"Bullseye was killed?"
Wilson Fisk's expression darkened the moment the words left Scorpion's mouth. The shift was immediate, his entire demeanor turning heavy with suppressed fury and disbelief. In his mind, Bullseye disappearing had only ever meant one thing—defection. The man was ruthless, yes, but he was also practical. Running away was far more likely than dying.
"Let me see it," Fisk said coldly. "Now."
"It's this audio file…" Scorpion replied, handing over a worn communication device that looked like it had seen better days. The casing was scratched, the edges dented, but it still functioned. After pressing the power button, the device crackled to life.
"I'll fight you to the death—!"
"Die… all of you, die—!"
"Impossible… how could you have hurt me…?!"
"Demons arise from emptiness…"
"Ahhhhh—!!!"
The audio dissolved into a series of violent, desperate screams before cutting off abruptly. The silence that followed was heavier than the chaos that came before it. There was no doubt left—Bullseye was dead.
Fisk's face grew increasingly grim as the recording ended. He slowly lowered the device, his fingers tightening around it. "Where did you get this?"
Scorpion shifted slightly, his mechanical tail swaying behind him as he answered. "A homeless guy had it. He picked it up the night Bullseye disappeared. Said he heard screams coming from one of the factories nearby. Got drunk, worked up the courage, and went to take a look."
Fisk's eyes narrowed, his instincts sharpening. "And?"
"He looked through a broken window," Scorpion continued, his voice lowering, almost theatrical. "Said he saw something… something he couldn't even describe properly. A monster. Something straight out of hell."
"He went insane after that," Scorpion added casually, as if discussing the weather.
Fisk frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What does that have to do with monsters?"
"The guy kept ranting," Scorpion said, shrugging. "He talked about a demonic hand—like something harvesting lives. Said the moment it touched someone, they dropped dead instantly."
He paused briefly before adding, "Oh, and there was something else. He mentioned a Crimson Demon at the scene."
Fisk's eyes snapped open wider, rage flashing across his face. "The Blood Demon? Daredevil again?!"
"Clang!"
His fist slammed down onto the table, the solid wood cracking apart under the sheer force of the blow. Splinters flew as the surface caved in, leaving a jagged fracture across its center.
Scorpion froze for a moment, caught off guard. Even he hadn't expected this level of raw physical strength from his boss. It wasn't just authority that Fisk commanded—there was real power behind it.
"Spread the word," Fisk growled, his voice cold and final. "I want Daredevil hunted across the entire city. One million dollars to anyone who kills him."
In this era, a million dollars wasn't just a reward—it was a fortune. For a single life, it was more than enough to make every assassin, mercenary, and desperate thug crawl out of the shadows.
Scorpion's eyes gleamed with interest.
"If you're the one who kills him," Fisk added, waving a hand dismissively, "you can keep the money yourself."
But just as Scorpion seemed ready to respond, something shifted.
The air changed.
"Whoosh—!"
A sudden gust of wind swept through the balcony, rustling leaves and carrying with it an ominous presence. A green figure landed silently, as if stepping out from the depths of hell itself.
Fisk's gaze snapped toward the balcony. For a brief moment, surprise flickered in his eyes, but it vanished just as quickly. He reached calmly for the cane resting beside him, gripping it loosely as he spoke.
"Why don't you come in and sit?" he said, as if greeting an old acquaintance.
Leo stepped forward without hesitation, his movements confident and steady as he entered the room.
Fisk's eyes lingered on him for a moment, studying the figure in front of him. A humanoid turtle… It was absurd. Yet the aura he carried was anything but laughable.
Where did this one come from?
"Are you here to kill me," Fisk asked evenly, "or to kidnap me?"
Leo didn't answer.
"Whoosh—!"
Instead, he drew the sword from his back in one fluid motion. Chakra surged along the blade, igniting into roaring flames that wrapped around the steel. The temperature in the room spiked instantly, heat radiating outward like a furnace.
"This is a warning," Leo said calmly.
He swung his blade.
Flames roared forward, tearing through the air as they slammed into the ground. The floor tiles shattered instantly, cracking apart as a deep, jagged trench formed where the attack landed.
Fisk's eyes flickered as he took in the destruction.
A warning.
His mind moved quickly, piecing things together. The only force bold enough to send someone like this was Milcom Industries.
Before they entered the underworld, Fisk's network had been dominant. His influence, his connections—they were unmatched. But now, everything had changed. Even he had to tread carefully around this new power.
"All this," Fisk said slowly, "because of a small gathering I hosted?"
His thoughts drifted briefly to that dinner. A simple meeting with other gang leaders, nothing more than a discussion of interests and territory. Yet the very next day, Milcom Industries had stormed in and crushed the balance he had worked years to build.
And when he tried to push back, someone had come knocking.
A clear message.
You can find me.
You can destroy me.
You can kill me.
Fisk's expression twisted slightly, anger simmering beneath the surface. His dignity—his authority—was being trampled.
Why should he bow?
Why should he be the one to concede?
His eyes burned with a fierce, almost uncontrollable rage.
"Threaten me?" Fisk growled, tightening his grip on the cane. "Then die."
Without hesitation, he charged forward, his massive frame moving with surprising speed. The cane swung upward, aimed straight at Leo's head with crushing force.
Leo's eyes flickered with mild surprise before a cold smirk appeared on his face.
A clown.
He stepped forward, his flaming blade slicing downward.
At the last second, Fisk twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the strike. Using the cane as leverage, he pivoted, closing the distance in an instant.
"Bang!"
His fist shot forward, aimed directly at Leo's face.
For most opponents, the sudden counterattack would have landed cleanly.
But not this one.
"Smack!"
Fisk's body flew backward.
Leo's kick had already connected, sending the massive man crashing into the corner of the room. The impact shook the walls, dust falling from above as Fisk hit the ground hard.
"No alcohol, no distractions," Leo said coldly, stepping forward. "You'll suffer for your choices."
His blade rose again, flames surging violently.
"Damn it…"
With a single swing, countless arcs of fiery energy tore through the room, each one carrying destructive force. They struck Fisk head-on, tearing through his clothes and flesh alike.
Blood splattered.
His suit was shredded, his body covered in deep, burning wounds. A long gash cut across his face, blood flowing freely as his vision blurred.
"Am I… really going to die here…?"
Shock and fury mixed within him.
Against most superheroes, Fisk could at least hold his ground. He might not win easily, but he wouldn't be overwhelmed like this.
But this wasn't normal.
These turtles… they had been enhanced.
If all four of them fought together, even top-tier villains would struggle.
Just as despair began to creep in—
"Clang!"
A figure burst through the doorway.
"Lord Wilson, I'm here to protect you!" the lizard-like villain shouted, rushing forward without hesitation.
Before he could even finish speaking—
The flames reached him.
He was struck mid-charge, his body sent flying across the room like a ragdoll. He crashed down beside Fisk, blood spilling from his mouth as his eyes rolled back, his limbs twitching uncontrollably.
Fisk stared at him, the brief spark of hope that had risen instantly crushed.
"Is this guy trying to be funny?!"
.....
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