable. Alicia descended with kisses down his chest, feeling the beating of his heart. Sasuke lay motionless, only his fingers gripping the sheets when her lips moved lower.

She unbuttoned his pants, freeing his aroused flesh. Sasuke sharply inhaled when her fingers wrapped around his member. Alicia smiled, watching his eyelashes quiver:

"Just feel..."

Her tongue slid along the entire length, drawing a deep groan from his throat. Alicia took him into her mouth, moving slowly, teasingly. Sasuke jerked, his hand tangled in her hair, but he didn't try to control her movements—just held on, as if to an anchor in a stormy sea of sensations.

He had never experienced anything like this before. Even in adolescence, when hormones usually override reason, he had completely suppressed desire, considering it a manifestation of weakness.

But now... Now everything was different. Each of Alicia's touches resonated in his body with new, unfamiliar sensations. It was like discovering a new technique—his body reacted on its own, beyond his will, but in a completely different way. There was no familiar chakra control, no calculation of movements—only pure physiology, primordial instincts that he had suppressed for so long.

Her tongue slid over his flesh, and his thoughts became confused, losing clarity. It was frightening and exciting at the same time—the loss of control, the inability to analyze what was happening. Sasuke was accustomed to relying on cold calculation, on the power of his eyes, but now even the Sharingan didn't help—his body lived its own life, responding to caresses beyond his will.

The inner emptiness retreated for the first time. Not like during killings with Venom and Punisher or crazy jumps from skyscrapers—then it just dulled, muffled by adrenaline. Now it seemed to be filling with something new, warm, alive.

It was strange. Unusual. Almost frightening. He, who had always prided himself on his control, his ability to subjugate the body to the will of the mind, was now dissolving in sensations. Each movement of her lips, each touch of her tongue responded with a wave of pleasure that took his breath away.

Strangely enough, it was the lack of control that made the sensations sharper. For the first time in his life, Sasuke could simply... feel. Not think about revenge, not plan the next step, not calculate a strike—just surrender to the moment. And it felt... right. As if his body finally remembered something ancient, inherent in its very nature, something he had denied for so long.

The familiar mask of indifference cracked, crumbling under the onslaught of new sensations. Sasuke couldn't hold back his moans, couldn't control his body's trembling. And for the first time, this didn't cause anger or disappointment in himself—only an acute, intoxicating sense of freedom.

The emptiness inside melted away, filling with something warm, alive, real. Not a substitute for emotions, not a surrogate for feelings, but something genuine, primordial. For the first time, Sasuke understood what it meant to truly feel his body, to be in the moment, not thinking about the past or future.

A wave of pleasure washed over him like a tide. The Sharingan flashed involuntarily, each movement of her lips imprinting in his memory with frightening clarity. His fingers tightened in her hair when Alicia took him deeper, caressing the sensitive head with her tongue.

Unfamiliar, unusual sensations overwhelmed him completely. All the past, all the walls that Sasuke had built around himself, collapsed under the pressure of pure, animal pleasure. His member pulsed in Alicia's mouth, and each movement of her tongue sent electrical discharges of pleasure throughout his body.

"I..." his voice was hoarse, broken. Sasuke couldn't finish the sentence—words dissolved in sensation.

When orgasm overtook him, it was like a chakra explosion—the same powerful, uncontrollable release of energy. Hot semen filled Alicia's mouth, and a deep, almost animalistic growl escaped his throat.

The girl slowly released his member, licking her lips. Sasuke lay breathing heavily, his eyes closed. She moved higher, kissing his neck, tasting the salty flavor of sweat on his skin.

"This is just the beginning," Alicia whispered in his ear. "We have the whole night ahead..."

These words awakened something new in him. A desire to possess, to feel, to take. His eyes opened—something dark and hungry flickered in them. He abruptly flipped her onto her back, looming above. Her naked body beneath him radiated heat, and for the first time in his life, Uchiha allowed himself to fully surrender to his instincts.

"Show me," his voice sounded lower than usual, with a rasp. "Show me what else you can do."

Fingers slid across her skin, exploring every curve. When Sasuke touched her between her legs, the moisture on his fingers confirmed how aroused the girl was. Sasuke moved his hand, watching her reaction—how her back arched, how her breathing faltered.

