Kingpin's laughter echoed through the speakers, reverberating off the concrete walls of the parking garage.
"Oh, I'll face you—when your face is being peeled from your skull!"
As the final word faded, Jason detected subtle movements behind him. His enhanced senses immediately registered multiple shadowy figures emerging from the darkened corners.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A storm of gunfire erupted, bullets cutting through the air where he had stood only milliseconds earlier. Jason's form dissolved into a blur of motion as he wove through the underground parking structure.
Despite being surrounded, he moved with absolute confidence. His figure darted like wind incarnate, sweeping from south to north, east to west. When he finally reappeared before the surveillance camera, the metallic patter of spent Glock casings had barely finished echoing through the space.
"Is this truly the best you can offer, Kingpin?"
"Hardly," Kingpin's voice oozed satisfaction. "Seventh floor. Come and find me."
Jason glanced toward the stairwell entrance with a smirk. "Do you honestly believe I'd walk into such an obvious trap? I am the hunter, and you are the target. What makes you think you can dictate terms to me?"
"So... you're not coming?" The disappointment in Kingpin's voice was palpable.
Jason studied the camera, eyes narrowing in calculation. He realized Kingpin wouldn't allow him to leave so easily—the exits had likely been sealed. If that was the case, he might as well discover what other surprises awaited.
"No, I'm definitely coming," Jason declared with predatory enthusiasm. "I simply enjoy the sensation of the hunt too much to resist."
Gripping his pistols firmly, he kicked open the stairwell's iron door.
BOOM!
A massive concussive wave slammed into him—an invisible wall offering no opportunity for evasion. Hurled backward through the air, Jason glimpsed a horn-shaped device mounted just inside the doorway, activated the instant he breached the threshold.
Kingpin's gleeful voice filled the space once more: "Hahaha! What, you didn't detect that little toy?"
Jason twisted mid-flight, managing a semi-controlled landing despite the disorientation. The powerful shock wave had left his internal organs churning with discomfort.
"You're still light-years from killing me," he taunted.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than several precisely aimed shots forced him into evasive action.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Multiple footsteps approached rapidly. A silver flash registered in his peripheral vision.
Before he could fully process the threat, a crimson blur materialized beside him—a graceful yet robust woman in red, wielding a silver weapon that thrust forward with lethal precision.
Master-level fighter!
The thought registered even as Jason twisted away from the strike. But the danger wasn't isolated. Behind him, two suited figures advanced with identical sword techniques of astonishing skill.
In desperation, Jason blocked an incoming blade with the Glock in his right hand. The reinforced steel barrel separated like butter beneath the impossibly sharp edge.
He retreated through successive waves of attacks, narrowly evading the coordinated assault of four skilled combatants.
When the initial flurry subsided, Jason stood at the center of their formation, surrounded from four directions. A quick assessment confirmed his suspicion—three of the four attackers registered as silver-level target in his system.
In the near distance, Kingpin's imposing figure had materialized, resplendent in a pristine white suit, leaning on an ebony cane. Behind him stood three women and a man in red and blue attire.
This was clearly a trap from the beginning, Jason realized. He wondered how Kingpin had convinced the Russian brothers to act as bait—or, more likely, how thoroughly he had betrayed them.
Jason calmly drew the twin daggers from his belt, voice measured and controlled. "Kingpin, during our last encounter, you sent four assassins after me. I eliminated three. It seems you've learned your lesson—bringing a small army this time."
An indignant voice piped up from nearby. "Hey, I'm a celebrity in certain circles! Don't lump me in with those generic killers. My rates are astronomical!"
The speaker continued with theatrical offense. "It was absolute negligence that Mr. Fisk didn't contract me last time. I'm going to end you today, Hell's Butcher. Though I should thank you—it's people like you who keep me employed. Honestly, the mercenary business has gotten so competitive lately..."
"Silence, Wade!" Kingpin barked.
"Whatever you say, Big Daddy!" the mercenary acquiesced cheerfully.
Jason studied the chattering man—handsome in a roguish way, armed with dual swords, and possessing an apparent inability to stop talking.
