The Transmigrator's Trail in a Certain American Comic Universe

After transmigrating into a low-level security job at the Fisk Group, he finds it is somehow a "fine" profession passed down from father to son.

But from the start, Kingpin is thrown in prison, leaving Hell's Kitchen a powder keg with a lit fuse. What is he supposed to do?

There is no future in a life of crime, and he has no other skills. All he can do is rely on the handful of minor abilities granted by the System and start with the simple things: first, get out of this powder keg.

And what about later?

He warmly welcomes custom gear, and he knows a thing or two about both one-on-one fights and group brawls.

But why has this universe gone off course? Will it plunge completely into the abyss, or break free of the shackles the abyss has imposed?

Since he wants to get by a little better, he might as well give this increasingly awful world a different kind of thrill~

[Written by a humble wage slave, entirely by hand. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.]