Silence fell over the room in response to Sean's question...
Danny Rand took a deep breath, exchanging a glance with Jessica. In that split second, their tense bodies exploded into motion, charging toward their formidable opponent...
The first to strike was the Iron Fist of K'un-Lun. The young man, born into wealth, had inherited an ancient legacy... his fists could shatter steel. When he focused his mind into a meditative state, he could sense the Qi within him.
Channeling this mystical life energy into his hands allowed Danny to punch through metal and deflect bullets. However, this powerful technique couldn't be used recklessly, each strike drained him, leaving him exhausted and requiring rest before he could unleash it again.
For a novice Iron Fist like Danny, his inability to fully control this power left his combat effectiveness wildly inconsistent.
But this time, the hot-blooded young warrior gave it his all. Surging energy enveloped his golden-glowing fists, the air trembling with a faint thunderous hum. Even before his punch reached Sean's face, the sheer force of the strike tore through the air like a blade, carrying terrifying destructive power.
"Was living really so unbearable?" Sean chuckled, casually raising a hand.
*BOOM!*
A deafening collision reverberated through the room, invisible shockwaves rippling outward. Danny's eyes widened in disbelief.
Never before (not since inheriting the mantle of the Iron Fist) had he encountered this. His unstoppable punch had been caught by a single outstretched palm.
His glowing fist slammed into Sean's hand as if striking an immovable mountain. Danny felt an invisible force field radiating from the man, sapping his strength. His movements, his reflexes... everything slowed, as though he were struggling through thick tar. The harder he fought, the deeper he sank.
"The Immortal Iron Fist of K'un-Lun?" Sean sneered before driving a knee into Danny's gut, sending him crashing to the floor.
He sidestepped just as Jessica lunged at him with terrifying force.
The superhumanly strong detective closed in, but before Sean could react, his expression shifted. The invisible energy surrounding him surged like a raging tide, forming a tangible barrier.
Jessica's fist slowed mid-air as if she had plunged into deep water, every movement hindered by an unseen resistance.
In that decelerated moment, Sean pivoted gracefully. Ripples of distorted air shimmered around him as a 7.65mm bullet streaked toward his temple. Even slowed by his energy field, the projectile grazed his forehead. The gunshot cracked like thunder, ringing in his ears.
Jessica's punch had been a feint, her other hand had been gripping a Walther PPK, the compact pistol favored by spies. The same model wielded by James Bond...
*CRUNCH!*
Before Jessica could process what had happened, the gun in her hand was crushed like tin foil. A vice-like grip seized her throat, cutting off her air. Her vision swam as suffocation set in.
"Clever. Punisher's idea, I assume? Use close combat as cover for a point-blank headshot." Sean exhaled slowly.
He hadn't expected Jessica (a fighter who relied on brute strength) to pull a gun...
Jessica kicked wildly, gasping for air. Yet even now, her defiant glare remained. Nothing could break this woman who had already tasted darkness.
Though Sean was tempted to snap her neck, he reined in his bloodlust. Instead, he slammed her against the wall, his icy gaze boring into her.
"Jessica Jones, I'm not Kilgrave. I won't keep sparing you. Your neighbor is Malcolm Ducasse. Your radio host friend... Patricia 'Trish' Walker... Cross me again, Jessica, and you'll spend the rest of your life drowning in regret..."
His voice was colder than Arctic winds, sending a shiver down Jessica's spine. The masked man felt like the embodiment of night itself, swallowing her whole.
For a moment, she felt as if she was back under Kilgrave's control... the Purple Man's voice whispering in her ear, the nightmares she had buried resurfacing.
Sean abruptly released her. Jessica gasped for air, her chin forcibly tilted up to meet his abyssal eyes...
"They say taming a wild horse requires a whip, a hammer, and a dagger. First, the whip. If it still refuses to yield, the hammer. And if it still resists? The dagger..."
"...Treasure this last chance, Jessica Jones." He turned away, leaving her kneeling on the floor.
His attention shifted to Danny Rand, who had regained his footing. Sean grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward the shattered window.
The howling wind tore at Danny's clothes as Sean held him over the edge with terrifying ease. The young Iron Fist trembled, feeling the man's chilling aura seep into his bones...
"What are you doing?!" Daredevil rasped, struggling to rise.
"Crushing your naivety with the blood of Danny Rand, the unyielding Iron Fist." Sean's voice was devoid of emotion.
He dangled Danny outside, the city's abyss yawning below. His grip didn't waver.
"You think this is a comic book? That the heroes always win? Let me show you the cost of defying me."
Sean turned to Daredevil, who was desperately trying to stop him, and smiled, "Matt Murdock, you of all people should know how cruel reality is. You've seen society's true face... cold and merciless... Isn't that why you became the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"
"...Now, let me show you that truth again... in blood."
Without warning, he let go.
Danny's eyes widened in shock as the wind screamed past him. The brief sensation of weightlessness ended with a sickening crunch. His body hit the pavement like a water-filled sack, bones shattering on impact. A fountain of blood erupted around him.
For one agonizing second, Danny Rand (the last guardian of K'un-Lun) knew pain...
Then, nothing...
"NO!" Daredevil screamed, clutching his head.
"Next time, it'll be Foggy Nelson. Or Karen Page. If you keep clinging to your pathetic ideals, you'll lose everything before you die. That, I promise."
Sean strode toward Daredevil, looming over him. He ripped off the red mask and crushed it underfoot.
"From this day forward, Hell's Kitchen will have no more heroes..."