Marvel: Superman's Survival Guide

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Karen Page felt a bit anxious. The law firm was desperately short on funds—they hadn't paid her salary for three months. Matt's resources were limited, and just keeping the firm operational was proving difficult.

"May I have your name, sir?" Karen asked.

"Here's my card," Link replied, handing over a card that contained only a name and a phone number, with no title or affiliation, leaving Karen a bit puzzled.

At that moment, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson returned, deep in discussion about a case. Upon seeing Link, they paused, and Karen quickly introduced everyone. Once formalities were exchanged, Link was invited into Matt's office.

All three settled in, and Link began, "I'm looking to establish a charity foundation. Since I used to be a cop, I'm particularly interested in funding legal aid."

"A cop?" Matt raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes, from the precinct in Midtown West. You might've heard of me—I'm the guy who took down over twenty people in a single night," Link said with a casual shrug.

Foggy Nelson's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, I get it now. You're Link!"

"That's right. Nice to formally meet you both. You can just call me Link," he said, leaning back. "These days, I'm a professional gambler. Most of my funds came from just two games—I won $55 million."

"Whoa!" Foggy exclaimed, taken aback. "There are games with stakes that high?"

"One of the players was Tony Stark, so you can imagine," Link smirked. "But that's not important right now. I currently hold $60 million in Stark Industries stock."

He continued, "It gives me a nice annual dividend. And, of course, I've got some tax avoidance strategies in mind. My girlfriend manages the charity foundation."

"It's partly to give her something to do and partly because it's a smart way to avoid taxes. I heard about your firm a while ago, so I'm here to discuss possible funding."

Matt listened intently before asking, "Would you have any involvement in our cases?"

"Not directly. But since I'd be providing the funding, I'd want oversight and transparency in the cases you handle," Link replied, thinking of Jessica's interests. "If you accept my funding, there'll be no case confidentiality. Everything will be open to review. Does that sit well with you?"

"Of course," Foggy quickly jumped in. "That's pretty standard for charity donations. What do you think, Matt?"

Matt nodded thoughtfully. "I can agree to that."

Link continued, "Now, you've got two options. First, you could simply accept financial aid from us, which would only cover expenses for cases that qualify for assistance."

"Or, you could accept our offer to buy out your firm. In that case, we'd cover all your expenses, including salaries. As shareholders, you two would own a portion of the firm, but given the charity nature of the work, your income would be middle-class at best. However, if you land a high-profile case, the profits can be handled separately."

This gave Matt pause, while Foggy looked eager. If the firm were bought out, they wouldn't have to worry about finances anymore. Accepting charity funds, on the other hand, would mean they wouldn't make any real money.

"Matt," Foggy whispered, trying to nudge his friend toward a decision.

Link stood up, sensing their hesitation. "I know you'll need time to think it over. Here's my card. Call me anytime when you've made a decision. I'll be waiting."

"Thank you, Mr. Link. We'll get back to you as soon as possible," Foggy said enthusiastically as he walked Link to the door.

Once Link got back to his car, he heard bits of the conversation inside the firm but chose to tune it out. He had more pressing matters to attend to—finding a sniper rifle.

This task wasn't difficult. As he trailed someone moving a stash of weapons, Link watched from a distance, carefully observing. The man was scarred and rough-looking, immediately reminding Link of the Punisher. The weapons being transported were all military-grade, including fully automatic firearms, which were illegal for civilians.

Link smiled to himself, deciding to wait. When the Punisher was done moving the weapons and had left, Link slipped in. The cache was covered with a tarp, but Link easily found what he was looking for: a sniper rifle.

Opening one of the crates, he found a Barrett AS50, a .50 caliber sniper rifle. Seeing the 12.7x99mm rounds, Link grinned. The Purple Man was as good as dead.

He wrapped the rifle back up, making sure nothing was out of place, then carried the package to his car, driving toward the area where the Purple Man was hiding.

The neighborhood was a wealthy one, so Link carefully scoped out the area, driving around several times to survey the surroundings. Eventually, he chose an office building with a clear line of sight to the Purple Man's apartment. He called Jessica, letting her know he'd be home late, and then went to prepare for the night.

He purchased cheap clothes—a hoodie with a hat, sunglasses, gloves, and a mask—nothing traceable, all from street vendors with no record of the purchases. After changing in his car, he parked it far from any surveillance cameras.

America's lack of public surveillance worked in Link's favor. The lack of cameras meant he could move unnoticed. As night fell and the streets quieted, Link grabbed the rifle and floated up between two buildings. His flying wasn't the most graceful; he hadn't practiced much and didn't have the proper suit or cape like Superman. But he was careful, staying out of sight and avoiding detection.

Once on the office rooftop, Link unpacked the sniper rifle, assembling it piece by piece. Standing, he aimed the rifle through the scope at the Purple Man, who was lounging on a couch in his luxurious apartment. The large, floor-to-ceiling windows provided a perfect view—one that would soon seal the Purple Man's fate.

Link didn't pull the trigger immediately. He waited, biding his time, ensuring that everything was perfect.

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