"Yes, like that," Alicia exhaled when he touched a particularly sensitive spot. "Don't stop..."

She guided Sasuke's hand, showing the right pace and pressure. Her moans grew louder as his fingers moved faster. The body beneath him writhed, demanding more, and for the first time, Sasuke felt truly alive.

Each of her moans, each movement of her hips toward his hand awakened a primitive, animal desire. What Sasuke had always considered beneath his dignity now seemed the only thing that mattered.

His movements revealed the natural grace of a shinobi, but now it served an entirely different purpose. The inner self-control that had restrained his emotions for years crumbled under the pressure of pure, unbridled passion.

Sasuke leaned down, covering her breasts with kisses—unexpectedly tender for someone who had always seemed so cold. His lips and tongue explored every inch of her skin, memorizing, studying, enjoying new sensations. For the first time in his life, Sasuke completely released control, allowing his body to act on its own will.

"I want you," Alicia's voice was saturated with desire as she pulled him closer. "Now."

Sasuke paused, examining her naked body beneath him. The Sharingan greedily absorbed every detail—from hardened nipples to the wet gleam between spread thighs. A dark, predatory flame flickered in his eyes.

"Don't think," Alicia whispered, wrapping her legs more tightly around him. "Feel."

His aroused member slid along her wet folds. Uchiha sharply inhaled at the new, unfamiliar sensation. The heat of her body beckoned, demanded, and Sasuke finally surrendered.

When he entered with one powerful thrust, a deep growl escaped his chest. New sensations overwhelmed him—velvety tightness, pulsating warmth, wet walls gripping him so tightly that it took his breath away. His entire body tensed like a string, every muscle vibrating with tension.

Her internal muscles pulsated, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body. This was a completely new sensation—unlike anything experienced before. Primitive, animal desire flooded his consciousness.

"Move," Alicia hoarsely moaned, digging her nails into his shoulders.

The first thrust made her arch and moan. With each new movement, confidence grew. Instincts took over—now he moved more sharply, deeper, enjoying every wet sound, every voluptuous moan.

The air filled with chakra discharges, shadows danced on the walls. Sasuke felt how her body responded to every movement.

"Harder," Alicia exhaled between moans.

He intensified his efforts, driving into her hot depths with powerful thrusts. The room filled with wet slaps of bodies and uninhibited moans. The girl writhed beneath him, thrusting her hips to meet each movement.

Sasuke felt tension building inside. It was like concentrating chakra before a powerful technique, but a thousand times sharper and brighter. Every muscle vibrated with anticipation of release.

When Alicia climaxed, her body arched, internal muscles contracting in a ragged rhythm around his member. This was enough—a wave of orgasm engulfed him too. He released deep inside her, each spasm accompanied by a guttural growl.

Breathing heavily, they collapsed onto the crumpled sheets. Moonlight silvered the drops of sweat on their heated bodies, creating an almost surreal picture. A heavy musky scent hung in the air, mixed with a light taste of ozone from chakra outbursts.

Sasuke lay looking at the ceiling, realizing that he had just experienced something that changed him forever. This wasn't just sex—it was the discovery of a new part of himself, one whose existence he hadn't even suspected.

Alicia stretched her entire body on the crumpled sheets, feeling a pleasant fatigue in her muscles. She cast a quick glance at Sasuke—he lay with his eyes closed, but the girl sensed he wasn't asleep.

Cool air touched her skin as Alicia got out of bed. Her movements remained graceful even now—years of training hadn't been in vain.

"Want a drink?" she asked, heading to the bar.

Uchiha opened his eyes, watching as the girl poured wine into glasses. There was something primordial in how the moonlight outlined the curves of her naked body. Alicia felt his gaze, and it sent shivers down her skin.

"To the first time," she offered him a glass with a slight smile. "Hopefully not the last."

Sasuke accepted the drink but didn't drink. His face remained impenetrable, only something resembling interest flashed in his eyes.

Alicia sat down in a chair opposite the bed, crossing one leg over the other. She didn't try to cover herself—after all, after what had happened between them, it seemed unnecessary. In the silence of the room, only the ticking of a clock and the distant noise of the night city could be heard.

"You're full of surprises," Alicia finally said, taking a sip of wine. "For a first time, that was... impressive."

"I learn quickly," his voice carried a hint of family pride.

