Villain In MCU

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Franklin drove the lead car, and Jason sat in the back seat, picking up the satellite phone from the car.

"Hey! Stan!" He said.

DEA Headquarters, New York.

Stan answered the phone, initially surprised, then exclaimed with excitement, "Jason! Great! You finally came out!"

Jason smiled and replied, "I have to thank you for this! Franklin told me you hired these mercenaries at a high price and emptied your small coffers over the years."

Stan laughed, "This is what I should do! But remember, that money is a loan, so make sure you pay me back. I'm counting on it for my retirement."

Jason chuckled and teased, "Don't worry! I never like owing favors. I'll pay you back right now. Stan, do you want to know where Kingpin and the missing supplies are hidden?"

Stan, eager, quickly asked, "Where? I searched for a long time but couldn't find them."

Jason replied, "That old man, Kingpin, pulled a trick and hid the truth in plain sight. The supplies never left New York. He hid 17 containers of illegal goods at the Port of New York! Not only that, he's dealing weed with the Mexicans there. If you move fast enough, you might catch him red-handed!"

"Seventeen containers! Great! If the information is correct, we're even now," Stan exclaimed, thrilled.

Stan hung up the phone and rushed out of his office.

Today was the last day of the Franklin Fables explosion operation.

Most police officers in New York were out patrolling the streets, rigorously checking pedestrians. Even the DEA, which served as backup, was fully armed and on standby.

"Urgent action! Urgent action!" Stan shouted as he ran through the building, rallying the officers.

Stan's deputy, the assistant director of the DEA, rushed over and asked, "Emergency operation? Did Jason show up?"

Stan waved him off and said, "Forget about Jason! I just got a tip from an informant. A major ecstasy deal is going down at the Port of New York. Gather all DEA officers and head to the Port now!"

His deputy, understanding the urgency, quickly got to work organizing the response.

"You, you, and you—follow me!" Stan called to his trusted team, leading them toward the armed helicopter waiting on the roof.

"Stan, put on your bulletproof vest!" One of his men said, tossing him the body armor as they ran.

On the rooftop, armed helicopters were already on standby. As soon as Stan and his team boarded, the helicopter took off at high speed toward the New York Harbor.

The Port of New York, one of the largest seaports in the world, lies at the mouth of the Hudson River in Manhattan, facing the Atlantic Ocean. With an annual throughput of 160 million tons, the docks are always busy, even in the early hours.

A small cargo ship had just completed unloading and was about to leave the port, but the cargo it offloaded wasn't leaving; instead, it was driven into a remote warehouse by a heavy truck.

Inside the warehouse, two groups of large men in black stood guard—over 200 people in total. Their imposing figures and sharp eyes marked them as far from ordinary dock workers.

On one side stood the seller of this batch of ecstasy: a Mexican drug lord. On the other side, the king of New York's underground: Kingpin.

Kingpin sat on a sofa, leaning on a cane and smoking a Cohiba cigar. He glanced at his phone but noticed that Wesley still hadn't called back, his face showing signs of doubt.

He should have heard back by now, whether the deal had gone through or not.

Looking outside at the heavy rain, Kingpin felt a sinking sense of unease. A nagging thought crept into his mind—tonight's transaction might not go as smoothly as planned.

The heavy truck pulled into the warehouse, and the drivers jumped off, opening the container doors.

"Please, come in." The Mexican drug lord gestured to Kingpin.

Kingpin nodded, and several of his men entered the container to inspect the goods.

The inspection took some time, but neither of the two bosses showed impatience. This was a significant deal, and no one could afford to make a mistake.

After about 20 minutes, the goods were approved, and Kingpin promptly transferred the balance to the drug lord's Swiss bank account.

Switzerland's Banking Secrecy Act, established in 1934, allows financial institutions there to refuse government scrutiny of customer accounts. This law has made Swiss banks a haven for corrupt officials, wealthy individuals, and gangsters like Kingpin. People involved in illegal activities often have several bearer accounts in Swiss banks.

Kingpin, unlike Jason, who preferred cash, preferred to do business through these secure channels.

A few minutes later, the drug lord checked his account and confirmed the money had arrived.

"Here's to a successful partnership." The drug lord said, standing up to shake hands with Kingpin.

Suddenly, the sound of helicopter blades whirring filled the air outside the warehouse.

One of the drug lord's men rushed in, panic-stricken, "Boss, we have a problem! There's a helicopter hovering over the port!"

The drug lord frowned, "Did you see clearly? Is it a civilian helicopter, or an armed one? Any markings?"

The man panted, replying, "It's an armed helicopter! There's a DEA logo on the side."

The drug lord's face immediately darkened. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Kingpin.

"Damn it! So you're an undercover cop."

The guns of Kingpin's men came up in unison, and the two sides turned hostile.

Kingpin's eyes narrowed, and he glared at the drug lord, replying coldly, "If I were an undercover cop, the helicopter would have come straight for us, not for you. Why would I have paid you the balance?"

The drug lord paused, thinking it over. It made sense.

"Okay, so what now?" He asked, looking a bit flustered.

In Mexico, he could bribe anyone from politicians to street patrols, but in the U.S., things were different.

Kingpin, however, remained calm, "Don't panic. We'll all change into dock workers' uniforms, then scatter and leave the port."

"What about the goods?" One of his men asked.

"They're stored in the warehouse. There are hundreds of warehouses and thousands of containers at the Port of New York. They won't be able to check them all." Kingpin replied.

The two groups quickly changed into work clothes and fled out of both the front and back exits of the warehouse.

Meanwhile, aboard the attack helicopter, Stan scanned the ground through binoculars.

His associate said, "Boss, the port's so big, and there are so many people. How can we tell which container has the weed and who the drug dealers are?"

Stan put down the binoculars, frowning as he thought. To hide seventeen containers, Kingpin would need a private warehouse in a remote part of the port. However, Kingpin had rented the warehouse under someone else's name, so it couldn't be found in the internal system.

Stan decided to think like Kingpin. If he were Kingpin, he'd choose a warehouse in a remote area with access to roads for cars, woods for a quick getaway, or residential areas with complex populations.

He pulled up Google Maps and searched the harbor.

"Found it!" Stan exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he pointed to an area on the map.

"Quick! Fly over there!" He ordered.

The pilot quickly steered the helicopter toward the designated location.

Stan and his team took out their binoculars, activating night vision mode as they searched for any suspicious activity on the ground.

"Stan! We found our target! There are about two hundred people!"

The pilot had spotted numerous heat signatures outside a warehouse.

"Stan, are these people drug dealers? They're all wearing work clothes. Maybe they're just dock workers having a party."

Stan raised his binoculars and scanned the area. He hesitated, then said uncertainly, "Probably."

"Should we arrest them, then? If we're wrong, it could hurt your career."

Stan's face grew serious as he weighed his options. If they were drug dealers, this would be his big break. But if they were just workers, his political enemies would use it to destroy his career.

He didn't know what to do.

"Stan, give the order! Someone's getting ready to leave the harbor!" His associate urged.

Stan's mind hardened, "No matter what happens, I'll take responsibility. Let's move in!"

He made the call, and the helicopter began descending. The pilot used the loudspeaker to address the crowd below.

"Attention! We are from the DEA. We suspect you're involved in marijuana smuggling. Stop immediately for inspection."

As the helicopter's message echoed through the air, the crowd below froze.

Just then, a loud explosion rocked the air. A missile with a trailing flame sped toward the helicopter!

"Watch out! RPG!" Stan yelled.