In the end, the ones who actually taught Peter to drive were Matt and his girlfriend, Elektra.
After Matt's near-fatal beating, they'd reconciled—cleared the air, rekindled what was never really gone.
And once free of the Hand's brainwashing, Elektra had realized she'd misjudged Peter. He wasn't the enemy. He'd been trying to protect Matt.
She still felt bad about stabbing him.
So when she heard how Peter's driving lessons had gone—Schiller causing fender benders, Stark speeding with the top down, Steve treating city streets like WWII battlefields—she and Matt stepped in.
To her credit, Elektra was way more reliable than the others.
Even if she was a ninja assassin, she didn't throw knives during lane changes.
That day, Peter was behind the wheel, hands tight on the wheel, while Matt and Elektra talked quietly in the back.
They were discussing Kingpin.
"One day," Peter said, "I'm gonna make him pay. What did he do to you? That wasn't just brutal. It was cowardly."
"Don't rush it," Matt said. "My fight with Kingpin runs deep. And he's not some street thug. He's the most powerful crime boss in the country. You're not ready."
"What about Bullseye, then?" Peter asked. "He's still in Hell's Kitchen, right? I could take him out tonight."
Elektra shook her head. "It's worse than that. After hearing about the Dragon Bone, Kingpin didn't move against the Hand. They've made a deal."
Peter frowned. "That makes no sense. The Hand would never hand over the Dragon Bone. They'd betray him the second it suited them. Kingpin has to know that."
"That's the point," Elektra said. "He knows they'll betray him. And he hired them anyway."
Her voice was cold.
"There's something we don't know. Something big enough to make that risk worth it."
"Any idea what?"
She looked at him. "His drug operation."
"You mean the one he supposedly abandoned?"
"It's not abandoned," Matt said. "It's evolving."
"He controls most of the East Coast market," Elektra added. "But it's not enough. He wants more."
"I got intel," she continued. "He's planning to target younger kids. Using people inside high schools and colleges to push addictive drugs to students as young as fourteen. Once they're hooked, the profits explode."
Peter slammed the steering wheel.
"Every time I think I've seen the worst of human greed… someone shows up and says you have only seen the surface."
Matt said nothing. Just nodded.
His silence carried more weight than any speech.
They turned off the main road onto a quieter street. It was getting late. Peter figured he'd return the car tonight and practice again tomorrow.
Then—blinding light.
He flinched. His spider-sense flared.
He yanked the door open and rolled out just as throwing stars shattered the windshield, embedding themselves in the driver and passenger seats.
From rooftops above, black shapes leapt into smoke, dropping fast.
Peter hit the ground, rolled under a volley of blades, then launched upward—shoulder-charged a ninja off the car roof. The figure dissolved into mist.
Another tried to rip the door open. Empty.
A flash of steel. Elektra appeared from the side, slit his throat, then hurled shuriken at a second attacker. He vanished in a puff of smoke.
Matt was already out. His ears had caught the hum of metal mid-flight. With one swing of his billy club, he took down another ninja crouched at the rear.
"These guys are such a pain," Matt muttered. "We killed one last time. Now they're back. Again."
Peter shook out his wrist. "They've been hitting you hard lately?"
"We moved," Matt said. "The old apartment got trashed too many times."
Peter winced. "I'm sorry. I've been busy. If I'd known…"
"Better you didn't," Matt said. "You can't beat them head-on. Even for us, killing one takes prep. In a straight fight? They just vanish."
"Their ninjutsu is illusion-based," Elektra said. "You need counter-techniques to break it."
Peter climbed back in. "So they're not here to kill you. Just… mess with you?"
"Exactly," Matt said. "We can handle them. But my neighbors can't. The Hand knows I won't let innocents get hurt. So I move. Again. And again."
"And every time I do," Elektra said, "it costs me time. Energy. Focus."
"That's their oldest trick," Matt said. "Target anyone who crosses them. Send endless waves of immortal ninjas. No kills. No evidence. Just chaos. Until you leave the neighborhood."
"And the cops can't touch them," Elektra added. "No bodies. No proof. Just noise."
"That's why Kingpin uses them," Matt said bitterly. "He knows he can't kill me. Not without triggering a war. But this? This wears me down."
Elektra turned the wheel. "And maybe that's why he hired them. You hit him hard, Peter. Bullseye almost finished you—but you came back. Took out three of his casinos in a week. Now he's not betting on killing you. He's betting on slowing you."
Matt sighed.
The ninjas were ghosts. They lowered their heartbeats, slipped through shadows, set fires, threw blades, then disappeared.
He'd been evicted twice. As a lawyer, he had trials to prep. As Daredevil, he had a city to protect.
Now he spent nights packing boxes instead of patrolling.
Kingpin had found his weakness:
Matt wasn't just a vigilante.
He was a man with a job. A life. An address.
And the Hand was making sure he couldn't keep any of them.
Elektra had her own problems. The Hand wanted her dead for defecting. Kingpin doubted her loyalty. Bullseye was waiting—ready to kill her, reclaim his throne.
Peter clenched his fists.
"I can't stop these ninjas. But I can go after Bullseye."
"Be careful," Elektra said. "He's not just skilled. He's a master acrobat. Throws anything—pens, paperclips, bottle caps—and never misses. And he's clever. Ruthless."
"Good," Peter said. "I haven't fought a real opponent yet."
"Stark built you a suit, right?" Elektra asked. "Wear it. If his weapons can't pierce the armor, he'll be easier to beat."
"It's still in testing," Peter admitted. "But Stark called yesterday. Said it'll be ready in a few days."
They pulled up near Matt's current apartment. Got out.
Matt looked at Peter. Streetlights were out. Only faint glimmers from windows reflected in the car glass.
"Think carefully," he said. "Once you go after Bullseye, Kingpin will see you. For good."
"This isn't fighting muggers or stopping robberies. This is life or death. He'll use every cruelty you can imagine—and some you can't. He'll become your nightmare. Follow you everywhere. He will haunt you."
Peter stood silent. Then asked, softly:
"Do you regret it? When you were on that operating table… did you wish you'd stayed out of it?"
Matt gave a thin smile.
"If I hadn't gotten involved, I'd probably be in some Manhattan high-rise right now. Prepping for trial. Maybe talking about marriage with Elektra. Thinking about getting a dog."
Elektra snorted. "Yeah. And the next morning, you'd find that dog's corpse on your doorstep."
Matt's voice went quiet. Hard.
"I didn't plan this. I didn't sit around thinking for a year before jumping in. I charged in—full of rage, full of fire."
He met Peter's eyes.
"But I don't regret it. Not once."
"I want you to be a hero. You could save so many people—that's why I'm teaching you."
"But don't mistake me. Fighting Kingpin? There's no going back."
"You have to be both righteous and strong."
He paused.
"If you lack either…"
"…then the only road ahead is a dead end."