7 Chapter-7 | Playing with... [Edited]
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Schiller returned to his apartment on the road, and he could clearly feel someone following him. Thanks to his spider-sense, his enhanced vision allowed him to see that someone seemed to be watching him from the opposite apartment building.
The building across the street was a fully glass structure, and there was a small window pane that reflected differently from the others, which Schiller keenly noticed.
Choosing to open a clinic in Hell's Kitchen was not a random decision. After observing for several days, he had figured out the residents' routines in the apartment building.
Most of the people living there were white-collar workers and elite professionals. They were mostly single and had very regular working hours, with fixed social circles.
Living among such a crowd made it too easy for SHIELD agents to find loopholes.
But Hell's Kitchen was different. Although it was the largest slum and gang gathering place in Manhattan, New York, and even the whole of America, it had a high population density and a large influx of people. There were many strangers, and gangs of all sizes nested there. It was the perfect place for Schiller, an outsider who wanted to fish in troubled waters.
While life in upscale apartments was comfortable, it didn't necessarily compare to the freedom of Hell's Kitchen. Schiller believed that if he stayed in that apartment for a few more days, at least four or five of his neighbors would turn out to be SHIELD agents. There would be all sorts of people with unclear backgrounds trying to get close to him, trying to extract information, whether it was his own or Stark's. That's how SHIELD operated; they didn't care about your need for privacy.
Hell's Kitchen was slightly different from Gotham as well. While there were numerous gangs of various sizes in Hell's Kitchen, it was slightly less dangerous compared to Gotham.
There were more poor people, gamblers, and drug addicts there, with no Scarecrow or Joker, and no major supervillains to speak of. The majority of the people there were ordinary individuals, although there was an abundance of firearms and drugs, the victims were mostly regular people, not individuals with special abilities.
Schiller intended to make it his first base of operations in the Marvel universe.
Stark was highly efficient, and before long, he managed to persuade some senators to allocate a hospital quota to be placed in Hell's Kitchen.
Some senators took this opportunity to promote their own kindness, claiming that New York would not abandon any of its citizens. However, they never really expected the hospital to actually open, considering it was Hell's Kitchen. Even if Daredevil went there, he would end up on the chopping block.
Open a hospital there? That was a joke. Unless the hospital was fortified like a concentration camp, with tanks and cannons at the entrance, and all the doctors and nurses carrying machine guns, there was no hope. Otherwise, all the medications would be looted overnight.
But regardless of the senators' lack of belief and the numbness of the people in Hell's Kitchen, a small Psychological Clinic was established there.
As the most famous and largest slum in Manhattan, the eight blocks were just a symbolic representation.
In reality, it extended far beyond the scope of those eight blocks, with dozens of complex intertwining streets and hundreds of gangs.
Some say Kingpin was the kingpin of Hell's Kitchen, but in reality, it was not the case. Kingpin's criminal enterprise extended far beyond Hell's Kitchen. He had a criminal industry chain across the entire East Coast of the United States.
His business spread throughout the country. Although there may have been some involvement of his drug and contraband industries in Hell's Kitchen, he didn't reside there, nor did he keep a constant watch over it.
Daredevil, born in Hell's Kitchen, was his archenemy, but they hardly ever fought directly in Hell's Kitchen. Spider-Man, who had fought Kingpin several times, was still just a clueless high school student.
Kingpin's ambitions went beyond just ruling Hell's Kitchen, and he didn't pay much attention to the troubles that arose there. Shootouts, robberies, kidnappings, brawls, and missing persons cases happened every day in Hell's Kitchen. Causing a ruckus was nothing out of the ordinary.
So when Kingpin, far away in San Francisco, heard about a few of his henchmen going insane in Hell's Kitchen, he simply thought they were drugged up and didn't give it much thought.
However, a terrifying rumor gradually spread in Hell's Kitchen. They heard that in the Psychological Clinic located at the end of Mary Street in Ninth Alley, there lived a dreadful doctor. All the gang members who went to him for protection money or extortion soon ran out in terror, only to go crazy shortly after.
At the beginning of this incident, a few well-known gang leaders didn't believe it and led their men to investigate. But soon after, they acted as if they had encountered a monster. They fought madly against the air, struggling, screaming, running away, crying. It was as if they were possessed by some kind of ghost.
This incident caused quite a stir, and almost everyone on Mary Street heard about it. The rumors spread quickly.
As the rumors circulated, everyone heard that the Ninth Alley was absolutely off-limits because of a terrifying curse. It would make you see your greatest fears and eventually drive you insane.
Later, when Schiller, who lived there, started going out, everyone heard that he was the owner of the clinic in Ninth Alley. People finally realized that it wasn't a ghost but a peculiar psychologist.
According to Schiller's explanation, those gang leaders had done too many wicked things, and he had only provided them with some friendly psychological counseling.
As for why they went insane? Perhaps it was just a case of retribution.
The people of Hell's Kitchen would only believe such an explanation when they saw a ghost. For those who lived there, the consensus was that evildoers never received good rewards.
No one born in Hell's Kitchen would feel guilty; it's normal to commit crimes here. Criminals make up the majority of the population. Guilty? How can you expect someone who has been selling firearms, drugs, getting into fights, extorting and gambling since their teens to have any conscience? How could they feel guilty to the point of going crazy?
Everyone who heard about this incident believed that Schiller was a black sorcerer who could curse those people.
As for Schiller, he wouldn't explain. The fear gas he brought from DC was indeed useful, even though it was just the initial version. It worked well against ordinary people without abilities.
Since he discovered that he could use objects to carry things and move between two worlds, he had the idea of taking down the Kingpin.
Although the power systems of Marvel and DC were different, there were many things they could exchange and sell to each other, as well as things they could use to deal with their enemies.
