At this point in history, Wilson Fisk had not yet been publicly exposed.
To ordinary civilians, he was still a philanthropist.
A businessman.
A generous public figure.
Not the Kingpin.
Not yet.
Which made Drex's new contract particularly transparent.
"Interesting," Drex muttered as he reviewed the file.
"Doesn't Fisk already have Bullseye?"
The answer was obvious.
Bullseye was either occupied...
Or Fisk wanted redundancy.
Alternatively, the target's former criminal associates may have been panicking, worried he'd expose more names under pressure.
Either way...
Someone with deep pockets desperately wanted the man dead.
And seven million dollars suggested urgency.
Drex reviewed the situation.
The target, Daichi, was currently imprisoned in a highly secure New York detention facility while awaiting court testimony.
Storming the prison?
Easy.
Too easy.
But flashy prison infiltration risked attracting unwanted attention from S.H.I.E.L.D.
Tomorrow's courthouse transfer would involve maximum police security.
Meaning...
Transit presented the standard assassination window.
But Drex disliked inefficiency.
Why wait?
Why complicate?
Why not simply solve the problem immediately?
Using Midnight Hotel logistics, Drex arrived in New York with trademark speed.
This time, he made a specialized purchase from Kayla:
A Barrett M82A1 anti-materiel sniper rifle.
Loaded with armor-piercing rounds.
Practicality mattered.
After all...
He could fly.
He had x-ray vision.
And prisons generally had roofs over individual sections...
But not always over every vulnerable angle.
That was enough.
Late at night, high above the city, Drex hovered in silence.
Invisible against darkness.
A predator suspended in the heavens.
Below, Daichi sat in isolated confinement, paranoid and sweating.
His solitary placement was intentional.
Authorities feared prison infiltration.
Bribed inmates.
Inside assassinations.
They had correctly anticipated danger.
Just not from above.
Drex peered through walls effortlessly.
"One prisoner. Isolated."
He adjusted slightly.
"Convenient."
His enhanced vision combined with sniper optics flawlessly.
He squeezed the trigger.
BOOM.
Daichi's head ceased to exist.
The .50 caliber round obliterated his skull entirely.
The body collapsed backward onto the prison cot.
White walls became abstract art.
Mission complete.
The following morning, NYPD Captain George Stacy arrived personally to retrieve the witness.
He brought substantial police presence.
What he found instead...
Was catastrophic.
"...What the hell?"
Stacy froze.
Daichi's corpse lay cold.
Headless.
Utterly beyond medical help.
The prison warden was visibly unraveling.
"That's impossible! We monitored everything!"
Sweat poured down his face.
The guards were equally horrified.
Internal corruption had been specifically accounted for.
No one had entered.
No one had left.
And yet...
The witness was dead.
Stacy's fury sharpened instantly.
"His head was blown apart."
He crouched near the remains.
"How did no one hear this?"
The deformed bullet fragment made things even worse.
This wasn't subtle poison.
This wasn't strangulation.
This was catastrophic ballistic trauma.
Stacy immediately ordered aggressive investigation.
Every guard.
Every staff member.
Every vulnerability.
Meanwhile, Midnight Hotel analysts were equally stunned.
They had assumed White Devil would strike during transport.
Perhaps a convoy ambush.
A precision roadside hit.
Something complex.
Instead?
He had simply sniped the target inside prison itself.
At night.
Without detection.
Questions spread rapidly:
How did he infiltrate?
How did he escape?
How was this even possible?
Only Drex knew the answer.
Flight.
Vision.
Overwhelming superiority.
Fisk himself was impressed.
Very impressed.
White Devil had delivered flawless results.
Quietly.
Efficiently.
Professionally.
It reminded Fisk of why he had originally recruited Bullseye.
Talent like this was rare.
Potentially invaluable.
Naturally, Fisk began exploring the possibility of recruitment.
Unfortunately for him...
Midnight Hotel had learned from prior experience.
Drex's personal information was now heavily classified.
Even Fisk would need time and significant leverage to uncover it.
Three Months Later
Drex returned home exhausted.
And richer.
Far richer.
His underground laboratory was filled with discarded prototypes.
Failed alloy blends.
Experimental armor shells.
Half-complete engineering disasters.
Any one of them would likely revolutionize conventional military technology.
But for Drex?
They were failures.
Today, however...
Everything changed.
After relentless experimentation, Drex had finally identified the optimal integration ratio between Kryptium and vibranium.
Which meant one thing:
Final production.
Using heat vision as an industrial forge, Drex superheated both exotic metals into liquid states.
Lacking specialized billion-dollar fabrication systems, he compensated the old-fashioned way:
By being absurdly overpowered.
His hands manipulated molten superalloys directly.
Five brutal hours later...
The result stood complete.
A masterpiece.
Solar Blacklight Armor
Matte black.
Non-reflective.
Aggressively elegant.
Visually, it looked like something between advanced alien wargear and apex-tier superhero intimidation.
Practicality merged with style.
Its properties were extraordinary:
Kryptium durability
Vibranium kinetic absorption
Solar energy storage
Integrated backup power reserves
Retractable forearm blades
Wolverine-inspired combat claws
Self-sustaining combat efficiency
Drex deliberately excluded ranged weapon systems.
He was the ranged weapon system.
And close-quarters supremacy remained more efficient.
The armor was biologically keyed.
Only Drex could use it properly.
Its power systems synchronized directly with his solar energy reserves, while an internal super-battery stored excess energy for emergency scenarios.
Why?
Because Drex had studied Superman's many historical failures.
Magic.
Red sunlight.
Energy depletion.
Preparation mattered.
If he were ever weakened...
This armor could restore battlefield parity instantly.
Perhaps even secure victory.
As Drex tested flight in the completed Solar Blacklight Armor, satisfaction settled deeply.
It worked.
Beautifully.
Still...
He was already thinking ahead.
"Needs more."
Naturally.
Because true paranoia and genius often danced together.
"What if heat vision is unavailable?"
He considered melee redundancy.
High-frequency blades.
Advanced close-combat enhancements.
Additional safeguards.
Kryptonian civilization had already mastered vibrational weapon technology, though most Kryptonians considered melee specialization beneath them.
Drex disagreed.
Overprepared was preferable to dead.
And so...
Even after creating one of the most advanced combat suits on Earth...
Drex was already planning upgrades.
Because overwhelming power was never static.
It evolved.