Chapter 30: Fear of Insufficient Firepower Isn't a Disease
Ryan descended back into the ruined basement, retrieved his phone from the debris, wiped off the concrete dust, and speed-dialed Wilson Fisk.
"Send a cleanup crew for the bodies. And have your contacts in the NYPD delay their response by an hour."
In Hell's Kitchen, gunfights were practically a nightly occurrence. The local precinct had been on Kingpin's payroll for years—even if they didn't show up at all, nobody would be surprised, let alone question a delayed response.
Within ten minutes, several unmarked vans arrived with military efficiency. The bodies were loaded into body bags, weapons were confiscated separately, and the bloodstains were meticulously cleaned with industrial-grade chemicals.
"Hey, get someone to replace my door while you're at it," Ryan called out.
Wesley, Fisk's right-hand man, quickly summoned a maintenance crew to install a new reinforced steel entrance.
By the time Wilson Fisk's people had finished sanitizing the crime scene, thirty minutes had passed.
Frank surveyed the restored basement with professional appreciation. "Those contractors came for me specifically. I owe you one for this mess. At least your lab equipment survived intact."
Ryan glared at him. "Intact? They blew a hole through my front door and filled my workspace with shrapnel. You call that intact?"
Turning to David, his voice took on a dangerous edge. "Find whoever sent them. I'm going to separate their head from their shoulders and preserve it in formaldehyde as a trophy." He released Frank's jacket with visible restraint. "Frank, we'll settle your part in this later."
Frank bore primary responsibility for today's attack. If he hadn't brought his war to Ryan's doorstep, none of this would have happened.
David nervously adjusted his glasses. "To trace these contractors back to their source, I need to return to my safe house and use the encrypted network equipment there."
"Let's move together. I need to secure my research materials first."
Ryan gathered his experimental samples and enhancement serums, then drove with Frank and David to Lieberman's hidden base of operations.
Since faking his death, David had been operating from this location, secretly monitoring government communications while keeping watch over his family from afar.
Ryan placed his reinforced case in the only metal cabinet and secured it with David's key.
"David, find them. I want their location within the hour."
While Ryan barely knew Lieberman, being attacked in his own home was an insult that demanded blood. This wasn't just about revenge—it was about establishing that certain lines couldn't be crossed.
Ryan had spent months building his power base through careful manipulation. Now that he possessed superhuman abilities and criminal connections, there was no need for subtlety.
David's fingers flew across his keyboard, multiple screens displaying encrypted data streams. "I've been tracking this network for weeks. It all traces back to Frank's original black ops mission. Agent Orange orchestrated everything, and we've identified his current handler."
"Frank's former teammate Billy Russo mentioned that Bennett was Agent Orange's direct subordinate. Bennett definitely knows Orange's current location. I just need time to inject a tracking virus into his secure phone, then we can triangulate Agent Orange through cell tower data."
Ryan cracked his enhanced knuckles. "Screw the subtle approach. I don't believe anyone's tougher than enhanced interrogation."
"No, that's too dangerous," David protested. "Direct action exposes my family to retaliation. We need to maintain operational security."
Ryan caught Frank's eye and nodded toward Bennett's address on the screen. Frank immediately memorized the location and began formulating tactical approaches.
Meanwhile, Ryan picked up David's secure phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Ring... ring... ring..."
"Kingpin, this is Ryan. I need a weapons delivery. Heavy ordnance, full combat load." Not knowing the exact address, Ryan thrust the phone toward David.
David hesitated but finally gave directions to a pickup location one kilometer from the safe house, maintaining some operational security.
After hanging up, Ryan pointed at the computer screens. "What about the contractors who attacked today? Which PMC are we dealing with?"
David's search quickly yielded results from several military contractor databases.
"Anvil Security—they're an elite private military company with ties to government black ops."
Companies like Anvil typically recruited former Special Forces operators or maintained connections with high-level intelligence officials. Ryan didn't care about their pedigree.
David had already pinpointed Bennett's current safe house, while Frank studied the building schematics with the tactical precision of a career Marine.
With their assault plan finalized, the trio headed to the pickup location for Wilson Fisk's weapons delivery.
American organized crime primarily dealt in Russian military surplus, and Kingpin—having defeated the Russian bratva—maintained substantial stockpiles of Eastern Bloc hardware.
Two of Fisk's soldiers arrived in separate vehicles. Without a word, they handed over keys and manifests, then departed in the remaining car.
Frank inspected the weapons cache and grimaced at the Cyrillic markings. "Russian gear isn't my first choice, but we work with what we've got."
"David, you're driving. Let's move out."
In the backseat, Ryan strapped on body armor followed by a tactical vest loaded with enough firepower to outfit a small army.
He carried an AK-74 assault rifle, a Makarov pistol, encrypted communications gear, and five spare magazines. Additional equipment included fragmentation grenades, smoke canisters, and flashbangs—transforming him into a walking arsenal.
Frank couldn't resist commenting, "It's a simple extraction mission. What's with the full combat load?"
"You don't understand the philosophy behind overwhelming firepower."
David drove to within surveillance range of Bennett's residence and deployed a reconnaissance drone to assess enemy positions.
After confirming the tactical situation, he briefed the team. "Two security guards at the front entrance, two more covering the rear exit. Nearest NYPD response is from the 15th Precinct, approximately 2.1 kilometers away. Optimal extraction window is eighteen minutes."
"Copy that. Stay with the vehicle and watch for my signal."
After Ryan and Frank exited the car, Frank pointed toward a cluster of trees providing concealment. "I'll approach through that cover and neutralize the front door sentries. You take position at the rear stairwell. When the back door guards respond to the breach, eliminate them immediately."
Ryan wasn't certain the plan would survive contact with the enemy, but preparation was everything.
The two enhanced soldiers approached the target villa with lethal efficiency. Frank silently dispatched both front guards using hand-to-hand techniques perfected in Iraq.
Entering the villa, they immediately heard disturbing sounds emanating from the second floor—sounds that would typically come from a woman, but were clearly masculine in origin. Ryan suppressed a shudder of revulsion.
Frank signaled for position, and Ryan nodded, taking cover at the second-floor stairwell corner.
CRASH!
Frank kicked in the bedroom door.
"Contact! Contact!" Bennett's panicked voice echoed through the house.
The commotion immediately drew both rear guards into the building. Ryan seized the tactical advantage, stepping from cover and engaging targets on the staircase.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The AK-74's muzzle flash strobed through the dim interior as 5.45mm rounds found their marks. Screams accompanied the gunshots as two blood-soaked bodies tumbled down the stairs.
"Hoorah!"
There was something intensely satisfying about automatic weapons fire, especially when ammunition was plentiful.
Ryan executed a tactical reload while maintaining his defensive position.
Frank emerged from the bedroom, shoving Bennett—hands zip-tied, feet bound, and gagged with what appeared to be a ball gag—into the hallway. The man's compromising situation explained the earlier sounds.
"Frank, four additional hostiles approaching your position fast. ETA thirty seconds," David's voice crackled through their comms.
Heavy footsteps thundered from the ground floor.
Frank checked his tactical watch. "Thirteen minutes until extraction deadline. Time to make this quick and dirty."
End of Chapter 30
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