"Again!" Jessica shouted, visibly angry.
"You know, the me you fought before isn't the same me today," I replied, a broad smile on my lips.
"I don't care! I refuse to leave it at a defeat," she retorted.
"As you wish," I said, flexing my muscles.
Showing some sportsmanship, I let her take the initiative. Still as fast as ever, she reached me in two steps, a fist heading towards my face. I tilted my head to avoid it, while raising my arm to intercept her foot, which was dangerously aiming at my chest.
Grabbing her foot firmly, I pushed her back with all my strength. She had to perform a flip to regain her balance, but still, she skidded, creating two shallow grooves in the ground. However, she remained standing even at the end of the maneuver.
Wasting no time, I attacked her at full speed. One thing was clear: in a fight, you have to exploit your gains mercilessly. You always have to be on the lookout. Bragging or unnecessary talk is a one-way ticket to the grave. Bullseye knew that well.
Like a berserker, I unleashed a downright savage combo, targeting all the sensitive points and internal organs. I was far from being an expert in combat. Hitting hard, hitting where it hurts, with maximum force, would be my technique until I could improve my martial arts.
"Okay! Okay, I surrender for today," Jessica cried out, facing the relentless barrage of my blows.
"Hmmm. I thought you were more stubborn. You disappoint me, you know," I replied sarcastically.
"Shut up. Unlike you, people have limits. You seem to grow exponentially," she snapped angrily.
"That's not entirely untrue," I said, extending my hand to help her up. "My growth depends on continuous training, understanding my magic, and specific situations."
"Quite unfair, indeed. By the way, haven't you unlocked any new spells?"
"No, as I told you, I've had these powers for a short time. So I don't create spells every morning. Plus, creating new spells or techniques requires a calm, healthy environment, free of all this tension."
"Not wrong. And besides, this place is too cramped for that," she replied.
"The meditation and our fights over the past few days have allowed me to strengthen my power and speed without actively using mana."
"Interesting, even if I don't quite understand how your powers work," she said.
"It's simple. Physical reinforcement and meditation make me more robust on one side, and on the other, they give me better mana management," I replied.
"Alright, alright. All this theory has made me hungry. Give me some money so I can buy food," she said, extending her hand.
"Don't look at me like that," she added, pocketing the money. "We have to stick together in our situation."
"Of course!" I laughed.
**Daredevil's Point of View**
As he suspected, Fisk had his hands too full with Alex to closely monitor what might happen to his associates. It had been a while since he had one of Fisk's associates in his sights. The target in question was none other than the Kingpin's accountant. He was responsible for laundering all his dirty money. Complex financial setups, shady deals, there was no one better than him. He even had a code name, although it was frankly ridiculous: The Owl.
The Owl was a former Wall Street financier. His more-than-questionable manners and boundless greed had led him into Fisk's fold. He had been working for him for nearly three years. He was a slightly paranoid man regarding the traces he left, as well as his surveillance.
Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for Matt, he seemed to pay little attention to the threat posed by heroes. This nonchalance put him on Matt's radar. A raid on his office allowed Matt to gather juicy evidence, and above all, information that was worth its weight in gold.
Fisk and The Hand planned to become partners in a month or two. However, Fisk's organization was unstable at the moment. He needed this alliance to expand and solidify his reign over New York's underworld. The Hand was not known for tolerating failure and inefficiency. Fisk's troubles with Alex could end the alliance and provoke a war between them if everything were to come to light.
All these elements combined were enough to make Fisk bend. The Maggia or the Russians would be too happy to get their hands on such a nugget.
"It would have been enough to start seriously going after Fisk legally, although I doubt their ability to stand against him. But that will be for another time. Alex is the priority," Matt thought, a bit disappointed.
**Barton's Point of View**
"What did you find while going through the files you retrieved?" Natasha asked.
"A complete mess. Anyone with a minimum of power does whatever they want in this city," Barton replied.
"Isn't that how the rest of the world is?" Natasha asked, ironically.
