Ash leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he stared at Justin Hammer. His eyes radiated open disdain, unfiltered and deliberate. Justin looked visibly uncomfortable, while the Russian gangsters present wore amused smirks. The meeting room fell into a peculiar silence, thick with tension.
After a long thirty seconds, Vladimir finally stepped forward with a booming laugh to break the ice.
"Of course, of course! my friend! We know your rules well! Our generous Mr. Hammer here will surely make you a proper offer!"
Vladimir gave Ash a hearty slap on the back, the coarse palm of his hand full of appreciation. Ash had just helped him save face in front of his enemies, this was what Vladimir called "true friendship".
"Of course! I'll buy the technology. Just name your price!" Justin said with a forced smile, though a flicker of rage briefly crossed his face before he masked it behind his usual business-like demeanor. As a professional groomed from youth in the art of commerce, he understood well, business came before pride.
Ash casually shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, it's a monopoly. I'm the only one who can make it. But I'm open to business... so the real question is—what are you offering? Because cash?" He smirked. "Frankly, your bills are worth far less to me than the shiny little toys Mr. Ivan carries around."
Ivan, who had remained silent until now, finally stopped what he was doing. A rare grin stretched across his scruffy face. He turned, spat the toothpick from his mouth, and slid a glowing metallic sphere across the table toward Ash.
"You... interesting man," Ivan said in thick, broken English, his voice raspy like someone whose throat had suffered trauma. One had to listen closely just to make out his words.
"Thanks," Ash muttered, taking the orb in his hand. It was wrapped in metal coils and pulsed faintly with residual energy. He leaned in as if studying it, then whispered silently in his mind:
System, evaluate the item.
[Depleted Energy Core. Estimated Value: 200 Gold.]
The cold synthetic voice rang out in Ash's mind. Just as he expected, tech-based artifacts were still recognized by the system as valuable. Even a spent energy source like this one was worth 200 gold.
A spark of inspiration flashed through Ash's mind. If this scrap alone fetched that much, he could make a fortune if he got his hands on someone like Iron Man.
He casually tossed the orb back to Ivan with a knowing smile.
"Crude workmanship, but still a decent piece. Shame it's drained of energy. Something like this only has true value in your hands, Mr. Ivan." Then he turned to Justin, smiling again. "Now then... let's see just how generous you can be."
Justin frowned slightly. If cash wasn't acceptable, then what could he use to buy this?
"Gold! My friend!" Vladimir stepped forward, grinning. "Ash is quite fond of antique gold coins. I'm sure your generosity knows no bounds."
As he said this, Vladimir flashed Ash a sly look that said it all: Milk him for everything he's worth.
Ash certainly didn't object to the idea.
The meeting didn't last much longer. As the heir of Hammer Industries, Justin wasn't lacking in funds, he just lacked taste. So antique gold coins? No problem at all.
In no time, Justin purchased ten units of Smoke of Deceit for 3,500 ancient Byzantine gold coins. Vladimir, too, made his own deal, offering Ash 1,000 antique coins as payment for information about those damned attackers.
And Ash?
Of course, he knew exactly who the culprits were.
***
Later that night, the entire New York underworld was in motion.
Vladimir, seething with fury and desperate for revenge, was on the hunt. Kingpin, trying to cover his own tracks, had his people scouring the streets too. Both had the same goal: find the ones bold enough to attack their men, someone crazy enough to challenge their authority.
Brooklyn. Fourth Avenue.
The surrounding neighborhood was a rough mix of races and chaos, drug deals, moonshine, fights, robberies, and even murders. The place was a cesspool, the perfect hiding ground for anything illegal.
Ash stood in the shadow of a corner, a cigarette between his lips, quietly observing a clearing about a hundred meters away, surrounded by a circle of junk cars.
At each of the four entrances to the junkyard stood three to five burly Black men with rifles, eyes sweeping the area. Hidden among the rusted car husks were more armed guards. Inside, a massive drug deal was underway.
In New York's criminal ecosystem, Kingpin was the undisputed overlord, controlling nearly 40% of the city's illegal trade: drugs, weapons, prostitution, you name it. Below him were Vladimir's Russian mob, the Chinatown Green Gang, the Yakuza, and the Italian Mafia.
