Ch-24 INTO THE NEST

It's been a few days since I gave Gwen Extrimis, She got acclimated to it rather quickly, I need to do some more research about her X-gene. 

I should give the people of New York a new year's present so I decided to take down one of the biggest criminals of NYC the one and only KINGPIN.

Wilson Fisk. The so-called "philanthropist." The media painted him as a businessman, a real estate mogul who "gave back to the city." But I wasn't stupid. If you looked closely, if you traced the right threads, his name kept popping up where it shouldn't.

Bribery. Extortion. And now…illegal weapons smuggling.

There are multiple versions of Kingpin some are slightly evil and some are straight up monsters. I don't know whether he has a chance at redemption. If he doesn't then…

I will be there to hunt him down.

I stared at the holographic display in my lab, piecing together the information. Surveillance footage, intercepted messages, shipping manifests that didn't quite add up. Everything pointed to a network of warehouses near the docks, a perfect staging ground for smuggling weapons into the city. Fisk had his hands deep in this.

The last shipment had arrived two nights ago. Guns, experimental tech, maybe even military-grade gear. It was time to take a closer look.

[Warehouse District,1:42 AM]

The docks smelled like rust, oil, and salt. The night was quiet, too quiet. I crouched on the rooftop of a nearby building, scanning the area below through my mask's HUD. The warehouse I was looking for sat at the edge of the district—lights dim, but not dark.

I adjusted my grip on the grappling line and swung down, landing silently near the side entrance. The lock was simple—electronic, with a weak firewall. I hacked it in seconds.

The door clicked open.

I slipped inside. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and cold steel. Rows of wooden crates lined the floor, some marked with military insignias, others completely unmarked. I knelt by one and pried it open.

Inside—rifles. Advanced ones.

I picked one up, weighing it in my hands. The design wasn't standard military issue. Black-market modifications. Illegal upgrades. Whoever was supplying Fisk had access to cutting-edge tech.

Not good.

A sound made me freeze. Footsteps…light but deliberate.

I turned just in time.

Something whistled through the air. My instincts alerted, and I ducked...

THUNK!

A knife embedded itself into the crate where my head had been.

I rolled, drawing my sidearm, scanning the shadows.

A figure stepped into the dim light.

Lean. Dressed in dark tactical gear, a smirk on his face. His hand twirled another knife effortlessly, like it was an extension of his body. A white bullseye emblem gleamed on his chest.

Bullseye.

"Nice moves," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "But you're in the wrong place."

I didn't waste time talking. I raised my gun…

Another knife.

I dodged the first slash, twisting away as his blade cut through the air. I countered with a punch—he dodged

This guy wasn't just some thug. He was precise. Calculated.

And dangerous.

"Fisk doesn't like nosy people snooping around," he said, launching another knife.

I didn't even bother dodging.

The moment the blade got close, I let myself phase. The knife passed right through me, clattering against the floor.

Bullseye blinked. "What the—"

I didn't let him finish. I blurred forward, my fist slamming into his chest like a battering ram. The force sent him flying into a stack of crates, splinters exploding into the air.

He groaned, coughing as he staggered back to his feet. "Okay. That's….new."

I phased again, letting my body become intangible as I walked toward him. His hands twitched, reaching for more weapons…didn't matter. I was already inside his guard.

I re-solidified just long enough to grab him by the throat and lift him off the ground.

Bullseye struggled, kicking wildly, but I wasn't budging.

"Fisk should've sent someone smarter," I muttered, tightening my grip.

Then I felt it. My spider sense tingling.

A presence.

Too late.

Something hit me like a wrecking ball—an invisible force slammed into my side, sending me flying across the warehouse. I crashed through a stack of crates, metal and wood exploding around me as I rolled across the ground.

Pain flared up my ribs, but I recovered fast, flipping back onto my feet.

My eyes locked onto the new arrival.

