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Chapter 1: Breaking Ground
Luke Cage liked to think of himself as a patient man. Harlem had tested that patience plenty of times, and more often than not, he’d kept his cool. But some things got under his skin.
Tonight, it was the 13th Street Syndicate.
The gang had been running drugs, extorting shop owners, and using a block of tenement buildings as their personal fortress. The cops couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do anything about it. The people living there were too scared to speak up. But Luke had seen enough.
So had Ben Grimm.
“Y’know,” Ben rumbled as he rolled his massive stone shoulders, “back in the day, I’d just let Reed come up with some egghead way to handle this. Some kinda—whaddaya call it—non-violent solution.”
Luke adjusted his hoodie. “Yeah? And what’s different now?”
Ben cracked his knuckles. “I ain’t Reed.”
Luke smirked. “That makes two of us.”
They stood at the edge of the block, taking in the sight. A row of run-down buildings, windows either boarded up or cracked from neglect. Streetlights flickered weakly, barely pushing back against the night. Somewhere nearby, a car stereo blasted bass-heavy music, but the streets themselves were quiet. Too quiet.
Luke had spent enough time cleaning up messes like this to know what that meant: the Syndicate was watching.
“They know we’re here,” Luke said.
“Good,” Ben muttered. “Saves us the trouble of knockin’.”
They started walking, side by side.
The two of them weren’t just strong—they were tanks. Luke Cage moved with the quiet confidence of an unbreakable man, his broad shoulders cutting through the dim light. Ben Grimm, the ever-lovin’, blue-eyed Thing, walked like a wrecking ball in slow motion, every heavy footstep cracking the sidewalk.
Most fights in Harlem didn’t get this kind of entrance.
A few gang lookouts lingered on the stoops of the tenements, whispering urgently into phones, their heads on swivels. One kid—a scrawny guy, barely old enough to shave—stepped out in front of them, arms spread.
“This ain’t your business,” he said, voice shaking slightly.
Luke stopped. Tilted his head. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Real sure.”
Ben exhaled. “Kid, you don’t wanna do this.”
The kid swallowed hard. He had a gun. Luke could see the bulge in his hoodie pocket.
“Go home,” Luke said.
The kid hesitated.
“You don’t wanna get in the way of this,” Ben added. “Ain’t gonna go well for ya.”
For a long second, the kid wavered. Then he took a slow step back, hands raised. He turned and jogged away, disappearing down the street.
Ben grunted. “One down.”
Luke sighed. “Wish they all had that much sense.”
They reached the first building. A rusted-out security gate covered the front door, chained shut.
Luke flexed his fingers. “Want me to do the honors?”
Ben smirked. “Be my guest.”
Luke grabbed the thick chain, wrapped it around his fist, and yanked. The metal links groaned and snapped, falling away like cheap plastic. He pulled the gate open, and the two of them stepped inside.
A moment later, the gunfire started.
Chapter 2: The First Knock
The first building was a rundown apartment complex that the Syndicate used as a stash house. It stank of old sweat, spilled beer, and burnt chemicals—probably cheap meth or worse. The air was thick with the kind of hopelessness that clung to places like this.
Luke walked up to the steel door, pressed his palm against it, and—without even bracing himself—ripped it clean off its hinges. The heavy slab of metal screeched as it tore away, crashing onto the floor inside like a war drum announcing battle.
A wave of gunfire met them immediately.
“Idiots,” Ben muttered, stepping in front of Luke. The bullets hit his rocky hide, sparking off uselessly like they’d just tried to shoot a damn mountain.
Luke, arms crossed, tilted his head. “They still haven’t figured out this don’t work on us?”
Ben sighed. “Kids these days.”
Then, with a stomp that cracked the floorboards, he lunged forward.
The first guy—a wiry thug in a ski mask—tried to run. Bad idea. Ben grabbed him by the collar, spun, and tossed him straight through a second-story window.
