C8: Rusher
Mrs. Gao's words, in another universe, would be decried as blatant discrimination against the disabled.
But this was the world of American comics—specifically Earth-199999 merged with Earth-616 rules and Mrs. Gao, one of the five fingers of The Hand, was a known adversary of Daredevil. Her callous contempt for the blind was as much a tactical weapon as it was personal bias.
Inside the former Roxxon subsidiary warehouse converted now into a drug lab coated in secrecy and damp, rot her command was met with eerie obedience. The blind workers, trained to operate under duress, ceased packing the synthetic heroin laced with mystical elements imported from K'un-Lun and turned toward Daredevil with unnatural coordination.
For Matt Murdock, alias Daredevil, this was a moral and tactical dilemma. The red-suited vigilante of Hell's Kitchen couldn't bring himself to harm innocents, even if they were conscripted pawns of The Hand. He wasn't Frank Castle. The Punisher would've bulldozed through with zero hesitation. But Matt—Matt still clung to justice, not vengeance.
And with his radar senses, he detected the dull, arrhythmic heartbeats of each blind worker. Victims. Just like him. Controlled. Manipulated.
While Daredevil's attention was occupied, Mrs. Gao retreated deeper into the warehouse, guarded by heavily armed mercenaries. These weren't standard street thugs; she'd pulled them from ex-HYDRA cells and former Maggia operatives with ties to Wilson Fisk. She knew Daredevil could only be delayed, not stopped.
But she hadn't expected what came next.
BOOM—BOOM—
Suddenly, the reinforced doors of the factory exploded outward. One by one, the elite guards were hurled through the air, their bodies crashing into concrete walls with the bone-splitting violence of someone far stronger than they'd anticipated. The plaster cracked like eggshells beneath the impact, forming spiderweb fractures.
"Who's there?!"
The question came not from fear, but from recollection. This pattern of destruction reminded Gao of encounters long past with Iron Fist, with Elektra Natchios when she was possessed by the Black Sky, or even with obscure assassins from Kunlun who'd gone rogue.
But the figure that emerged from the smoke wasn't any of those legends.
"I'm just a concerned citizen helping out where I can," the man answered calmly, stepping from the shadows like a B-lister from the Defenders universe.
He looked completely unremarkable. Tousled dark hair. A red undershirt faded from age. Rolled-up jeans exposing ankles covered in mismatched socks and beat-up sneakers whose soles flapped with every step. His appearance screamed underpowered extra.
But the cracked walls and groaning guards told another story.
Mrs. Gao narrowed her eyes, dropping the feigned frailty that so often disarmed her enemies. She retreated two steps and snapped her fingers. The remaining guards raised their weapons.
"Take him!"
Then she understood.
The man moved blurred, even. A ghost among the living. In one instant, he ducked, and in the next, he shattered a submachine gun with a sidekick that would make Batroc the Leaper weep. A second kick launched the guard like a cannonball, the unfortunate soul crumpling midair before smacking into the ground in a heap of bone-jarring inertia.
The man exhaled and muttered to himself. "Okay, these Vajra Legs hit a little too hard..."
That man, of course, was Li Ran—empowered through his Prayer Order System and now transformed via a summoned D-rank card.
[D-Rank Summon: Fifth Senior Brother Axing]
[Skills: Garbage Collection Expertise, Shaolin Vajra Legs]
[Background: A Shaolin disciple addicted to martial arts, seeking to spread the name of his sect to the world.]
The same Legs that could have kicked Luke Cage's unbreakable skin into reverb now cleared the factory of all opposition.
Mrs. Gao stood alone. Yet even now, Li Ran did not drop his guard. Despite her frail appearance and reliance on a gnarled wooden cane, Gao had in the past sent Iron Fist flying with a single palm strike. That cane had cracked bones. Her hands had snapped necks.
"Who are you?" she asked coldly, her eyes flickering with millennia of calculation. "Did Kunlun send you?"
Li Ran paused. He knew the Kunlun she referred to one of the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven where Danny Rand had trained and become the Iron Fist. Not to be confused with the Kunlun of his own origin, the celestial mountain from Taoist mythology where immortals dwelled.
"I've never heard of your Kunlun," Li Ran replied, feigning ignorance with practiced skill. "I'm from Penglai."
"Penglai?!"
[Reputation gained from Mrs. Gao: +15]
Her pupils narrowed. That name held weight. Even in the ancient scrolls buried deep beneath the halls of The Hand, Penglai was whispered as a fabled immortal island far older than Atlantis or Lemuria.
"But… that's a myth," she said slowly, the edge of doubt creeping into her voice.
"And Kunlun isn't?" Li Ran countered with a soft smile.
Her silence was telling.
Li Ran smiled inwardly. The reason he invoked Penglai wasn't random, it was a narrative tool. In the world of Marvel, where myth and magic coexist with science and supersoldiers, claiming mystical origins was a shortcut to recognition and power.
"Then why are you here?" she asked, gaze sharp.
"I'm tracking a killer," he replied, lowering his tone. "The one we call the Ultimate Murderer—Huoyun Xie Shen. Three years ago, he slaughtered our emissaries. Recently, we found signs of him near a place called… Willard."
"Huoyun Xie Shen…" she repeated, stunned.
[Reputation gained from Mrs. Gao: +20]
As a shadow elder of The Hand, Gao had heard of monstrous beings, Dormammu, Mephisto, even the ancient entity known as The One Below All but this name was unfamiliar yet chilling in its simplicity. The Fire Cloud Evil God. Could he be a rogue from the same dimension as Chaste or even the Eternals' hidden enemies?
[Reputation gained from Daredevil: +15]
And then it clicked for Li Ran—Daredevil was listening. Hidden, silent, measuring him. Likely crouched along one of the roof trusses, heartbeat steady, curiosity piqued.
Li Ran didn't mind. Every listener was a potential witness. Every reputation point was a step toward his long-term survival.
After all, in a world filled with Avengers, Defenders, and ancient evils, a man needed more than fists. He needed myth.
And tonight, he had just authored his own.
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