Even when facing the Hammerhead gang members who planned to burn down an orphanage, Batman didn't unleash the twenty-five-ton strength he'd borrowed from Peter Parker.
That kind of force would've reduced them to pulp, and that wasn't Batman's goal. He needed them alive to spread his fear. So, he settled for breaking most of their bones.
Now, in Hell's Kitchen, the afternoon sun blazed harshly, dazzling the eyes. But in the shadows atop a building, two figures—one in black, one in red—clashed as if the light didn't touch them.
Bang! Bang!
The sound of fists and feet colliding rang out several times a second, mixed with the muffled grunts of blows landing.
Batman's suit was covered in hardened armor, but his opponent's twin batons whipped through the air, leaving trails of afterimages. In mere moments, the two had exchanged several rounds, neither gaining the upper hand.
As a forearm clashed against a baton, both fighters stepped back, retreating a few paces.
The fight looked fierce, but both were probing, testing each other's limits. Neither had gone all out.
"Who are you? Why are you stopping me?" Batman asked, his voice low and gravelly.
"You can call me Daredevil," the man in the dark red suit replied, tilting his head slightly. "Last night, you came to Hell's Kitchen and broke a few people's bones. I'd like to know why."
Batman fixed his gaze on Daredevil. During their fight, he'd noticed that Daredevil's mask covered his eyes completely. This man didn't need to see to block every one of Batman's punches with uncanny precision.
"They robbed a convenience store," Batman said.
"If that's all it was, you didn't need to go so hard. A few of them are paralyzed for life," Daredevil replied, gripping his batons tighter, his body sinking into an offensive stance once more.
"…And then they used the alcohol they stole to make Molotov cocktails, planning to burn down an orphanage," Batman said, locking eyes with him. "Still want to keep fighting?"
Though he'd been holding back his strength, and his current suit was far inferior to anything in his Gotham Batcave, he hadn't used any gadgets or tools either.
Even so, Batman didn't mind going another round to see who was truly the better fighter.
Daredevil let out a chuckle. "Alright, fine. You may have ruined my plan, but no one could sit by and let that kind of thing happen."
"We'll spar again sometime. For now, I've got to get back to work."
With that, Daredevil tucked his batons into the holsters on his thighs and turned to leave.
Every time a fight ends, Barry Allen says something like that… Batman thought to himself.
Watching Daredevil's retreating figure, Batman pulled a batarang—crafted in a black-market factory—from his utility belt and flung it.
The batarang sliced through the air silently, reaching Daredevil's back in the blink of an eye.
At the last second, Daredevil shifted slightly, dodging it, and caught the batarang in his hand.
"Just as I thought," Batman said, stepping closer, his fingers curling into fists. "You have some kind of ability to sense your surroundings without using your eyes."
"You said 'burning the orphanage' ruined your plan," he continued. "Care to explain?"
Clink.
Daredevil let the batarang drop to the ground, the sound sharp and clear. He turned to face Batman again.
"I guided them to do it," Daredevil admitted.
"I needed to spark a conflict between the local gangs to flush out their leader."
Batman's mind immediately went to Kingpin, but he didn't say the name aloud. Instead, he pressed further. "So you were willing to sacrifice the orphans for your plan?"
Daredevil gave a dry laugh. "That orphanage was relocated last week. If I'd done something like that to fight crime, the Lord wouldn't forgive me."
Batman's expression didn't change. He already knew the orphanage was empty, but he needed to hear Daredevil confirm it. He couldn't risk this self-proclaimed "Daredevil" gambling with innocent lives without solid information.
Without another word, Batman turned, leapt off the building, and activated the gliding mechanism retrofitted into his cape. He vanished swiftly into the dense, towering buildings of New York.
"He's blind, but he's got world-class fighting skills. He's trying to spark a gang war in Hell's Kitchen… No clear facial details, and his voice is disguised, just like mine. I can't identify him."
"He seems to rely on senses other than sight to perceive his surroundings—something like Spider-Man's spider-sense, but different. It's not just triggered by danger."
"A sonic weapon would likely neutralize him."
In an abandoned shipyard, Batman changed into a plaid shirt.
"For now, I can't determine if 'Daredevil' wears that suit to settle a personal score with the gangs or if he's fighting crime like me."
Batman shook his head. He couldn't delay any longer. After securing funding for Dr. Octavius's research, he needed to start building his arsenal: sonar systems, detective mode, shock guns, listening devices… the whole array.
Maybe even the Batmobile, the Batwing, and a proper Batcave to serve as his operations hub.
With those, no one would be able to hide their identity from him.
For now, though, he had to register a company.
New York's economy was bustling, and the line for company registration was long—anywhere from days to months under normal circumstances.
Luckily, there was a fast-track option.
With money smoothing the way, Batman secured the necessary documents in just a few hours.
It was a shell company, registered under the pretense of AI technology development. Batman had no intention of actually developing AI—it was too slow a path to profit, and he couldn't wait.
"To Stark Tower," he told the driver as he flagged down a taxi.
He planned to use a portion of his AI technology to attract corporate partnerships for funding.
This AI wasn't anything like Alfred AI or Brother Eye—just civilian-grade tech, like the obstacle recognition system once used in the Batmobile.
New York was full of companies that might invest in such tech, but Batman ignored them all, choosing Stark Industries instead.
He hadn't forgotten the name Howard Stark, tied to CIA records about the Cosmic Cube.
This was a chance to secure funds quickly, establish a connection with Stark Industries, and, with any luck, dig into the Cosmic Cube.
In a law firm in Hell's Kitchen, Matt Murdock had just shed his dark red suit and slipped into a suit and tie, adjusting his red-tinted glasses. As he straightened his jacket, he called out to his colleague.
"Foggy, any clients come by with a case?"
Foggy Nelson, Matt's classmate, colleague, and partner, threw up his hands. "Come on, Matt. Our firm's only had one case since we opened. You just stepped out to take a leak—how's a case supposed to magically show up?"
"Seriously, though, if we don't get another case soon, this firm's not gonna make it."
Matt Murdock gave a small smile, saying nothing. He sat down, his mind replaying his encounter with the most formidable opponent he'd faced since becoming Daredevil—an opponent he could barely get a handle on.
"His heartbeat and breathing were steady, even in the heat of battle. His moves blended every fighting style I know, plus some I've never seen…"
"Is he a friend… or a foe?"
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