Chapter 59: The Gift, Testing the Arm

Meanwhile.

In Hell's Kitchen, New York, inside an ordinary, completely unremarkable safehouse.

A refined-looking man currently had his wrists locked in mechanical restraints.

His head was firmly fixed facing forward, his eyes held open by special brackets, and sight-blocking panels were placed on either side of his head so that he could only look straight ahead, forced to watch the constantly flashing, dazzling patterns without a single moment of rest.

At this moment, another man dressed in a suit, with elegant and gentlemanly manners, stood next to the machine restraining the refined man and spoke in a gentle tone.

"Obedience brings reward."

"Are you willing to submit now, Wesley?"

At this point, if anyone with knowledge of CIA history during the Cold War were present, they would instantly recognize this as brainwashing techniques akin to Project MK-Ultra.

And right now, the person strapped to the machine and undergoing brainwashing was none other than James Wesley, once Wilson Fisk's most trusted confidant.

Yet, despite previously holding a position of unrivaled power second only to the kingpin of New York's underground criminal world, he was now reduced to a stray dog, subjected to arbitrary torment.

Even so, Wesley still seemed unwilling to surrender his loyalty to the Kingpin.

"Shut your mouth! I will definitely avenge Wilson!"

Seeing this, the elegant man smiled indifferently.

"Very well, but as it happens, I have plenty of time."

With that, he ignored the grit-teeth perseverance of Wesley, turned around, and left the enclosed room.

Once he stepped outside, another young woman, seemingly a subordinate of the elegant man, carefully stepped forward and asked with a puzzled expression.

"Sir, those remaining forces left behind by the Kingpin seem to us to be..."

The young woman actually wanted to say insignificant, but after a brief moment of hesitation, she chose to rephrase her words.

"They seem like something we could easily take over. Why would the master go to such great lengths to control such a small person?"

As she spoke, the woman subconsciously glanced back toward the 'brainwashing room', as if she held complete contempt not only for Wesley inside, but even for the former Kingpin himself.

However, the elegant man did not seem to mind his subordinate's attitude, merely offering a soft and gentle explanation.

"You must remember, people are always what matters most. Those lingering forces of Wilson Fisk are indeed insignificant, but this subordinate of his is truly a talent."

Pausing slightly, the man looked back toward the 'brainwashing room' once more before breaking into a smile.

"Besides, this wasn't prepared for myself. He is simply... a rather well-timed gift."

With those final words, the man strode away, leaving behind the bewildered female subordinate.

...

A week passed in the blink of an eye.

Contrary to everyone's expectations.

Far from developing in a positive direction after losing the Kingpin, Hell's Kitchen found itself plunged into continuous chaos, as if the absence of its most oppressive crime lord left the entire neighborhood in perpetual turmoil.

Luca's actions that single night felt akin to igniting a long-dormant powder keg.

Vengeance, bloodshed, and territorial disputes plunged large and small gangs—who had never been on particularly good terms—into absolute madness.

Even though the NYPD had repeatedly dispatched the ESU (Emergency Service Unit) to assist local precinct commanders in suppressing the violence, and had even shamously summoned major gang leaders for private individual warnings, the moment the suppression forces withdrew, these gang thugs would once again escalate and expand conflicts over the most absurdly trivial frictions.

It was as if these people were no longer fighting for material gain, but simply sought to utterly destroy the entirety of Hell's Kitchen.

During this past week in Hell's Kitchen, crimes like theft and fraud practically ceased to exist.

Whenever a police dispatcher picked up a call, it invariably reported an ongoing shooting.

By now, these gang riots were even showing subtle signs of spilling outward beyond the borders of Hell's Kitchen.

The police officers, already overwhelmed by the aftermath of the Battle of New York, were beginning to consider petitioning municipal authorities to deploy the National Guard to intervene and restore order.

Yet, the ultimate culprit behind all of this chaos.

Luca was currently spending his time quite leisurely at home.

Well... calling it 'leisurely' was somewhat of an exaggeration, since Luca was, in fact, currently 'getting beaten up' in his own backyard.

In the courtyard of the Orantes family villa, Dunshan, whom Luca had asked to spar with him in hand-to-hand combat, looked at Luca sitting flat on the ground and said with mild embarrassment.

"Young master, actually, I still think the previous prosthetic arm of the realistic type suited you better."

Dunshan, who had been busy outside all these days, simply could not understand why his young master had chosen to modify the mechanical arm given to him by Tony Stark into its current appearance.

How should he put it, anyway?

Dunshan always felt that this mechanical arm looked rather strange...

Especially when the arm trembled up and down!

Meeting Dunshan's peculiar gaze, Luca, who had just been tossed to the ground by his sparring partner, patted his rear end and stood back up with a helpless expression.

'I'd love to use a realistic prosthetic arm too! But I don't have the capability!'

Of course, what Luca wished for was simply to modify his existing arm into a lifelike prosthetic. To actually abandon this arm and revert to using the 'low-end merchandise' manufactured by Stark was something he was hardly willing to do.

At this moment, as the entire mechanical arm vibrated up and down, it immediately began to emit a verdant, translucent glow.

To onlookers, this radiance might look like nothing more than a playful lighting effect added for comedic value.

In reality, however, Luca could feel the pain in his body caused by Dunshan's takedown rapidly fading away.

Even the muscle soreness accumulated from their prolonged sparring session was recovering at an astonishing pace.

Indeed, this was the core ability of the mechanical prosthesis named [Sweet Captive] that Luca had finished synthesizing over the past few days.

Whenever the arm began to tremble, a stream of healing energy would slowly mend the injuries on Luca's body.

In fact, Luca had even tested it privately in secret.

Even severe piercing wounds from blades, as long as he continued to shake the arm for treatment, could ultimately recover completely.

Furthermore, Luca had a vague sensation that if he were willing to sacrifice the arm entirely as a price, it could trigger a massive burst of instant healing for severe trauma.

Naturally, unless forced into absolute desperation, Luca would never commit such a wasteful act.

Moreover, the reason this prosthesis satisfied Luca so thoroughly went far beyond its mere healing properties.

Seeing Luca rise to his feet, he flexed his arm once more.

Then, he motioned toward Dunshan standing before him and spoke softly.

"Again!"