Seeing me manipulate the water swirling around my hand, the American's demeanor shifted. His bravado cracked as his grip on the brass knuckles faltered, his hand repeatedly opening and closing. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, betraying his unease.
"There are more of you freaks every day," he muttered, stepping forward.
Before his foot could even land, I extended my hand, and the watery whip shot out, coiling around his ankle with fluid precision. With a sharp tug, I yanked him off balance, sending him sprawling to the ground.
I expected nothing more than to topple him, but the motion went further. The force dragged him across the dusty floor, leaving him sprawled on his back before me. Without hesitation, I tightened my water-enhanced fist and aimed for his chest. At the last moment, I adjusted my strike to his stomach instead, mindful that a blow to the ribs might shatter them and lead to fatal consequences.
The punch landed with a dull thud. His pained scream echoed in the empty warehouse as he curled into himself, clutching his midsection. "Ahhh… I'll kill you! I'll kill you, you bastard!" he howled.
Ignoring his threats, I stooped to pick up the brass knuckles he had dropped, slipping them into my pocket. Tools like these could be useful when I didn't want to reveal my powers. When I fought as Jared, weapons like these were my only fallback.
The three Asians locked in battle with Matt turned their attention to me. Their gazes flicked from the fallen American to the water still twisting around my hand. Alarm was etched into their faces. For a moment, they hesitated, trying to assess if I was an ally or an additional threat.
A smirk crept onto my lips, and I clenched my fist, making my intentions clear. Their hesitation deepened. Alone, neither Matt nor I were easy opponents, and they clearly knew their chances of survival were slim if they didn't work together.
Sensing their distraction, Matt struck. Two of the men received quick, brutal punches, their heads snapping back from the force. The third man—the leader—managed to dodge just in time and squared off against Matt.
The two stunned men recovered quickly, wiped the blood dripping from their nose and charged at Me. I raised my hand, and the water circling me morphed into a floating ring that revolved protectively. With a sharp flick of my palm, a blob of water shot out from a ring as if a part of the ring was being alienated, slamming into one man's cheek. The impact staggered him, and he crumpled to the floor.
I advanced steadily, the water ring orbiting me like a living shield.
The leader, still dueling Matt, barked a command in Japanese to his companions. One of the fallen men scrambled to his feet, both now focusing entirely on me. Knives gleamed in their hands as they closed the distance.
I remained unfazed. With three swift motions, I sent out bursts of water. The first two struck one man in the knees, driving him face-first into the ground with a painful grunt. The third blob hit the second man's hand, disarming him with a loud clatter.
The disarmed man froze, glaring at me. Calculating his odds, he bent to retrieve his knife, likely thinking he had enough time. That was his first mistake.
As he reached down, I leaped into the air. With a thought, the water shifted from the ring to encase my right leg in a thick, fluid armor.
His eyes darted to my left leg as it landed beside him, but his expectation of symmetry was his second mistake. My water-empowered right leg slammed into his back with a thunderous
BAAMMM
Driving him into the concrete. The impact was so fierce that cracks radiated outward in a spiderweb pattern, larger and deeper than the ones left by the American.
I took a moment to admire the fluidity of the strike, the way my thoughts seamlessly commanded the water. That brief moment of pride cost me.
The other man had recovered, and when I noticed him, his knife was already sailing through the air, spinning toward me with deadly intent.
SWISHHH.
My first instinct was to dodge, but Matt and the other fighter were directly behind me. I couldn't risk it. Acting on pure instinct, I drew the water around me into a dense shield in front of my chest. My muscles tensed involuntarily, bracing for the inevitable pain.
The knife sliced into the water—but stopped. No sharp pain followed.
I blinked, letting the tension drain from my body as I glanced at my unscathed hands. The knife dropped harmlessly to the ground, the water cascading down in glimmering rivulets.
The man charged again, but this time, I was ready. A single wave of my hand sent a concentrated burst of water crashing into his stomach. He doubled over, clutching his abdomen as he sank to his knees.
I stepped forward, reinforcing my right leg with water once more. This time, my kick connected with his jaw, sending him tumbling several meters. His body stilled, unconscious—or worse.
Turning, I saw that Matt was finishing the leader. His punches landed with ruthless precision, leaving the man barely able to stand. When Matt noticed me approaching, he released his opponent, who collapsed, wheezing on the floor. Matt looked still on guard as he tried to determine if I was a ally or a foe. Even though I had already helped him take down the others, he was still unsure of my motives.
"You're a long way from Hell's Kitchen, Daredevil," I said, breaking the silence. I said in a slight heavy voice unsure if that would fool him.
I expected a snarky remark maybe for trying to make my voice heavier, but his response surprised me. "This is a bad neighborhood for a kid."
His words made me pause. "What makes you think I'm a kid?" I said still not ready let him one up me on this.
He smirked. "You smell like a school locker room, for one. I could name seven more reasons, but I'll spare you the lecture."
I chuckled softly. "I won't argue with an experienced lawyer like you, Matt Murdock." I used my own voice for this and had a smirk on my face. I knew he couldn't see it but I still wanted to.
His composure cracked, his expression shifting briefly to surprise. "Who are you?" as he clenched his fists ready to attack me at a moment's notice. I felt the only hesitation he had was due to me being a kid.
"That's something you'll learn in time—if you accept my proposal."
"Proposal? What proposal?"
"To form a team. Vigilantes, like you. If you think the people you fight are bad, the ones I know of are far worse."
He didn't reply, instead walking to the American, retrieving a briefcase from the ground. "You should leave before the cops arrive."
"You haven't answered my question," I pressed.
"I don't know how you know my name," he said, his tone cold, "but I'm not here to play hero. I work alone." With that, he retrieved something from the fallen leader's pocket and disappeared left the warehouse.
'He didn't even take me seriously. I know I am a kid but this still feel insulting....I'll get back at you for this Matt' I promised myself as I looked around.
Frustration lingered, but I knew convincing him would take time. I glanced down at the scattered bodies of the fallen men. These weren't random thugs—they were connected to the men who had invaded Ryan's home.
As I turned to leave, my gaze fell on the knife lying on the ground. Picking it up, I noticed something peculiar.
The blade was encased in thick, glistening ice.
A smile tugged at my lips.
**
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