Harlem.
Unlike the tranquility of middle-class Queens, Harlem possesses its own rugged vitality.
The graffiti in the streets and alleys, the strong rhythmic music, and the faint scent of barbecue wafting through the air all form a unique landscape here.
William, in his cheap suit and carrying his precious briefcase, seemed a bit out of place in this area.
Following some vague clues from community forums, he wandered through several streets where Luke Cage was reportedly often seen.
This felt more reliable than staking out the Financial District for Moon Knight; at least the target's activity range was relatively fixed.
"Hey man, can I ask you something?"
William stopped a young Black man who was distributing flyers, putting on his most amiable smile, "Do you know where I can usually find Luke Cage?"
The young man eyed him warily up and down: "Why are you looking for Luke? Are you a cop?"
"No, no, no,"
William quickly waved his hands, pulled a crumpled five-dollar bill from his pocket, and subtly slipped it to him.
"I'm a distant relative of his… uh, a friend, with a small matter I'd like his help with."
His acting was so convincing, he almost believed it himself.
The young man weighed the money, his expression softened a bit, and he gestured towards a basketball court at the street corner: "Luke, he's either at the barbershop shooting the breeze with the old timers, or he's at the court over there watching people play.
But I warn you, Luke doesn't like trouble."
"Thanks, brother!"
William thanked him and quickly walked towards the basketball court.
Indeed, on a bench by the basketball court sat a burly Black man.
He wore a simple gray hoodie, its brim pulled low, his arms crossed over his chest, quietly watching the young people sweating on the court.
Even just sitting, that powerful, unapproachable aura emanated from him.
William took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, put on a professional smile, and walked over.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Cage?"
William cautiously began.
Luke Cage slowly raised his head, his gaze from beneath the brim calm and sharp, scanning William like a scanner.
"Who are you?"
His voice was deep and resonant, with an undeniable sense of pressure.
"My name is William Rodriguez, and I am a risk consultant."
William skillfully handed over his business card; the words "Community Mutual Aid Risk Assessment Center" on it appeared particularly "down-to-Earth" in the sunlight.
Luke Cage didn't take the card, just looked at him.
"Risk consultant? Do I look like someone with a lot of risks?"
Here it comes, the standard opening line.
William thought to himself, his smile unwavering: "Mr. Cage, risk is everywhere.
Even the strongest shield cannot anticipate all types of attacks, can it?"
"Oh?" Luke raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued, "Such as?"
"Such as…" William paused, organizing his words, "You are known for your powerful physical defense, impervious to blades and bullets.
But in this World, there are always threats that go beyond the scope of conventional physics.
For example, suppression methods targeting special abilities, or… hmm, some elusive magic attacks?"
He cautiously dangled the bait.
Luke Cage, hearing this, cracked an almost imperceptible smile, as if he had heard a joke.
"magic? Kid, have you been reading too many comic books?"
William's heart tightened; he thought, *This isn't good*, this man seemed even more "materialistic" than he had imagined.
"Mr. Cage, I understand your thoughts. But in our industry, we've seen too many bizarre cases.
Our center recently launched a 'Special Ability Protection Plan' specifically for individuals with exceptional talents like yourself.
It aims to provide you with an extra layer of security.
To deal with those… uh, unconventional potential threats."
He tried to make his tone sound professional and sincere,
"For example, in case your abilities are temporarily affected by some unknown factor, leading to a decrease in defense.
Or if some unforeseeable side effects occur, this protection can provide emergency assistance.
Including, but not limited to, medical support, sponsorship for ability recovery research, and even temporary safe haven."
Luke Cage listened, silent for a few seconds, then stood up.
He was more than a head taller than William, and his shadow almost completely enveloped William.
"Mr. Rodriguez, is it?"
Luke's voice was still calm, but carried an undeniable decisiveness, "Your idea is very… creative.
But I don't need it."
"Mr. Cage, this is just a safeguard, just in case…"
William still tried to persuade him.
"I *am* the 'just in case'."
Luke Cage interrupted him, his voice steady but with an undeniable force, "Kid, your gimmick sounds new, but this body of mine isn't for show."
William's shoulders slumped, almost breathless under the invisible pressure of the aura, but his smile remained, trying for one last attempt:
"Mr. Cage, you've done so much for the community. Have you ever considered, what if you temporarily 'malfunction' due to some accident, who will continue to protect this place?
This protection is not just for yourself, but also for the residents of Harlem…"
Luke Cage's gaze was sharp as a knife; he gently patted William's shoulder, a force that made William feel his shoulder blade was about to shatter.
"Harlem has me, and that's enough.
I don't need any damn insurance.
If something can really hurt me, a policy won't fix it.
Kid, go find people who truly need your help.
Harlem has many such people, but they don't need an insurance salesman."
With that, Luke Cage turned and walked steadily into the basketball court, quickly blending into the cheers and sounds of dribbling, as if their conversation had never happened.
William stood frozen, his professional smile not yet fully faded, making him look somewhat comical.
He looked down at the unsent business card in his hand, letting out a bitter laugh.
"Well, a bad start."
He muttered to himself, rubbing his sore shoulder.
Luke Cage's refusal was swift and unequivocal, leaving no room for negotiation.
This tough guy's logic was simple and blunt: *I'm tough enough, I don't need it*, and even the catch-all phrase "for the community" couldn't move him.
This was much harder than the gentle rebuff he received from Peter Parker; it was an iron wall.
[Compensation Points: 40/50]
The numbers on the system interface were still glaring.
Every compensation point lost meant he was one step closer to the risk of being "sliced and diced to an atomic level for research."
William sighed, putting the business card back into his pocket.
It seemed that trying to make a breakthrough with a hero of Luke Cage's caliber, relying solely on smooth talk and "free trials," wouldn't work.
He needed stronger proof, or an "opportunity" that would force even these tough guys to yield.
"Damn it, the performance pressure is immense!"
William ran a hand through his hair, feeling that his job as a "hero compensation system" salesman was making him lose more hair than selling insurance on Earth in his previous life.
This system was practically driving him to his death.
The setting sun cast a golden hue over the streets of Harlem. William, carrying his briefcase, his figure appearing somewhat desolate in the lengthening shadows.
However, there wasn't much dejection in his eyes; instead, they gleamed with a light called "unyielding."
"The Luke Cage route is temporarily blocked, so I'll move on to the next one. New York is so big, there are so many heroes, surely some will appreciate what I offer!"
He mumbled, his mind already quickly sifting through his next targets.
Moon Knight is too crazy, Daredevil is too hard to approach… I need to find someone who can stably provide 'compensation quotas' and won't get me killed… So hard!!!"