C44: Crisis
BOOM—
As expected, the first to be sent flying was the muscular Black man, none other than Big Ben Donovan, the enforcer infamous in Harlem's underworld for his ties to Kingpin and the Maggia.
His massive frame spiraled through the air like a wrecking ball, crashing into a crowd of gang members and toppling them like dominoes. Gasps erupted all around as Donovan flattened at least six men beneath him, his fall echoing like a car crash across the alleyway.
Watching the mayhem unfold, Willis Stryker, better known on the streets as Diamondback, barked out a furious command to the remaining gang members at his side.
"Get him! I don't care who he is—tear him apart!"
The remaining enforcers, associates of Diamondback's gang, some formerly affiliated with Tombstone and others loyal to Black Mariah roared in unison, raising pipes, machetes, and modified StarkTech taser batons. With bloodthirsty yells, they charged at Li Ran, who stood calm and unmoving at the eye of the storm.
Bang, bang—
But what rushed forward, rushed back even faster.
Channeling the raw kinetic energy of the Vajra King's Legs, a spiritual relic he'd drawn from the Prayer Order System, Li Ran launched into a blur of motion. One kick—one man down. Each blow sent hardened criminals flying like rag dolls, crashing into walls, dumpsters, or each other. Bones shattered audibly. One man coughed up blood mid-air; another landed with a leg bent the wrong way.
Among those launched into the air, one unfortunate was even sent flying headfirst into a wall tagged with an old Daredevil insignia, now smeared in crimson.
The brutal display stunned the few men still willing to advance. They halted, wide-eyed and shaking, the confidence drained from their faces. Though violence was their trade, none of them had signed up to fight a metahuman who could crush steel with his legs. One muttered a prayer to Brother Blood, while another tried to sneak away behind a dumpster marked with the Gotham Underground sigil.
But Diamondback wouldn't have it.
"You cowards!" he shouted, grabbing one of the cowering men, a young thug wearing a faded Hammer Industries vest and slapping him across the head. "You afraid of one yellow freak? Get your ass in gear!"
"Boss—Boss, I saw him take out Shark like he was nothing! That dude had arms like Colossus!"
"You think I care?!" Diamondback snarled, kicking the man backward and drawing a compact Glock modified with Oscorp internals. "If your fists are useless, then use this!"
The thugs hesitated no longer. Realizing Li Ran wasn't someone they could take down in a fistfight, the crew holstered their bats and crowbars and pulled out firearms—some standard Glocks, others black market weapons rumored to have been lifted from failed SHIELD drop points.
The atmosphere changed instantly. No longer a brawl, it had become a firing squad.
Li Ran's expression shifted. He stopped mid-step, instinctively aware that no amount of brute force from the Vajra King's Legs could outpace dozens of bullets. He could dodge a few, maybe even five or six but two dozen?
Impossible.
The system screen flickered in his vision. Despite the flurry behind the Harlem barber shop earning him a massive influx of Legend Points, he was still several hundred short of unlocking a [Black Iron Treasure Chest], which could've granted him a defensive skill like Luke Cage's bulletproof skin or Vigilante's reflex boost.
In this moment, he had a choice, waste his hard-earned legend on a lesser option, or get riddled with bullets like a second-rate villain in Blüdhaven.
"Damn it," he muttered. "Fine."
With resolve, he opened the System Menu and dumped 100 Legend Points into a [Wooden Treasure Chest]. The lowest tier, notorious for spawning impractical items like the Green Arrow's trick arrows or prank gadgets once used by Plastic Man.
But sometimes, absurdity saved lives.
Open chest.
Just then, a new voice echoed across the street.
"So many guns pointed at one guy? Bit excessive, don't you think?"
A towering figure stepped into view. Bald, barrel-chested, with a stoic calm that radiated danger. Dressed in a simple black tee, this was a man who had walked through Hell's Kitchen and left it standing.
Diamondback turned and squinted. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"Someone who doesn't like bullies," said Luke Cage, his voice calm and deep. "And I really don't like that word you just used."
"Oh, what—'nigger'? Cry me a river, Hero-for-Hire," Diamondback snarled, clearly recognizing the newcomer. "This ain't your business, Cage. Back off before you get hurt."
"You're disrespecting people. That's bad manners."
"You think I won't shoot?"
Diamondback raised his gun and fired.
Bang.
The bullet struck Luke Cage square in the chest. The sound was dull, like metal hitting stone. Cage didn't even flinch.
Behind him, Li Ran's eyes widened.
"Boss, he's still standing!" one of the men shouted.
Diamondback turned, stunned. "What?!"
The bullet had flattened against Luke Cage's skin, barely a scratch.
Now, things were about to get interesting.
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