Chapter 37 – The Fall of Greed

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Bullseye ran through the empty streets, his breath ragged, his heart pounding against his ribs. His hands—his mutilated, broken, desecrated hands—throbbed with agony… Again. The pain was unbearable, but his pride? That was worse.

He needed a doctor. He needed reinforcements. He needed out. And the only place he could think of? Damage Control. Anne Marie Hoag's base. The queen of land-grabbing, extortion, and the laundering of property stolen right out of the hands of New York's civilians.

It was close. It was safe. It had a helicopter to take him to the hospital. Halfway there, he heard it. Jack's voice, ringing out across the city once more. Declaring the second sin. Declaring war. Declaring that Kingpin's enforcers were gone.

Bullseye gritted his teeth. "Fucking lunatic..." The pain in his hands sharpened. No. This wasn't over. Not yet.

By the time Bullseye reached the towering Damage Control building, he felt like he was going to pass out.

The entire building was eerily quiet. No guards. No receptionists. No voices. Just a hollow silence that sent a deep unease crawling under his skin.

But he had no time for paranoia. He stumbled into the elevator, jabbing the button for the top floor—Anne Marie's office. As the elevator doors slid shut, he steadied his breath, rolling his shoulders. "Stay sharp."

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. Bullseye stepped forward, already speaking—"Get me a helicopter—"And then he froze.

Because inside, scattered across the office floor, were dozens of identical figures. Jack Hou. Some were sitting on desks. Some were playing cards. Some were digging through filing cabinets.

A few had Anne Marie's staff tied up, gagged, and stacked like a pile of dirty laundry. And all of them stopped what they were doing… to look at him.

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, one of the clones grinned and said, "Busted."

Bullseye's entire body went cold. His eyes darted across the room, calculating, measuring, searching for an escape. No. No way. This wasn't happening.

"Well, well, well," one of the Jacks said, lazily stretching his arms. "If it isn't Pinky-Promise McGee."

Bullseye stabbed the elevator button repeatedly, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Come on, come on. Close. Close. Close!"

The doors began to close. Almost there. Almost safe. Then—A staff shot between the doors, stopping them dead in their tracks.

Bullseye's breath caught in his throat. The staff—long, polished, and eerily alive—pushed the doors back open. 

And standing right there, grinning like a fox cornering its prey, was one of the many, many Jack Hou clones. "Going somewhere, champ?"

Bullseye scrambled back against the elevator wall. "Get off of me, you psycho!" he snarled.

The clone tilted his head. "Can you even fly a helicopter with just three fingers?"

Bullseye's breath stilled. His stomach twisted into knots. Jack walked into view, moving with a lazy, predatory ease. He reached into the elevator and picked Bullseye up—Like a goddamn kitten.

Bullseye felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over him.

Jack tilted his head, inspecting him like a child would a broken toy. "I'll give you the heli."

Bullseye tried to steady his breathing. "Yeah?" he forced out, voice shaking. "Then put me down and—"

Jack cut him off with a smirk. "But there's a fare, you know."

Bullseye's gut clenched. "Fine!" he snapped. "I'll give you all my wealth—"

Jack grinned wider. "I don't need your money."

And then—He grabbed Bullseye's hands. Bullseye's eyes widened in horror. Jack squeezed. And ripped.

Bullseye screamed. A guttural, animalistic wail of agony. Blood spurted from where his middle fingers used to be, dripping onto the pristine elevator floor.

Jack held up the severed fingers, admiring them like they were rare gemstones. "Man, you're just losing fingers left and right, huh?"

Bullseye collapsed onto his knees, clutching his ruined hands. His breath came in short, panicked gasps.

Jack sighed dramatically, patting Bullseye on the head like a scolded puppy. "C'mon, big guy. Let's go get you that helicopter."

The helipad atop the Damage Control building was empty, the cold wind howling through the night air. Jack dragged Bullseye forward, practically carrying him by the scruff of his neck.

A sleek black helicopter waited on the pad, its blades idle, its doors open. Bullseye stumbled forward, barely keeping himself upright. His vision blurred with pain. His breath was ragged.

