"Damn it!"
"If only I had come half a year earlier!"
Luke slapped his thigh in frustration.
At this point, Tony Stark had already discovered a new element and solved his palladium poisoning issue.
Just like that, Luke missed out on a major money-making opportunity as a transmigrator!
(The first big money-making gig, of course, was the cave rescue.)
"Wait a minute..."
"Did I miss something?"
Suddenly, a realization hit him.
The events of Iron Man 3 take place after Avengers 1.
Tony Stark, struggling with PTSD from carrying a nuclear bomb into a black hole, was about to face off against his old rival, Aldrich Killian, and his Extremis-powered soldiers.
A classic superhero-versus-villain showdown.
"Such a nice house... wasted just like that."
Looking back at the plot of Iron Man 3, all Luke could think about was Tony's luxurious seaside mansion getting blown to bits.
Poor guy.
Then, a thought crossed his mind—how did other transmigrators and reincarnators make money in situations like this?
Aside from Stark's fortune, what other big-shot had some gold to "borrow"?
Luke rubbed his chin, contemplating his options.
Maybe he should find a high-level boss and convince them to lend him some startup cash.
Boom—!
Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden explosion echoed from the street.
The screeching of tires followed, then gunshots and shouting.
"???"
Luke hadn't even figured out what was happening yet, but inside the small breakfast diner, the other customers had already dived under their tables.
One smooth motion.
Perfectly executed.
Clearly, they had done this before.
A cash transport truck roared past the window.
Black smoke poured from its damaged trunk, and as it sped by, green dollar bills fluttered into the air, scattering across the street like confetti.
"Live-action GTA?" Luke muttered, immediately recognizing the scene—a good old-fashioned armored truck heist.
Sirens blared in the distance.
Overhead, the rhythmic whirring of helicopter blades signaled the incoming authorities.
"Classic Hell's Kitchen. That's at least three stars already."
Following his lifelong principle of never missing out on an interesting scene, Luke stood up decisively.
"Kid!"
"Are you crazy? Get down!"
The older woman behind the breakfast counter shot him a sharp look, her voice filled with concern.
Luke flashed her a reassuring grin and stepped outside.
The moment he did, a loose hundred-dollar bill—carrying the scent of smoke and adrenaline—drifted through the air toward him.
He snatched it effortlessly.
"Nice. One hundred more for the savings."
Looking at the piles of scattered cash littering the street, Luke didn't join the bystanders scrambling to grab what they could.
Instead, he turned in the direction the getaway truck had gone.
As he walked, he flipped open the magical tome he had borrowed from Wong, scanning through its contents while weaving between debris and abandoned vehicles.
"Tracking magic… hmm, this could work."
He held up the hundred-dollar bill, carefully tracing a symbol in the air while murmuring an incantation under his breath.
As the Ancient One had taught, most spells functioned as frameworks—fill them with the right energy, and they became reality.
The dollar bill in Luke's hand instantly ignited in a flickering hellfire, radiating a dark, eerie aura.
The ashes twisted and rose into the air, forming a spectral arrow that only Luke could see, pointing firmly in one direction.
"Hell yeah!"
"I am a magical prodigy!"
Seeing his spell was successful, Luke was overjoyed.
Luke took the magic book titled 'Basic and Practical Magic for Beginners' and followed the glowing arrow through the city streets.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town...
A police helicopter hovered in the sky, tracking the movements of the stolen cash transport truck.
"Target lost! Target lost! The suspect's vehicle has entered the D21 tunnel!"
"Requesting ground intervention!"
The officers waited, eyes scanning the tunnel exit. Yet, even after a long pause, the truck never emerged.
By the time the police cars arrived at the scene, all they found was an abandoned armored vehicle.
No suspects.
No money.
"Classic! Absolutely classic!"
Luke stood outside the newly erected police barrier, watching the chaos with amusement.
As expected of New York City.
You could witness a full Hollywood-style heist just by stepping outside.
"But seriously, where are the superheroes when you actually need them?" Luke muttered.
Without wasting time, he followed the magical arrow away from the tunnel and deeper into the city's outskirts.
Eventually, the glowing trail led him to a sewer outlet near the docks.
The moment he arrived, he spotted several men crawling out of the sewer, drenched in filth and dragging along two large waterproof suitcases.
"Urgh—!" One of them gagged. "This stinks like hell!"
"Quit whining," another snapped. "At least we made it out alive."
"Xavier, check if the boat is still there. We leave the moment it's ready."
"On it!"
Luke observed from a distance.
These guys were professionals—efficient, coordinated, and disciplined.
As soon as they reached the dock, they rinsed off, tore open the waterproof cases, and checked their loot.
Luke stretched.
