BOOM!
A dull sonic boom detonated in the confines of the street, sending a violent shockwave sweeping in all directions. The rushing energy washed over the approaching gangsters like a physical tide, lifting them off their feet.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!"
Screams tore through the air as bodies were flung against brick walls and dumpsters.
"Fire! Don't let them breathe!"
A gang leader decisively issued the order. This squad was better equipped than the usual street thugs—they were Kingpin's elite, armed with automatic shotguns and shoulder-mounted rocket launchers intended to put Daredevil down for good.
The gang opened fire. Muzzle flashes lit up the darkening alley like strobe lights. A thick curtain of sulfurous smoke filled the air as a metal storm of bullets shredded the pavement, gleaming coldly under the fading light of dusk.
"Gali, shield. Otherwise, I have to buy new clothes," Light Inksworth whispered, watching the wall of lead approaching.
While his Toughness (Level 2) made his skin impervious to bullets—even a rocket impact would likely leave him unscathed—his clothes were not made of unstable molecules. Walking home in rags would be annoying, and the evening chill was setting in.
Gali didn't even look up from her kebab. She lowered her head, taking a bite of the grilled meat, and twitched a finger.
Hummmm.
A translucent purple light curtain rose instantly in front of them.
Ping! Ping! Clang!
The hail of metal bullets slammed fiercely into the barrier, creating ripples like rain hitting a pond, but the shield didn't budge an inch. The gangsters stared, dumbfounded.
"Rocket! Use the rocket!"
Whoosh—BOOM!
A missile streaked across the alley and detonated against the purple barrier. The shockwave of the explosion kicked up a massive cloud of dust, obscuring everyone's sight.
"My turn," Light muttered.
He flicked his wrists. Several spheres of unstable white energy materialized in his palms.
Energy Ball.
He tossed them into the smoke with the casual motion of a pitcher throwing a baseball.
Kaboom! Kaboom!
Wails of agony erupted from the smoke. The thunderous explosions forced Daredevil and Bullseye, who were locked in combat nearby, to break apart and look sideways.
Bullseye narrowed his eyes, peering into the dissipating smoke. What he saw made his blood run cold.
The street looked like it had been airstruck. There were craters in the asphalt, shattered weapons, and broken bodies scattered everywhere. It was a scene of absolute devastation.
"What the hell is going on?" Bullseye snarled, his grip tightening on his daggers.
Daredevil stood frozen, his radar sense painting a terrifying picture of the carnage. He couldn't see the blood, but he could smell it. He could feel the residual heat. Several powerful bursts had decimated flesh and bone in seconds. It was terrifying efficiency.
"If you're smart, you should know when to walk away."
Light Inksworth walked slowly out of the settling dust, leading Gali by the hand. His eyes were dark, exuding an abyss-like calm that felt heavier than any threat.
Bullseye felt his scalp go numb. His instincts screamed at him to run. Even though he hadn't seen the attack clearly, he knew this teenager was the culprit.
'What is he? A fucking mutie?'
"Don't get cocky, kid," Bullseye shouted, forcing a hideous, crazy grin onto his face to mask his fear. "This is Kingpin's territory! You're fighting the Underworld Empire! Against Wilson Fisk, you're just an ant!"
Bullseye's voice rose hysterically. He had to believe it. The Kingpin controlled judges, senators, and police. He had an army. No single freak could stand against that weight.
"Just shut the fuck up, that oversized pig won't even put a fucking dent on me," Light said, stopping ten paces away.
"Die!"
Bullseye snapped. Fear turned into lethal aggression. His eyes locked onto Light with the precision of a laser.
With a flick of his wrist, a throwing knife flew through the air.
It was a kill shot, aimed perfectly at the center of Light's forehead.
Clink!
The sharp steel struck Light's skin—and crumpled.
There was no blood. No penetration. It was as if the knife had struck a diamond mountain.
The tip curled uselessly, and the weapon fell to the ground with a pathetic metal ring.
"Nice try, pest," Light said. His tone was flat, bored even.
But Gali, munching on her second skewer, knew better. The flatter his voice, the angrier he was.
Light hated being interrupted.
Bullseye, the Kingpin's premier assassin, stared in disbelief. He could kill a man with a toothpick from ninety yards. He had never seen human skin this hard.
Cold sweat broke out on Bullseye's forehead. He was staring at Death, and Death looked like a bored college student.
