The middle-aged man hadn't even spoken yet, but Jessica Jones was already impatient.
She wasn't Police, not a social worker, and certainly not a Doctor.
She was a poisoned sword, just pulled from the devil's heart.
At this moment, she only wanted to find a quiet corner to lick her own wounds, not deal with a group of frightened sheep here.
Before William's "professional consultant" mask was fully in place, a black Shadow darted past him.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Four dull yet crisp thuds sounded almost simultaneously.
Jessica didn't use her fists, only her hand-chops, accurately striking the back of the necks of the family of four.
Her movements were as fast as a Shadow, without any sloppiness, as if she had practiced them thousands of times.
The couple and their two children didn't even whimper; their eyes rolled back, and they slumped softly to the ground, falling into a deeper slumber than before.
William's professional smile froze instantly.
Well, Jessica had completed the first step in a more ancient, direct, and effective way.
After all this, Jessica looked around, her gaze falling on the tablecloth the family had used earlier to cut fruit.
She walked over, tore off a piece, and without even looking at the fruit juice and stains on it, went straight to Kilgrave and roughly, deeply stuffed it into his mouth, which was still oozing purple virus.
Kilgrave was starting to twitch slightly as the paralyzing effect slowly wore off.
Her Shadow completely enveloped the Purple Man, her boots step on on the wooden floor, each step like treading on William's heart.
A flicker of life finally returned to Kilgrave's eyes, immediately followed by boundless fear.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Jessica gave him no chance.
"Crack!"
A crisp, teeth-grating sound of bone breaking.
Jessica stomped down, accurately breaking Kilgrave's right arm.
"Woooo—!"
Kilgrave let out a suppressed howl of pain, his entire body arching like a fish out of Water.
"Crack!"
The second sound, his left arm broke.
William instinctively took half a step back, the "foolproof plan" armor on his arm still seemingly feeling the pressure Jessica had exerted earlier.
He was particularly glad now that his twisted logic had worked.
Jessica squatted down, her face devoid of any expression—no vengeful satisfaction, no violent madness, only the calm of a surgeon.
She grabbed Kilgrave's left ankle and twisted it gently.
"Crack!"
"Crack!"
Hands and feet, all four limbs, neatly broken.
Kilgrave's screams were choked in his throat by his own saliva and tears, leaving only gasping, leaking sounds.
He had completely turned into a puddle of mud, a puddle of mud that could do nothing but wail, stripped of all control.
Jessica squatted down, her body blocking the light, her massive Shadow completely engulfing Kilgrave.
She didn't look at William, nor did she look at the family again; in her World, at this moment, there was only this puddle of rotten flesh called Kilgrave before her.
"You know, I remember very clearly."
Her voice was soft, as if sharing a secret, yet it was more penetrating than any scream.
"You liked me in that blue dress. You said my smile was sweet, so you made me smile for eighteen hours straight, until all the muscles in my face cramped."
Kilgrave's body trembled violently, a whimpering sound escaping his cloth-stuffed mouth, his eyes filled with pure, unadulterated fear.
His proud words, the weapon he used to control the World, were now reduced to a bit of spittle and bloodstains.
"You liked quiet, so you made me throw the neighbor's dog out the window. His name was Morton, he was gentle, and he liked to lick my hand."
Jessica reached out and gently stroked Kilgrave's forehead, twisted in pain; the movement was as tender as a lover's caress, yet it made him shake like a sieve.
"You also said I should make more friends, and then you made me watch as you forced the only postman who ever smiled at me to walk into the middle of the road."
William stood a few steps away, feeling a headache coming on.
He wasn't listening to an Avenger's accusation; he was overhearing the most detailed, bloodiest crime statement.
And he, damn it, was now the only listener and eyewitness.
His brain had already begun automatically assessing the risk level—murder, unlawful imprisonment, intentional harm... Jessica's fingers slid down Kilgrave's cheek, gripping his chin, forcing him to look at her.
"The thing you liked to say most was, 'I know you want to.' You made me believe that those disgusting things, those choices I was forced to make, were my deepest desires. You turned me into the sharpest knife in your hand, the most obedient puppet, and then told me it was my own will."
There was no Fire of anger in her voice, only cold ashes after everything had burned away.
"You stole my body, trampled my will, and still expected me to be grateful for it."
She leaned closer, almost face to face with Kilgrave.
"You told me you loved me. You bastard, you don't even know what that means. You just loved the feeling, the feeling of having everything in your grasp, of making the World run according to your script. You're not a God, Kilgrave, you're just a virus with delusions. And a virus should be eradicated."
Kilgrave shook his head violently, tears and snot mixed with purple bodily fluids, streaming all over his face.
He wanted to beg, to scream, to try every possible way, but his broken limbs and stuffed mouth made all his struggles seem ridiculous and futile.
For the first time, he experienced that helpless despair of being nailed in place.
The pain he had inflicted on countless people was finally returned to him in the most concentrated, cruelest way.
"Now, can you still control me?"
Jessica asked in a low voice, like a vicious curse.
Her eyes reflected Kilgrave's horrified, desperate face.
"Can you still make me smile, Kilgrave?"
William felt his head ache even more.
He watched Jessica's hand, the hand that had just crushed titanium alloy armor, slowly move up and cover Kilgrave's throat.
No.
Don't.
Goddammit, don't do this.
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