Let's see if Nick Fury catches Electro. But things turned out differently. By noon, there was still no update on the TV news, which left Blaine a little disappointed.

At noon, Blaine went to the racecourse again and had a meal of roasted horse meat. A few people, each with a bottle of Rémy Martin and a horse's leg in hand, drank and laughed. The feeling—let alone how enjoyable it was. Don't blame Blaine for being shameless; blame the horse meat for being too tempting.

The horse ran a few laps around the course, which counted as paying in disguise. Back at the villa, drenched in sweat, Blaine prepared for a long, hot bath. The TV was still on; he had forgotten to turn it off before leaving.

Just as Blaine was about to head to the bathroom, the picture on the TV caught his attention.

After an underwear commercial, the broadcast cut to a news rebroadcast. Normally, news programs on TV weren't repeated like variety shows. So what kind of news would be broadcast again?

Because Blaine hadn't been paying attention during the first airing, what he caught now was already halfway through.

On-screen was a building with an ambulance parked at the entrance. Police had surrounded the entire block, cordoning it off and locking the area down.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Pete the reporter. What you're seeing now is the Citicorp Building…"

"Just last night, there was a murder in Queens. The police didn't discover the victim's body until noon."

"The crime scene was in chaos, as if after a massive battle. Police found a cane-shaped dagger at the scene…"

"I once said that the underworld could operate like a business, with a leader and a board of directors—and that leader was Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin!"

"But today, it seems he was brutally murdered. Please follow our frontline personnel for more details…"

Blaine never expected the report to be about Kingpin. It seemed Daredevil had struck first. Fisk, who should have been a long-term target for Spider-Man, was actually killed by Daredevil.

Blaine had thought Electro would make the news first, but instead, Fisk was gone.

In truth, Blaine was opposed to Kingpin's death. His fall marked the collapse of an underworld empire.

This world had never lacked people with power—only leaders.

And Wilson Fisk had been a capable leader. Not because he was noble—every "great" figure stood on blood and corruption.

From a bounty hunter's perspective, it was simple. First, with Fisk dead, Blaine lost a wealthy patron. Second, the rest of the underworld would think twice before hiring him. After all, Kingpin had died just days after working with him. Criminals would see that as bad luck, even though Fisk's death was his own doing.

"Damn it, Fisk isn't just dead—he's taken my paycheck with him."

"The empire he built across the world, just gone like that???"

"How much money am I losing out on…"

Thinking of this, Blaine cursed the eighteen generations of Daredevil's ancestors.

"You couldn't just fight a mutant or chase down a bank robber? No, you had to pick Fisk. Who doesn't have a dead father?!"

(Blaine remembered: Daredevil's father, a boxer, was killed when he refused to throw a fight for Fisk's men.)

After the report, Blaine was about to turn off the TV and head to the shower when another, even more explosive story broke.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Blaine's eyes locked on the screen.

"This is insane… You've really done it."

The TV showed deafening explosions and crackling electric arcs. It was the largest nuclear facility in the United States—the Palo Verde Nuclear Power Plant in Arizona. An actual nuclear plant in flames. Explosions at a nuclear station—this wasn't just shocking news; it looked like the climax of a Hollywood blockbuster, and it was airing live.

The raging fire shot into the sky, staining the heavens red. Lightning arced within the blaze, each bolt massive and wild, like unleashed dragons. The silver-white currents were beyond arm-thick; they were catastrophic.

If a cow were thrown inside, it would instantly become roast beef. There couldn't be a living soul left in there.

Wait—no. Someone was there. Blaine's senses identified him immediately.

Electro. No wonder there'd been no news about him all night and morning—he had gone to Arizona and absorbed the energy of an entire nuclear power station.

Amid the firelight, his blue aura was blinding. His clothes had long since disintegrated—nothing could withstand such heat or billions of volts. At this point, Electro's strength was approaching seven or eight tenths of Thor's power, back when Thor was at his weakest.

And Thor—son of Odin—who could be compared to him? Certainly no one among the Avengers currently on Earth could match him outright.

"Nick Fury, Nick Fury… this is what it means to trip over your own cleverness. You're going to pay dearly this time."

Seeing Electro on the news, Blaine was oddly relieved. Carrying his bath supplies and a little plastic duck, he jumped into the bathroom.

As for Electro—Blaine didn't care what became of him. Even if the world was destroyed, unless someone paid him, he wouldn't interfere. A mere "king of electricity" meant nothing to him.

Even if Electro had absorbed a nuclear plant—hell, even if he was a nuclear plant—Blaine was confident he could destroy him. Compared to Thor at his peak—before Stormbreaker—Blaine still believed he could win, as long as the price was right.

Better to let Nick Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. test the waters. When Fury realized his mistake and came begging, that would be the time to profit.

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