Chapter 33: Hawkeye Barton, Following the Scent, Encounters Daredevil
"Frank, I really should have eliminated you in Afghanistan."
Frank entered the smoke-filled room with murder in his eyes. "Why did you kill my family?"
Rollins shrugged dismissively, blood trickling from a head wound. "It was just business, Castle. Your family had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Time was running out, but Frank continued his interrogation, needing answers before delivering justice.
Ryan approached Rollins from the side. The CIA section chief, focused entirely on Frank, asked in confusion, "Who the hell are you?"
CRACK!
Rollins's brain barely registered the impact before his body went airborne, crashing hard into the reinforced concrete wall behind him.
"Cough!" A mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips, staining his expensive tailored suit crimson.
Ryan lowered his enhanced leg and slowly advanced.
"You blew up my laboratory."
THWACK!
"You sent contractors to kill me."
SMASH!
"You thought you were untouchable?"
CRACK!
A series of brutal rifle butt strikes left Rollins barely conscious.
His nose collapsed, his jaw hung at an unnatural angle, teeth scattered across the floor, and his face was a mask of blood and broken bone.
"I... I don't even know who you are," Rollins gasped through ruined lips.
"Today you get to meet your executioner."
Frank approached and chambered a round alongside Ryan. They aimed their assault rifles at the broken CIA official and squeezed their triggers simultaneously.
Two full magazines—sixty rounds of 5.56mm NATO ammunition—reduced Rollins to something that would challenge even the most experienced coroner to identify.
"Director Carter, this is priority intelligence we just received. Bennett maintained close operational ties with William Rollins, Director of CIA Covert Operations. Rollins was eliminated at his suburban safe house thirty minutes ago. All twenty-one personnel, including private security contractors, were killed."
"Are we certain Ryan was responsible?" Peggy Carter asked, reviewing the classified report.
"Bennett's body was discovered at a secondary location. Scene analysis indicates at least two additional operatives. Intelligence suggests a connection to an individual named Frank Castle, and we cannot rule out active collaboration between Castle and Ryan."
Carter tapped her stylus against her tablet screen several times. After considering the implications, she issued orders: "Deploy Agent Barton for investigation. I want to understand Ryan's motivations and his relationship with this Frank Castle character."
"Understood, Director."
"Also, instruct Clint not to engage if he locates Ryan. He's to report directly to me for further orders."
Agent Clint Barton—codenamed Hawkeye—was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s premier marksman and tracker. His expertise with projectile weapons and trajectory calculations made his shots virtually impossible to evade.
Upon receiving his assignment, Hawkeye immediately mobilized.
He first examined the crime scenes at Bennett's residence and Rollins's safe house, then traced leads back to the Hell's Kitchen apartment where Ryan had initially been detected.
Investigation revealed the apartment wasn't registered under Ryan's name, but through a real estate management company.
The management company was a subsidiary of a larger construction corporation.
Significantly, the same corporation owned the basement property where the recent firefight in Hell's Kitchen had occurred.
That evening, Barton infiltrated the corporate offices, hoping to uncover additional intelligence.
He picked the lock on a filing cabinet filled with various business documents. Barton methodically searched through them, organizing by category labels.
While examining the paperwork, Barton suddenly froze.
A figure had silently materialized several feet behind him.
"Theft isn't exactly a heroic pastime." The man wore form-fitting red body armor with twin 'D' symbols emblazoned across the chest. A mask concealed his features, leaving only his mouth visible.
Barton stood and faced the intruder. "Anyone who hides behind a mask usually has something to hide themselves."
Assuming this was corporate security, Barton decided to neutralize the threat first and ask questions later.
He grabbed a ballpoint pen from the desk and hurled it with lethal precision.
WHOOSH!
The projectile moved faster than most people could track, but his opponent effortlessly dodged, allowing the pen to embed itself in the drywall behind him.
