In a modest, dimly lit bar on the outskirts of New York City, a striking figure entered. He pushed the door open with deliberate restraint and stepped inside. This was Kurogai Alexander Blackwood. After handling Stark-related affairs, he had come straight here. He'd located this bar through interrogation of Obadiah Stein, who claimed to have brokered a deal with Bullseye via the bar owner. That connection led to the assassination of Tony Stark.
It was early afternoon; only a few burly, tattooed men nursed their drinks at the bar. When Kurogai entered, they glanced over with hostile curiosity. To them, he looked out of place — a young, handsome stranger among hardened criminals.
One of them sneered. Another cracked a joke: "Kid, you won't find anything sweet here. If you're looking for milk, take a right and head a hundred meters down to the mall."
Behind the bar, the owner studied Kurogai with mild amusement. "There's no milk here. If you're after something else, you'll need to look harder."
The laughter among the thugs grew. They pointed and whispered derisively, treating Kurogai as if he were prey.
Unfazed, Kurogai moved to the bar and sat. "I came for a man named Bullseye. I expect you know him."
At that name, the bar owner's expression shifted. He was the underground's gatekeeper — the conduit between criminal networks and the outside world. He couldn't let Kurogai slip up. He signaled subtly to his associates. Almost immediately, six of them rose and moved to encircle Kurogai.
The owner's tone hardened. "I don't know what you mean, kid. Best you leave now. I'm guessing you don't want to make trouble—and get tossed."
Kurogai remained calm, gaze steady. "I'm giving you one warning." He paused, scanning their faces without flinching. "Don't do something you'll regret."
On that unspoken cue, the goons lunged with knives drawn. They thought they'd handle this easily—like catching a sheep alone in a wolf's den. But they misjudged.
Kurogai's eyes glowed a deep crimson. Time stilled.
One by one, each assailant froze mid-strike. Then each driver in their own knife—with a twisting motion—stabbed themselves in the heart. Then collapsed. Silence fell, broken only by the thud of bodies hitting the floor.
The patrons stared in stunned horror. The bar owner's face drained of blood. He was used to people fearing for their lives—but not choosing it willingly. His entire crew dead at their own hands. A nightmare.
Kurogai's voice broke the quiet in a calm tone. "I won't ask again. Tell me what I need to know, or I take the rest of your men."
He turned his attention to the owner. Under pressure, the man broke. His voice shook. "Our boss is Jin He. Bullseye is his top assassin. A few days ago, someone paid Bullseye well. He returned severely wounded—and furious. Obviously something went wrong, but who plans against Jin He... we don't dare guess."
Kurogai nodded. "Take me to him."
Fear flickered across the owner's face. Leading Kurogai to meet an underworld boss meant certain death. And yet, he'd no choice.
Forced compliance, the owner escorted him through shadowed streets to a secluded mansion. It was one of Jin He's safehouses—he was believed to be here. Heavily guarded, yet every sentinel from a distance parted as Kurogai strode in. It was clear at that moment: every life in this compound answered to Kurogai Blackwood.
They guided him inside to a private courtyard with a pool. A few women laughed and splashed in the water, seemingly carefree. On one side, a tall man in beach shorts stood watch. A circular brand marked his forehead. There was no doubt: here was Jin He himself—or as the underworld feared and revered him.
Kurogai paused at the water's edge. The moment had arrived: this was the path to truths that would change everything.