"Captain Steve got caught in the crossfire?"
Clint Barton's face darkened as he stared at the aftermath. His jaw tightened, not out of concern alone, but something deeper—anger mixed with something sharp and personal.
He knew exactly how far things had gone between them and Daredevil.
It didn't matter who started it anymore.
Once a conflict like this was established, there was no clean resolution. No negotiation. No stepping back.
Only escalation.
Hawkeye would never bow his head to another so-called "street hero." He had clawed his way up from nothing, paid in blood and pain to become the world's best marksman. His pride wasn't just arrogance—it was the foundation of who he was.
And he refused to let it break.
"Whoosh—"
His hand snapped to his longbow again.
Ahead of him, shadows moved—fast, unpredictable. The storm distorted everything, but his instincts locked in immediately.
Shoot.
Shoot now.
In a single breath, Hawkeye fired.
One arrow.
Then another.
Then a barrage.
More than ten arrows streaked through the air in rapid succession, each one carrying lethal precision as they tore toward their target.
But—
Before they could connect—
They detonated.
All of them.
Mid-air.
Flames erupted one after another, explosions chaining together like a controlled demolition. It was as if something unseen had intercepted every shot.
And through the fire—
A figure broke through.
Daredevil.
He came straight through the explosions, his momentum untouched, his presence overwhelming as he closed the gap instantly.
"—!"
Hawkeye didn't even have time to react.
Impact.
"BOOM!"
The kick landed.
And it felt like getting hit by a speeding truck.
His body lifted off the ground, thrown violently backward as the force tore through him. The air was ripped from his lungs, his chest screaming in pain as blood surged up his throat.
"Huff—!"
Before he could even spit it out—
A boot came down.
Hard.
Pressed against his face.
Everything stopped.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Disbelief.
All of it crashed down on him at once, suffocating, overwhelming, unbearable.
His eyes bulged slightly, veins straining as he tried to fight back, but his body refused to respond. Every muscle screamed, but none obeyed.
He was pinned.
Helpless.
To the world, he was one of the Avengers.
A hero.
But right now?
He was nothing.
Just another defeated man lying in the dirt.
Daredevil didn't even look at him.
To him, this was just—
Justice.
A repayment.
Back when they first met, he had been hunted, beaten, nearly killed under the excuse of "order." Branded a criminal for doing what they claimed to stand for.
So where was that justice then?
Where was that righteousness?
Violence decides justice.
Strength defines truth.
Without power—
There is no justice.
Daredevil slowly brought his hands together, bowing his head slightly in silent gratitude.
To Locke.
The one who had healed him.
The one who had given him power.
The one who had shown him a path.
Then—
"Bang."
His foot pressed down again.
Harder.
Grinding Hawkeye's face into the ground.
The sound of dignity cracking was almost louder than the impact itself.
"Tap. Tap. Tap."
Natasha Romanoff finally moved.
Her composure had cracked.
For the first time, real urgency flashed across her face as she turned toward Banner.
"Help us," she said quickly, her voice tight. "Now."
Bruce Banner hesitated.
He didn't answer immediately.
Because he couldn't.
"I… I'll try," he said carefully, his tone uncertain. "But I can't control it very well…"
That was the excuse.
The truth?
There was nothing to control anymore.
Since Locke had sealed the Hulk, Banner had been… normal.
Completely normal.
No rage.
No transformation.
No uncontrollable monster.
Just a man.
And deep down—
He didn't want it back.
Looking at the people in front of him, Banner's thoughts were far from sympathetic. The more he listened, the more he understood.
These people—
These "heroes"—
Were broken.
Tony Stark, the narcissist.
Steve Rogers, the self-righteous idealist.
Natasha, the cold manipulator.
Hawkeye, prideful and fragile.
Every single one of them carried something twisted beneath the surface.
Madness.
All of them.
If the Hulk were still here, maybe he would have fit right in.
But now?
Banner just felt… detached.
Locke had given him something none of them could understand.
A second chance.
A normal life.
The ability to exist without being consumed by anger.
Even the chance to hold the woman he loved without fear.
Why would he throw that away?
"Tap—"
"Tap—"
Another stomp.
Hawkeye's hand was crushed under Daredevil's boot, bones grinding under pressure.
"AHHH—!"
The scream tore out of him, raw and broken.
Tears mixed with blood at the corners of his eyes as his body convulsed from the pain.
Daredevil leaned slightly closer, a faint smile forming.
"Enjoy it," he said softly. "Because you'll never draw a bow again."
That—
Was worse than death.
For a man like Hawkeye, it was the same as ending his life.
Black Widow felt a chill run down her spine as she watched.
If that were her—
What would he take?
Her face?
Her body?
Her identity?
Before she could think further—
Hawkeye's eyes rolled back.
He passed out.
Just like that.
Daredevil straightened slowly, his expression calm as he turned his attention toward Natasha.
Then—
He disappeared.
And reappeared right in front of her.
No warning.
No hesitation.
"Maybe we can talk—" Natasha started, her hands lifting slightly in a defensive gesture. At the same time, she frantically signaled toward Banner behind him.
Transform.
Do something.
Anything.
But—
Nothing happened.
Banner stood there.
Still human.
Still useless.
Natasha's expression flickered.
So this is what it comes down to?
Men really are unreliable.
"Sizzle—"
Daredevil's fist tightened.
A deep yellow aura gathered around it, heavy and dense, pulling the air inward as if gravity itself had increased.
This wasn't just a punch.
This was execution.
Natasha's instincts screamed.
Charm wouldn't work.
Negotiation wouldn't work.
There was only one option left.
"Fine," she said sharply, pulling out a soft whip from her waist. "Then we fight."
She moved instantly, her body flowing into motion with trained precision. As one of the Red Room's finest, she had survived countless battles, mastered countless skills.
She wasn't weak.
Not even close.
But—
"BANG!"
The punch landed.
And everything ended.
Her body lifted off the ground like it had been struck by heavy machinery, flying backward before slamming hard into the earth.
Her vision went white.
Then black.
She collapsed.
Unconscious.
Too weak.
Far too weak.
Daredevil didn't even spare her a second glance.
Compared to what he had become—
They were nothing.
Even if Tony Stark merged completely with his machines, even if he reached the peak of technology—
It wouldn't matter.
Daredevil would still crush him.
That was his confidence now.
Absolute.
Unshakable.
A few meters away, Banner closed his eyes slowly, letting out a quiet breath.
"…Just get it over with," he muttered. "Make it quick."
Daredevil paused.
He tilted his head slightly.
"You don't have a grudge with me," he said calmly. "Why would I hit you?"
Banner blinked.
For a moment—
He genuinely didn't know how to respond.
Who was the real hero here?
The thought flashed through his mind before he quickly suppressed it.
Then—
A different concern surfaced.
If everyone else was beaten unconscious…
And he walked away untouched…
What would people say?
"…You should hit me anyway," Banner said after a moment.
Daredevil stared at him.
For the first time—
He looked confused.
"…You serious?"
Banner nodded slowly.
Daredevil sighed.
"…Fine."
If that's what he wanted—
He would oblige.
"BANG!"
The punch landed cleanly.
Banner's body dropped instantly, a faint, almost peaceful smile still lingering on his face as he lost consciousness.
.....
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