C7: Daredevil
The worried middle-aged man obviously did not notice the silent silhouette that melted into the shadows behind him a presence cloaked in darkness, eerily reminiscent of the stealthy Hand operatives known to roam Hell's Kitchen.
Navigating the grimy alleys and peril-ridden shortcuts of Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen, the man eventually arrived at an inconspicuous, graffiti-tagged industrial facility long since abandoned on record but whispered about in the criminal underworld. To those in the know, it was one of the covert heroin processing plants operated by the Hand, hidden behind layers of shell companies and protected by deadly secrecy.
The man looked up at the decaying factory façade. An image of his wife frail, pale, and bedridden at Bellevue Hospital flashed before his eyes. Clenching his fists with grim resolve, he stepped forward.
"You came."
A guard standing at the rusted metal doors noticed the man's arrival and immediately stepped forward. He was clad in civilian gear, but a Sig Sauer P226 hung conspicuously under his armpit standard issue for hired enforcers in New York's criminal network, often contracted by the Hand or Fisk's associates.
"Yeah," the man muttered, his voice tight. His eyes darted momentarily toward the gun, betraying unease. It was clear that this was no ordinary warehouse.
"Don't waste time. Mrs. Gao's expecting you," the guard said briskly, ignoring the man's wary glance.
Here?
Concealed within a shadowed recess between a dumpster and a crumbling brick wall, Li Ran silently observed the exchange, his senses heightened. He knew the layout of Hell's Kitchen better than most locals by now this factory didn't exist on any public zoning records.
The armed guards reminded him just how far from safe territory he truly was. In the Marvel Universe, particularly this version of New York, guns weren't uncommon but guards wielding them outside abandoned factories typically meant only one thing: organized crime. Or worse ninjas.
The conclusion was self-evident. This was no ordinary facility. It likely belonged to the Hand an ancient order of assassins, alchemists, and necromancers frequent enemies of Daredevil and deeply embedded in the city's criminal underbelly.
Despite the ominous signs, Li Ran had no intention of barging in or playing vigilante. The man had clearly come here willingly, despite knowing the risks. He'd made a choice, however desperate. And Li Ran wasn't in the business of unsolicited heroism.
Even if he now lived in the world of capes and cosmic threats, Li Ran had never envisioned himself becoming a superhero. His ambition was simple survive, and if possible, thrive. A modest goal in a world where cosmic beings like Dormammu and Thanos had once threatened all existence.
Yet, even modest dreams required caution and calculation. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't take advantage of opportunities when they came knocking.
Just as he turned to retreat the way he came, a sudden gust of wind accompanied a blur of red.
A shadow leapt overhead, landing silently on the factory's roof with supernatural grace.
Daredevil?!
Though the figure vanished in a heartbeat, Li Ran instantly recognized the unique silhouette and crimson suit red leather reinforced with armor, the twin batons holstered at the thighs, and the unmistakable devil-horned cowl.
It was Matt Murdock, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. By day, a brilliant blind defense attorney, and by night, a fearsome vigilante with hyper-enhanced senses who had earned his reputation battling corruption and crime syndicates especially Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin.
Li Ran hadn't expected to cross paths with someone like Daredevil this early. He halted mid-step, conflicted.
Walking away meant safety. But staying might allow him to witness or even participate in an encounter with a recognized hero. In a city filled with the likes of Spider-Man, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and even Avengers, few operated on the street-level like Daredevil did. He wasn't cosmic or godlike. He was tangible human, even vulnerable and that made him a safer contact for someone like Li Ran.
After a moment of internal debate, Li Ran made his decision.
Still, he wasn't stupid enough to charge into a ninja-run drug facility with nothing but enthusiasm. He reached into his coat and activated the Prayer Order System, whispering a request opening a metaphysical treasure chest, praying silently for a boost before diving into uncertain waters.
---
Inside the factory, fluorescent lights flickered as the man ascended a rusted staircase to the second floor. Guided by yet another armed enforcer, he finally met the infamous Madam Gao.
A small, hunched figure with a cane, Madam Gao exuded an unsettling calm. Her frail, grandmotherly appearance belied the terrifying truth she was a high-ranking member of the Hand, older than she appeared, and capable of devastating martial prowess and telekinetic force. Rumors once linked her to the ancient K'un-Lun and its rivalries, placing her alongside foes of Iron Fist.
Despite her smile, the man's nerves spiked when he glanced down at the factory floor. Dozens of workers moved like lifeless puppets, their blank stares and bandaged eyes confirming the horror: they were blind.
"Come in," Madam Gao said, her voice gentle, yet laced with iron. "You've made your decision, then? My work is not for the faint-hearted. You may enter freely but leaving is another matter."
The man clenched his fists, lowering his gaze. "My wife… she needs treatment. I don't have another way."
"I know." Madam Gao nodded, her tone almost maternal. "Many who come to me are desperate. I am not without mercy. If you are willing to give what others won't, your sight, I will give you what they cannot. Money. Enough to save her."
Her words chilled him. The man had expected hardship, not mutilation.
Silence thickened the air as he struggled with the weight of the decision. For all his resolve, this was his vision, his eyes. Who would willingly choose blindness?
Still, Madam Gao merely waited, her smile unchanged, as if she had seen countless others hesitate at this same precipice.
"Madam Gao… you'll really pay for my wife's medical care?"
"Without question," she replied, sincerity eerily genuine. "But only if you become like them, unseeing, unknowing, unquestioning."
"I'll do it," the man said at last, voice hoarse with fear and resignation. "I'll work for you."
"Good," she said, turning to a nearby drawer. She retrieved a small, obsidian vial and handed it to him. "Drink this. Over the next three days, your sight will fade, until like the others, you see nothing. Then, your true work begins."
Hands trembling, the man took the bottle, sweat beading on his brow.
He bit his lower lip, steeling himself.
Just as he raised it to his lips—
"Wait," Madam Gao said suddenly, her head turning as if she sensed something far beyond human perception. She raised a hand, halting him.
"Drink it later. We have an intruder."
Leaning heavily on her cane, she exited the room with surprising swiftness.
The man, now left alone, stared at the bottle. Part of him hoped this delay was divine intervention. Another part feared what had come.
His thoughts were cut short by a shrill command echoing from outside.
"The blind devil has come!" Madam Gao roared. "Capture him!"
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