Hawkeye was right.
The next moment, Kingpin’s booming laughter echoed through the arena.
He stood above, decked out in a hip-hop-style sleeveless shirt, sunglasses, and a thick gold chain.
“Wolverine, I’ve been waiting for you for a long—wait, you’re not him. You’re…Hawkeye?”
Kingpin paused, confused, before dismissing the thought. Hawkeye or Wolverine, it didn’t really matter. As long as he caught someone, his plan would be a success.
Despite having legions of henchmen, Kingpin was oddly satisfied with his own over-the-top scheme.
He leapt down to the arena floor with a thunderous impact that sent tremors through the ground.
Instantly, an arrow whistled through the air—Hawkeye had fired.
He’d known it was a trap the moment he’d sensed Kingpin’s presence and entered full battle mode.
Kingpin didn’t flinch, letting the arrow strike him dead-on, only to watch it bounce off harmlessly, not even piercing his skin.
His body had been trained to perfection; his muscles were his ultimate armor.
“Hahaha! Old man, times have changed!”
Flexing, his muscles bulged like steel cords. “Today, I’ll show you what true muscle is!”
Yet Hawkeye merely shook his head in calm resignation.
“I’m not interested.”
Kingpin paused, visibly annoyed. “I said, you have to look!”
Hawkeye lifted his darkened sunglasses, revealing his glaucoma-riddled eyes. “I’m blind.”
“Oh…”
Kingpin scratched his head. “Alright, you’re off the hook on that one—but you’re still gonna die!”
—
In the distance, Bruce and Logan watched the confrontation, seeing Hawkeye in dire straits.
“Shouldn’t we help him?” Bruce asked.
Logan sat at the driver’s seat, both hands gripping the wheel, staring dead ahead toward Hawkeye with fierce intensity.
Yet he made no move to get out of the car.
On Bruce’s shoulder, Kathoom let out a resigned sigh.
“Bruce, maybe you’re still not seeing it,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?” Bruce was confused by the owl’s cryptic words.
“Can’t you tell? Both of these old men…they came here to die.”
Kathoom’s tone was somber. “Hawkeye wants to burn out his last days. Logan, ever since Professor X’s death, just wants enough money to disappear. Neither of them has any real purpose left but to die with a semblance of dignity.”
For Bruce, these words were incomprehensible.
At twelve, he’d already witnessed death, understood the preciousness of life. He couldn’t imagine someone seeking death as their goal.
“Why would anyone choose that?” Bruce looked again toward Hawkeye, now only a faint figure in the distance.
“Despair,” Kathoom answered. “You grew up in Gotham. I thought you’d be familiar with it.”
Bruce bowed his head in contemplation, but after a long silence, he looked up resolutely. “Dying to Kingpin isn’t exactly dignified, is it?”
“Indeed.”
Kathoom didn’t argue. “And given that this world is on the verge of collapse, even if Hawkeye survives, he’ll still face that end.”
This…
Kathoom had tried to warn Bruce before. When a world’s fate is sealed, there’s nothing anyone can do to change it.
To make his point, Kathoom had even used the Flash as an example—his endless attempts to prevent tragedies, despite knowing he was doomed to fail. It had left Bruce baffled.
But now, he was beginning to understand.
Even knowing it might be futile, Bruce couldn’t stand idly by.
To do nothing just because failure seemed certain…was that right?
Bruce straightened, realizing why Kathoom had taken the time to explain all of this to him.
“I’m going to save him!”
Bruce’s decision was clear. “Whether he lives or dies is up to him, but saving him—that’s my choice.”
Ignoring a cry for help just wasn’t who Bruce Wayne was.
Saving you? That’s got nothing to do with you.
At that moment, Hawkeye and Kingpin had already begun their fight.
For Kingpin, whose muscles were honed to a terrifying degree, Hawkeye had no viable tactic.
His arrows barely scratched Kingpin’s skin, and his blades proved just as useless.
Kingpin held the overwhelming advantage, ready to beat Hawkeye to death.
In the car, Logan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening.
“Damn it—”
He knew what was happening—he was being backed into a corner, forced to choose. Any longer, and Hawkeye would die.
“Logan!” Bruce leaned forward from the back seat. “How much longer are you going to wait?”
Logan still clung to his principles. “I said, I’m not getting involved…”
“We don’t need you to fight!”
Bruce interrupted him, voice unwavering. “You just drive. I’ll handle the rest!”
Logan stared, momentarily speechless. He couldn’t believe a child had just said that to him.
In Bruce’s determined face, he saw the resolute look of his long-lost mutant comrades.
“Then hurry, or it’ll be too late!”
Logan gritted his teeth. “Fine.”
He stomped on the gas, and the Spider-Mobile roared forward, tearing across the arena grounds at top speed toward Hawkeye.
In the ring, Kingpin paused mid-swing as the red car barreled toward him, and he instantly recognized Logan in the driver’s seat.
“You actually have the nerve to show up?”
Just as Kingpin opened his mouth to hurl an insult, he saw a twelve-year-old boy standing up in the car’s back seat.
Bruce raised his wand, pointing it directly at Kingpin.
With a flick, the Levitation Charm took effect, and Kingpin suddenly lost control over his body, his feet lifting off the ground as he began to float.
Seizing the opportunity, Logan grabbed Hawkeye, yanking him into the car before they sped away from the arena.
“We need to take down Kingpin…” Hawkeye started to say, but Bruce cut him off.
“Remember why you came—this is about saving your daughter, not taking down Kingpin!”
The car raced toward the prison where Ashley was being held, with Kingpin’s minions in hot pursuit.
Some sprinted on foot, others rode motorcycles, and a few—dinosaur knights—charged after them atop Velociraptors.
Kingpin himself broke free from the Levitation Charm, mounting a T. rex and joining the chase.
Standing in the back seat, Bruce raised his wand.
“Immobulus!”
Each time he swung the wand, another enemy froze or fell, his efficiency leaving Hawkeye and Logan staring in awe.
This kid was way stronger than they’d realized.
The Spider-Mobile sped across the desert, leaving the arena far behind.
But back in the arena’s shadows, another figure emerged.
Deathstroke.
By his feet was a bag full of unknown items.
Deathstroke watched the dust cloud in the distance, eyes narrowed beneath his helmet.
He’d observed Bruce’s unique combat techniques.
“Interesting… Is that weapon he’s using what’s giving him that power?”
Deathstroke replayed the scene of Bruce’s fight, noting the owl perched on his shoulder and the strange staff-like item in his hand.
Interesting.
Bats and owls usually opposed each other, rarely sharing the same side.
For them to appear together here suggested… complications.
“I’ll need to be careful,” Deathstroke muttered. “It seems that, before I catch Wayne, I’ll need to deal with that wand… and the owl.”
—
T/N: I’m hungrty
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