Two Glock 17 pistols roared to life in Locke's hands, their muzzles flashing in rapid succession. Thirty-eight rounds were emptied in an instant, the recoil controlled and precise under his grip. Most of the dozen gunmen dropped before they even understood what had happened, their bodies collapsing under the sudden storm of bullets.
The few who remained alive turned instinctively toward the movement. In the darkness, they caught only a fleeting glimpse of a devil mask cutting through the shadows like a phantom. Fear hit them immediately, raw and uncontrollable.
"Devil Face! It's Devil Face!" one of them screamed into his communicator, panic cracking his voice. "He's working with Daredevil! He wiped out most of us in one move! Mission failed, requesting retreat—mission failed—"
"Boom!"
A bullet tore through his temple before he could finish, his body dropping lifelessly to the ground.
Locke hadn't fired.
A cold, sinister voice came through the dead man's communicator, dripping with contempt. "Perfect timing. Daredevil and Devil Face are both my targets." There was a brief pause, then the tone hardened into something lethal. "Kill them all. Anyone who retreats dies first. Advance and eliminate Daredevil."
Locke didn't waste a second after that. Using the chaos as cover, he slipped back into the darkness and began moving toward the sniper's position. His route was clean and controlled, every step calculated. He knew Hell's Kitchen like the back of his hand, and he moved through it in ways that guaranteed no one would catch even a glimpse of him.
As he ran, he spoke into his headset. "Did you get a look at the sniper?"
David's voice came through, tense but focused. "Black outfit with white stripes. Face completely covered. Only thing that stands out is a bullseye mark on the forehead." There was a rapid tapping sound as he worked. "I'm digging through the police database… nothing. Hold on, I'm breaking into Homeland Security's network—"
"No need," Locke cut him off. "I know who it is."
"What?"
"Bullseye," Locke said, a faint grin touching his lips. "Daredevil's worst nightmare. No wonder he's getting torn apart."
David sounded confused. "Why does it sound like you're enjoying this? If you don't like Daredevil, why are you helping him?"
"I don't hate him," Locke replied calmly. "I just don't like him." His voice turned colder as he continued. "He's a good man. Strong morals, solid principles. But that code of his? I can't stand it. Too idealistic. Too naive."
He vaulted over a low wall without breaking stride. "He wants to clean up a filthy world but refuses to get his hands dirty. He doesn't want blood on his conscience, doesn't want nightmares, doesn't want consequences. That kind of thinking is why he'll always fall short."
There was a brief pause before he added, almost casually, "In that sense, I actually agree more with Fisk. Order comes from blood and death. Even if it's a dark kind of order."
The line went silent for a moment.
Then David spoke, his tone uncertain. "Honestly… you don't sound like God's knight. You sound like the devil's spokesperson."
Locke chuckled softly. "Just a thought. Is the second drone in position?"
"It's up, but too far to get clear detail. I can track him, not his exact movements."
"That's enough."
Guided by David's feed, Locke reached the building where Bullseye was positioned. He slipped inside without a sound, moving through the stairwell with controlled speed before pushing open the rooftop door.
The moment he stepped out, his guns were already raised.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
A dozen bullets tore through the air, aimed directly at the prone figure on the rooftop.
But the instant the rounds hit, Locke's expression shifted.
No blood.
"Heh… you really thought I wouldn't notice that little drone?"
The voice came from behind the decoy.
Before Locke could react, several bullets screamed toward him. His pupils tightened, and the world slowed again under the full activation of his Compound Eyes. He twisted his body just enough to evade the shots, retreating back through the rooftop door in one smooth motion.
On the roof, Bullseye stood up, completely unharmed except for a pair of underwear. For a brief moment, even he looked surprised.
Fast.
That reaction speed was insane.
Locke wiped a thin line of blood from his face where one round had grazed him, his expression darkening. "Damn it. Anyone with a reputation is a pain to kill." His voice sharpened as he spoke into the headset. "What happened? That was a decoy, and you didn't catch it?"
David sounded just as shaken. "How the hell did he spot the drone? We're that far out! There's no way I could tell it was fake!" His voice suddenly rose. "Careful—he's coming in!"
Locke frowned. "Coming in?"
A cold smile spread under the mask.