"It seems you're out of tricks," Light smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Now, it's my turn."
Light reached down and picked up one of the discarded knives from the ground. He weighed it in his hand casually.
Before Bullseye could speak, a white blur flashed in his vision.
He didn't even see Light move.
Bullseye stared blankly ahead.
His vision went black, as if an ice-cold tide had washed away his consciousness.
The assassin's body went soft and collapsed slowly to the ground. The target tattoo on his forehead had been pierced perfectly in the center.
The hole was exact.
Thwip—
The sound of the air breaking arrived a second later, lagging behind the sheer speed of the throw.
Daredevil swallowed hard. He turned his head slightly toward the brick wall behind where Bullseye had stood.
His radar sense picked up a small hole deep in the masonry.
There was no fancy technique. No martial arts flair. Just absolute, overwhelming power and speed.
Light glanced at Daredevil. The vigilante tensed, expecting to be next.
Instead, Light offered a slightly kind smile. "Thank you for the warning earlier."
Light was a simple person. If you were friendly to him, he was friendly back. But if you tried to kill him, you ended up like the heap on the floor.
Daredevil had tried to warn them to run, endangering himself to save civilians.
To Light, that counted for something.
"Fisk will find you," Daredevil warned, his voice grave. "All of New York is shrouded in his shadow. You just killed his favorite dog."
"I'm not worried about him," Light replied, turning away. "See you whenever, Daredevil."
Daredevil stood there, stunned. 'Both of them are... above my paygrade... And I don't get fucking paid. That little girl too... she blocked a rocket...'
Light paused and looked back over his shoulder. "By the way, do you read comics?"
"Comics?" Daredevil blinked behind his red lenses. He hadn't read anything in years, for obvious reasons.
"Check out Shonen Jump. I drew it."
With a wave of his hand, Light disappeared into the dim street with Gali, leaving the Devil of Hell's Kitchen standing amidst the ruin.
Moments later, as Daredevil was searching Bullseye's body for intel, a burly figure in a black skull T-shirt climbed over the wall and landed silently beside him.
"Did you kill him, Matt?"
The Punisher, Frank Castle, looked around. He saw Bullseye's corpse, the puddles of blood, and the cratered street. It was a war zone.
"No," Daredevil said bitterly. "It was a teenager."
"A teenager?" Frank frowned.
"He did what we've been trying to do for years, Frank..."
Frank clutched his arm, which was wrapped in a makeshift bandage. "I ran into something earlier too. Got cut deep before I could even react. Something's changing in this city."
Daredevil pointed to the corpse. "Look at the forehead. One shot."
Frank whistled low. "Nice aim."
...
Late at Night: Fisk Tower
A massive figure sat in a reinforced massage chair. He was bald, wearing a custom white suit tailored to hide the terrifying muscle mass beneath his bulk.
Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime.
He slowly rose from the chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down from his ivory tower at the glittering, treacherous expanse of New York City.
He closed his eyes, listening to the hum of the city. He controlled 40% of the criminal activities in the United States. He owned judges, senators, and cops. He was the Emperor of New York.
But looking at the reflection in the glass, he felt an unprecedented emptiness. Vanessa was gone. He was alone at the top.
Knock! Knock!
The sharp rapping on the door broke his reverie. It sounded urgent.
"Come in," Fisk rumbled.
His assistant entered, looking pale and terrified. "Mr. Fisk... something happened. It's Bullseye."
Fisk turned slowly, his face a mask of stone. "Report."
"He's dead, sir. Killed in Hell's Kitchen."
Fisk's grip on his cane tightened until the wood groaned. "Dead?"
"One shot to the head. Along with the entire tactical squad."
Fisk stared out the window, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Find out who did it. And bring them to me."
The assistant's forehead sweated, 'How the hell would I bring those responsible when they killed Bullseye, your strongest fighter? Should I send an invitation? Huh?! Fuck, I don't get fucking paid enough for this shit... should I quit?'
The Next Morning
Yellow police tape cordoned off the street in Hell's Kitchen, but it wasn't the NYPD running the scene. It was a group of men in dark suits, led by a balding man with a kind face.
Agent Phil Coulson knelt down, running his gloved fingers over a spiderweb crack in the asphalt.
"Sir, we found the same fracture pattern as the Carnival incident," a junior agent reported.
