They had disrupted his hunting grounds.
They were all targets for The Punisher.
"..."
The scene fell into an eerie second of silence.
Bullseye, Sabretooth, and Natasha simultaneously shifted some of their attention to this new, uninvited guest.
Four people, four corners.
A perfect death arena had formed.
The next second, the melee fully erupted!
"All of you, die!"
Bullseye made the first move, casually picking up a butcher knife from the ground.
With a flick of his wrist, the knife spun like a bloody frisbee, whistling as it sliced towards Frank, who was closest to him!
Frank didn't even look, raising his hand and firing a shot!
Clang!
The bullet precisely hit the spinning blade, knocking it away!
On the other side, Sabretooth was completely enraged; he didn't care who the skull-headed shooter was, his only thought was to tear Natasha apart!
He roared, directly ramming through a pig carcass blocking his way, rotten flesh and blood splattering everywhere, and lunged at Natasha again!
Natasha moved as agilely as a cat, kicking off a swaying iron hook.
Using the momentum to flip over, she dodged his pounce while wrapping her legs around Sabretooth's neck!
Four people, four chaotic battlefields!
Bullseye and The Punisher, two masters of firearms and projectiles, engaged in an intense exchange of fire.
Bullets, throwing knives, iron hooks, shattered bones—anything that could be picked up became a deadly weapon, ricocheting wildly through the slaughterhouse, emitting ear-splitting screeches!
Sabretooth and Natasha, two top-tier close-quarters combatants, were entangled in a fierce struggle.
One was wild and brutal, every move lethal, his claws leaving deep gouges in frozen pork and metal walls with every swing!
The other was agile and deadly, like a ghost dancing on a knife's edge, her dagger and exquisite fighting skills repeatedly leaving fresh red wounds on Sabretooth!
The entire slaughterhouse had completely devolved into a living hell.
Metal was torn, flesh flew, gunshots, roars, and the hum of electricity echoed throughout the underground space.
Each of them firmly believed the other was an enemy, and each was consumed by a killing frenzy.
No one knew that behind this bloody feast, a pair of eyes, through a tracking device the size of a grain of rice, was coldly enjoying everything.
In the cinema.
Lynt popped the last kernel of popcorn into his mouth and finished the last sip of cola.
In his headphones, he heard Sabretooth's even more furious roars after being hit by electricity.
He heard The Punisher's calm mechanical sound of reloading after emptying a magazine.
He heard Bullseye's excited, almost deranged, cackles.
And Natasha's increasingly hurried breathing.
A deathmatch performed by four top-tier fighters, to him, was merely a well-produced 4D surround sound action blockbuster.
Raven stared intently at him.
She watched him place the empty popcorn bucket aside, watched him meticulously wipe his hands with a napkin.
It was as if what he had just listened to was not a bloody battle capable of shaking the entire underground World of New York, but a boring symphony concert.
This man... and he was an absolute, cold, all-controlling... demon.
He had turned everyone into pawns on his chessboard, manipulating them at will, making them destroy each other in blood and Fire.
And he himself hadn't even dirtied a finger.
Raven looked at Lynt's calm face, and a thought that made even herself tremble uncontrollably emerged from the depths of her heart.
This Beast hidden beneath human skin was ten thousand times more terrifying than any Beast she had heard in the slaughterhouse.
Lynt took off his headphones, casually tossing them onto the table, and turned to look at her.
"Let's go."
His tone was like a casual invitation to a companion after a movie ended.
"The show is over."
"Let's go back and power you up ~ Raven."
The Queens streets at midnight were desolate, like a forgotten cemetery.
Streetlights stretched their shadows long, only to be mercilessly swallowed by the next light.
Lynt walked with his hands in his pockets, humming the affected love song from the movie, his steps light, completely out of place with the bleak night.
Raven followed half a step behind him, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings.
She said nothing, asked nothing.
But her rigid back, clenched fists, and the eyes that stared fixedly at the back of Lynt's head in the Shadow, silently spoke volumes.
The man in the cinema, eating popcorn, listening to the Carnage, and commenting on the protagonists' entrance, was like a poisoned ice pick, piercing deep into her perception.
Fear.
A fear more primal, more profound than facing Bullseye's throwing knives or Sabretooth's claws.
It wasn't a fear of death, but a tremor in the face of an unknown, uncontrollable power.
She used to think Lynt was a perfect tool, a "power-up item" that could make her stronger.
She only needed to provide shelter, and she would continuously draw strength.
But tonight, she finally understood that she was wrong.
She wasn't a user.
She, like Sabretooth, Black Widow, Bullseye, and The Punisher, was just a pawn on his chessboard.
The only difference was that her pawn could sleep by his side.
Was this luck, or an even deeper misfortune?
Back in that unremarkable apartment.
Lynt casually took off his jacket, tossed it onto the sofa, then walked straight to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of iced beer.
Click.
The tab was opened, and White bubbles surged out.
He took a big gulp, letting out a satisfied sigh, as if he had just finished an exhilarating workout, rather than orchestrated a bloody Carnage.
Raven stood at the doorway, unmoving.
The air in the apartment, because of his casual demeanor, became increasingly thick and oppressive.
"Come here." Lynt leaned against the kitchen doorframe, beckoning to her with his usual, slightly playful smile.
"It's time for a power-up."
Raven's body stiffened for a moment.
Power-up.
This word, just a few hours ago, represented strength, security, and hope for the future.
Now, it sounded like a devil's bargain.
She exchanged power and shelter for his "enhancement."
And he, in turn, used this "enhancement" to firmly bind her to his chariot, driving towards an unknown abyss.
She had no choice.
Or rather, from the first time she tasted the sweetness of her strength doubling, she had already lost the choice.
She slowly, step by step, walked towards him.
Each step felt like treading on the ashes of her own sanity.
Lynt said nothing more.
He just watched her quietly, his black eyes devoid of desire, devoid of emotion, only a calmness that saw through everything.
After the battle ended.
The familiar, thrilling torrent of power once again surged through her limbs and bones.
Hum—
It was as if an invisible energy furnace had ignited within her.