"Wade Wilson?" Jason inquired.
The dual-wielding mercenary's eyes lit up with delight. "He knows me! See? I told you I was famous!"
Wade pivoted toward the woman in red. "Hey, Elektra, I wasn't kidding before. Want to discuss sword techniques later? My girlfriend's out of town tonight. We could explore some... alternative positions..."
"ENOUGH!" Kingpin roared. "If you expect payment, shut your mouth. NOW."
Wade shrugged dramatically, pantomiming zipping his lips.
Jason noted that, currently, Wilson was merely a human mercenary—the only bronze-level target among the four surrounding him. He hadn't yet undergone the transformation that would turn him into the regenerating nightmare known as Deadpool.
Jason shifted his attention to the woman in red holding twin sai. "You're Elektra?"
"You know me?" Her voice carried both curiosity and warning.
Jason allowed his gaze to linger appreciatively on her athletic form. "I find you... fascinating."
He then addressed Kingpin with calculated nonchalance. "You've clearly invested considerable resources in this operation. Since some of us may not survive this encounter, perhaps introductions are in order?"
"Ha ha ha..." Kingpin's face contorted with mockery. "What's this? You want to know your executioners? Are you frightened?"
"Not at all," Jason replied coolly. "I simply recalled that when I commission your headstone, I'll need to know what name to engrave."
"Ha!" A middle-aged man behind Jason laughed coldly. "If you survive long enough to try, remember the name Murakami!"
Jason tilted his head slightly. "One of the Five Fingers of the Hand, I presume?"
He had wondered about the man's accented English. Murakami nodded with predatory satisfaction. "Don't concern yourself. You'll be the first to die."
Jason turned to another opponent. "And you are?"
"Sowande," came the curt reply.
"Excellent," Jason responded with faux cheerfulness. "You'll be second."
Both were silver-level targets, possessing not only formidable skill but also the added value of being high-ranking gang leaders.
Jason shifted his attention to those standing behind Kingpin.
"Echo," a woman stated.
"Natalie," offered another.
"The Bride of Nine Spiders," came a third voice.
"Speed Demon," concluded the man in red and blue.
Jason smiled and nodded appreciatively. "You are all enhanced people..."
Wait—Natalie?
His mental calculations stuttered. Gold-level target?
He examined the red-haired woman with an eyepatch more carefully, experiencing a flash of recognition. Her form-fitting tactical suit accentuated a mature, athletic physique exuding both danger and allure.
Since when has S.H.I.E.L.D. collaborated with Kingpin? Could they have dispatched one of their top operatives?
Jason's mind raced back to his recent encounter with Coulson and Clint Barton.
Are those two watching from outside the building right now? Is S.H.I.E.L.D. attempting to use Kingpin as a cat's paw?
Another realization struck him. Black Widow, the system marked you as target? How many lives have you taken in service to S.H.I.E.L.D.? It seems even your bald director can't escape my judgment.
"ENOUGH!" Kingpin's cane struck the concrete floor with thunderous impact. "Hell's Butcher, you talk far too much. I believe their blades thirst for action."
Jason adjusted his grip on his daggers, settling into a combat stance. "Actually, I'm quite economical with words. I simply enjoy savoring my target's fear before they die. I'm meticulous that way."
"Hahaha! Let's discover who truly has reason to fear!" Kingpin slammed his cane down once more, the sound reverberating like a starting pistol.
Instantly, Jason found himself under assault from all directions. Blades whistled through the air from every angle, their passage creating an otherworldly howl like vengeful spirits.
His trained eye could see that all four primary attackers possessed master-level combat skills—or at minimum, stood at the threshold of such expertise.
Murakami and Sowande clearly possessed physical attributes beyond human norms. Wade hadn't yet transformed into Deadpool, but his physique already approached the upper limits of natural human capability.
Jason realized that without his recently acquired Royal Blood, surviving this encounter would have been nearly impossible.
With that sobering thought, he abandoned all hesitation.
Dragon Chi: Burst! Full power!
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