Alicia laughed—for the first time that evening genuinely, without a hint of playing: "How self-satisfied."

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly in a hint of a smile. Sasuke took his first sip of wine, and Alicia noted this small victory to herself. Though the relaxation was barely noticeable, it was there.

Her gaze glided over his body—scars on his chest silvered in the moonlight. She wanted to ask about each one, learn their stories. But Alicia understood—now was not the time.

She slowly finished her wine, put down the glass, and gracefully rose from the chair. There was no feigned seductiveness in her movements—Alicia had long realized that this didn't work on Uchiha.

"I'm going to take a shower," she headed to the bathroom door, stopping in the doorway. Turning over her shoulder, she gave Sasuke an appraising look. "Or do you need a formal invitation?"

Her voice had a slight mockery, but without derision—more of a playful challenge. She could clearly see how Uchiha's eyebrow twitched at such a formulation.

Sasuke slowly rose from the bed. In the half-light, his eyes momentarily flashed red. He gave her an appraising look and, with a grunt, said: "Don't get too cocky."

The familiar arrogance was audible in his voice, but behind it hid genuine interest. When Sasuke passed by, Alicia felt the heat of his body and the characteristic smell of ozone. Something in his movements, in the way he carried himself, made her heart beat faster.

The bathroom was impressive in its size—it was an entire space for relaxation, finished in black marble with streaks of gold. Huge mirror panels from floor to ceiling created an illusion of infinity. In the center was a spacious shower area with a rainfall panel, and further, by the panoramic window, a jacuzzi sparkled with lighting. Nearby lurked a compact bar where bottles of expensive alcohol gleamed.

Warm streams of water fell on their heated bodies. Alicia reached for the shower gel dispenser, but Sasuke was ahead of her—his fingers slid over the bottle first. She felt a shiver run through her body from this accidental touch.

They silently washed away sweat, occasionally touching each other under the streams of water. There was no pretense in these casual touches—only the natural attraction of two bodies. When the last drops of gel washed away, Alicia turned off the water and, running her hand over Sasuke's chest, nodded toward the jacuzzi: "Perfect time to relax."

Warm water enveloped their bodies, bubbles massaged their skin. The girl reached for the bar, took out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, filled them with amber liquid over ice.

"You know what's the funniest thing about New York?" she handed one glass to Sasuke. "After the heroes disappeared, the city was flooded with mutants. They're caught, hunted." Alicia took a sip, feeling the alcohol burn her throat. "But you... you're not a mutant, are you? I've figured that out already."

Sasuke accepted the glass but was in no hurry to drink. His dark eyes reflected the jacuzzi's illumination.

"Also, New York serves terrible ramen," she continued as if talking about the weather. "I heard you took your friend to some Japanese joint. They say he was thrilled."

Uchiha raised an eyebrow slightly but remained silent. Alicia noticed how his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly at the mention of Naruto.

"Relax," she moved closer, touching his shoulder with hers. "I'm not going to use this information. Just... curious." She took another sip. "Who are you? Where did you appear from in our city?"

"You're asking too many questions," Sasuke's voice sounded even, but it contained a hidden threat.

Alicia laughed softly: "And you give too few answers," she ran her finger around the rim of the glass. "You know what I think? Those eyes of yours... they're not just a beautiful mutation, right? Something more ancient, more powerful."

Sasuke took his first sip of whiskey, as if rewarding her for her insight.

"Mmm, so I'm right," she tilted her head back, exposing her neck to the water jets. "What else are you hiding?"

"Things you'd better not know."

"Oh, that's my favorite part," Alicia turned to him. "When a man tries to protect a woman from dangerous information. How noble."

"It's not about nobility."

"Then what?" she leaned closer, their faces separated by inches. "That knowledge can be dangerous? Or that you're just not used to trusting?"

Sasuke turned his head, their gazes met. Something resembling surprise flashed in his eyes—as if he hadn't expected such directness.

"Each of us wears masks," Alicia continued, not looking away. "I pretend to be the exemplary daughter of a mafia boss. You pretend to be... what? An ordinary mercenary?"

"Hn."

Alicia mentally noted: there it was, another wall to overcome. But now was not the time to push—she was experienced enough to understand when to retreat.