For example, if Schiller used fear gas in Gotham, once the news got out, Jonathan would see the symptoms in those patients and would surely associate it with his own fear gas.
But in Marvel, how could Jonathan possibly know about the situation in Marvel? So Schiller didn't have to pay any copyright fees.
After this terrifying rumor spread, there were almost no gangsters who would bother Schiller anymore.
Of course, the consequence of getting along with these criminals was that a superhero came knocking on his door.
On a slightly chilly night in Manhattan, Schiller had just brewed a hot coffee. He locked the door of the clinic and prepared to finish his day of slacking off and get a good night's sleep before continuing to harass Stark tomorrow.
Just as he placed the coffee cup on the table, he heard a crisp sound at the door. Then he turned around and in the dim light, he saw a tall man in a red tight suit standing outside.
Schiller turned around, picked up the coffee cup, and said, "You seem to be a little late, Mr. Daredevil."
"Do you know me, Doctor?" Daredevil said.
"Of course, I know you, Daredevil. You're famous in Hell's Kitchen," Schiller said.
"But you seem to have only arrived here recently," Daredevil said.
"But I'm more familiar with your other identity, Matt the lawyer."
Daredevil was clearly shocked, not knowing how Schiller could see through his true identity.
Before Daredevil could ask, Schiller said, "You achieved remarkable results at Columbia University, and your career path after graduation went smoothly. You not only became a good lawyer but also seemingly opened your own law firm. Matt, can you tell me why you became Daredevil? Isn't the pride of upholding justice as a lawyer enough for you?"
"Lawyer, upholding justice..." Daredevil sneered. He said, "Perhaps that's how you see it. Yes, that's how most people think, believing that lawyers should speak up for justice and defend the underprivileged. But in reality..."
"In reality? Do you think lawyers shouldn't do that?"
"Of course, they should. I mean..."
"You think you can't do it in your capacity as a lawyer? So you want to take a different approach. But can you achieve what you couldn't do as a lawyer just by wearing a ridiculous tight suit and a mask?"
Daredevil said angrily, "My decisions have nothing to do with you!"
"Do you know? The way you just spoke sounds a lot like a rebellious little boy," Schiller said.
Daredevil only then realized that he had fallen into Schiller's verbal trap since he entered the door. The pace of the conversation had been led by Schiller, exposing not only his true identity but also touching on his sensitive points. He took a deep breath, calmed down, and said, "I admit, you're a good psychologist and skilled at using some tricks in conversation. But I still want to ask, who are you? What is your purpose in Hell's Kitchen? Why did those people go crazy?"
"You have too many questions. Tonight, I can only answer one. Obviously, I've worked all day, and I'm tired. You can't disturb my rest because, after all, I'm not a gang member, nor have I committed any crimes," Schiller said.
"But you drove those gang members crazy."
"You have no evidence."
"Police need evidence."
"Do you think you're nobler than the police?"
"Don't beat around the bush with me anymore," Daredevil said.
"If you listened carefully to what I said, you would know where I come from and how I knew your identity."
Daredevil felt a headache; he really disliked dealing with these cunning opponents, which required him to remain highly focused. Due to the shock he had just experienced, he completely forgot the conversation he had with Schiller when he first arrived. Now, if he couldn't answer, it would make him appear foolish, so he remained silent.
"It seems like you've already forgotten our conversation just a minute ago. I truly didn't know that becoming a superhero could come without having a good memory," Schiller mocked.
Daredevil felt annoyed internally and swore to remember every word Schiller said from now on.
"Two years ago, I used to teach at Columbia University. I saw the list of outstanding graduates, and your name was on it, Matt. When it came to filling out your post-graduation plans, you said you would open a law firm, within the state of Kansas. Although I am a psychology professor, I know one of your former teachers who mentioned to me that you had indeed achieved your dream."
"Don't change the subject. I want to know how you knew that Daredevil is Matt," Daredevil asked.
"Perhaps you don't remember, but when you first started on this path, you were wearing the black and yellow costume your father wore during matches. After I arrived in Hell's Kitchen, I happened to attend an underground boxing match. Interestingly, the owner there seemed to never change the style of the boxing attire, probably to save costs."
"I see. Daredevil might have been born here, and he must have some connection to the underground black market fighters. Through investigation, it was revealed that the gang members you killed had a connection to your father's death. And once your father's identity was uncovered, it naturally wasn't difficult to find out about you."
"Why did you investigate me? Are you feeling guilty about something?" Matt asked.
"It's nothing. If you're going to rent a house, you should at least know who the landlord is and what they do. It's best to have a good relationship with them."
"I'm not some landlord here," Daredevil coldly snorted.
"Oh, really? Well, it seems like I got the wrong person then. I should go find Kingpin. But it seems like I've already made an enemy out of him. I vaguely remember that among the gang members who visited me, someone mentioned that their boss was Kingpin."
"Kingpin? You have information on Kingpin?"
"Well, kind of. Let's say I'm giving you the rent, I overheard one of his henchmen saying that their boss is getting impatient with a guy called Daredevil. He plans to find someone to kill you, so you better be careful recently."
Finally, Daredevil hurriedly returned to his base.
Only after he returned did he realize that he hadn't achieved any of his objectives tonight.
He hadn't figured out who Schiller was, hadn't warned him to behave, and hadn't determined if he had any connection to those gangs.
He also didn't know what methods he used to drive those people crazy.
Matt slapped his forehead, suddenly feeling that Schiller's metaphor was correct. He was like a landlord who had unknowingly rented his house to a mysterious tenant who paid the rent in advance. This left him with no immediate way to forcefully make him leave, allowing him to freely roam around Hell's Kitchen.
