Herman Schultz sat in the back of the panel truck. The cold metal seeped through his armor plates and directly into his bones. A few weeks ago, he would have called someone insane for robbing a bank in a commercial vehicle. Did they think they were filming a Batman movie? Who mimics the Joker and hits a vault in a heavy-duty truck?
But reality was infinitely stupider than the movies.
The Kingpin's man named Aaron had given him one piece of operational advice: "You can't drive a normal car to a heist wearing that rig."
Herman couldn't exactly loiter outside the bank in full battle armor for an hour, either. So, they needed a truck. He had to sit in the back.
And somehow, Aaron had sourced an ice cream truck for the getaway. The vehicle was actively blasting a tinny, cheerful jingle on a continuous loop.
"Would you shut that damn music off?!" Herman yelled, slamming his heavy gauntlet against the metal partition.
The driver's voice crackled over the intercom. "Sorry, man! We don't know how to kill the speaker! It hard-boots when you turn the ignition!"
Their target was the Union Bank of New York. Horizon Labs stored high-level research materials in its vault. The boss, Wilson Fisk, wanted something specific from that vault. He needed the city's best lock-picker. Nobody fit the bill better than the Shocker.
The ice cream truck rolled up to the bank entrance, its cheerful melody echoing down the avenue. The Prowler and another thug hopped out of the cab. Surveillance cameras captured the two hooded men kicking open the glass double-doors. A shotgun blast echoed from inside. Glass rained down from the shattered lobby chandelier.
Herman dropped out of the back of the truck. His heavy boots slammed into the pavement. A web of cracks splintered through the concrete under his weight. He didn't even look down. He marched straight into the bank. His two accomplices already had the tellers on the floor.
"The Avengers will be here in three minutes, tops," the driver yelled at Herman. "Can you do this? Three minutes, one lock."
"More than enough," Herman growled. "Just point me to the right vault."
The bank manager pressed his thumb hard against the silent alarm button under his desk. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He watched the armored giant stomp across the marble floor. He recognized the yellow plating from the news broadcasts two days ago. It was the Shocker.
"Which safe belongs to Horizon Labs?" Herman asked.
The manager froze. He hadn't expected the Shocker to ask for a specific account. When he failed to answer immediately, Herman raised his right gauntlet. He triggered a localized shockwave. The blast pulverized the bulletproof glass partition into a cloud of white dust. Herman leaned casually through the empty frame.
"Which safe belongs to Horizon Labs?"
The manager scrambled upright and stumbled toward the back room. He led Herman to the reinforced safety deposit vault. Herman pressed his left gauntlet flat against the heavy steel door. The metal shrieked. It warped and buckled inward under the intense kinetic vibration. Herman grabbed the edge, ripped the door completely off its hinges, and tossed it to the floor. He peered into the lockbox.
He frowned. Was that... a glass fishbowl?
Why was Horizon Labs storing a fish tank in a bank vault?
Herman reached in and pulled the object out. It didn't feel like glass. The surface was made of some advanced, durable synthetic polymer. He tucked the strange, spherical object under his arm and marched back to the lobby.
"Got it," Herman said, tossing the object to Kingpin's men. "Let's move."
Aaron caught it, staring at it blankly. "Is this a fishbowl?"
"Ask the nerds at Horizon Labs," Herman muttered, rolling his eyes behind his visor. "Take the package and go. I'll draw off whatever Avengers show up. We split here."
The extraction went flawlessly. Herman triggered a massive downward shockwave. He launched himself out of the bank doors and bounded across the city skyline, cratering the asphalt with every landing. He intentionally left a highly visible trail of destruction for the Avengers to follow. Meanwhile, Kingpin's men quietly drove the actual loot back to Hell's Kitchen.
That afternoon, New York City experienced a four-hundred percent spike in bank robberies. The Shocker was involved in several of them. But until he actively deployed a shockwave, the police couldn't predict his targets. The Avengers were constantly one step behind.
