"I wanted to try something," Bullseye said through gritted teeth, managing a bitter smile, "But I wasn't sure. Not even close."
With a heavy sigh, he raised his hands—and let everything fall. Knives, darts, throwing stars, and a dozen other deadly tools clattered to the ground around his feet. Under the moonlight, they gleamed with an oily sheen—most coated in toxins so potent that even a scratch could kill in seconds.
To anyone watching, it looked like surrender. But Bullseye never really gave up. Even standing there, hands empty and head down, his mind worked—calculating distance, timing, angles. Every word, every tremble was part of the show. He looked beaten, but inside, he was just waiting for his moment.
His rule was simple: survive. Kill when you have to, lie when you have to, but never stop planning.
Still, for all his scheming, Bullseye hadn't moved a muscle because—for once—he genuinely wasn't sure he could win.
Daniel tilted his head, studying him. "Your ability is... interesting."
Bullseye's smile tightened. He'd been read completely.
Most people thought his gift was just perfect aim—turn anything into a weapon, nail a target with a paper clip, kill someone with a toothpick from across the street.
But it was deeper than that. His real power was target lock—once he focused on something, he couldn't miss. A fly's wing from a hundred yards? Easy.
But only if he could lock on first.
Tonight, standing in front of Daniel, he couldn't. His instincts screamed that something was wrong—no angle, no opening, no way in. It was like trying to hit smoke. All his weapons and poisons wouldn't matter if he couldn't find his mark.
Even the gun in Daniel's hand felt more like a symbol than a real threat, but Bullseye knew better. This man had taken out his entire elite team before they could fire a shot. He'd gotten close enough to press the gun against Bullseye's head without being seen.
Bullseye had once dreamed of killing someone like Storm. But facing Daniel, he felt something rare—complete helplessness.
Still, old habits died hard. His fingers twitched, wanting to move.
"What do you want?" Bullseye asked quietly.
Daniel smiled—patient, calm, dangerous. "Simple. Three things. Do them right, and you might live."
Bullseye swallowed and nodded, hands still raised.
"First," Daniel said, "you're going to make sure Elektra learns what really happened tonight. That you tried to kill Felicia."
Bullseye's jaw clenched. "She doesn't know. They kept her out of it. You guessed right."
"Good. Second," Daniel continued, "I need a name. Kingpin's chief financial officer."
That hit Bullseye like a punch.
The CFO wasn't just some thug. They were the heart of the whole operation—the person who cleaned dirty money, buried crimes under legitimate business. The real power behind Kingpin's empire.
Giving up that name meant burning everything.
He stared at Daniel, heart hammering. "You're trying to destroy Kingpin."
"Relax," Daniel said mildly. "I'm not making any moves on him—yet."
Bullseye's eyes narrowed. "Then why?"
"Because," Daniel said, "it leads to the third thing: I want you to keep tabs on the Hand. Who they are, where they operate, how they're working with Kingpin."
Bullseye's blood went cold.
The Hand.
He'd only just stumbled onto their existence—an ancient, secret organization from Japan, whispers of supernatural power, a hierarchy so hidden it felt like myth. He'd seen impossible things—an old woman sending a 200-pound man flying with one hand.
But how did Daniel know about them?
Even Bullseye had only recently discovered Kingpin's connection to them. The implications were terrifying.
If Daniel knew this much, saying no wasn't really an option.
"I'll... I'll get the information," Bullseye said. "No one will know."
"Good," Daniel nodded. "And don't get too close. The Hand doesn't mind sacrificing pawns who think they're players. Collect what you can, but stay alive doing it."
No threat in his voice, but Bullseye felt it anyway.
Still—he'd survived tonight. That's what mattered.
"I understand," he said, finally breathing out.
Daniel gave a satisfied nod. "Perfect. I trust you know how to reach me."
And with that, he turned to leave—still carrying the unconscious Felicia. He didn't run or vanish in smoke. But in a blink, he was gone—like he'd never been there.
Bullseye stood frozen, sweat cooling on his back.
He'd made it through.
But he wasn't dumb enough to think this was over. If Kingpin ever found out about tonight, Bullseye would have to switch sides again. Survival first—loyalty was optional.
Then, from behind him—
"Oh, one more thing."
Daniel's voice came again, sudden and close. Bullseye's spine went rigid. Had he ever really left?
A small wooden carving dropped into his hand. "Keep this on you. It'll absorb one lethal hit when you need it most."
Before Bullseye could even look at it properly, the object burst into golden light. A massive runic circle flared beneath his feet, swirling with magic. In an instant, it collapsed into a single beam that shot straight into his chest.
He gasped, stunned.
Then collapsed, unconscious, to the ground.
—
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