Luke grabbed another by the wrist and squeezed. The gun clattered to the floor.
“How many times I gotta say it?” Luke sighed. “Guns don’t work on me, man.”
The room erupted into chaos. Syndicate thugs scrambled for weapons, but there was nowhere to run.
Ben caught one by the ankle as he tried to slip past. “Where do ya think you’re goin’?” He spun and chucked him into a couch, snapping it in half.
Gunfire rang out again. Ben stomped once, hard. The whole damn staircase collapsed.
Luke dusted off his hands. “That’s one way to handle it.”
Ben shrugged. “Ain’t buildin’ code, but it works.”
They turned toward the next stairwell.
“How many more floors?” Luke asked.
Ben flexed his fingers. “Three.”
Luke cracked his knuckles. “Then we’re just getting started.”
Chapter 3: The Harder They Fall
One floor down. Two to go.
The second floor had a dozen more Syndicate thugs, and for a moment, it almost seemed like they had a plan. A barricade of furniture was set up at the end of the hallway, and Molotov cocktails sat lined up on a table.
“Now that,” Ben said, “is cute.”
A bottle came flying toward them, but before it could explode, Luke caught it in midair.
With a single flex of his fingers, he crushed the glass in his hand, letting the flames flicker uselessly against his heat-resistant skin.
“You gotta try harder,” Luke said, shaking off the shards.
The barricade? That lasted all of five seconds. Ben charged it like a wrecking ball, wood and drywall exploding outward as he plowed through.
The thugs barely had time to react before he was on them.
One guy raised a baseball bat. Ben let him swing. The bat snapped in half against his thick hide, the impact doing more damage to the guy’s hands than to Ben himself
Another Syndicate member pulled out a crowbar and took a wild swing at Luke’s ribs. Luke barely reacted. “You serious?” he asked.
The guy tried again. This time, Luke caught the crowbar mid-swing, yanked it out of the thug’s hands, and bent it into a pretzel. Then he shoved the guy back so hard he flew ten feet and crashed into an overturned couch.
Ben was already moving to the next group. A bigger guy, maybe six-four and built like a linebacker, came at him swinging.
“Okay,” Ben said, cracking his neck, “I respect the effort.”
The thug punched Ben in the jaw. A solid hit. Didn’t do a damn thing.
Ben grinned. “My turn.”
His punch sent the guy straight through the hallway door. The hinges snapped, and the poor bastard flew backward into the next room, landing in a heap.
Another guy ran up, screaming, swinging a tire iron. Ben caught it, yanked him in, and headbutted him. The guy dropped like a sack of bricks.
Luke, meanwhile, had lifted one of the Syndicate members off the ground by his collar. The thug flailed, but it was like struggling against a steel beam.
“Listen,” Luke said. “We ain’t here to kill nobody. But if you keep makin’ us work for it, you’re gonna leave here in pieces.”
The guy nodded frantically. “I get it, I get it!”
Luke tossed him aside, shaking his head. “Then act like it.”
By the time the two powerhouses were done, the entire second floor was cleared.
Ben looked at the wreckage around them and sighed. “Y’know, Reed always tells me I got an anger problem.”
Luke chuckled. “Nah. You just know how to get things done.”
Ben smirked. “Damn right.”
They turned toward the next stairwell.
“One more to go,” Luke muttered.
Ben cracked his knuckles. “Then we celebrate?”
Luke grinned. “Let’s finish the job first.”
Chapter 4: Strength and Stamina
They took the third floor slower. Luke had fought for Harlem before, and Ben had thrown down with half the universe, but this wasn’t just about brute force.
This was a message.
The Syndicate had to understand: Harlem wasn’t theirs.
Ben moved first, ripping a door off its hinges and stepping inside a room filled with gang members. He let them run at him, fists flying.
“Yeesh,” he muttered as punches bounced off his rocky skin. “Is this s’posed to hurt?”
One guy tried to wrap a chain around Ben’s neck. Ben shrugged, sending him flying. Another went for a knife—Luke grabbed his wrist and twisted.