"Alright, let's summarize. We have a human battering ram." Tony Stark slouched in his chair at the conference table. He stared at the holographic map of New York. Red markers dotted the grid like a virus. "Aside from incredible luck, there's one thing separating him from an actual piece of siege equipment. So far, no vault door on Earth can withstand his gauntlets."
Steve Rogers leaned over the table, rubbing his forehead. He let out a slow sigh.
Hank Pym focused on the stolen inventory. He noticed the Shocker had incredibly specific tastes. The stolen items were all technological prototypes and raw data. None of it was weaponry.
"And the sudden, massive spike in conventional bank robberies is obviously a smokescreen," Steve added. "They're masking the Shocker's actual targets. Most of these stolen items are experimental lab prototypes. A lot of them aren't even patented yet."
"Someone is hiring the Shocker to acquire emerging tech," Tony concluded. "Based on our psychological profile of Herman Schultz, he's an egomaniac. He wouldn't rely on outside tech to pull these jobs. And he definitely doesn't have the resources to orchestrate fifty simultaneous decoy robberies across the boroughs."
Steve pulled up a localized database. A list of New York's organized crime syndicates populated the screen. The Avengers didn't usually handle street-level mobsters, but they needed to find the Shocker's employer.
"Hammerhead, Tombstone, the Vipers..." Steve read off the names. "Do we have any hard suspects?"
A massive, broad-shouldered portrait slid across the holographic display.
Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin.
"It is an honor to have you with us, Mr. Schultz."
The undisputed emperor of Hell's Kitchen sat at the head of the table. A lavish spread of gourmet food and wine covered the mahogany surface. Wilson Fisk was a mountain of a man. He looked like a solid brick wall squeezed into a custom silk suit. Herman sat across from him, out of his armor. Even without the heavy plating, Herman felt incredibly small. He seriously doubted his hydraulic suit could match the sheer physical mass sitting across the table.
"Mr. Fisk, the honor is mine," Herman said. He watched Fisk effortlessly slice into a steak. "I grew up in Harlem. To people like us, you are..."
"Thank you." Fisk smiled thinly. He set his knife down, cutting Herman off. "I appreciate that you recognize my past..." He waved a massive hand dismissively. "...achievements. But we are entering a new era. The old methods of control are losing their efficiency. I need your unique skill set to unlock the doors of the future. I want to see what these geniuses are hiding from us."
Fisk clapped his hands together.
From the shadows of the dining room, the Prowler stepped forward. He placed the stolen "fishbowl" onto the corner of the table. Two more guards dragged a thin, terrified-looking man into the light.
"In this day and age, anything can perform miracles. Take this, for example," Fisk gestured to the sphere. "Care to explain, Mr. Beck?"
"Oh, right. Yes, of course, Mr. Fisk."
Quentin Beck pushed his glasses up his nose. He gestured nervously at the sphere, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "Everything we perceive visually is just light. Light reflection dictates our reality. So, theoretically, light is simply a malleable image. If we can manipulate the photonic particles..."
"Breathe, Mr. Beck," Fisk said smoothly. He cut into his salmon, gesturing for Herman to eat. "I am not a man of science. Let us speak plainly. What does this device actually do?"
"Right." Beck blinked rapidly, visibly sweating. "It's a projector. But it doesn't project onto a physical surface. It projects directly onto light particles in the air. It alters their state. If the technology is perfected, we can generate hyper-realistic, three-dimensional holograms anywhere. They will look completely real to the naked eye, but they won't actually exist..."
"Thank you, Mr. Beck. You may go rest."
Fisk waved a hand. The guards dragged the stammering scientist out of the room.
Fisk leaned forward, steepling his massive fingers. "Think of the possibilities, Herman. If my engineers can complete this projector, we dictate reality. We can make the public see exactly what we want them to see. We could project Spider-Man burning down a residential block. We could project the Avengers slaughtering civilians in a foreign country. People might question a printed rumor. But they will always believe what they see with their own two eyes."
Fisk smiled.
"Welcome to the new era, Mr. Schultz."