Harry woke up early that morning. After washing up, he headed downstairs to the dining room, where the old butler had already set breakfast for him.
A glass of milk, two slices of toast, and a fried egg — plain and simple, but enough to fill his stomach. It was probably a habit he'd inherited from Norman. The butler had, as always, turned on the morning news. The report about Tony Stark's disappearance was still dominating the headlines.
The sound of his phone broke through the quiet.
"Ring, ring, ring."
"Hello?" Harry answered, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"It's me," came a soft, familiar voice — Felicia.
"Meet me in Hell's Kitchen at eight," she said simply, and hung up.
"Hell's Kitchen…" Harry muttered, setting down the phone.
It was only seven o'clock. He still had an hour.
"Al, I'm going out. Pack things up for me," Harry said.
"Yes, sir," the butler replied respectfully.
Harry returned to his room and glanced at the silver armor standing in the corner.
"What a headache," he muttered. Ever since his debut as a so-called superhero — especially after the fight with the Sandman — trouble had been constant. Phil Coulson had appeared several times, and representatives from the military had come knocking as well, all eager to get their hands on his armor design.
Luckily, in a capitalist nation like America, even greed had its limits. No one dared take direct action against Osborn Industries. The company's influence stretched too far, and with Harry holding the reins, every move against him was swiftly crushed.
He'd even had a few defense contractors attempt to "negotiate partnerships," but none of them had made it past the lobby before being turned away.
This armor was his creation — his first true invention since gaining the system. It was worth forty points. There was no way he'd let anyone else have it.
Checking the time, Harry saw it was seven-fifty.
He put on the armor, activated the hoverboard, and floated out through the window. With a thought, the helmet unfolded from the back of his neck, snapping over his face.
"Destination: Hell's Kitchen," he commanded.
The system mapped the route, and Harry shot through the air at full speed.
Within ten minutes, he reached the district.
Felicia hadn't given him a specific location — because she didn't need to. When he arrived, she was already waiting on the rooftop of the tallest building.
Harry descended beside her, the hoverboard humming softly beneath his boots.
"You're early," Felicia said, glancing at her watch. "Still ten minutes to eight." She was wearing the same tight black leather suit as the night before, her silver hair catching the dawn light.
Harry didn't respond to the teasing in her tone. "Let's start the mission."
"Not yet," Felicia replied. "We're waiting for someone else — he's coming with us to deal with Kingpin."
Harry only nodded. He wasn't in the mood for small talk, and Felicia, sensing that, fell silent.
Moments later, a metallic clatter echoed from below. Something shot upward — a dark red billy club, hooking onto the rooftop's guardrail. A figure vaulted up after it.
He was dressed in a dark red leather suit with two small horns on his mask and a double "D" insignia on his chest.
Harry immediately recognized him.
His system interface flickered to life:
Name: Matt Murdock
Age: 32
Condition: Physically impaired
Abilities: Enhanced Senses (30), Physical Conditioning (10)
Item: Multi-purpose Billy Club (10)
Matt's sightless eyes seemed to scan both of them. Then he spoke flatly, "Where's Kingpin?"
"I'll take you to him," Felicia said, sparing him the introductions.
Matt was usually polite, even charming, but right now he was seething with emotion. The disappearance of his girlfriend, Elektra, had shaken him deeply. He didn't even bother introducing himself, but Harry didn't mind — he wasn't the type to take offense.
Felicia led the way, with Matt following close behind. Harry stayed above, watching from the air. He handed them both small earpieces for communication.
"Kingpin's in high spirits today," Felicia reported over comms as they moved. "The super-soldier serum data that Dr. Connors stole from him has been mostly destroyed, and the remaining samples couldn't be replicated. Of the three serums left, one was given to me, and another to a man named Bullseye. Kingpin himself came out to handle this deal. This might be our only shot."
"Got it," Harry replied.
Moments later, Felicia stopped.
"We're here."
A large, heavily guarded building stood before them.
"Harry, I'll take Matt inside first. Join us once you have eyes on Kingpin," Felicia said. They had already planned this — Matt would pretend to be captured so he could confront Kingpin directly.
Harry nodded and hovered higher, keeping his distance.
Inside, Felicia and Matt were escorted straight into Kingpin's office.
"Well, well… Daredevil," said a cold voice. "Didn't think I'd see you again."
Bullseye stepped out from Kingpin's side, his grin sharp as a blade.
"You!" Matt's voice trembled with rage. "Where's Elektra? What did you do to her?"
Before he could move, Felicia held him back.
"Felicia," Kingpin said, his deep voice echoing through the room. "Give me the super-soldier data."
Kingpin was an imposing man — bald, massive, his presence filling the space like a wall.
Felicia held up a USB drive and smirked. "Not until you release my father."
Kingpin's laughter boomed through the room. "Your father? He's been dead for a long time." He slammed his fist on the table. "Kill them both!"
Gunmen burst through the doors.
Matt's fury erupted. He lunged forward, charging at Bullseye with a roar.
"Damn it!" Felicia hissed, flipping onto a chair to dodge the incoming bullets. She kicked it aside, landing behind a table for cover.
"Harry! I need backup, now!" she shouted into the comm.
"I'm on my way," came Harry's voice instantly.
Even before the words finished, he was already streaking across the sky, the thrusters on his armor flaring brighter as he dove toward the building.