Right after Felicia called Harry for backup, a gunshot whizzed through the air — aimed straight at Matt, who was still reeling from Bullseye's last hit.
Felicia reacted instantly. She grabbed the whip coiled at her waist and lashed it out. The whip wrapped around Matt's arm, yanking him hard to the side. The bullet barely missed his heart, grazing his shoulder instead.
"Ah!" Matt cried out, falling beside her, clutching the bleeding wound.
The bullet didn't stop after scratching him — it continued its deadly flight toward Bullseye.
"Heh," Bullseye sneered. With a flick of his wrist, a playing card appeared between his fingers. He snapped it forward, the card slicing through the air — clang! — deflecting the bullet with ease.
"Cease fire," Bullseye ordered, raising his hand. The room fell silent, the echoes of gunfire fading.
"Hand over what the boss wants," he said, walking toward Felicia with an unhurried smile, "and maybe I'll let you live."
BOOM!Crash!
An explosion shattered the glass windows. Shards rained down as something whistled through the air.
"It's a mini-missile!" one of the gunmen shouted.
"Damn it!" Bullseye spun around, spotting the projectile aimed straight at him. He abandoned his target, vaulted over Kingpin's desk, and dove for cover.
BOOM—!
The missile streaked past Felicia and Matt, exploding amid the armed thugs. The shockwave sent them flying, screams echoing as smoke and fire filled the room.
Hovering outside, Harry had fired the missile after confirming Felicia and Matt's positions through their headset locators. His armor's thermal imaging system guided the shot perfectly.
Once the explosion cleared, Harry glided through the shattered window, his hoverboard humming. Under the infrared scan, he fired several precise shots, taking down the remaining henchmen without hesitation.
"It's a simple cleanup," Harry muttered, unfazed. These weren't people he knew — they were just targets.
He dismissed the mask of his armor, stepping off the hoverboard beside Felicia.
"You okay?" he asked, looking down at her.
"I'm fine," Felicia replied, straightening up. Matt gave a silent nod, breathing heavily but conscious again after the earlier beating.
"Be careful," Felicia warned, her voice low. "Bullseye and Kingpin aren't easy."
"She's right," Matt said, gripping his billy club. "Bullseye's been injected with the same serum as Felicia. His strength and reflexes are beyond mine."
"Watch out for his throwing weapons," Felicia added.
The three of them moved forward together through the smoky haze — Matt with his club, Felicia tightening her grip on her whip, and Harry drawing the shining plasma blade Dr. Connors had forged for him.
The dust settled. A massive bald figure emerged from the smoke.
"Kingpin!" Felicia hissed, rage flashing in her eyes. She cracked her whip, sending it slicing toward him.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three throwing stars cut through the air in response.
The "bald head" raised his chin — not Kingpin, but Bullseye, grinning wickedly. "Hey, sweetheart… go to hell."
"Look out!" Harry shouted.
He and Matt moved simultaneously, deflecting two of the deadly stars with sharp clangs, but the third grazed Felicia's chest — slicing through the chain that held her USB drive. It flew across the room and embedded itself in the glass wall.
Then, a massive hand shot out from behind Bullseye, grabbing Felicia's whip and yanking hard.
"Felicia!" Harry lunged forward, his light blade sweeping upward. With a single stroke, he severed the whip, breaking Kingpin's pull. Felicia stumbled backward into his arms.
"You're Norman Osborn's son," came a deep, heavy voice.
The smoke cleared completely — revealing the towering frame of Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin himself.
"I'm Harry Osborn," Harry replied evenly.
"Hmph. Whoever you are — cross me, and you die." Kingpin's tone was cold, final.
Then he barked a single order: "Kill them."
"Got it, boss," Bullseye answered with a grin. He flicked his wrist — cards burst from his hand in a deadly flurry.
The trio dove aside as the razor-sharp cards sliced through furniture and shattered glass. Harry rolled to his feet, charging forward with his blade raised.
"Leave him to me!" Matt shouted.
Harry understood immediately. He slashed at Bullseye's head, forcing him to duck, then vaulted over him, summoning his hoverboard midair and streaking toward Kingpin.
Seeing this, Bullseye spun to chase — but Matt was already on him. He had no choice but to engage. Felicia, meanwhile, leapt onto Harry's hoverboard, following him toward Kingpin.
Daredevil fought like a predator. Every movement was guided by instinct and precision, his heightened senses mapping the room in echoes and heartbeats. Earlier, he'd been reckless, blinded by anger — but now, he was focused.
Bullseye flung more cards, each one spinning with lethal precision. But Matt's head tilted slightly with each throw, tracking their motion by sound alone. His billy club flashed, striking every incoming projectile out of the air with rhythmic clacks.
To Bullseye, it was like fighting a phantom — someone who moved before the attack even landed.
Matt's world was sound and motion. While most people relied on sight — which could be deceived or delayed — his perception was absolute. Every card, every dart cut through the air with a distinct tone. By the time Bullseye released a weapon, Matt already knew its path.
Step by step, Daredevil advanced.
Then Bullseye stopped throwing.
"What's wrong? Run out of toys?" Matt taunted, advancing faster. His voice was steady, but inside, thoughts of Elektra still burned.
"Hmph!" Bullseye sneered. He reached for his belt and drew three darts, launching them in rapid succession. The air cracked as they sliced through it — but their sound betrayed them.
Matt vaulted over the first, deflected the second, and cried out suddenly.
"Ah!"
A dart had struck deep into his calf, blood pouring down his leg. Then he heard it — a faint mechanical click from behind.
He turned too late. Another dart buried itself in his back.
Bullseye strolled up to him casually, crouching beside the wounded hero. He twisted the dart still lodged in Matt's leg.
"Oh, I know I might miss sometimes," he said smugly. "That's why my darts have a little surprise — a double-speed mechanism."
He pressed the hidden switch, showing Matt the delicate gears spinning at the dart's center.
"Where is Elektra?" Matt hissed through his teeth, one hand gripping Bullseye's leg.
"Why should I tell you?" Bullseye chuckled darkly.
"Tell me!" Matt roared, yanking him closer.
Bullseye smirked, leaning down. "Since you're about to die anyway… she's in Japan."
Matt's expression twisted — then he laughed. Softly at first, then louder.
"Heh… hehehe…"
"What the hell are you laughing at?" Bullseye demanded, his voice rising.
Matt's laughter grew. "You… hahahaha…"
"Enough!" Bullseye snarled, grabbing Matt by the throat.
"Idiot," Matt said coldly. "You got too close."
A flash of steel. A spray of red.
Bullseye froze, eyes wide, clutching at his throat as blood poured through his fingers.
"You… you…" He choked.
Matt stood shakily, braced on his injured leg, and kicked Bullseye to the ground.
"No time for you," he muttered, limping past the fallen assassin — leaving him bleeding out in the dust.