Loki had barely finished speaking when he lunged at Daredevil like a hawk diving for its prey.
Matt's ears twitched — a warning instinct honed by years of battle. He raised his cane just in time.
A sharp clang! echoed through the air as steel met steel, sparks bursting between them.
"This guy… he's insanely strong!" Matt gritted his teeth, muscles straining. Despite his relentless training and the Stick's brutal tutelage, despite his body being honed beyond ordinary limits, he still felt the overwhelming force pressing against him.
Loki, in contrast, wore a faint, contemptuous smile. His expression was calm — almost lazy.
"Ultimately, you're just a mortal," he sneered. "How can you bridge the gap between heaven and earth?"
The dagger in his hand danced like a butterfly, flashing with deadly grace. Matt parried with his cane, deflecting the blow just in time. Then, seizing the moment, he swung his weapon straight at the god.
Loki's smirk widened. What a fool.
He didn't even bother to dodge. Instead, he thrust forward with his other dagger — stabbing Matt in the abdomen.
It should have been a mutual strike, but when the cane connected with Loki's head, it rang with a dull clang.
Matt froze in disbelief.
Armor?! He's wearing a helmet? Seriously?
His blindness betrayed him again — he couldn't see the glint of Asgardian metal beneath Loki's robes.
Pain seared through his body. He staggered backward, clutching his wound, feeling the warmth of his own blood soak through his suit.
"You…" he gasped, trying to steady himself.
Loki chuckled darkly. "Is that all you've got? Aside from your hearing, you're nothing special." He raised his dagger again, ready to deliver the killing blow.
But then, through the haze of pain, Matt smirked. "If I were you," he said faintly, "I'd look behind me first."
"Behind me?" Loki frowned and turned.
In the distance, Bullseye was already limping away, having used the fight as cover. He'd made it nearly a hundred meters.
The trickster god's expression twisted with fury. That wretch! He needed Bullseye — not for his loyalty, but for his resources. The man had connections, manpower, and influence. Taking over his network would be faster than starting from scratch.
And Kingpin — the so-called ruler of this territory — would be his next target. But to reach him, Loki first needed Bullseye.
He could not — would not — let him escape.
Without another word, Loki abandoned Daredevil and darted after his prey, vanishing into the shadows.
Matt, bleeding and barely conscious, seized the brief reprieve. He fired his grappling line, hooked onto a nearby container, and disappeared into the darkened harbor.
Moments later, dozens of police cars screeched to a halt at Pier 7. The scene was already swarming with men in black suits.
George Stacy, the police chief, stepped forward, his tone sharp. "What agency are you with? This is New York City jurisdiction — murders fall under the NYPD."
A middle-aged man in a crisp suit approached him, calm and polite. His badge flashed under the lights.
"Director Stacy, Phil Coulson. FBI."
He smiled faintly, professional yet unreadable.
"We have reason to believe a terrorist organization is involved. For now, we're taking over the investigation. Your superiors will be in touch shortly. Please keep your phone on."
George Stacy took the badge and examined it carefully. It was indeed an FBI agent's. He couldn't help but curse inwardly. These guys have a nose for everything—they're everywhere.
Despite his irritation, he kept his expression neutral and began probing casually.
"That seven-colored beam of light was visible across all of New York. Did your people find anything?"
"Sorry," Coulson replied with his trademark polite smile, revealing nothing. "We're still investigating the specifics."
George sighed in frustration and returned to his car, his mood sour.
Just then, another agent approached with a scanner and reported, "We detected high-energy residue at the scene, followed by signs of a violent firefight. The death toll is eighty-four. Some victims died from gunshot wounds, others from blade injuries—possibly daggers or similar weapons."
Taking the report, Coulson flipped through the gruesome photos, his brows furrowing.
"Any surveillance footage?"
"This is one of Kingpin's drug ports," the agent replied. "Most of the cameras are shut off at night."
Coulson nodded. At least they had a lead.
"Since this is Kingpin's territory, he must know something. Notify Team Two—I want a full investigation into him. I need to know exactly what went down here."
The agent in black nodded. Kingpin was the undisputed ruler of New York's underworld—intimidating, yes, but against a global power like S.H.I.E.L.D., he was ultimately outmatched.
The reason he'd been left alone for so many years was simple: Kingpin had brought a semblance of order to the chaos. Murders still happened, of course, but large-scale shootouts had become rare.
The U.S. government had chosen to turn a blind eye. After all, Kingpin was a master of connections—his ties with several members of Congress were murky at best, and his ability to trade power for favors was second to none.
But a few corrupt politicians couldn't shield him from S.H.I.E.L.D. forever.
Just as Coulson set the investigation in motion, Kingpin found himself facing something he'd never encountered before.
---
"An ant is still an ant," a mocking voice echoed through the dimly lit underground gym. "No matter how much you train it, it's only ever a stronger ant."
In the golden light above the boxing ring, Kingpin's massive figure loomed like a mountain. All around him, flickering afterimages of Loki danced in the shadows, surrounding him like phantoms.
The metallic tang of blood filled the air. Kingpin narrowed his eyes—his men were all dead. And the one who had betrayed him… was Bullseye.
It made no sense. Bullseye was a professional assassin, his services expensive—very expensive. Across the United States, only Kingpin had been able to ensure steady, lucrative work for him.
Yet here he was, siding with someone else.
Had Bullseye found an even bigger benefactor?
Kingpin clenched his fists and growled, "Who the hell are you? I don't recall ever offending anyone like you. Your power is impressive. If you're willing to work for me, I can offer a price you'll find… satisfactory."
The countless reflections of Loki smirked in unison. "You think money can solve everything?"
Kingpin sneered back. "Actually, I've always believed there's no problem in this world that can't be solved with money. The only difference—" he paused, his tone dripping with menace—"is the amount."