Meanwhile, in an unvisited safe house in New York's Hells Kitchen.
A seemingly mild-mannered man was currently restrained by machine brackets.
His head was firmly fixed facing forward, his eyes were propped open by special brackets, and his vision was blocked by panels on either side of his head, forcing him to stare unblinkingly at the continuously flashing, colorful screen.
At this moment, another man, dressed in a suit and behaving like an elegant gentleman, stood beside the machine restraining the mild-mannered man, speaking softly.
"Obedience will be rewarded."
"Are you willing to obey, Wesley?"
If anyone familiar with the history of the CIA during the Cold War were present, they would immediately recognize this as a brainwashing technique similar to the MK-Ultra program.
And the person currently being brainwashed on the machine was James Wesley, Kingpin's most trusted subordinate.
However, he, who was once considered second only to Kingpin in the New York underground gangs, could now only be trampled upon like a stray dog.
Yet, despite this, Wesley still seemed unwilling to abandon his loyalty to Kingpin.
"Shut up! I will avenge Wilson!"
The elegant man, seeing this, seemed to smile indifferently.
"Alright, but I have plenty of time."
With that, he no longer paid attention to the gritting Wesley and turned to leave the enclosed room.
After he walked out the door.
Another young woman, seemingly the elegant man's subordinate, cautiously stepped forward two paces and asked with some confusion.
"My Lord, the forces left behind by that Kingpin seem to us..."
The young woman actually wanted to say 'insignificant,' but after a moment of hesitation, she chose to rephrase.
"It seems we can easily take them down. Why does My Lord go to such lengths to control such a minor figure?"
As she spoke, the woman subconsciously looked towards the 'brainwashing room,' as if not only Wesley inside but even the former Kingpin himself were completely disregarded by her.
However, the elegant man seemed not to mind his subordinate's attitude, merely explaining softly in a gentle tone.
"You must remember, the most important thing is always people. Wilson Fisk's remaining forces are indeed negligible, but this subordinate of his is truly a talent."
As he spoke, the man paused slightly, looked at the 'brainwashing room' again, and then smiled brightly.
"Moreover, this isn't prepared for myself. He can only be considered... a perfectly timed gift."
Having finished speaking, the man strode directly away, leaving behind his bewildered female subordinate.
...
A week passed in a flash.
Contrary to everyone's expectations.
Hells Kitchen, having lost Kingpin, did not improve; instead, without this most suppressive underworld emperor, the entire Hells Kitchen seemed to be in constant turmoil.
What Luca did that night was like igniting a long-dormant powder keg.
Revenge, slaughter, and power struggles—these large and small gangs, whose relationships were already not harmonious, had completely fallen into madness.
Even though the New York Police Department had repeatedly dispatched ESU (Emergency Service Unit) to cooperate with the managers in Hells Kitchen for suppression, and even privately, regardless of reputation, conducted individual talks with the leaders of larger gangs.
But as long as the suppressing Police force withdrew, it wouldn't be long before these gang thugs would escalate conflicts again over some inexplicable minor friction.
It was as if these people were not fighting for profit at all now, but merely wanted to completely destroy the entire Hells Kitchen.
In Hells Kitchen this week, basic cases like theft and fraud had largely disappeared.
Whenever a Police dispatcher answered the phone, it was inevitably about a shooting incident.
Even now, these gang disturbances have begun to show a subtle trend of spreading beyond Hells Kitchen.
The Police, already overwhelmed by the aftermath of the Battle of New York, were now considering whether to apply to the municipal department to deploy the National Guard for intervention and suppression.
However, the instigator of all this, Luca, was currently enjoying himself at home.
Uh... saying 'enjoying himself' is actually an exaggeration, as Luca was, in fact, getting 'beaten up' in his home's yard.
In the Orange Family Villa courtyard, Shield Mountain, whom Luca had asked to practice fighting with him, looked at Luca, who was sitting on the ground, and said somewhat awkwardly.
"Young Master, I actually think that the previous simulated arm was more suitable for you."
Shield Mountain, who had been busy outside these days, really couldn't understand why his Young Master wanted to modify the mechanical arm Tony Stark had given him into its current appearance.
How to put it?
Shield Mountain always felt that this mechanical arm looked strange...
Especially when this arm vibrated up and down!
Looking at Shield Mountain's peculiar gaze, Luca, who had just been thrown to the ground by him, helplessly patted his backside and stood up again.
'I also want to change it to a simulated arm! But I don't have the ability!'
Of course, what Luca thought was only to modify the existing arm into a simulated prosthetic; if he had to abandon this arm and go back to using Stark's 'low-end stuff,' he would not be willing.
At this moment, as the entire mechanical arm continuously vibrated up and down, it immediately began to emit a shimmering emerald green glow.
Perhaps in the eyes of others, this glow was just a special lighting effect added purely for fun.
But in reality, Luca could feel the pain in his body, which had been caused by Shield Mountain's earlier strike, rapidly disappearing.
Even the muscle soreness from the prolonged sparring was recovering at an extremely fast rate.
That's right, this was the core ability of the mechanical prosthetic arm, named [Sweet Captive], that Luca had just synthesized these past few days.
As long as the arm started to shake, a healing energy would slowly heal Luca's injuries.
In fact, Luca himself had secretly tested it privately.
Even relatively severe stab wounds could be fully recovered as long as the arm was continuously shaken for healing.
Moreover, Luca vaguely felt that if he sacrificed the arm, he could achieve a large-scale injury treatment in an instant.
Of course, Luca would certainly not be so wasteful unless absolutely necessary.
And the reason why Luca was so satisfied with this prosthetic arm was not just because of its simple healing effect.
After Luca stood up, he re-flexed his arm.
Then he waved at Shield Mountain in front of him again and said softly.
"Again!"