DC hero at Marvel

"You sent Bullseye's corpse back to Kingpin—that's bound to enrage him," Eddie said, clicking his tongue as Anton returned from Fisk Tower. "From now on, the Daily Bugle won't be dealing with minor threats anymore. Kingpin isn't like Drake; he rose to power through violence. To draw out Batman, he'll stop at nothing, and he might even massacre the Daily Bugle."

"Are we really afraid of making waves?" Anton replied with a smirk.

Eddie chuckled. He stood on the side of justice, and with Venom protecting him, he wasn't afraid in the slightest.

Venom, in fact, was ecstatic, cheering within Eddie's mind.

In situations like this, every stranger could potentially be a snack.

Eddie's only concern was the safety of the Daily Bugle's employees.

"Don't worry," Anton reassured him. "I've already told everyone to take a few days off. Unless Kingpin is completely reckless, he won't target innocent employees; otherwise, he'd have lost his position as the underworld king a long time ago."

Seeing Eddie's intent, Anton added with a smile, "Our real worry now is whether Kingpin will even face us head-on."

"Are you sure we can catch Kingpin with solid evidence this time?" Eddie asked.

"Our goal isn't just to start a fight; it's to locate Kingpin's arsenal," Anton explained. "His weapon cache must contain illegal items. If we find this, it could lead us to an even bigger target."

Following the trail might even unearth Stark Industries' involvement, turning New York upside down.

If they could see this mission through, the justice they achieved would be substantial.

For Anton, it was a win-win.

"Never thought I'd end up a hero," Eddie mused.

Ever since he and Anton had taken down Carlton Drake and gained Venom, his world had turned upside down.

"It's a unique feeling, one that's hard to let go of," Anton replied with a grin.

Ring ring! Suddenly, his phone rang. It was Winston.

"Anton, my contacts have informed me that Kingpin is gathering men and heavy weaponry. He's planning something; you might want to be careful."

Winston warned directly.

"Understood. Have your men ready. This evening, we'll meet in Hell's Kitchen and take the initiative."

Anton grinned.

"What?" Winston was shocked. "Are you planning a direct confrontation? We don't exactly have the upper hand."

"Don't worry, I have a plan. I won't be using you as cannon fodder."

With that, Anton ended the call.

…

Hell's Kitchen.

A young, slightly scrawny guy wearing a red, makeshift mask and a hoodie with a spider logo entered an underground fight club, looking nervous.

"Hey, little chicken, you here to fight?" The brawny, bearded man at the entrance slapped the young man's shoulder with a laugh. "What are you gonna call yourself? I think 'Little Chicken' suits you."

"Spider. Call me Spider," the young man hesitated before writing his name on the registration sheet.

"Alright, in you go."

The bearded man shrugged and shoved him down the corridor.

"Your opponent is Juggernaut, our undefeated champ. Hope you don't come out missing a limb."

The bearded man gave him a mocking look.

He'd seen plenty of young guys like this, eager to make quick cash by fighting. Unfortunately, most ended up battered, and one unlucky guy had even been killed on the spot, with no one to claim his body afterward.

The young man entered the underground arena, realizing it was nothing like he'd imagined.

This was a place for illegal fights.

"Hey!"

He started to panic. "I thought I'd signed up for a legit boxing match, not underground fights."

"You're here now," a scantily clad woman sneered at him. "Are you scared?"

"Scared?"

The young man's pride flared. "I'm not scared!"

"Then get in the ring. Your opponent's waiting."

"Juggernaut will tear you to pieces."

As he climbed into the ring, a cage suddenly dropped down around him, sending up a cloud of dust.

Only then did he realize how different this was from what he'd expected—by a long shot.

A cage match!

A fight to the death!

…

Meanwhile.

An undercurrent ran through Hell's Kitchen.

Most of the gangs had received word, each contributing people and resources to answer the call of their kingpin, Kingpin.

They were preparing for a bloodbath in New York tonight.

Their targets included the Daily Bugle, the Continental Hotel, and Hell's Kitchen's local hero, Daredevil.

Hell's Kitchen was only eight streets wide, so they were determined to tear the place apart if needed to find and eliminate Daredevil.

The Daily Bugle and Continental Hotel were both nearby in Manhattan, making them even easier to reach.

Kingpin's fury excited all the gangs, knowing that their king had finally bared his long-hidden fangs.

Targeting the Daily Bugle was a move to draw out Batman.

Going after the Continental Hotel was a result of Kingpin investigation into the assassins who had helped Ben Urich escape; they were from the hotel.

And Daredevil needed no explanation—he was the old nemesis.

As the gang members gathered, armed with guns, baseball bats, knives, and more, they all looked like a legion of villains, waiting for their kingpin to take his place.

At last, Kingpin emerged into the light, making his grand entrance.

He wore his signature white suit, leaned on his cane, and held a cigar in his mouth, his face stern and resolute.

"Tonight, I'll show all of New York that Kingpin has never left the underground! This is still my domain."

His voice was low and foreboding.

"Now, go."

"Go and take down our enemies. Let everyone know that my criminal empire isn't something to be toyed with."

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

"Kingpin!"

"Kingpin!"

The shouts echoed as Kingpin spread his arms wide, his smile growing ever more sinister, as if he were reliving his glory days.

Boom! Suddenly, a shadow resembling a bat was projected onto a nearby building, casting a dark silhouette beside Kingpin.

"Batman!"

Kingpin flinched, then, seeing the figure on the building, laughed heartily. "I didn't even have to look for you—you came to die yourself."

"To die?" Batman's voice was calm, but through his suit's internal amplifier, it reverberated in everyone's ears. "Tonight will be your end, Kingpin."

"We'll see about that."

Kingpin face turned cold as he pointed toward Batman on the rooftop. "Go, take him down."

Boom!

As he finished, the Batman on the rooftop adjusted a cannon on his shoulder. A powerful missile shot out, trailing fire like a comet as it headed straight for them.

Anton was in his Rabbit armor this time.

In a battle with heavy weapons, his basic suit didn't have the same advantages, so the Rabbit armor—a miniature mecha—was ideal.

And against a crowd, efficiency was key.

"RPG!"

Someone yelled, "Move out of the way!"

But it didn't matter whether they dodged or not, because the missile's target wasn't them; it was Kingpin on the platform.

Boom! Kingpin remained unfazed, lifting his cane and firing a bullet that detonated the missile midair in a burst of colorful fire and a shockwave.

…

Meanwhile.

Having just finished his fight, a nervous but excited young Spider-Man clutched his winnings as he stepped out of the underground club, turning down the owner's offer to become a regular fighter.

Boom! A massive explosion echoed from nearby.

Feeling the gust of wind and smelling gunpowder in the air, Spider-Man looked up to see a flash of fireworks that struck him as odd.

His spider-sense tingled.

Stashing his winnings, he quickly became alert.