Bang. Bang. Two shots, two bodies down.
John glanced at the last guy he dropped, then stepped over the body, moving forward without hesitation.
"Let's see what these punks were hiding," he muttered, crouching down to check the crates stacked in the corner.
Prying one open, he found pouches filled with white powder.
"Drugs. Of course," he sighed, shaking his head. But he didn't waste time. With a wave of his hand, the pouches vanished into his storage.
"Same old crap," he muttered, standing up and scanning the room for anything else worth taking. It had been two days since his last gacha pull, and he'd been systematically targeting gangs in Hell's Kitchen ever since.
"Time to meet up with them," John said, leaving the building and slipping into the shadows.
Some Time Later
John arrived at the meeting spot but didn't see Daredevil or Punisher anywhere.
"Late? That's not like them," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. Something felt off. "Looks like there's a problem. Guess I'll check it out myself."
Without wasting another second, John made his way to the area they'd planned to hit, staying sharp for anything unusual.
----
Daredevil slammed into the wall, the impact leaving a sharp pain radiating through his ribs. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up. No time to stay down. He could feel her closing in—fast, relentless, like a predator on the hunt.
He flipped back to his feet just as she charged.
Her punch came at him with the force of a wrecking ball. He ducked, letting it sail past, and countered with a precise jab to her ribs. It landed, but she barely flinched.
"She's strong," he thought grimly, his senses on high alert. Too strong for this to be natural.
She didn't give him a second to breathe, lunging at him with a wild swing. Matt dodged again, sweat dripping down his face as he shouted, "Stop!"
But she didn't even pause, her movements raw, her eyes empty of reason. Whoever she was, she wasn't in control.
He can sense the guy controlling her , punisher is standing beside him like a puppet. Enjoying his fight like a drama.
Before he could react, she ripped a chunk of concrete from the floor like it was paper and hurled it straight at him. Matt dove to the side, the slab shattering against the wall behind him, spraying debris everywhere.
"I don't want to hurt you!" he shouted, trying to block her next strike. The force of her punch rattled through his arm. She wasn't holding back.
She swung again, and this time Matt caught her wrist mid-strike, using her momentum to twist her around and pin her against the wall.
"Listen to me!" he said, his voice tight with urgency. "He is controlling you—we can stop it. But you have to fight it!"
For a second, it seemed like she hesitated, like something human flickered in her eyes.
But it was gone as quickly as it came. She broke out of his grip with inhuman strength, shoving him so hard he slid across the floor.
Matt groaned as he staggered back to his feet, wiping blood from his lip. He tightened his fists, his breathing heavy.
Whoever she was, he didn't know how much longer he could hold back.
"Look at him," a voice echoed, smug and taunting. "Running like a scared little rat. Pathetic."
Kilgrave leaned casually against a wall, his creepy grin stretching wider as he watched Daredevil get tossed around like a rag doll.
"Kingpin couldn't handle you two clowns, so guess who he called? Me," Kilgrave said, his voice full of fake cheer. But underneath, there was anger—sharp and bitter.
The thing about Kingpin? Kilgrave had tried to control him once. It didn't end well. Fisk was immune to his powers, and the beating Kilgrave got after that was something he'd never forget.
Ever since, whenever Kingpin asked him to "deal with" someone, it wasn't really a request. Sure, the money was good, but it wasn't about that. It was about proving a point.
Now, watching Daredevil take hit after hit, Kilgrave couldn't stop the twisted grin from spreading across his face.
He turned to the Punisher, who stood rigidly beside him, eyes cold but empty. "You're not going to help him," Kilgrave said, his voice oozing command.
"I won't," Punisher replied flatly. Kilgrave's grip on him was airtight.
Keeping the Punisher close wasn't just for show. Kilgrave knew another person working with them will eventually come. That's why Frank was still breathing—for now. A controlled Punisher was his insurance policy, a guard dog to keep interruptions at bay while he enjoyed the chaos.
Kilgrave's gaze drifted back to Daredevil, struggling to hold his own. "Let's see how long your little friend lasts," Kilgrave muttered, his voice dark and full of malice.
Suddenly, he heard something hit the ground in front of him, rolling toward him.
He looked down and saw a round object.
Beep… beep…
The second he heard the beeping, he knew exactly what it was.
"Jump!" he yelled, leaping forward just in time.
Boom.
The explosion blasted behind him, the shockwave hitting him like a punch. Dust and debris flew everywhere, but he made it out of the blast radius just in time.
His heart raced, still pounding from the close call. "Who's setting up bombs now?" he muttered, scanning the area, every muscle tensed.
Then, he realized—although he heard the sound, the explosion wasn't as powerful as it should have been.
Something felt off.
"Guard me," he said, turning to Punisher, who was slowly getting to his feet.
Punisher nodded, his expression grim, and positioned himself to keep watch.