"Alright," Alicia reached for the bottle, refilling her whiskey. "Let's talk about something more... neutral. For example, how did you manage to make an entire gang shoot each other? Or is that also classified information?"

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly: "Do you really want to know?"

"Oh, I want to know many things," she smiled meaningfully. "But I can wait for now. After all..." her hand slid along his thigh under the water, "we have more interesting activities."

The jacuzzi witnessed another passionate coupling. Wet sounds merged with the noise of bubbling water, and moans echoed from the marble walls. Their bodies moved in a unified rhythm, water splashed over the edge, and the air sparkled with chakra discharges.

Later they lay in each other's arms, allowing the warm water to massage their heated bodies. Alicia ran her finger over his chest, tracing one of the scars: "We should get back," her voice was soft. "I don't want my father to start worrying."

Sasuke opened his eyes, which had been closed until that moment. In the half-light, they seemed almost black. The girl rose first, water flowing down her body like liquid silver in the moonlight. A few minutes later they were standing by the bedroom door, having dried off with fluffy towels.

Afterward, they returned to Fisk Tower, where Kingpin and Silvermane were still sipping expensive whiskey in unhurried conversation. Alicia, dressed in a fresh outfit that she always kept at the penthouse, looked impeccable—only a slight blush and gleam in her eyes betrayed recent events.

"Darling," Silvio broke from the conversation, "I was starting to worry."

Alicia just rolled her eyes: "Dad, I haven't been sixteen for a long time."

Manfredi shifted his gaze to Sasuke, who stood slightly apart. The old mafioso had seen much in his life, and now, looking at the young man, he felt mixed emotions. On one hand—a dangerous mercenary with an unclear past. On the other—perhaps exactly the kind of man his daughter needed. Strong, capable of standing up for himself and for her. And most importantly—someone who had managed to interest his headstrong Alicia.

"I hope you'll stay for dinner next time," said Manfredi, carefully observing Uchiha's reaction.

Sasuke merely nodded slightly, neither agreeing nor refusing. Fisk, sipping whiskey, watched this scene with interest. His eyes reflected not just interest—he saw potential. A young man with mysterious abilities, whom even the Sentinels couldn't track, and the heiress of one of the strongest criminal families... Such a union could change the balance of power in the city. Kingpin mentally made a note—perhaps it was worth giving the guy a more serious assignment, testing his capabilities. After all, if Alicia chose him, it meant he was truly special.

"I'll see you out," Alicia headed to the exit, gently touching Sasuke's arm.

In the elevator, she pressed against him, leaving a light kiss on his neck: "You know where to find me."

It wasn't a question or request—a simple statement of fact. Uchiha again nodded almost imperceptibly before dissolving into the night.

Returning to Xavier's school, Sasuke felt different for the first time in a long while. The inner emptiness he had tried to fill with crazy jumps from skyscrapers and bloody raids with the Punisher seemed to have retreated. It hadn't disappeared completely—just become less painful.

Intimacy with a woman turned out to be not at all what he had imagined. No weakness or loss of control—quite the opposite, a new kind of strength, a new way to feel alive. His body still remembered Alicia's touches, responding with pleasant languor.

Uchiha had never understood Jiraiya's obsession with women or other shinobi's endless talk about sex. For him, only training, power, and revenge existed. But now... now he was beginning to understand.

Sasuke stopped on the school's roof, looking at the pre-dawn sky. For the first time in a long while, he didn't want to jump down, testing the limits of his abilities. The memories of this night offered a different kind of adrenaline, deeper and more intense.

Somewhere in the school, Naruto slept, probably embracing Rogue. Before, the thought that his sworn brother had found happiness in this world would have evoked dull irritation. Now Sasuke felt something like understanding.

Perhaps now he too had found an activity capable of drowning out the eternal noise in his head. Something more... pleasant than fighting in the docks or killing on Kingpin's orders. After all, the Uchiha clan had always been known for achieving perfection in everything they undertook. It would be interesting to see how far this extended to the art of love.

Sasuke sat in the dimly lit school living room, absently watching the television screen. It was early morning, and the first rays of sun were just beginning to break through the heavy curtains. He didn't acknowledge the approaching footsteps, though he heard them perfectly—Naruto's chakra could be sensed from a mile away.

"Oh, so you're here!" Naruto's voice broke the morning silence. "I thought you were off disappearing somewhere again."

