Kamen Rider ZZZ, the American comic book spiritual mentor

Harris was sweating profusely, and before he could think any further, a sound came from the ventilation duct.

"Who is it?" Harris pointed his pocket pistol in the direction of the voice.

No one answered.

After a few seconds, a deep voice rang out: "Harris, hand over the ledger and keys you have, and you can leave safely. But if you try anything funny, I'm sure tonight will be a long night for you."

The voice was deep and steady, electronically processed, carrying a penetrating and oppressive quality.

Harris's hands trembled slightly at the precision of the EMP attack and the stealth of the infiltration.

The worst part was that the second floor was completely dark, and the guards he was lying in wait nearby did not come up.

Are they all dead?

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Harris forced himself to calm down, pretending not to understand in order to buy time.

But that entity didn't give him any chance; the cold, electronic voice continued to ring out.

"Don't try anything funny, Mr. Harris. You're a smart man. I'll just count to ten."

"The ledger is encrypted. You don't have the key, so even if you had it, it wouldn't be of any use to you."

"nineteen..."

"No, no, no, the ledger's key is biometric; it only has my fingerprint..."

The cold voice paused for a moment, then rang out again: "This is my matter, Seven..."

“Mr. Fisk will never let you get away with this. You know nothing about him!” Harris’s voice grew increasingly menacing.

"This is still my matter, five..."

This countdown is like the footsteps of death, drawing ever closer.

Harris could tell that the owner of the voice was definitely not joking with him, and that if he refused, the consequences would be dire.

Especially when faced with this unknown entity in the darkness, the fear in my heart seemed to be magnified countless times.

Will he die as Kingpin's follow-up punishment, or will he die tonight at the hands of the mysterious man? It doesn't seem like a difficult choice.

Harris threw the pistol away: "I'll hand it over, but you have to guarantee my safety! I'm leaving New York, no, I'm leaving America!"

The countdown stopped, and the voice came again: "A wise choice, Mr. Harris. Take the thing out, put it on the ground, and then squat down with your hands behind your head."

Harris did as instructed, took out a metal box from a hidden compartment, gritted his teeth, and registered his fingerprints and iris scans.

Then, with a click, a small USB drive was revealed.

He put the things on the ground and, groping in the dark, crouched down in a corner with his head in his hands.

"Can you guarantee my safety?" Harris asked, trembling.

No one answered, then a hissing sound came from the electrical circuit and the lights came on.

Harris suddenly stood up and saw that the room was empty and everything was unchanged except for the empty metal box, proving that what had just happened was not an illusion.

He collapsed to the ground, filled with terror. Fisk wouldn't let him get away with this!

He must leave quickly!

Harris didn't notice that deep inside the ventilation duct, a pair of red compound eyes were watching him leave.

Lin Nan watched Harris flee in panic, sneered, and slid out along the other end of the ventilation duct, flying between skyscrapers and disappearing from sight.

The objective at point A has been achieved; the rest is up to Parker and Daredevil.

While Lin Nan was taking action, Spider-Man hung upside down above the warehouse, his keen eyes beneath his mask observing everything below.

Although the warehouse appeared to be just a pile of junk, the slight stinging sensation the spider felt upon entering told him that things were not so simple.

Peter quickly calculated the time, then flicked his wrist, and spider silk shot out from the cavity, coated with a faint blue electric light after being processed by the spider silk emitter.

With a few soft popping sounds, several clumps of spider silk covered the sensors and alarms.

A crackling sound of electricity rang out, and the screen in the corner of the warehouse went black in an instant.

The guards, who were dozing off, were instantly alerted.

"How is this going?"

"Alert! Something's happened!"

As the guards were alerted, Spider-Man leaped down from the sky, his body nimbly flipping and countless spider webs shooting out.

The white spider silk precisely stuck to the wrists and ankles of several guards, and then suddenly pulled!

Several guards were pulled by the immense force, lost their balance, and fell to the ground. Then their hands were entangled in spider silk, rendering them unable to move.

Even its mouth was covered with spider silk, so it couldn't make a loud shout.

Peter ignored the guards and used his spider web to swing down to the pile of debris and began rummaging through it.

After prying open the top layer of trash, they found rectangular boxes.

After being smashed open with a punch, the weapons inside were revealed: an automatic rifle, and neatly stacked bullets and grenades.

It really is weaponry, and there's quite a lot of it!

