The ninjas behind Nobu reacted instantly.
They swung their swords up at once, trying to knock away the incoming "arrows."
A burst of sharp metallic clangs rang out.
Quite a few of the projectiles were cut from the air, but quite a few more struck true, dropping ninja after ninja to the ground.
Only then did Nobu realize that the figure atop the container stack hadn't fired arrows at all.
What came raining down on them were metal rods, table knives, forks, and all kinds of ordinary objects.
What the hell?
Even Nobu was stunned.
That man had turned everyday items into lethal weapons with nothing but his hands?
What kind of absurd ability was that?
But his shock faded quickly, replaced by cold focus.
Watching his men fall one after another, Nobu said nothing. With a sharp metallic ring, he drew his sword.
His gaze turned razor-sharp as it locked onto the silhouette atop the containers, and he charged.
More projectiles screamed through the air.
The moment Nobu moved, he became the attacker's primary target. A storm of objects came flying straight at him.
But Nobu's sword moved so quickly it formed a perfect wall of steel, knocking every last projectile aside.
He advanced against the barrage without slowing, cutting his way forward until he reached the base of the containers.
At that distance, Nobu finally saw the figure clearly.
The man standing up there was a stranger—someone he had never seen before.
And beside him stood a far more familiar face.
Wilson Fisk.
Kingpin.
The chill in Nobu's eyes deepened.
He should have known. How many men in all of Hell's Kitchen had a body that massive?
As for Fisk wanting him dead, Nobu wasn't surprised in the slightest.
The two of them had clashed more than once recently, both openly and in the shadows.
And for a ruthless, ambitious kingpin like Fisk, eliminating the outside powers one by one and taking sole control of Hell's Kitchen was the most natural thing in the world.
Nobu had never trusted Fisk.
Still, the fact that Fisk had made his move so soon did surprise him a little.
"They're more troublesome than I expected."
Kingpin glanced at the surviving ninjas pressing forward through Bullseye's assault and muttered under his breath.
Then he looked up and made a signal toward the darkness.
At once, a group of gunmen appeared atop the stacks of containers behind Nobu's men.
Gunfire erupted.
They opened up from the rear, catching the ninjas completely off guard.
One after another, the Hand warriors began to fall.
But these weren't ordinary fighters. Their combat ability far surpassed even elite special forces, let alone the hired gunmen under Kingpin's command.
Though they were thrown off in the opening moments, once they adapted, they immediately launched a brutal counterattack.
Unfortunately for them, cold steel was still cold steel.
It couldn't compete with automatic weapons.
And Kingpin had prepared carefully for this ambush. Every one of his shooters was armed with a submachine gun.
With Bullseye supporting them from above, the outcome was inevitable.
By the time the bloody clash ended, every ninja Nobu had brought with him was dead.
Only Nobu himself remained.
And he was wounded.
A bullet had torn through his arm, and one of Bullseye's knives had buried itself in his thigh.
He had already lost his ability to fight.
Seeing that the battle was completely under control, Kingpin stepped out of the shadows and strode toward him.
"Wilson Fisk!"
Nobu glared at him, his voice a low, furious growl.
"This isn't usually how I do things," Kingpin said, his tone heavy with hatred as he slowly shrugged off his suit jacket. "But this time, Nobu, you crossed the line."
"I've decided to kill you myself."
Only by crushing Nobu with his own hands could he truly avenge Wesley.
"You have no idea what kind of existence you've provoked."
Even facing certain death, Nobu showed no fear. He simply stared at Kingpin with icy contempt.
"That's not your concern."
Kingpin's expression remained equally cold. He locked eyes with Nobu and barked, "Where is that woman? Tell me where she is!"
Nobu was genuinely thrown for a second.
A woman?
What woman?
What the hell was Fisk talking about?
"Don't play dumb. The one who uses twin blades—Elektra!"
Black Sky.
Shock flashed across Nobu's face.
If Kingpin had only said the name Elektra, Nobu wouldn't have been certain. It was a common enough name.
But once he added "the woman who uses twin blades," there was no mistaking it.
It was Black Sky.
The very Black Sky the Hand had been searching for all this time.
Why was Kingpin asking him about her?
Unless...
Did Fisk know Elektra was Black Sky? Did he know the Hand had been searching for her?
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
There was no way Nobu would ever admit to something like that, so he feigned complete ignorance.
But Kingpin was no ordinary man.
He had spent his life reading people, manipulating them, crushing them.
Nobu had hidden it well—but that one flash of shock on his face hadn't escaped Kingpin's notice.
So it was true.
That woman had been sent by Nobu.
In that instant, all of Kingpin's remaining doubts vanished.
"Don't pretend with me. Do you really think I don't know who she is?"
Kingpin looked down at Nobu with a cold snort.
So... Fisk really did know Elektra was Black Sky.
Nobu's face darkened.
He couldn't understand it. How could the head of some underground human crime empire know something like that?
"Fine. I'll find her myself."
Kingpin had no interest in wasting any more breath. He knew Nobu would never give him anything useful.
So he raised his hand.
In an instant, his fist transformed into steel and began to glow with searing heat.
After relentless training, Kingpin's mastery over the Steel Fruit had improved dramatically. He could now harden and superheat his fist almost at will.
Nobu's attention locked onto that blazing hand.
For the first time, real shock appeared on his usually impassive face.
"That's..."
His pupils shrank.
"The Iron Fist!"
[Author Note]
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