"Shoot him down!" the Russian gangster roared, dragging everyone's attention toward Peter.
Outside the door, Cindy fired web after web. In less than five seconds, the entire entrance had been sealed under a thick layer of white webbing, cutting off their escape route.
It was exhausting, though.
After all, hers came from her own body.
At the same time, Gwen slipped silently in through a side ventilation shaft.
Using her glider webbing, she drifted through the air without a sound and landed beside the three girls who had been tied up.
"Shh. Don't make a sound, okay? We're here to get you out." Gwen lowered her voice and easily tore through the ropes binding them.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
The three superpowered high schoolers were already starting to lose themselves in the thrill of taking down criminals.
But they had made a dangerous mistake.
They had underestimated how reckless cornered gangsters could be.
And they had overestimated their own teamwork.
The bald Russian saw their escape route sealed and his men getting knocked around. He knew the deal had gone bad.
That was when a cornered criminal's cruelty kicked in.
He turned and spotted Gwen freeing the girls.
"Nobody move! Move again and I'll kill them!"
The bald man raised the modified rifle in his hands, its barrel glowing with an energy pulse, and aimed it straight at Gwen and the three girls.
Peter was in the middle of beating down another gangster. His fist froze mid-swing, one hand still gripping the man's collar.
"No!"
Without thinking, Peter fired a web-line to yank the gun away.
But in his panic, his aim was off by a few inches.
The web didn't hit the gun.
It stuck to the bald man's shoulder instead.
Peter pulled hard, making the man lose his balance, but his finger had already squeezed the trigger.
A blue beam erupted from the muzzle.
Because the man had been pulled off-balance, it missed Gwen, but veered toward the side instead.
Right where one of the rescued girls was curled up, trembling.
It was too close.
Gwen had only just turned around. The pulse beam was seconds from punching through the girl's body, and she couldn't reach her in time.
She fired a web-line anyway.
"Damn it!" Peter shouted, already moving because he couldn't just watch an innocent person die.
This was exactly what Clark had warned them about.
Being a superhero wasn't a game.
One tiny mistake could cost an innocent life.
Then—
"Whoosh. Crack!"
A short baton came flying in from dozens of yards away at terrifying speed.
It traced a perfect arc through the air and struck the pulse beam with impossible precision.
Then something unbelievable happened.
That ordinary-looking baton knocked the beam off course by almost four inches.
The blast skimmed past the girl's hair and punched into the wall behind her, blowing a clean hole through it.
The baton didn't fall after the impact.
It bounced off the wall, spun back with even more speed, and smashed into the bald man's skull from behind.
The bald man didn't even get to groan.
His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.
The baton spun a few more times before returning neatly to its owner's hand.
Peter, Gwen, and Cindy all froze.
Who was this now?
They stopped moving and stared as a man slowly stepped out of the shadows, looking absurdly cool.
He wore a dark red suit, with a mask that covered most of his face and left only his lower jaw exposed. Two short devil-like horns rose from the top of the mask. His steps were steady, and in his hand was a collapsible billy club that could also serve as a cane.
Daredevil.
Matt Murdock.
The true guardian of Hell's Kitchen.
"You're strong. You're fast," Matt said, his voice calm and blunt. "But your coordination, technique, and judgment are about what I'd expect from elementary school kids fighting over a ball on a playground. No proper training."
His assessment was dead-on.
He might have been blind, but his senses were among the sharpest in the world.
His radar sense had already mapped out all three costumed figures, their height, their weight, even the rhythm of their heartbeats.
"Fast heartbeats. Shallow breathing. Tight muscles." Matt tightened his grip on his baton. He wasn't against people helping. He wasn't even against vigilantes. But these three were too young, and they didn't yet understand what they were stepping into.
"You're kids. Hell's Kitchen is not a place for children to play superhero. Your recklessness almost got an innocent girl killed."
Peter's face flushed with shame.
Because he knew the mistake had been his.
But his pride still made him want to argue with the guy in red, who honestly looked kind of like a villain himself.
"Hey, red-horns! We came here to help! If we hadn't shown up, these guys would've gotten away with the weapons!" Peter snapped. "And we had it handled!"
That was what people called arguing when you had no argument.
Please do not be like Peter.
"Handled?" Matt gave a cold laugh.
Then he moved.
He didn't use any supernatural power.
Only peak human conditioning and terrifyingly refined combat skill.
In one step, he closed the distance between himself and Peter. The baton in his hand jabbed toward Peter's chest.
Peter's spider-sense screamed.
He instinctively tried to dodge, but Matt's movement was too fast, too smooth.
And the baton had only been a feint.
Matt's leg followed immediately, striking the pressure point near Peter's knee with perfect accuracy.
"Ow!"
Peter dropped to one knee before he could stop himself.
Before he could counter, Matt's baton was already pressed against his throat.
The whole exchange took less than two seconds.
Spider-Man, who could lift several tons and react dozens of times faster than a normal person, had been taken down in close quarters by a blind man with no super-strength.
That was the difference between a rookie and a veteran street-level hero.
"Strength isn't fighting ability, kid. If I were your enemy, you'd already be dead."
"Let him go!"
Gwen and Cindy reacted immediately, firing webs to support Peter.
But Matt's radar sense had already locked onto them.
Every movement they made was clear to him.
Or, well, clear to his senses.
He didn't even turn his head. He tossed his baton backward, catching both incoming web-lines. With a twist of his wrist, he redirected their own momentum and yanked Gwen and Cindy off-balance, sending them crashing into each other.
"Oh my God, does this guy have eyes in the back of his head?!" Cindy scrambled up from the floor, stunned.
This was the most skilled, experienced fighter she had ever seen.
Clark didn't count.
Clark was more like "overwhelming force solves all problems." Technique wasn't really part of the discussion.