Peter's pupils contracted; this place was indeed not simple, with so much weaponry.

Then he took a few photos with the camera built into his headgear, and without hesitation, he cast out a spider web that stuck to the roof, ready to jump out of the window!

However, the moment his body dangled in mid-air and he lost all leverage, the hairs on his body stood on end, and his spider senses went off like crazy.

Peter instinctively flicked out another spider silk, using its elasticity to forcefully turn his body.

Bang!

A dull gunshot rang out, grazing his lower back and striking the old oil drum, sending sparks flying!

There's a sniper! The timing was perfect!

Peter's heart tightened, and he shot out a series of spider silks, using his superb physical strength and flexibility, along with his spider senses, to dodge continuously in the air.

After dodging two precise bullets, Peter attached two strands of spider silk to the ventilation window, and with a forceful push of his hands, his entire body nimbly sprang out.

With a body carrying the terrifying elasticity of spider silk, it smashed open the ventilation ducts, clearly found its way through the intricate network of pipes, kicked open the exit outside the house, and jumped down.

As he was about to land, Peter did not hesitate; he swung on his web and leaped away from the area.

Chapter 41 Results

Spider-Man used his mobility to escape quickly, controlling his surging adrenaline, and swung rapidly toward the agreed-upon escape point.

Meanwhile, in Hell's Kitchen, in another warehouse storing seafood, Daredevil lurks in the shadows, wielding a short stick and wearing the uniform left to him by his father.

He bypassed the guards and crouched in a corner of the warehouse. His powerful radar senses penetrated the walls, capturing everything nearby.

The warehouse did indeed contain a large amount of seafood, but underground, there was a completely different world.

In the basement, several people were busy loading small metal boxes onto a refrigerated truck.

The contents of the metal box, in Daredevil's perception, exhibited a kind of energy-absorbing behavior, unlike ordinary weapons or metal.

Kingpin's shadow certainly extends beyond drugs and traditional arms.

Daredevil listened quietly to everything.

"Hurry! Mr. Locke said this shipment must be shipped tonight."

"What exactly is this batch of goods? Why is the boss taking it so seriously?"

"Shut up and just do your work!"

The Locke they were referring to, who was Kingpin's manager in charge of the distribution of special items, was standing at the entrance, holding a satellite phone.

Daredevil made no move; his mission for the night was to monitor the situation and, if necessary, prevent the cargo from being moved.

If Lin Nan and Spider-Man's operation goes smoothly enough, Locke might not receive the news.

But things didn't go as planned, and Locke's satellite phone rang.

He pressed the answer button, and after listening for only a few sentences, his expression changed drastically.

"What? Harris is missing, and the warehouse was attacked by Spider-Man?"

"Okay, I'll move right away!"

He hung up the phone and shouted sternly, "Speed ​​up, load it up and get out of the city!"

His subordinates immediately sped up their work.

Matt's head twitched slightly. It seemed there were still things they didn't know about Kingpin's internal network. They had to act immediately to stop them from transferring the shipment.

Without further hesitation, he transformed into a streak of red lightning and, under the cover of the container's shadow, rushed straight towards the entrance passage.

The small door to the passage was ajar, and a guard was peering out.

Matt, holding a short stick, silently tapped the guard on the back of the neck, his strike precise and effective.

The guard's body went limp and he fell to the ground. Matt caught him with his hand and helped him land slowly to avoid making a sound.

With his radar senses fully activated, he could clearly delineate the location of each person through his unique perspective.

Daredevil is like a hunter in the dark, always able to inflict heavy damage before his opponents even notice him.

Short, sharp thuds echoed through the passageway. Within twenty seconds, several guards lay unconscious on the ground in the passageway leading to the basement.

He could already hear the car engine roaring; he couldn't delay any longer.

He rushed to the metal door, channeled all his muscle power into his legs, and kicked off forcefully.

The heavy metal door was kicked inwards and severely deformed. Then Daredevil slammed it with his shoulder, causing the metal door to fall to the ground and kick up a cloud of dust.

Lodek and his two henchmen stared in horror at the red demon bursting through the door, and at their fallen comrades lying on the floor outside the passage.

"Daredevil!" Matt exclaimed, grabbing the submachine gun beside him in an instant and pulling the trigger.

But Matt was clearly faster; he darted out and struck Locke's palm precisely with his short stick.

The submachine gun slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.