“You got options,” Luke said as the guy winced in pain. “Walk away, or keep getting embarrassed.”
One by one, the Syndicate members started running.
Luke nodded. “Smart choice.”
Ben dusted off his hands. “I think we’re done here.”
Luke gave a satisfied grunt. “Yeah. We are.”
They stood in the ruined remains of what was once a gang stronghold. The air was thick with plaster dust, the walls full of fresh holes.
Luke rolled his shoulders. “I know we just did a whole lotta damage… but you ever think this ain’t enough?”
Ben frowned. “What, you mean like we shoulda done more?”
Luke exhaled. “Nah. Like… maybe this ain’t the best way.”
Ben crossed his arms. “Lemme guess. You think Reed’d have a better idea?”
Luke chuckled. “I ain’t sayin’ all that.” He gestured around. “Just sayin’… we clear out one gang, but another’s gonna try and take their place. Ain’t we just puttin’ out the same fire over and over?”
Ben sighed. “I get it, I do. But you’re thinkin’ too small, pal. We ain’t just puttin’ out a fire.” He turned toward the window, looking out at the Harlem streets. “We’re makin’ sure the fire don’t come back.”
Luke was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I like that.”
Ben smirked. “Thought ya might.”
And with that, Harlem was one gang lighter. But their work wasn’t done yet.
Chapter 5: Power vs. Progress
Later that night, Luke and Ben sat on the roof of the now-empty tenement building, looking out over Harlem. The streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the distant hum of the city carried on like nothing had happened.
Luke took a deep breath. “You ever wonder if we’re doin’ this the right way?”
Ben glanced at him. “What, punchin’ the bad guys ‘til they run?”
Luke shook his head. “Nah. The whole thing. Superheroing.”
Ben frowned. “Never really thought about it.”
Luke stretched his arms. “See, I been talkin’ to some folks. About long-term solutions. Community programs, support systems, ways to make sure these kids never have to join a gang in the first place.”
Ben nodded. “So, what, you think we shoulda handed out pamphlets instead?”
Luke chuckled. “Not what I’m sayin’. Just that… maybe this ain’t enough.”
Ben was quiet for a long moment. Then he sighed. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Luke nodded. “That’s why we ain’t leavin’ this place empty.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “What’s the plan?”
Luke stood up, looking down at the block they had just taken back. “We turn this place into somethin’ good. A community center, somethin’ for the kids. Somewhere they can go that ain’t the streets.”
Ben grinned. “Now that I can get behind.”
Luke smiled. “Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna need your help.”
Ben cracked his knuckles. “Just tell me where to start.”
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of Harlem.
Luke exhaled. “You ever think about what it’d be like… if we weren’t built like this? If we didn’t have the strength?”
Ben was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed. “Can’t say I do. Ain’t no point in wishin’. We are what we are.”
Luke nodded. “Yeah. But we can still decide what we do with it.”
Ben looked over at him and smirked. “Then let’s build somethin’ that lasts.”
Chapter 6: The Grimm Community Center
Months passed, and the wreckage of the Syndicate’s old stronghold became something new.
The Grimm Community Center stood tall, its fresh coat of paint gleaming in the morning sun. Inside, kids played in a refurbished gym, teenagers studied in tutoring rooms, and local families came together for food drives, job fairs, and safety workshops.
And on opening day, Mayor Wilson Fisk stood at the podium.
“This center,” Fisk said, “is a testament to what we can accomplish together.”
Ben stood beside him, arms crossed.
Fisk turned, voice lowering. “I know you don’t trust me, Grimm. But this? This is bigger than us.”
Ben grunted. “Doesn’t mean I ain’t watchin’ you.”
Fisk smirked. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Luke clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Come on, man. Enjoy the moment.”
Ben exhaled. “Fine. But I still don’t trust ‘im.”
Luke grinned. “That makes two of us.”
