Walking in the cold wind of a winter night...
Unfortunately, it's neither winter night nor is there any cold wind right now.
Ah!
Wait, there is cold wind!
All the glass on this floor has been shattered—completely obliterated! Not a single shard left intact!
Breathing in the sharp sulfuric fumes and stepping over small chunks of wood and metal, Leon held a Colt in his left hand and a Rhino in his right, moving step by step into the restaurant.
Or at least, what used to be a restaurant.
As soon as Leon stepped inside, he saw, not far from the entrance, a fallen statue of a beast pinned underneath a... uh, Wolverine?
You've got to be kidding me!!
Getting closer, he realized this guy was just an imitation!
Sure, he had Wolverine's hairstyle, but it was obvious he lacked the same healing powers, given all the various wounds covering his body. It looked like, well...
"Seriously, were these grenade fragments this effective?! Or was this guy just so unlucky that all the shrapnel ended up lodged in him?"
Upon closer inspection, this cosplayer's metal claws weren't even growing from his hands—they were strapped onto his wrists with some contraption.
"Ugh, and he doesn't even look right! He's like a weird owl creature! That yellow sweater! That green cloak! Those massive fur boots!"
This outfit—absolutely ridiculous!
As Leon was inspecting him, the guy actually woke up, shaking off the debris on him. This big wolf-like guy lifted his head only to see someone wearing a wide-brimmed gentleman's hat, a black-and-white mask covering his face, a short dyed trench coat, and black jeans standing right in front of him, observing him with keen interest.
The outfit said it all—this had to be the guy who tossed the grenade into the restaurant!
"You piece of..."
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!!
Whoa~ How could someone like this exist? Immediately resorting to insults, so rude!
A quick burst of gunfire to the face.
The not-so-professional cosplayer had barely stood up, hadn't even finished cursing, when he collapsed back onto the ground, stiff as a board.
What a waste of bullets!
These were meant for Kingpin! Premium ammo, every round blossoming like a flower!
Bullseye's a great NPC, always carrying top-tier gear!
Ignoring the poor guy on the ground, Leon knew from his outfit he couldn't be up to any good.
Besides, anyone dining with Kingpin couldn't be a decent person!
Clumsily wedging one gun under his armpit, Leon freed up a hand to reload the other.
"This game experience is terrible! No quick switch for reloading!"
Being someone with a fear of insufficient firepower, Leon couldn't stand having even one bullet missing. He insisted on going through the whole reload routine.
So meticulous!!
"My dear Mr. Fisk~"
Leon continued his search slowly.
"Mind if I join you at the table? I'm actually quite hungry."
Boom!
A rock flew through the smoke, smashing into the wall beside Leon's face and shattering into pieces.
Leon fired in the direction of the flying rock, the sound of bullets hitting metal echoing through the air. He realized he was likely shooting at some sort of defensive barrier.
Shifting cautiously, Leon glanced at the dents in the wall behind him.
No doubt about it—that was from Kingpin.
This guy's arm strength was inhuman! He wasn't just any ordinary person!
Leon figured that if that rock had hit his head, it would have been no different than getting struck by a pneumatic hammer.
No wonder he could hold his own against Spider-Man and the X-Men! The idea that Daredevil could beat him seemed absurd!
Leon bent slightly, shrinking his profile while maintaining a strong posture.
Here it comes!
Another rock came flying. Leon's earlier shots had given away his position, and Kingpin wasn't the type to just sit and take it.
Boom!
The rock slammed into the wall, shattering into dust.
Judging by the impact and the size of the hole, if that rock had hit him in the face, he would've been done for.
The smoke gradually cleared, a breeze blowing through the wrecked windows, dispersing the smell of gunpowder and intensifying the scent of blood.
From behind an overturned heavy dining table, a tall, muscular figure emerged from the swirling smoke. Kingpin's bald head was covered in blood.
His ears, brow, and side of his face.
Blood streamed from the corner of his eye, dripping from his chin. The mix of dust and blood made him even more intimidating, like an enraged lion, staring down his prey!
Leon, standing opposite him, was busy scratching his face underneath his mask. Staying up late had caused him to break out, and scratching through the mask wasn't helping!
Kingpin slowly walked out from behind the table, removing his tattered suit jacket. His injuries weren't that severe—certainly not compared to the poor guy by the door.
Judging by the amount of blood, the wounds weren't that deep either. He must have protected himself immediately. The enhanced fragmentation grenades had killed everyone in the room except for the guy by the door who was farther away. Only Kingpin had come out relatively unscathed.
"Ah! You must be Mr. Wilson Fisk! You dog! You dog!"
Leon continued in his carefree manner, cracking tasteless jokes.
Kingpin rolled up his white shirt sleeves and asked calmly, "Did you kill Wesley?"
Leon frantically waved his hands, exaggerating the gesture, still holding two guns, his tone ridiculously theatrical: "How could you accuse me so unjustly!"
Suddenly, his tone shifted to a more serious one: "It was clearly that bastard Bullseye!"
"Damn it! Wesley and I were just discussing... giving you a gift... when a huge nail came flying out of nowhere! If Wesley hadn't taken the hit for me, my face would've been ruined, you know?"
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Leon realized he hadn't actually wiped anything. He'd gotten so into the story, he'd spit all over his mask.
*Cough, cough!*
Fake-coughing twice, Leon added, "But don't worry, Mr. Wilson! I just came from Bullseye's place, and I've already avenged Wesley for you!"
"No need to thank me!"
Kingpin's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.
"Bullseye... You killed him?"
This time, he sounded like he was asking.
"Yep!"
Leon stiffened his neck, answering with extreme confidence.
"Dead. But it was technically a suicide. I even threw in 50 cents for the funeral."
Despite holding guns, Leon openly rubbed his fingers together, looking at Kingpin, "A little something in return, perhaps? I took a small token from him—care for a look, Mr. Fisk?"
Without a word, Kingpin crossed his arms in front of his face and charged straight at Leon!
Leon fired both guns while retreating, bullets landing all over Kingpin's body.
When the last bullet was fired, Kingpin, drenched in blood, finally reached Leon, lowering his arms to reveal a hideous grin!
He threw a punch!
Boom!!
A dull thud!
Leon caught the punch Kingpin had intended to kill him with.
The two men locked arms—one towering over two meters, with broad shoulders and drenched in blood. The other, much shorter and seemingly scrawny by comparison.
Despite their stark physical differences, the two seemed evenly matched in this test of strength.
Suddenly, Leon let go, taking advantage of Kingpin's momentary loss of balance to headbutt him in the nose, sending blood gushing out as Kingpin stumbled back.
Kicking aside his gun, Leon cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck: "Surprised, Kingpin?"
Kingpin looked up, blood soaking his collar, his injuries from both earlier and Leon's shots making him look utterly miserable!
"Indeed... Quite the surprise."
Looking at the "scrawny" Leon, Kingpin said ambiguously.
(Hahaha!!! It's done!! Begging for votes! Please add to your collections! Tomorrow, the monthly tickets come out! I want them, everyone!)
(End of chapter)