"Good," he muttered. "Then I'll just beat him to death."
Bullseye burst through the rooftop door in a flash. Locke fired instantly, forcing him back, but the stairwell was tight and full of angles. Both of them moved quickly, using cover and corners, their shots missing by inches.
Then Bullseye's gun clicked empty.
Locke moved.
He surged forward like a spring released, knocking the weapon from Bullseye's hand and driving straight into close combat. His fists came fast and heavy, each strike landing with solid impact.
Bullseye was caught off guard. He had never expected Devil Face to be this dangerous up close. For a moment, he was completely on the defensive, taking hits that snapped his head back and rattled his vision.
But he wasn't weak.
After the initial shock, he adjusted quickly, his body responding with trained instinct. He absorbed the rhythm, countered, and began trading blows. The two of them clashed in the narrow stairwell, neither giving ground, the fight locking into a brutal stalemate.
Locke gritted his teeth, his mental energy already draining from the sustained use of his enhanced perception. He forced himself to focus again, compressing everything into a single burst.
Three punches.
Clean.
Explosive.
Bullseye's body folded under the impact, his posture breaking just enough.
That was all Locke needed.
He lunged forward, grabbing him and driving his body downward. The two of them crashed through the stairwell, Bullseye slamming hard against the steps before hitting the bottom with a heavy thud.
He groaned, pain flooding his system as he lay there, barely able to move.
Locke didn't hesitate. He picked up a pistol and pressed it against Bullseye's forehead.
This was it.
Bronze-level prey.
But then—
He paused.
There was no fear in Bullseye's eyes.
Not even a trace.
Locke's grip tightened slightly.
If his first Bronze kill didn't earn a five-star rating, it would be a massive loss. Over the past few days, he had already seen the gap between ordinary rewards and five-star ones. One gave real abilities—things like night vision and compound eyes. The other gave scraps—minor stat boosts and a slim chance at higher-tier skills.
Bullseye spat out a mouthful of blood, his lips curling into a grin. "You got lucky this time, Devil Face. Next time, I'll kill you." His voice turned mocking. "Just like that useless Daredevil—"
Before he could finish, Locke grabbed him by the neck and dragged him up to the rooftop. He forced him over the edge, leaving him hanging halfway off the building.
Dozens of meters below, the ground waited.
Bullseye still didn't look afraid.
He even noticed the hesitation in Locke's eyes and frowned slightly. "What are you waiting for?"
Locke tilted his head. "Why aren't you scared?"
There was no answer.
Locke's eyes shifted slightly, then suddenly—
Rip!
He tore away the last piece of clothing Bullseye had on and said calmly, "How about dying like this?"
Bullseye's eyes widened instantly. For the first time, a flicker of panic appeared. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Your fear isn't enough yet," Locke said.
He raised a hand toward the sky. "Drone. Record everything. After he dies, broadcast it across every screen in Times Square. Loop it."
"You can kill me, but you can't humiliate me!" Bullseye roared, something snapping inside him. "I won't die like this!"
Somewhere deep inside, he found strength he shouldn't have had left. He wrenched himself free, dropping down and grabbing the railing of the next floor before continuing downward in a desperate escape.
Locke watched him go, a slow, dangerous smile forming.
"You're not getting away."
Bullseye ran.
Locke chased.
The gap between them wasn't even a contest.
Bullseye's body was already failing, his earlier burst of adrenaline burning out fast. His steps grew heavier, slower, his breathing ragged.
Locke followed like a predator savoring the hunt, not rushing, not wasting energy, simply waiting for the inevitable collapse.
Then David's voice cut in sharply. "Heads up! Daredevil's downed the rest and he's heading your way!"
Locke frowned. "That guy took multiple hits. He's still moving?"
"Not just moving," David shot back. "He's still bleeding too! You call yourself God's knight, but I'm starting to think he's God's favorite son!"
Locke didn't reply.
He closed the distance in an instant, grabbing Bullseye by the back of the neck. His right fist came up, heavy and brutal.
"Boom!"
The punch landed squarely, blood spraying from Bullseye's nose.
Bullseye's hands came up weakly, trying to push him away.
"Boom!"
The second punch dropped his arms completely, his body going limp as consciousness slipped away.
Locke raised his fist again.
One more strike—
"Stop!"