Uchiha merely shrugged slightly, not taking his eyes off the screen. Uzumaki plopped down beside him, unceremoniously putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"Listen, I watched this awesome movie recently, let's check it out together, it's about space and stuff, totally cool!" he reached for the remote. "You know, the main character..."

"Not interested," Sasuke cut him off as usual, but his voice lacked its customary irritation.

Naruto glanced sideways at his friend. Something had changed in him over the past few days, something subtle. Everything seemed the same—the same arrogant posture, the same cold gaze, but... There was something new about him, some barely noticeable softness in his movements, a relaxation that hadn't been present before.

"Hey, Sasuke," Naruto leaned forward, "you know what happened the other day?"

"Mm?"

"You know..." his voice became quieter, more serious. "Rogue's father woke up from his coma. I was able to help."

This finally caught Uchiha's attention—he turned his head, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Anne-chan is having... a hard time now," Uzumaki lowered his gaze, mechanically clenching his fists. Pain for his beloved was audible in his voice. "Too many things piling up."

Naruto was silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts:

"By the way, remember that psychologist that Venom and Eddie recommended?" He smiled humorlessly. "Turns out he's not a psychologist at all."

Sasuke tilted his head slightly, indicating he was listening.

"He's some kind of warrior," Naruto continued, lowering his voice. "They use a power they call magic. They can open portals between worlds."

Uchiha instantly tensed, his eyes narrowing:

"And?"

"Our world..." Uzumaki leaned forward. "It exists. Not in another dimension, as we thought. In the same universe, just very far away. But something..." he frowned, "something is preventing them from opening a portal there. Some force is blocking the path."

Naruto noticed how Sasuke lowered his gaze, immersed in thought. Something flashed in Uchiha's eyes—a shadow of concern? regret? But before Naruto could understand it, his friend had already returned to watching television, as if nothing had happened. Uzumaki knew that look—Sasuke was clearly hiding something, but now was not the time to pressure him.

Sasuke merely nodded, returning to contemplating the television. Naruto fell silent, which was unusual in itself. He studied his friend's profile carefully, noting the slightest details. Uchiha slightly closed his eyes, as if remembering something pleasant, and the corner of his mouth barely twitched in a hint of a smile.

"Something has definitely changed," thought Naruto, observing his friend. Before, Sasuke would never allow himself such moments of weakness as a smile. For that matter—he rarely smiled at all, except for malicious smirks before kicking someone's ass.

And then it dawned on Naruto. He suddenly straightened up, slapping his forehead with his palm:

"Aha!" Uzumaki exclaimed triumphantly. "Now I get it!"

"What are you blathering about now?" Irritation appeared in Uchiha's tone.

A sly grin spread across Naruto's face:

"Come on, teme. Think I don't notice? You've changed!"

"Nonsense," Sasuke cut off, but something resembling tension flickered in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Uzumaki moved closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And those little smiles when you think no one's looking? And where do you disappear to at night, huh?"

Uchiha shot a warning glance in his direction, but this only emboldened his friend:

"Could it be that our great and unapproachable Uchiha Sasuke finally..."

He didn't get to finish—a book lying on the coffee table was launched by his friend's accurate hand and interrupted his speech mid-sentence.

"Oh, come on!" Naruto laughed, dodging a second book. "I can see it! You're positively glowing!"

"You're delirious," Sasuke said through clenched teeth, but his cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Ha! I knew it!" Naruto triumphantly threw up his hands. "Spill it, who is she?"

"One more word—and you'll regret it!"

"Come on, you know I'm right!" Uzumaki radiated self-satisfaction. "Only a woman can change a person like that. Even a stubborn mule like you."

Sasuke silently rose from the couch, his entire demeanor indicating the conversation was over. But Naruto managed to notice how that mysterious half-smile flashed across his friend's face before he left.

"Yo!" he called after him. "I'm happy for you, really!"

Uchiha stopped in the doorway, not turning around:

"Better mind your own business."

But there was no customary coldness in his voice. Naruto leaned back on the couch, smiling contentedly. Over years of friendship, he had learned to read Sasuke like an open book, even when he tried to hide his emotions. And now Naruto was absolutely certain—his sworn brother was finally beginning to thaw.

