Facing the combined assault of Kingpin and Bullseye, Sean's muscles tensed.
His enhanced body which was modified through mysterious means surged with inhuman power...
Time seemed to slow as he took a decisive step forward, unflinching as the electrified cane swung toward him with lethal force.
Like an arrow loosed from a bow, he crashed into Kingpin's massive frame.
*CRACK!*
A clear snapping sound echoed through the ruined apartment.
Kingpin's eyes widened in shock as his enormous body (450 pounds of pure muscle) was sent flying through the air like a felled elephant, slamming into the floor with a thunderous crash.
The cane's high-voltage current crackled across Sean's body with a zapping sound... yet instead of convulsing in pain, he stood completely unaffected.
The energy was absorbed into his cells like water into a sponge. His modified physiology, capable of harnessing even stellar radiation, rendered the attack meaningless.
"Is that all you've got?" Sean turned to Bullseye whilst casually plucking the assassin's thrown knife from midair between his fingers.
Bullseye froze, staring in disbelief at his fallen boss...
A chill crept up his spine as he felt the icy grip of death looming over him for the first time in his murderous career.
"Your boss isn't dead yet. But he will be soon." Sean smiled coldly, "Care to join him, Mr. Bullseye?"
Before the assassin (Bullseye) could react...
*Whoosh!*
...the very knife he'd thrown earlier flew back through the air with unnatural precision.
Bullseye's hands (which he'd used to end countless lives) clutched at his throat as he collapsed, his signature bullseye tattoo now split by the blade's edge.
With Bullseye dealt with, Sean strode toward the wheezing Kingpin...
The ruler of New York's underworld lay broken, his sternum shattered, ribs piercing his organs. Blood foamed at his lips in pink bubbles, his breaths shallow and ragged...
The feared crime lord had minutes left at most...
"Mr. Wilson Fisk," Sean adjusted his gloves, "Your one-way ticket to hell has arrived. Sign here, please."
Kingpin's meaty hand weakly grasped Sean's pant leg, his eyes burning with animal defiance...
This couldn't be happening... not to him. The man who had crushed the Irish mob, outmaneuvered the Russian Mafia's Bratva, and made the Hand retreat from American soil...
From running drugs in Hell's Kitchen alleyways to owning those very blocks through shell companies...
From being beaten by his drunk father to beating mayors at charity golf tournaments...
He had laundered his empire through real estate developments, his «Wilson Fisk ~ Philanthropist» plaques hanging in hospitals and schools.
And now... this child had ended it all.
As his vision tunneled, Kingpin's life flashed before him... his first murder at twelve (that hammer still hung in his office), the night he'd personally disemboweled Don Rigoletto to take Harlem, Vanessa's laugh at that gallery opening...
'So this is how it ends... Not in some grand battle, but as prey to a hunter I never saw coming...'
...
The cold night wind whistled through the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows...
Sean gazed at the city skyline, the glowing grid of Manhattan stretching infinitely below...
Somewhere out there, Matt Murdock was patrolling as Daredevil, unaware the Kingpin he'd fought for years was already gone...
<...You've got three minutes before NYPD storms the building...>
Mindy's voice crackled through his earpiece.
<...I'm counting at least twelve unmarked cars converging...>
Sean knelt beside Kingpin's twitching form. With clinical precision, he adjusted the crime lord's tie, then snapped his neck with a single twist.
"The king is dead..." He stood, dialing a number, "Long live the king..."
...
~Hell's Kitchen – Wesley's Penthouse~
James Wesley paced his $8 million duplex, the ice in his Scotch long melted...
His Rolex read 2:17 AM. The phone in his hand felt heavier than Kingpin's gold-plated Desert Eagle.
'Should I call Fisk and warn him?' He laughed bitterly.
"And explain what exactly? That some stranger had invaded my home, spouted insanity about killing the most feared man in New York, and that I'd... considered it?"
His finger hovered over speed-dial '1'...
The rational part of his brain screamed that Kingpin was untouchable.
The man had survived; three sniper attempts, two car bombings, that poisoned sushi in Kyoto... And the Daredevil's best efforts...
Yet...
Wesley's polished Oxfords stopped pacing...
The stranger had known things... private details about the money laundering through Fisk Tower's construction, about Leland's embezzlement, even about 'Vanessa'...
*Buzz*
'An unknown number...'
His thumb swiped answer before his brain processed the motion.
<...Congratulations Mr. Wesley...>
'That voice!'
<...Your office at Fisk Tower will be ready by 9 AM. The IT department is already transferring executive access...>
Wesley's knees buckled. He caught himself on the Baccarat crystal bar, "I... H–how?" he stuttered.
A chuckle echoed through the phone.
<...You'll find the deed to your new Tribeca penthouse in your safe. Oh, and Wesley?>
A pause...
<...Burn the blue ledger in Fisk's vault before sunrise...>
The line died.
James Wesley, Stanford Law's youngest graduate, Kingpin's 'clean' consigliere, stared at the Picasso on his wall... a gift from Wilson after the Midland Circle deal.
For the first time in years, he smiled... Not the polite smile he used for galas, the hungry grin of a wolf tasting blood...
...
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