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~~~
Hell's Kitchen was a riot tonight.
Walker—short, muscular, and one of Kingpin's most trusted lieutenants—had vanished.
Last night Kingpin sent Walker to find Ivan and force him to jump from the Statue of Liberty, to bait Batman into appearing. But Walker still hadn't returned.
Ivan, who was supposed to leap from the statue tonight, was missing as well.
"Felicia, Shulman, Lester, Mac. Aside from Walker, you four are the ones I trust most."
"Turn Manhattan upside down if you have to—find Walker. If necessary, kill him."
In a white suit, built like a low wall, Kingpin leaned on his cane and gave the order.
Before him, the four stood—Black Cat among them, the other three in black suits—each wearing a different expression.
Shulman looked troubled; his eyes lingered on Kingpin's cane for two seconds. "Boss, Black Cat and Bullseye can handle this. I've got no muscle and I don't fight. I make tools, that's all."
Kingpin's nearly ever-present cane was Shulman's work.
Though he never finished high school, Shulman taught himself from books and became an expert in locks and safes—second only to the master thief "Cat" in New York's underworld.
After Cat refused a job from Kingpin, Cat was killed. Shulman, with his theft and lock skills and knack for gadgets, became one of Kingpin's most trusted men.
Kingpin wasn't surprised by Shulman's refusal. "You won't need to lay hands on anyone. Once the others find Walker, you move him somewhere safe."
"Mac—you were a private investigator. Tracking leads is what you do. Finding Walker is mainly yours."
Mac—full name MacDonald "Mac" Gargan—had a scorpion tattoo on his neck, hence "Scorpion."
Unlike Shulman's milder face, Mac's sparse brows and hooked nose gave him a vicious look. He nodded without hesitation at the assignment.
"Felicia, Lester… clear any obstacles. Whatever it costs, bring Walker back to me," Kingpin finished.
Felicia "Black Cat" smiled softly and glanced at the teammates beside her.
Her father Cat's death involved every one of them.
Shulman had persuaded Kingpin that "Cat's existence would hinder the gang's growth." Mac the Scorpion found Cat in an alley from a few faint traces. Lester "Bullseye" did the killing.
"Don't worry, Kingpin," Felicia said, her face showing nothing but that smile. "We'll find Walker and bring him to you."
Orders rippled outward, and Hell's Kitchen boiled like water on a stove—doors kicked in, glass shattered, sleepers screaming.
Dead or alive, they wanted Walker. Kingpin's men tore through homes, and NYPD cruisers had to roll out to chase the rampaging crews.
Sirens rose and fell across the district. Engines roared, metal slammed, tires screamed.
Beyond the search teams, dozens of cars crawled every street, ready to pick up Walker or draw police away.
Boom!
A squad car reached an intersection and was T-boned by a truck that blew the light—cartwheeling through the air before crashing down.
"Hear that outside? How many families won't sleep tonight—because of your vigilante games?
"Go play dress-up with those homeless roleplayers. As long as I'm not free, Hell's Kitchen won't know peace."
In an underground garage beneath a corner building, the missing Walker—face bruised, hands tied behind him—sat on the concrete and taunted the man in a dark red suit before him.
Hearing the squad car get launched, Walker smiled, exposing his teeth. "Kingpin won't rest until he finds me. I know too much. His people will get here sooner or later…"
Crash!
The roller door Daredevil had dropped slammed inward—smashed by a pickup that burst into the garage.
Daredevil ignored Walker. He snapped his billy clubs together—clack—into a staff.
"Pointless. They've found us! You can't hide!" Walker shouted, voice cracking. "You've got nowhere to run, tights!"
Thump!
The staff cracked Walker's skull and dropped him cold. Daredevil shoved Walker under a parked car and hid himself as well.
The moment Ivan said "Wilson Fisk" last night, Daredevil understood who Walker was.
Fearing Kingpin would bail him out if he were handed to the police, Daredevil chose to take him off the books and beat Kingpin's location out of him.
He hadn't expected Kingpin's reaction to be this extreme—turning Hell's Kitchen inside out to find one man.
But it also meant Walker ranked even higher than he'd thought; grabbing him was tantamount to holding half the evidence against Kingpin.
Woo!
Headlights blazing, the pickup prowled the garage, sweeping every aisle.
"Mac, you sure he's here? Don't waste my time," Bullseye snapped from the passenger seat.
"Trust a former PI's nose, Bullseye," Scorpion said, confident behind the wheel. "I collect intel every waking second. Why do you think I'm Kingpin's intel chief and you're just a sad little hitter?"
"I'm Kingpin's chief assassin, Scorpion." Bullseye extended one hand out the window; a playing card flicked from his fingers, whirled, and thunked into a concrete pillar.
"Found him." The truck rolled deeper and ground to a stop; its beams pinned Daredevil's hiding spot. "You take Daredevil. I'll grab Walker."
Bullseye grinned. He'd been itching for a fight.
He hopped down, hands in pockets—came up with seven or eight cards and flung them in a fan at Daredevil's cover.
Spotted, Daredevil burst out—staff whirling—clashing with Bullseye.
Scorpion used the opening, followed the trail to a chassis, dragged the battered Walker out, tossed him into the pickup, and gunned it for the exit.
"I've got Walker. Everyone cover—"
The words died as the truck shot up the ramp. At the end of the street, a muscle car howled like a beast, barreling straight at them. Every vehicle that tried to block it was knocked aside—and it only got faster.
In the split-second view, Scorpion caught the front end of the almost unrecognizably overbuilt machine: a huge bat emblem fused with a razor splitter—an evil mask lunging out of the dark.
~~~
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