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Chapter 35: A Silent Bullet
Tommy's three years in Redhaven Prison had been anything but wasted.
Every single day—rain or shine, peace or chaos—he trained relentlessly. His body was sculpted through constant exercise, his stamina sharpened to near superhuman levels. But raw strength wasn't enough for him.
Through Gianna's connections on the outside, martial arts experts from around the world found their way into the prison—masked as instructors, lawyers, or even chaplains. Under their tutelage, Tommy devoured styles like a starving wolf.
With Tai Lung's martial arts talent coursing through him, his progress was frighteningly fast. Moves that took others years to master, he grasped in weeks. In sparring sessions, masters who once matched him blow for blow eventually faltered, then collapsed. Even armed combatants couldn't stand against him for long.
Power and technique had fused within him. It was no longer a simple equation of strength plus skill—his presence was something greater, something lethal. Even Tommy himself couldn't be sure how far he had risen. One day, perhaps, he would seek out a true martial arts master to measure himself against.
…
New York.
Inside a dim apartment, the television flickered with the replay of the 2005 NBA Finals.
"81-74! The Spurs defeat the Pistons, taking the series and becoming the 2005 NBA Champions!" the commentator's voice boomed, while Tim Duncan's calm face filled the screen.
On the couch, a man lay sprawled, snoring, half-finished beer slipping in his hand. The game's tough defensive grind had bored him to sleep.
But then, his body twitched. His face contorted. A nightmare seized him.
He jerked awake, heart hammering, sweat on his brow. His name was Lincoln, and for a moment, he was relieved it was just a dream. He reached up to feel his head—still there, not gnawed off by some imagined monster.
Then—
Click.
The apartment door swung open.
Lincoln froze. His hand darted toward the pistol hidden under the coffee table, but it was already too late.
A dark figure stood framed in the doorway. The gleam of a Glock 34 was the last thing Lincoln saw.
Bang!
One shot. Straight through the forehead.
Lincoln's corpse collapsed back against the sofa, wide-eyed, beer still clutched in hand as the TV replayed the Spurs' victory celebration.
Tommy lowered the smoking pistol. He didn't linger. Mission complete. He vanished into the night, silent as a shadow.
…
Moments later, another man approached the apartment building.
A cane tapped steadily against the concrete.
Matt Murdock. By day, a respected lawyer. By night—the vigilante known as Daredevil. Tonight, he had arranged to meet his informant.
That informant was Lincoln.
Halfway up the stairs, Matt paused. His heightened senses twitched. The air was thick, metallic. His nose wrinkled.
"Blood."
He broke into a sprint, his cane clicking furiously against the floor. By the time he reached Lincoln's apartment, the door was ajar. Inside—silence.
Matt stepped through, his expression hardening.
Lincoln's body sprawled lifelessly on the couch, a single neat hole drilled into his forehead.
Matt crouched, running gloved hands along the wound. His jaw clenched.
"One shot. Perfectly placed."
This wasn't the work of an amateur. Most assassins used the Mozambique Drill—two to the chest, one to the head—to guarantee a kill. But this shooter? He hadn't wasted a single bullet. The confidence, the precision… it was chilling.
Only a handful of killers in the world had such marksmanship.
Bullseye? No—crippled and bedridden after his fall.
The Punisher? Frank Castle was still in Chicago, chasing Jigsaw.
Blade? Impossible. The vampire hunter didn't bother with underworld scum like Lincoln.
Matt's lips tightened. That left a terrifying question.
"Someone new is in New York," he murmured, the weight of realization heavy.
He stood slowly, listening to the faint hum of the city outside, already knowing he was too late. The assassin had vanished.
But one thing was certain.
A ghost with perfect aim had entered Hell's Kitchen.
And Daredevil intended to find out who he was.
Happy Diwali to all my wonderful readers! 🪔
To celebrate the Festival of Lights, I'm sharing a festive gift: 25% OFF for a limited time!
This exclusive discount applies to all $14 tiers and above, letting you unlock my premium content, access, and more for less.
➡️ Use code RISHI25 at checkout. 🔗 patreon.com/Rishichan
Shine brighter this Diwali!