Jack leaned in, whispering in his ear. "Now, now… if you crash, that's not my problem. But, it becomes mine if you crash on my territory, so I suggest you don't"

Bullseye staggered inside the cockpit, teeth clenched so hard he thought they might shatter. He forced himself into the pilot's seat, hands shaking violently. He reached for the controls. And then he froze.

His hands. No middle fingers. The muscle memory of flying was there, but the missing digits made everything feel foreign. Unstable. Bullseye realized, for the first time in his life, He was not in control.

Jack waved from the outside, grinning. "Happy travels!"

Bullseye glared at him, pure hatred burning behind his eyes. 

Jack waved his fingers—All ten of them.

The blades spun. The engine roared to life. With no other choice, Bullseye gritted his teeth, gripped the controls as best as he could, and took off into the night.

As the helicopter disappeared into the skyline, one of the Jack clones snorted. "Poor guy can't count to five now."

Another Jack cackled. "Barely passing grade for kindergarten."

The clones burst into laughter, their amusement echoing into the New York night. The real Jack is still on his way, so they wait for him.

"Alright, now where were we?" One of the clones turned toward Anne Marie Hoag. Still tied to her chair. Still staring at him with horror.

Jack cracked his knuckles. "Ah, right… the Greedy little landlord."

Ding.

The elevator chimed as the doors slid open. Jack Hou stepped out, his crimson hanfu still slick with drying blood, his golden eyes gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights.

A clone greeted him immediately, arms casually folded behind his back. "Everything's cleared," the clone reported. "We killed the meta on the ground floor, though."

Jack waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine." His gaze swept across the room, landing on the woman bound near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Anne Marie Hoag.

Her pristine suit was wrinkled, her face streaked with sweat, and the expensive heels she once stood tall in had been kicked off in her struggle. Around her, several of her right-hand men sat tied beside her, trembling like cornered rats.

Jack strolled forward, his steps slow and deliberate. "You know," he mused, tilting his head, "you're a fascinating little piece on Kingpin's board."

Anne Marie flinched.

Jack sighed dramatically.

"He's Pride, right? Pure, unshaken arrogance. The way he stands above everyone, convinced he's untouchable, his inflated self-importance, as if the city itself bends to his will? It's actually impressive. And you?"

He leaned down, resting his weight lazily on his staff.

"You're the fingers that pluck the gold from the hands of the desperate. The leech that sucks dry the land of those who bled to build it. You are Greed, Anne Marie Hoag. The embodiment of it. You don't just take—you hoard."

Anne Marie's breath hitched. "P-please," she whispered, voice trembling. "I—I can make a deal. I can give you everything. Money. Property. Influence. I... I can give you myself."

Jack's brow arched. "Huh?"

Anne Marie licked her lips, desperation twisting her face. "My body."

Jack blinked. "Excuse me?"

Anne Marie nodded furiously, her voice growing more frantic. "You can have me! You can have my subordinates, too! Just spare me!"

Silence.

Jack sighed. Then kicked her through the fucking window. Glass shattered as Anne Marie's scream pierced the night. Her body plummeted, disappearing into the abyss below.

For a brief second, there was only silence.

Then—

SPLAT.

Jack winced, shaking his head. "Damn, lady. At least try to die with some dignity."

The remaining subordinates froze in horror.

Then—"P-please!"

Jack turned his attention to the trembling woman beside them. A young secretary—blonde, probably in her early twenties—tears streaking her mascara.

"Spare me!" she pleaded. "I can be of use! You just got a new big territory, right? Let me help you handle it! I—I'll be your personal secretary!"

Jack's brow lifted, intrigued.

Then—"WHAT?!" The man beside her—a middle-aged, balding executive in a tailored suit—gaped at her in betrayal. "You're just a goddamn intern! I'm a director! I know how to run things!"

Then—"Me too! Please, I'm valuable—!" "I can handle logistics—!" "I was just following orders—!"

Jack sighed as the room descended into a pathetic chorus of pleas. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck.

Then his golden eyes gleamed. And he saw. The sins. Anne Marie's men weren't just real estate sharks. They squeezed struggling families dry, forcing them into foreclosure. They make the Tracksuit Mafia to "convince" the stubborn ones.

