"I heard it on the news—apparently the NYPD commissioner was shot by a gang member and is still in critical condition. Don't tell me…"
As a lawyer, Daredevil instantly pieced together Lucas's identity, guessing it almost perfectly.
Lucas didn't bother hiding it. With someone as uncompromisingly righteous as Daredevil, he wasn't worried about betrayal.
"You guessed right. That's why I need to find them."
His voice was calm, but his intent clear. Daredevil knew exactly what came next—vengeance.
He wasn't naïve. Daredevil himself never killed, not even Kingpin or Madame Gao. He only wanted them in prison. But his refusal to kill didn't mean he'd stop someone else from doing it.
Once Lucas confirmed his suspicions, Daredevil didn't hold back and told him everything he knew.
The men responsible were a local Hell's Kitchen gang, constantly clashing with the Russians and the Mafia. Though Kingpin controlled most of the district, a few independent crews still existed.
This one was run by Adam West—an old-school crime boss from Kingpin's generation. Even Fisk didn't move against him lightly. His business was drugs, and the shootout had happened because of a shipment.
"You know where their base is?" Lucas asked.
The system's mission was to wipe out the entire gang. That meant finding the nest and burning it down.
Daredevil hesitated before nodding.
"I know. But their compound is stockpiled with weapons. Going there alone is suicide."
He clearly didn't want Lucas charging in. Especially knowing Lucas was only eighteen.
Lucas hadn't hidden his age when they exchanged information earlier.
"Go home, kid. Revenge isn't for someone your age, even if you're not normal."
Daredevil's tone softened, almost paternal.
"Don't live in hatred. It'll consume you, blind you, and turn you into a demon who knows only killing."
He was projecting his own story. He too had watched his father die as a teenager and had nearly lost himself down that road.
But Lucas just smiled faintly.
"I get what you're saying. But hatred won't blind me, and it won't corrupt me either. I know that much."
Seeing Lucas unmoved, Daredevil sighed in disappointment.
"Then at least agree to one condition—let me go with you. Do that, and I'll tell you where they are."
Lucas agreed immediately. He understood Daredevil wanted to keep him grounded, but he also welcomed the extra firepower.
Since Daredevil needed time to recover, the two set their meeting for the next night, at the same safehouse, before striking the gang's hideout.
By the time Lucas slipped back home, dawn was already breaking. He climbed quietly through his window, cracked the door open a sliver to check the hall, and then finally collapsed into sleep.
The next day he took his younger brothers to school as usual, then joined Gwen at the hospital. Both had already asked for time off from school, which was readily approved.
George's condition had improved slightly, though he remained unconscious. After Lucas and Gwen had left the previous night, colleagues from the precinct and city hall had come to visit.
Helen told them the NYPD had gotten the gang's location from the captured thug. They were preparing to act in the coming days.
She didn't say what happened to that thug, but Lucas could guess—it wouldn't be pretty.
He nodded. Tonight, he and Daredevil would strike first. Everyone inside would die. None of them were good men anyway. This wasn't China, and they weren't his people—he had no burden.
Sensitive as ever, Gwen noticed something off in Lucas's expression. A strange dread tugged at her chest, though she said nothing.
Lucas spent the day at the hospital. Doctors said George had a good chance of waking up soon. The injuries were serious, but his recovery was unusually fast.
Hearing that, Helen and Gwen both wept in relief.
"Thank God… Dad's going to be okay!" Gwen held George's hand tightly, eyes red with tears.
Lucas just sat on the sofa, lost in thought. He was already running scenarios in his head. Daredevil might not allow him to kill freely. Maybe not allow him to kill at all.
Lucas didn't share Daredevil's views. The "no killing" creed wasn't unique—Batman lived by it too. But sometimes, sparing monsters was crueler than killing them. Leaving them alive often meant worse suffering for the victims.
As night fell, Helen once again insisted Lucas and Gwen return home while she stayed by George's side. The commissioner's private room was like a hotel suite—George's bed, a cot for a caretaker, even its own bathroom.
Back at the house, Gwen went straight to bed, exhausted. Lucas cooked for his two younger brothers, then waited until midnight.
When the house was silent, he dressed in dark clothes and slipped out the window, sprinting across rooftops toward Hell's Kitchen.
What he didn't notice was the faint creak of his bedroom door. A sliver of it pushed open as he vanished into the night.
Lucas arrived at the safehouse quickly. Daredevil was already there, and with him—an unexpected face. The Punisher.
Two men, polar opposites. Daredevil refused to kill. The Punisher lived for it. They didn't belong in the same room, yet here they were.
"Kid, you're the one going after Adam West's mutts?" The Punisher rasped, cleaning his gun.
Lucas nodded. "Yeah. They crossed a line they never should have."
The Punisher studied him, interest glinting in his eyes. "You even know who you're up against?"
Lucas's voice was flat, emotionless. "Just a pack of vermin. Do you bother worrying about what vermin are?"
The Punisher's lips curled into a grin. Then he laughed—a harsh, brutal sound.
"Kid, I like you already."
"You two done?" Daredevil tapped a chair with his baton, the sound waves mapping the room. "It's time to move."
The Punisher strapped on his heavy pack, stuffed with enough guns and ammo to wipe out an army.
Lucas, by contrast, traveled light. He simply reached into his system's space and pulled out the Ultima Weapon.
The Punisher froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing.
"…Where the hell did you pull that sword from?"
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