"No way!"
Wade's anguished cry echoed across the devastated square as he rushed forward. Blade followed close behind, with the others hurrying after them.
Everyone converged at the epicenter of the destruction. The ground was blanketed with ash and debris, yet there was no sign of either combatant.
Wade searched frantically, his expression growing increasingly hollow. "Did they destroyed each other? I can't find even a fragment of bone!"
He scooped up a handful of ash, examining it with desperate attention. "Could they have been completely incinerated?"
After a moment's contemplation, he stuffed the handful of ash into his pocket, muttering solemnly, "Oh, my friend, you were a true hero!"
Blade's face remained grim, yet something felt off to him. How could someone that powerful perish so easily?
Nick Fury, watching the scene unfold on his monitor, leapt from his chair.
Damn it! Black Wolf Spider, you son of a—
Perfect!
He quickly suppressed his excitement, adopting his most authoritative tone.
"Everyone, while we mourn the loss of Iron Man, the safety of New York remains our priority. The mission must continue. I guarantee in the name of SHIELD that he will receive a proper memorial! Now, you need to enter the building, apprehend the remaining Hand members, and neutralize this threat once and for all!"
The team in the square exchanged uncertain glances. Finally, Black Widow broke the silence: "He has a point. The enemy hasn't been completely eliminated."
Wade snorted derisively. "Let me make something clear—I'm not doing this for some bureaucratic agenda. Iron Man might not have been a saint, but he was my friend. I'm going in to avenge him!"
With that declaration, he stormed toward the building entrance. Blade followed silently, his expression unreadable.
From their distant vantage point, Wesley's eyes glistened with emotion. "Fox, shouldn't we join them?"
"No, we maintain our position."
"But—"
"That's an order!"
Fox remained prone on the rooftop, observing everything in the square through her sniper scope, her face betraying no emotion.
As Wade stepped into the lobby, a dark shape blurred through the air. The next instant, a size 58 boot connected solidly with his size 48 face.
"Fu—"
His exclamation was cut short as he sailed backward through the air.
Everyone behind him froze in place.
The figure that materialized before them wore a crimson uniform, with tendrils of darkness writhing across his body. His eyes were bottomless pits of shadow, his face etched with black veins that pulsed with unnatural power—a visage that truly embodied demonic possession.
Clint Barton had tracked Hell's Butcher through Hell's Kitchen and recognized the other vigilante who had made his mark there.
It was precisely this recognition that sent a chill down his spine. "Daredevil?"
Blade stared in shock. How had Daredevil been transformed into this abomination?
Wade, sprawled on the ground, leapt to his feet and charged forward in fury. "I don't care if you're Daredevil or Satan himself! You're terrifying the children with that face—get out of my way!"
He brandished his dual katanas and lunged at the possessed hero. With a muted sound, both blades plunged directly into Daredevil's chest.
Everyone gasped in horror. When had Wade become so lethal?
Only Wade himself realized something was terribly wrong.
When he attempted to withdraw his weapons, they remained immovable despite his considerable strength.
Daredevil, impaled through the torso, didn't even flinch. He merely tilted his head, fixing Wade with those bottomless eyes.
Wade's confusion was evident. "Huh? This is a first for me!"
The next instant, Daredevil's counterattack sent him flying once more.
The katanas remained embedded in the possessed vigilante's chest. Within seconds, the portions of the blades inside Daredevil's body appeared to corrode as if subjected to powerful acid.
With a metallic "CLANG!" both weapons shattered, fragments clattering to the floor.
Collective gasps of disbelief rippled through the group.
Monitoring this development, Nick Fury felt a wave of dizziness. A desperate thought flashed through his mind: Iron Man, wherever you are, we need you back—now!
...
Jason had certainly not been reduced to ash.
Minutes earlier, when the massive thunderclap temporarily blinded everyone, he had dragged the unconscious Black Wolf Spider into the sewer system through a manhole in the square's center.
After navigating a narrow passage, he reached a wider junction where Alessa and David awaited him.
They had prepared everything in advance—including a massive insulated metal drum tall enough to accommodate a person, surrounded by numerous liquid nitrogen tanks.
Jason had specifically arranged this setup to provide a uniquely excruciating end for the most valuable target in the battle.
Negative one hundred and ninety-six degrees Celsius. Absolute brittleness.
As a gold-level target, the Black Wolf Spider certainly warranted this special treatment.
Jason borrowed David's shirt and pants, then, with cold calculation in his eyes, secured the assassin with reinforced restraints before administering an electrical shock to revive him.
Alessa stepped forward unprompted, injecting the captive with a carefully formulated cocktail of toxins.
Some induced pain, others triggered maddening itches, while others produced hallucinations or heightened sensations.
Her sole purpose: manipulate his emotional state to maximize the system's emotional level reading.
Under the combined assault of multiple toxins, Black Wolf Spider's resistance finally crumbled as his sanity began to fracture.
When Jason determined the optimal moment had arrived, he unceremoniously shoved his victim into the nitrogen-filled drum and secured the lid.
He turned to Alessa. "Let's pay a visit to the chief architect of this summoning ceremony—Ms. Alexandra."
David interrupted. "Boss, the situation is deteriorating rapidly."
Jason frowned. "Explain."
David consulted the small monitor in his hand. The team led by Black Widow, Blade, and Barton was being systematically demolished.
"Daredevil's demonic transformation has granted him extraordinary power. The team up there can't withstand him much longer!"
Jason dismissed the concern with a wave. "Don't worry—there are genuine heroes among them. They'll endure. And tell Fox to ensure Wade and Blade receive special protection."
David shrugged, offering no further argument.
Jason and Alessa ventured deeper into the sewer network. After proceeding several dozen meters, she halted, indicating the wall ahead. "I've mapped this area extensively. Only this barrier separates us from the financial building's second sublevel."
Jason nodded, approached the wall, and demolished it with several precisely delivered blows.
Beyond lay the financial building's second underground floor, where the summoning ritual had recently concluded.
The altar remained intact, though now abandoned.
Ignoring these details, they pressed forward.
Alessa consulted various instruments, apparently taking measurements to establish their exact position.
Once confident of their location, she nodded to Jason, who delivered another series of devastating punches. The wall crumbled, revealing an elevator shaft.
They descended, emerging into a pitch-black corridor.
Jason knew what lay hidden here—the dragon bones.
He had been contemplating the Hand's true motivations since learning of their plan to summon a demon.
Despite having eliminated two of the Five Fingers, would the remaining three truly be motivated by vengeance alone?
Impossible—these ancient beings lacked such sentimental loyalty.
Their elaborate summoning ritual therefore served a more pragmatic purpose.
Only after discovering the ceremony's location—beneath the Midtown Financial Building—did everything become clear.
The Five Fingers' true objective had always been the dragon bones!
The "demonic summoning for revenge" narrative merely served as misdirection—a calculated diversion to occupy their adversaries.
The Five Fingers had their schemes, but Jason had developed counter-strategies of his own.
This time, he would be the unexpected variable in their equation.
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