~Two days earlier~
Hell's Kitchen had been peaceful...
Ramon sat in his private office. Just three months ago, he had been an ordinary senior executive at Rand Enterprises, responsible for market operations and public relations.
But in the blink of an eye, he had risen to beco the nominal head of the company. The thrill of power and wealth was intoxicating.
"Yes, Mr. Wesley. I'll ensure the shipnt goes smoothly… We're currently in talks with Japan's Yashida Pharmaceuticals. They're very interested in Umbrella's genetic drugs… Correct, in two months, Rand Enterprises will dispatch a research team to Africa…" Ramon's tone was reverent.
It was hard to imagine the head of Rand Enterprises speaking with such humility, as if groveling before a superior.
Many at Rand Enterprises whispered that Ramon's rapid ascent was due to his talent for flattery and fawning, which had caught the eye of Hell's Kitchen's new elite, propping him up as a puppet.
Though envy and gossip swirled around him, Ramon was content. He wasn't an ambitious sche, just a man of diocre talent who had been lucky enough to be chosen by Mr. Wesley.
To him, living as a wealthy puppet was far better than his forr middle-class existence.
'Let the powerful play their gas. My job is to stay in line...' That was Ramon's philosophy.
Since Kingpin's assassination, Hell's Kitchen had cycled through several rulers before settling under the control of a true master.
Even the most well-connected informants knew little about this shadowy figure. He called himself King...
Jas Wesley, who now commanded all of Hell's Kitchen's gangs, referred to him as 'Boss'. The Hand's sole leader was also closely tied to him.
Those who dug too deep tended to vanish without a trace. The unspoken terror made King a taboo subject in Hell's Kitchen.
Now, money and violence ruled these streets. A web of corruption ensnared the entire neighborhood.
Rand Enterprises had beco Hell's Kitchen's largest hub...
On the surface, it thrived in international trade, its shipping empire expanding rapidly. Behind the scenes, it smuggled contraband for countless gangs; drugs hidden in toys, guns nestled among fruit, all tucked inside shipping containers at the docks.
Hell's Kitchen was the nucleus of a criminal empire, its influence spread through the city like a malignant growth.
Ramon hung up the phone and exhaled, then he gazed out at the city's glittering skyline from his dark office. Beneath the dazzling lights, sins festered unseen.
The nominal CEO pondered his evening plans. The underground casino run by the Japanese? Or the secret club owned by the Russian mob?
"Ramon Phillips." A hoarse voice jolted him from his thoughts.
Instinctively, Ramon reached for the panic button under his desk. But the intruder moved faster. A shadowy figure lunged forward, snapping Ramon's wrist with a sickening *crack*...
A hand clamped over Ramon's mouth, stifling his scream. The puppet CEO writhed in pain as his attacker erged from the darkness...
It was a towering demon clad in black, a blood-red 'DD' emblem emblazoned on his chest. Horns curled from his mask, and behind the lenses, were eyes that burned with hellfire.
"Ramon Phillips. You conspired with Jas Wesley. You know every illegal operation in Hell's Kitchen." The demon forced Ramon's head up, forcing him to et those flaming eyes.
"Tell everything. The blood money. The cris. Confess it all!" The growled words rolled like thunder.
Ramon trembled, too terrified to et that fiery gaze. Dread coiled in his gut.
"I don't… I don't know anything!" He gasped, suffocating under the pressure.
Even in his terror, Ramon feared the Hand's retribution more. Their ninjas showed no rcy to traitors. And it wouldn't just be him... his family would pay too. As a puppet, he knew how ruthless these people were.
"You shouldn't fear them…" The demon chuckled darkly, "You should fear ."
Flas erupted from the hollow eye sockets. The stench of sulfur filled the room as the demon hauled Ramon up, "Your sins demand judgnt! Your soul is stained with innocent blood. Feel their pain!"
Ramon tried to scream, but no sound ca out. The fire in his eyes seared his very soul, agony beyond comprehension wracking his body.
"You took bribes. Crushed new hires. Betrayed love for gambling and vice… Ramon Phillips, your cris are countless."
Hellfire scorched the sinner's soul. Matt Murdock, once more clad in the devil's armor, could see every transgression, each sin a chain dragging Ramon deeper into tornt.
With every accusation, the pain intensified, until his consciousness fled entirely.
"Jas Wesley." Matt dropped Ramon's smoking corpse and spoke the na.
The real estate mogul. Kingpin's forr right hand. The man who now ruled Hell's Kitchen's underworld...
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