A woman. Dressed in leather, dark red hair falling over her shoulders, a playful smirk on her lips. Her eyes burned with something unnatural.

Typhoid Mary.

"Boys shouldn't play rough without inviting me," she purred, tilting her head.

Bullseye chuckled, rubbing his neck. "About time you showed up."

I clenched my fists. Great. A two-on-one. I might have to reveal my Force ability which is basically push-pull telekinesis.

Mary's fingers twitched—and suddenly, the air ignited. Fire erupted from the ground between us, the flames reflecting in her eyes.

"You look fun," she said, voice dripping with amusement. "Let's see if you burn just as easily."

[Bullseye POV]

This was supposed to be a simple night. Break into the warehouse, make sure the shipment was secure, and if some idiot decided to snoop around? Well, I'd put a few knives between his ribs and call it a day.

Then he showed up.

Some punk in black armour, moving like a ghost in the shadows. I'd seen my fair share of wannabe heroes, but this one was different. The way he dodged my first knife…it wasn't just reflex. It was like he knew exactly where it was going before I even threw it.

And then he pulled the disappearing act.

The second my blade should've sunk into his flesh, it just—went through. Like he wasn't even there.

"What the…" I barely had time to react before I was airborne, his fist hammering into my chest like a freight train. My back exploded against a stack of crates, pain rattling through my spine.

Alright. Not your everyday street vigilante.

I spat blood and pushed myself up. "Okay, That's—new."

He started walking toward me, his body flickering in and out of reality. One second solid, the next a shadow.

I wasn't stupid. I'd fought people stronger than me before. The trick was never letting them get momentum.

I reached into my belt, fingers curling around three throwing stars. He was still walking forward—too confident. I whipped my wrist.

The stars cut through the air. Fast. Deadly.

Right before impact...he phased through my attacks again.

The stars passed through empty air.

I cursed.

Boom.

A blast of force slammed into him from the side, sending him crashing across the warehouse. I let out a low whistle, rubbing my sore neck. "About time you showed up."

Typhoid Mary stepped forward, smirking as flames crackled between her fingertips.

"Boys shouldn't play rough without inviting me," she said sweetly.

I grinned.

We came at him from both sides.

Mary sent a wave of fire across the floor, cutting off his escape route while I went for the kill—knives, stars, even a damn crowbar I found lying around. It didn't matter what I threw, I never missed.

And for a while, it worked.

I could see him struggling, his body flickering as he phased in and out, trying to avoid the onslaught. Problem was—he wasn't used to fighting someone like me.

I didn't aim where he was. I aimed where he was going to be.

Every time he flickered back into the real world, I was already there, pressing the attack. A knife grazing his ribs. A star slicing past his mask. A blow to the gut that sent him stumbling.

Mary's flames kept him boxed in, limiting his movement.

For the first time since the fight started—he looked like he was actually on the ropes.

"Not so tough now, are ya?" I sneered, twirling a blade between my fingers.

Then he laughed.

Low at first, then rising.

And something changed.

His stance shifted. His breathing steadied.

And suddenly, he wasn't fighting reactively anymore.

He was adapting to our way of battle.

I threw another knife.

This time….he didn't phase.

He just moved. Faster than before. Like he finally had my rhythm down.

The knife missed.

I never miss.

Before I could grab another weapon, he was in my face. A punch crashed into my jaw…then another. My head snapped back as my vision blurred.

I swung wildly, but he was already gone.

A knee drilled into my ribs. A hammer blow to my wrist sent my last knife clattering to the ground.

I growled. No way some rookie was turning the tables on me.

I lashed out, trying to regain the upper hand—

And he phased.

Right through me.

Before I could react, my own momentum carried me forward—straight into his waiting arms.

I barely had time to curse before he twisted me around and slammed me face-first into the concrete.

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Drop a comment I hope you like the chapter, The updates will be a little slow as I have exams coming up. Though I will try to upload at least 4-5 chapters a week.