"I wonder who she is?" he thought, changing the channel. Whoever this mysterious woman was, she had clearly managed to reach the last Uchiha's heart. And that meant she deserved respect.

Meanwhile, Sasuke was climbing the stairs, trying to ignore the satisfied smirk that kept trying to appear on his face. Damn Naruto. Always able to see what Sasuke tried to hide. Although... maybe this time he didn't want to hide anything? Uchiha shook his head, banishing unwanted thoughts. He had more important matters—like a meeting with Kingpin tonight. And not at all because afterward he planned to visit a certain penthouse.

And downstairs, in the living room, Naruto was still smiling, watching his friend leave. Who would have thought that in this foreign world they would both find something real? Something capable of filling the void inside. He absently touched his chest, where the pendant given by Rogue rested under his T-shirt. Life seemed to be improving. For both of them.

Fisk's black Rolls-Royce was the first to arrive at the new Syndicate building. Following an unspoken protocol, the others pulled up afterward: Silvermane's silver Bentley, Chang's inconspicuous armored Mercedes, and Black Mask's classic Cadillac.

The building chosen for headquarters was located in the business district—a twenty-story tower of glass and concrete, indistinguishable among dozens of similar ones. Such inconspicuousness was exactly what they needed for their purposes.

Fisk awaited the others in a spacious conference room on the top floor. Panoramic windows offered a view of evening Manhattan, but the curtains were prudently drawn. A massive mahogany table dominated the room—four high-backed chairs clearly indicated the equality of the meeting participants.

"Gentlemen," Kingpin rose when everyone had taken their seats, "today is a historic day."

Silvio Manfredi ran his finger over the silver knob of his cane:

"Let's not rush into grand statements, Wilson. First, we need to discuss the rules."

"Precisely," Chang spoke up, adjusting the perfectly ironed collar of his silk shirt. "The Triad is ready for cooperation, but we must clearly define boundaries."

Black Mask silently nodded, his lacquered mask gleaming in the subdued lamplight.

"Of course," Fisk took a folded sheet of paper from his inner jacket pocket. "I've prepared a basic set of rules. First and foremost—no operations on each other's territory without coordination."

"That's understood," Silvio took the document, running his eyes over the lines. "What about disputed territories?"

"Neutral zones," Chang suggested, "under joint management."

"And no trafficking in hard drugs," Silvermane stated firmly. "Heroin and crack are destroying the city. Cocaine and marijuana are enough."

"Agreed," Fisk nodded. "We're not animals. All of us have certain... standards."

"No affairs involving children," Black Mask spoke for the first time. "That's taboo."

Everyone nodded—some things were obvious even to criminals of their level. The city had to remain manageable, which meant rules were needed. Clear boundaries between territories, control over particularly aggressive gangs, prohibition of certain activities—all this would allow crime to be kept in check, preventing the city from drowning in its own blood.

"What about the police?" Chang inquired.

"Everything stays as is," Fisk replied. "Each has their own connections, their own arrangements. The main thing is not to create problems for each other."

Discussing the details took about an hour. When the main points were agreed upon, Kingpin produced a bottle of collectible whiskey:

"I think this is worth celebrating."

Silvio accepted the glass but was in no hurry to drink. Something was clearly troubling the old mafioso. Fisk noticed this:

"Something wrong, old friend?"

"No, no," Manfredi shook his head. "Just thoughts..."

When Chang and Black Mask had taken their leave, Fisk moved his chair closer to Silvio:

"Is it about Alicia?"

Silvermane started:

"How did you...?"

"I've seen a lot, my friend," Kingpin smirked. "And I know that look of a concerned father. Your daughter and our... mutual acquaintance, right?"

"She's always been strong-willed," Silvio took a sip of whiskey. "But this guy... There's something frightening about him."

"Dangerous?"

"No, that's not the word..." the old man pondered. "Alien. As if he's from another world."

Fisk nodded understandingly:

"But he's useful. And, evidently, in his own way, cares for her."

"Perhaps," Silvio finished his whiskey. "You know, Wilson, for the first time in a long while, I see genuine interest in her eyes. Not boredom, not game-playing... Something authentic."

"Then perhaps these relations deserve a chance?" Kingpin poured another round. "After all, we were all young once."

Silvermane smiled humorlessly:

"Do I have a choice?"