They laughed while mothers cried, while fathers begged, while children were thrown onto the street.

Jack's jaw ticked. Then he turned to his clones. "Fling 'em." One by one, screams filled the night as they were launched out the shattered window. 

Until only one remained. The same blonde secretary. Jack crouched, leveling his gaze with hers. Tears streaked her cheeks. But she didn't beg. Jack studied her for a moment.

Not completely clean, but… salvageable. Finally, he smirked. "Well, miss… you're gonna be real busy from now on."

The secretary choked back a sob, nodding furiously. "I—I understand! Thank you, thank you—!"

Jack's grin widened. "Oh, and don't think I trust you."

Her breath stilled.

Jack tilted his head. "One of my clones will follow you. Everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

The secretary shivered but nodded.

Jack sighed, standing up. He stretched his arms over his head, exhaling deeply. "Well, that takes care of Greed."

Jack stepped onto the shattered window's ledge, the cold wind whipping through his crimson hanfu, making the blood-soaked fabric flutter like a banner of war. The city stretched before him, endless and glistening, a tapestry of filth and greed woven into its very streets.

He breathed in deeply.

Then—He flung himself forward.

His staff extended in an instant, the golden metal spiraling through the air as he soared downward, twisting and flipping before landing gracefully atop the hovering pole.

From this height, he could see the entire Damage Control sector—the core of Kingpin's greedy empire.

The piles of stolen land. The countless buildings taken from desperate families. The legacy of a tyrant who hoarded everything, leaving nothing but scraps for those beneath him.

Jack balanced effortlessly on the tip of his staff, then let his golden eyes blaze like twin stars.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised the staff.

Then—

He struck the air. The impact sent a visible ripple through the night, a shockwave of golden energy cascading outward like a tidal wave, crashing into the city below.

Wherever his energy touched, a golden barrier began to spread—glowing veins of power carving through the streets, encasing the entire Damage Control sector in an ethereal light.

The people on the ground gasped. Some ran in terror. Others dropped to their knees, watching in awe as the barrier rose, stretching into the sky like a divine decree.

Then—His voice boomed. "KEKEKEKEKEKE!"

His laughter echoed across Hell's Kitchen, crawling into every alleyway, shaking the very foundations of Kingpin's empire.

And then—"WELL, LOOKS LIKE I HELD MY WORD, KINGPIN. WE MEET AGAIN."

The night trembled with his declaration. Jack tilted his head, his grin widening as if he could feel Wilson Fisk's rage from miles away.

"YOU THINK YOU COULD SWALLOW THIS CITY WITH YOUR FILTHY GREED? STEAL FROM THE DESPERATE? GORGE YOURSELF ON THE BONES OF THE WEAK?"

His staff pulsed, sending another wave of golden energy rippling outward, reinforcing the barrier.

"BUT LIKE ALL HOARDERS, YOU DIDN'T REALIZE SOMETHING IMPORTANT."

The city seemed to hold its breath. Jack's smile widened, his golden eyes gleaming.

"THE MORE YOU TAKE, THE MORE YOU LEAVE BEHIND."

The barrier solidified, the golden glow seeping into the very foundations of the buildings, as if cleansing them of their corrupt past. Jack stood tall, balancing on his hovering staff as he spread his arms wide.

"AND NOW—"

His voice carried through every street, every alley, every shadowed corner of Hell's Kitchen.

"GREED HAS BEEN VANQUISHED."

With that, the third sin of Kingpin fell.

…

The city buzzed with whispers, with fear, with something dangerously close to hope.

For the fourth time, Jack Hou had taken a piece of Kingpin's empire. And for the fourth time, Wilson Fisk had lost a part of himself.

The golden peach continued to spread, and the tyrant who once ruled Hell's Kitchen found himself bleeding power, little by little, with no way to stop it.

Jack stood on his staff, basking in the weight of his own declaration, before casually scratching his head.

"Alright, that's enough drama for tonight."

He tilted forward, letting gravity take him as he plummeted toward the streets below—And with a blur of motion, he was gone.

**A/N**

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