Good.
The dirty work was done.
Now it was time to play hero.
"I'd recommend putting the guns down and surrendering!"
Before Luke could make a move, another voice rang out.
A figure in red tights stood near the docks, gripping two short sticks.
The small horns on his mask gave him away instantly.
—Daredevil.
"Wait a sec… Why is he here? And in broad daylight? Isn't he more of a night shift kinda guy?" Luke frowned.
Before he could think further, the fight broke out.
The robbers didn't hesitate.
Realizing they were compromised, they pulled their weapons and opened fire.
It didn't matter.
Daredevil weaved through the bullets with supernatural precision, closing the distance in seconds.
Within moments, one by one, the thugs were knocked out cold.
The vigilante worked efficiently, binding the unconscious criminals together with a length of rope, ready to turn them over to the authorities.
Then, suddenly—
He froze.
Daredevil's head snapped to the side, his senses alert.
"Who's there?"
His grip on his weapon tightened, and he pointed his stick in Luke's direction.
Luke smirked, stepping out from his hiding spot.
"Not bad, Red. Your hearing's sharp."
Daredevil didn't relax.
"Who are you?"
Luke ignored the question, his gaze locked onto the two suitcases full of stolen cash.
"Y'know, I've been tailing these guys for a while. Feels kinda unfair for you to swoop in last minute and take all the credit."
Daredevil's expression remained unreadable, but Luke could sense it—the slight change in his heartbeat.
He was uneasy.
No, not just uneasy. Afraid.
Luke chuckled.
Interesting.
He hadn't even done anything yet, and the so-called "Man Without Fear" already sensed something… off about him.
Not human.
Not natural.
Something else.
"Who are you?" Daredevil asked again, this time more cautious.
Luke grinned mischievously.
"Me? I'm Batman."
Daredevil's frown deepened for a second—before he sighed and put his weapons away.
"Really? You expect me to fall for that? You do know I read comics, right?"
Luke blinked.
"Wait. You're blind. How the hell do you read comics?"
...
Daredevil: "You can't take this money away! It's the hard work of America's taxpayers..."
Luke: "You can't beat me."
...
Daredevil: "After taking this money, how are you any different from a common thief?"
Luke: "The difference? You can't beat me."
...
"..."
Daredevil was speechless.
He couldn't win.
He really couldn't win.
The sheer power radiating from Luke made Daredevil abandon any thought of resistance.
He could only stand there, helpless, as Luke picked up two large boxes stuffed with U.S. dollars.
"You really think you could use Talk-no-Jutsu on me, you're 100 years too early for that, pal." Luke said as he went over the boxes containing the dollar bills.
"Yeah, this should be around 1.8 million," Luke said, hefting one of the boxes with a satisfied grin.
"More like 1.5 million." Daredevil's voice was calm.
He had seen enough crime scenes to estimate the cash volume of a suitcase with ease.
Luke's grin widened. "Sharp eye, Mr. Lawyer."
One and a half million dollars.
Just lying there. Waiting to be picked up. Wasn't that nice?
"Mr. Lawyer? You know who I am?!" Daredevil's expression tensed at the word.
"What do you think?" Luke smirked. "Don't forget—you can't beat me."
Daredevil froze.
Luckily, before the situation could escalate, a distant siren wailed through the night, breaking the tension.
"Ahem, I have to go," Daredevil muttered, eager to escape.
He never wanted to cross paths with this man again.
Who was he?
Just some guy who talked a lot and—more importantly—was completely unbeatable.
"I have to go too," Luke mused.
Then, almost casually, he added, "By the way, where are you headed?"
Daredevil grimaced.
No.
No way.
But the words echoed in his mind, taunting him—
"You can't beat me. You can't beat me."
With a resigned sigh, he gave in.
"Fine. Follow me. I have a safe house nearby."
...
Soon, Luke followed Daredevil to a small, secluded rental house.
Somewhere along the way, Daredevil had shed his vigilante persona, donning a sharp suit, dark sunglasses, and a blind cane—transforming back into Matt Murdock, the lawyer.
"It's safe here. Almost no one knows about this place." Matt unlocked the door.
A sharp smell of disinfectant and the faint, lingering scent of blood greeted them.
Luke wrinkled his nose. "Did someone die in here?"
Matt nearly choked.
"It's just where I treat my wounds. So, yeah, it smells a bit."
Luke silently walked over to the window, pulled back the curtains, and cracked it open.
Fresh air.
Much better.
Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Alright. What do you want?"
He wasn't stupid. A powerhouse like Luke wouldn't tag along for no reason.
"Just so we're clear," Matt continued, his voice firm, "I won't help you with anything illegal. Not even if you kill me."
==============
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