The two men watched as the plaque was unveiled. It read:
Grimm Community Center
Dedicated in memory of Daniel Grimm
Ben stared at the name for a long moment.
Luke nudged him. “You alright?”
Ben swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
And for the first time in a long time, he meant it.
Chapter 7: Enemies and Understanding
After the ribbon-cutting, Wilson Fisk led Luke and Ben into a quiet office at the back of the center. The air smelled like fresh paint, and the only furniture was a desk and three chairs.
Fisk settled into one. “I suppose I should thank you,” he said smoothly.
Ben scowled. “For what?”
Fisk gestured at the center. “For clearing out the Syndicate. You saved me quite a bit of trouble.”
Luke folded his arms. “You wanted them gone?”
Fisk smirked. “Of course.”
Ben huffed. “You got a funny way of showin’ it, lettin’ ‘em set up shop in the first place.”
Fisk sighed. “Ben, you should know better than anyone—sometimes a mess needs to be at its worst before you can clean it up properly.” He spread his hands. “The Syndicate overplayed their hand. They grew too bold. Extorting shop owners is one thing. But turning an entire neighborhood into their personal fortress? That’s bad for business.”
Luke’s brow furrowed. “And your business is what exactly?”
Fisk exhaled, as if mildly disappointed. “Power, Mr. Cage. Stability. The same thing you claim to want.”
Luke scoffed. “Nah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. I want people to have a choice. I want kids to grow up without thinkin’ they gotta pick between bein’ dead or in a gang.”
Fisk nodded. “And I want the same thing.”
Ben snorted. “Like hell you do.”
Fisk leaned forward. “Gentlemen. Do you think I built my empire by allowing chaos to fester? Do you think I want gangs running unchecked in my city?”
Luke’s jaw clenched. “Your city?”
Fisk smiled. “I am the mayor.”
Ben crossed his arms. “For now.”
Fisk chuckled. “Yes. For now.”
Fisk leaned forward again, his voice lowering. “Tell me—what do you think would’ve happened if you hadn’t stepped in? If the 13th Street Syndicate had been left alone?”
Luke didn’t answer.
Fisk did it for him. “They would have expanded. They would have gotten greedier. Their violence would have spilled into other neighborhoods. And eventually, the wrong people would have gotten hurt.” He tapped the desk. “And then, I would have stepped in. My way.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? And what’s your way?”
Fisk’s smile thinned. “Permanent solutions.”
The air in the room changed.
Ben shifted his stance slightly, his massive fists flexing. Luke rolled his shoulders, ready for whatever came next.
Fisk held up a hand. “Relax. You handled the problem before it became necessary for me to.”
Luke stared at him, skeptical. “So what—you’re sayin’ we did you a favor?”
Fisk shrugged. “I’m saying we both got what we wanted. The gang is gone. The community is safe. And now, I have something far more valuable than another handful of dead criminals.”
Ben frowned. “Yeah? And what’s that?”
Fisk leaned forward again, his voice lowering. “Influence.”
Luke exhaled through his nose. “There it is.”
Fisk smirked. “Oh, come now. Don’t be naive. You think this city runs on good intentions? No, Mr. Cage. It runs on power.”
Luke stepped forward. “You’re gonna stay away from this place.”
Fisk smirked. “Am I?”
Luke’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl. “You touch this place, and I will burn your whole damn empire to the ground.”
For a moment, Fisk said nothing.
Then, to their surprise, he laughed.
“You remind me of myself,” Fisk said.
Ben sighed. “I hate that guy.”
Luke rolled his shoulders. “That makes two of us.”
They turned toward the window, looking out at the new Grimm Community Center. Kids ran across the playground. Parents talked on benches. A new beginning.
Ben grunted. “You think he meant it? About leavin’ this place alone?”
Luke sighed. “Nah.” He turned away. “But if he doesn’t, we’ll be ready.”
The two of them walked out together, knowing the fight was never really over.
But for today, they had won.