Coulson nodded solemnly. "It seems he was here."
He stood up, looking around with a mix of concern and professional satisfaction. The police report had missed the subtleties, but SHIELD specialized in the weird.
The cracks in the ground didn't come from an explosion; they came from a focused, high-density kinetic impact. An air punch.
At the Carnival, a young man had kicked a bomb. Here, someone had punched the air so hard it created a shockwave that shattered concrete.
'The security cameras were wiped,' Coulson thought. 'Complete blackout. Just like the D'Amico building massacre. Same M.O.'
His instincts told him the target was living right here in Hell's Kitchen.
A mutant? A mutate? Or something new?
...
"Hey, Light, what are we eating today? I realized you never cook."
"If I cooked, would you eat it?"
A casual conversation drifted from the edge of the police cordon.
Coulson looked up.
He saw a young teenager leading a little girl in a purple dress.
They looked completely ordinary, walking past the grim crime scene as if they were strolling in a park.
As they passed, Coulson and the young man exchanged a brief glance.
Coulson watched his back as he walked away. He touched his receding hairline and sighed. 'To be young and carefree.'
Since joining SHIELD, Coulson hadn't known a stable day. He worked twelve-hour shifts, chased monsters, and managed paperwork that would bury a lesser man.
He was still a Level 8 agent. Level 9 felt like a distant dream.
"I didn't expect SHIELD to react so quickly," Light murmured as they turned the corner.
He had recognized Agent Coulson immediately. Seeing the famous Phil Coulson inspecting Bullseye's death scene was a reminder that the MCU timeline was active and dangerous.
Usually, SHIELD handled aliens and cosmic threats. Gang wars were beneath them.
'They must have connected the energy signature from my energy balls,' Light deduced. 'I need to be more careful... Or stronger.'
Times Square, Ellen's Stardust Diner.
"Light, I want three pizzas and a steak."
Gali sat at the booth, pouting as she looked at the menu.
Light glanced at the prices and sneered. "No. You eat like a pig. I'm not made of money yet."
"Liar! Look at my slender figure!" Gali stood up on the bench and twirled, attracting the stares of several diners. "I am efficiency incarnate!"
Light rolled his eyes. It was true; Gali's biology—or cosmology—was defying physics.
She consumed mass but didn't gain weight.
"Light, why are you looking at me so wretchedly?" Gali asked, sitting back down.
"Why do you say that?" Light kept his face blank, but inwardly he was surprised. 'Can she read minds?'
"Hmph. I guessed." Gali crossed her arms.
"Excuse me, sir? Is this seat taken?"
A young woman, about seventeen or eighteen, stood by their table holding a tray of food.
Light looked up.
She had short, dark hair that framed a pale face with striking, Germanic features.
She looked thin, almost fragile, like a reed swaying in the wind. But her eyes—a vivid, piercing green—revealed an unyielding strength beneath the surface.
"Certainly," Light said, gesturing to the empty seat opposite him.
The girl thanked him and sat down.
Gali stared at her, blinking her large violet eyes. "Miss, what is your name?"
"Lorna Dane," the girl replied softly. "And you?"
"I'm Gali. And this is Light. He's a fool," Gali said, pointing a greasy finger at Light.
Light grabbed the waiter who was passing by and took the tray of food intended for Gali, placing it firmly on the table.
"I didn't order for you today. Starve," Light said deadpan.
"My—my food! Give it back!"
Lorna watched the interaction, the corner of her mouth twitching into a faint smile before her expression dimmed again.
As an orphan who had lived on the streets for years, seeing this kind of bickering sibling dynamic made her heart ache with envy. She had always been alone.
"Eat yours," Light said, sliding three pizzas toward Gali, effectively silencing her.
He turned his attention to the green-eyed girl. He recognized the name immediately.
Lorna Dane. Polaris. Magneto's daughter.
In the comics, she was a powerhouse.
Here, she looked like a stray cat looking for a warm place to hide.
"So," Light said, taking a sip of his soda. "Lorna. That's a nice name."
Lorna's ears turned slightly red. She struggled with her words for a moment, her eyes darting around nervously before settling on Light's face with sudden determination.
"Mr. Inksworth... I saw you on the news. I know you run Marvel Entertainment."
She took a deep breath.
"Is your company hiring?"
_______________________________
Word count: 2361
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