"Tsss. The rest of the world doesn't have as many superhumans per square meter. Anyway, let's move on."
"According to the cameras I analyzed, his last appearance was almost two weeks ago. He was with a certain Jessica Jones," Natasha continued.
"According to our information, she's a former hero with a brief career who turned private detective. She's not listed as dangerous, which suggests our target might be approachable," Barton stated.
"Approachable, you say?" Natasha asked, perplexed.
"Yes. According to Shield's information and what I've gathered, the conflict between the two men started after Alex testified about Fisk murdering a cop," Barton argued.
"I already know all that," Natasha interrupted.
"But what you didn't know is that the complaint file disappeared. But later, Jessica got a copy from an anonymous source. Furthermore, the dead cop sometimes helped Jessica with her investigations," Barton added.
"Hmm. I see. But why did it suddenly escalate?"
"Simple, according to my sources, there's an alliance brewing between various underworld groups," Barton replied.
"And where there's an alliance," Natasha added, "there are negotiations, and the one in a position of strength, the one most in control, will have the upper hand," Natasha stated.
"Exactly. The fact that Alex is alive poses a short-term and long-term threat to the Kingpin's affairs."
"How do we approach both parties now?" Romanoff asked.
"For Alex, we need to find Jessica. She probably hid him since the city is being combed day and night looking for him. As for Fisk, we need to analyze this new alliance he's forming, then we'll decide," Barton replied.
"Alright," Natasha replied succinctly.
"However, whatever we decide for Fisk, we need to clean up a bit. A criminal, even if sometimes useful to us, having so much power over the police, politicians, or the media, is a threat we need to curb," Barton warned seriously.
**Wesley's Point of View**
It wasn't often that Wesley felt nervous. Yet, carrying this package to Fisk's office, his hands were clammy.
An hour ago, a man came to deliver a box addressed to his employer. Being responsible for Fisk's close security, he had it opened in a room specially designed for suspicious and unidentified packages. Their enemies were imaginative; better to be paranoid than negligent. A bomb or poison, and it would be all over.
If the box's contents had been those two things, it would have been a blessing. The USB key and the stack of documents inside gave him a feeling of a truly morbid climate.
How was this possible? Who could have been so negligent in their dealings? As he read the papers, his eyes grew colder and crueler. There was no doubt; these documents belonged to their accountant. And the latter wasn't foolish enough to blackmail them. He knew he would end up under a bridge or in a dumpster.
So who? he wondered, increasingly irritated. As he sifted through the papers looking for answers, he came across a letter at the bottom of the box. While reading it, Wesley brought his hand to his neck to adjust his tie. Today, he felt like it was choking him.
"What a bunch of idiots!" he hissed angrily.
"Come in," boomed Fisk's rough voice.
"Sir, we have a big problem," Wesley declared bluntly.
"Seeing your decomposed face, Wesley, it must be really serious."
"Indeed, I just received a highly problematic package, along with a letter," said Wesley.
"Here," he said, handing the box and letter.
As Fisk read, his face turned green with rage. Proof of his illicit activities was before his eyes, right before his eyes.
Unfolding the letter furiously, he read it aloud, his voice full of emotion.
"We have the originals and many more. If you don't want them to end up in the hands of the Hand, the Maggia, or the FBI, stop your manhunt for Alex immediately... In return, he will leave New York, and we will give you all the originals. A refusal to comply will be unfortunate for everyone."
"He dares! He dares to threaten me! Me, Wilson Fisk!" Fisk roared, throwing his chair across the room.
"What about the person you contacted, sir?" Wesley asked cautiously.
"That condescending b**ch laughed in my face, saying the scum I associate with doesn't interest her," Fisk replied, still angry.
"And what do we do now?" Wesley asked.
"Find me Leland. I'll teach him a lesson he won't soon forget," Fisk replied.
"About that, I sent men to his place. It seems he's fled," Wesley replied.
"I see. Call those damned bastards, then