With Ash's abilities, tracking Kingpin's operations was easy. Deals like this one never escaped his notice. And tonight, he was here not just to observe, but to wait, for someone else who had an interest in Kingpin.
Time passed.
Suddenly, the smoke curling from Ash's cigarette wavered unnaturally.
Something had disturbed the air.
He grinned.
The prey had arrived.
Like a predator sensing movement in the shadows, Ash immediately picked up on the anomaly. His smile deepened as he looked toward the junkyard.
A figure swung down from above using a grappling line, gliding silently through the air and landing atop the abandoned cars like a phantom.
He wore a blood-red leather suit that clung to his muscular frame. A mask with devilish little horns. Crimson lenses in the eye slots gleamed ominously.
The figure darted forward, lightning-fast and lethal. In a blink, he snapped the neck of a hidden guard. Then, as if sensing Ash's presence, his glowing red eyes swept briefly in Ash's direction.
Then he vanished into the junkyard.
Bang! Bang!
Gunfire erupted instantly—screams, wild yelling, the deafening clatter of machine guns. Muzzle flashes lit up the wreckage like a strobe.
Ash flicked his cigarette and turned to leave.
Mission complete. Daredevil is here.
Matt Murdock, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.
Though blind, his other senses, hearing, touch and balance, were so enhanced, it bordered on superhuman. While he wasn't the strongest among the Defenders, to Ash, he was the most annoying.
Why?
Because Ash's only active movement skill, Wind Walk, was useless against a man who could hear everything within several city blocks.
***
Three minutes later, the gunfire had died down.
A red figure vaulted into the night air, blood spattered across his body. Daredevil's eyes gleamed under the mask as he turned toward the shadowy street corner where Ash had once stood. His expression turned grave.
He had clearly sensed something dangerous standing there before the fight began.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Police cars would arrive in about four minutes. But Matt's mind was already filled with a cacophony—traffic, voices, shouts, laughter.
And among it all—footsteps. Familiar. Purposeful. His target.
He whipped out his billy club, launching a line that latched onto a fire escape. With acrobatic grace, Daredevil swung into motion, darting between buildings like a red ghost monkey.
What he didn't know was this:
High above, perched atop a rusted rooftop water tank, a jet-black hawk with gleaming feathers spread its wings and took off. Riding the wind, it soared silently, its amber eyes tracking the red blur below with uncanny precision.
Through the hawk's vision, Ash watched from afar and smirked.
It was time to move.
***
The night belonged to Daredevil. In darkness, he ruled. And right now, he was closing in on Ash fast.
But then—
A deafening blast tore through the silence.
A sonic wave smashed into Daredevil's hypersensitive ears like a wrecking ball. His mind reeled as if someone had punched his brain. The pain was instant and overwhelming.
He clutched his head, his balance shattered. His body jerked midair, crashing into a metal fire escape before tumbling into a trash-filled alley below.
A feral cat screeched and darted off into the night.
***
Two blocks away, inside a quiet subway station...
Ash strolled casually onto the train platform, picked up a newspaper, and crossed one leg over the other as he took a seat. Through the hawk's eyes, he clearly saw Daredevil's collapsed form.
He chuckled. Of course, he came prepared. When dealing with someone like Daredevil, anything less would be suicidal.
Flipping a page, Ash smiled again.
Matt's powers were extraordinary, but he was still human. He could hear everything... but he couldn't process it all perfectly. That paradox was his biggest flaw.
***
Meanwhile, Daredevil, soaked in dirty alley water, gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit up.
Just the motion sent waves of pain tearing through his ribs. His side had slammed hard into the railing. After half a minute, he staggered to his feet, limping away in the direction Ash had taken.
Overhead, the black hawk glided noiselessly through the sky, vanishing into the night.
Sure, Daredevil could hear its wings. But amidst the thousands of sounds in New York City, how could he possibly focus on one more?
***
"Yeah... go home, good boy," Ash muttered softly in the subway.
"Take me straight to your den."
Because for a wounded beast, there's no better place to lick its wounds than its lair.
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