The man in red wasn't some amateur security guard. The two immediately engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
CRASH! BANG! SMASH!
The corporate office was systematically destroyed as both combatants demonstrated exceptional martial arts skills.
Neither Barton nor the masked vigilante gained a decisive advantage in their exchange. They traded devastating blows, both fighters rapidly exhausting their stamina.
After another fierce combination, they simultaneously disengaged.
Barton breathed heavily. "You're interfering with a federal investigation. That's a felony."
"How do I verify that claim?"
Barton casually retrieved his S.H.I.E.L.D. identification and tossed it over. The man caught it with inhuman precision.
S.H.I.E.L.D. agents carried official credentials for field operations, but this man appeared to be blind and couldn't read the documentation.
However, he could feel the raised badge and security features embedded in the ID.
After confirming Barton's identity, he returned the credentials and lowered his defensive posture. "My apologies. I assumed you were here to destroy evidence."
"Who are you?"
After a long pause, the man responded. "You can call me Daredevil. I'm investigating a series of murders connected to this corporation."
Multiple investigations were apparently converging on the same target.
"This corporation is controlled by a criminal organization led by a man called the Kingpin. Through recent surveillance, I've determined that Kingpin's real identity is Wilson Fisk, and he controls approximately seventy percent of New York's organized crime infrastructure."
Barton's expression darkened. He'd come here to investigate Ryan, but hadn't expected to uncover a major criminal conspiracy.
"Does that include weapons trafficking?" Barton seemed to connect several dots and pressed for more information.
Daredevil nodded. "Absolutely. Kingpin recently absorbed the Russian bratva operations. Apart from a few independent dealers, he controls virtually all illegal arms sales in the New York metropolitan area."
Now the pieces fit together. Kingpin had provided Ryan with laboratory space and weapons access.
Could Wilson Fisk be Ryan's criminal patron?
Wilson Fisk had been unusually volatile lately.
Though he prided himself on maintaining gentlemanly composure, he rarely lost emotional control in front of subordinates.
But today was different. Simply because a minor operational detail hadn't been executed properly, he'd beaten a subordinate to death with his bare hands.
The old Wilson Fisk would never have displayed such brutality so casually.
Even Wesley, standing nearby, couldn't hide his fear. To him, Wilson Fisk seemed like a completely different person—someone far more dangerous and unstable.
Perhaps only Vanessa could restore Wilson Fisk's psychological equilibrium at this point.
Fortunately, they had dinner plans tonight.
"Boss, you should change into clean clothes. Miss Vanessa is waiting for you. I'm certain she wouldn't appreciate you arriving covered in blood."
Hearing Vanessa's name, Wilson Fisk immediately regained his composure.
He wiped his hands with a silk handkerchief, then dropped it on the corpse. "Dispose of the body. Also, locate that Daredevil immediately. I want to crush his skull personally."
"Yes, sir."
Wilson Fisk, in this moment, resembled nothing so much as a tyrant drunk on power.
The Kingpin, en route to his romantic dinner, had no idea he was under surveillance.
He showered, dressed in an immaculate suit, and headed to the upscale restaurant where Vanessa was waiting.
Vanessa's presence was like medicine for his fractured psyche. After their dinner, Wilson Fisk had returned to his usual controlled demeanor.
As he escorted Vanessa from the restaurant toward her car, Wilson Fisk suddenly stopped and turned, staring menacingly at a nearby rooftop.
The area appeared empty in the darkness, but Wilson Fisk's enhanced senses detected a watcher.
"Wilson, what's wrong?" Vanessa called from the passenger seat, confused by his sudden alertness.
Wilson Fisk smiled reassuringly. "My apologies, darling. Something urgent has come up. I'll arrange for my driver to take you home safely. Perhaps we can continue our evening later?"
Vanessa had already tacitly agreed to spend the night with Wilson Fisk during their dinner conversation.
She was surprised he would suddenly change their plans.
End of Chapter 33
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