In Alicia's luxurious penthouse, semi-darkness reigned, broken only by moonlight streaming through panoramic windows. The silence was torn by passionate moans and heavy breathing.

Alicia straddled Sasuke's hips, moving in a ragged rhythm. Her body glistened with sweat, long hair scattered across her shoulders. Uchiha guided her movements, his Sharingan involuntarily activating, capturing every moment of their intimacy.

"Yes... yes..." she threw her head back, accelerating the pace. "I'm going to..."

Her internal muscles contracted in the spasm of orgasm, and Sasuke couldn't hold back either. He groaned deeply, releasing deep inside her. Alicia felt how a hot wave filled her womb, and this triggered a new wave of pleasure.

Exhausted, she fell beside him on the crumpled sheets, trying to catch her breath.

"Fifth time this evening," Alicia exhaled, turning to him. "I didn't know you were so... enduring."

Sasuke lay with his eyes closed. Over the past few days, he had begun to understand why people are so obsessed with sex. It's like a special kind of meditation—when the mind switches off and only sensations remain. No thoughts about the past, no inner emptiness—only pure, animal pleasure.

Alicia ran her finger across his chest, tracing the scars:

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he answered honestly.

She propped herself up on her elbow, examining his face in the moonlight. Over these days, Alicia had begun to notice the slightest changes in his mood—how the crease between his eyebrows slightly relaxed, how the usually rigid line of his mouth softened.

"You know," Alicia leaned down, leaving a light kiss on his neck, "you've changed."

Sasuke opened his eyes:

"What?"

"Become... softer," she smirked, noticing how he frowned. "Oh, don't worry, it's only noticeable to me. For everyone else, you're still the same cold and unapproachable Uchiha."

Alicia stretched, getting out of bed. Moonlight outlined the curves of her naked body as she searched for a pack of cigarettes in her purse. A lighter clicked, and in the half-darkness of the bedroom, a small flame danced.

"You know," Alicia exhaled a stream of smoke, leaning against the window, "sometimes I think..."

Sasuke sat on the edge of the bed, examining her silhouette against the backdrop of the night city. Something flashed outside the window—a quick mechanical movement. The Sharingan activated instantly, slowing time, allowing him to discern details.

The armored bodies of two Sentinels gleamed in the moonlight. Combat systems activated, barrels aimed directly at the window. He had only a fraction of a second to process the information.

Sasuke lunged forward at the moment when the Sentinels' guns began to glow with a characteristic red light.

Alicia didn't even have time to comprehend what was happening. The cigarette fell from her fingers when a giant purple hand of pure energy materialized around her, shielding her from danger. The next moment, an explosion thundered.

The sound of shattering glass merged with her scream. Shards showered into the room, but they all broke against the ghostly protection. The heat from the explosion scorched her skin but caused no harm—Susanoo's skeletal arm absorbed the main impact.

"What... what is this?" Alicia stared in shock at the purple energy enveloping her, shimmering like the Northern Lights.

Sasuke didn't answer. His eyes burned with a red flame, but now they displayed a new pattern—more complex, hypnotic. With one hand movement, he created a shadow clone that remained to protect her.

Alicia watched in amazement as a second Sasuke—his exact copy—materialized from nowhere. And in the next moment, the real Uchiha jumped straight through the window breach.

The Sentinels opened a barrage of fire. The purple energy around Sasuke condensed, taking the form of a giant skeleton warrior. Each robot shot dissolved in this protection, causing no harm.

Alicia watched in astonishment, pressed against the wall by his clone.

The next moment, the shinobi's hand shone with blinding blue light, filling the room with a sound like the singing of a thousand birds. The Sentinels couldn't react in time—a lightning-fast movement, and both robots crashed down, pierced through by an electric blade.

Alicia couldn't tear her gaze from this spectacle. The man with whom she had spent so many nights, whom she considered just an unusually strong mutant, was demonstrating powers beyond her comprehension.

When it was all over, Sasuke smoothly descended back into the destroyed room. Susanoo's purple energy slowly dissipated like morning mist, and the clone disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"You..." Alicia took a step toward him but stopped, not knowing how to finish the phrase.

Sasuke turned to the window. In the distance, new lights were already visible—an entire armada of Sentinels heading toward the city center.