Daredevil knelt on the roof of an overturned police car, his chest heaving violently.
Sensory radar was no longer a gift from God, but a tool for torturing him.
Screams, the Batman Who Laughs, shattering glass, broken bones.
It's noisy.
This city has not only gone mad, it's screaming that it wants to drag all the sane people in and drown them together.
"Open the cash register! Now! Or I'll shove your head up in there!"
A roar came from the alley to the left.
Without hesitation, Daredevil flicked his short stick away and launched himself forward.
He adjusted his posture in mid-air and kicked the wrists of a thug wearing Joker mask.
"Click."
The Glock pistol retrieved from the armory flew out.
Daredevil landed, grabbed the thug by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. "Look at me! Do you know what you're doing?"
The thug struggled, and half of his mask fell off, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with a full beard, terrified yet morbidly excited.
He "recognized" the heartbeat.
Old Miller.
The taciturn man who lived downstairs from him.
Just yesterday morning, Daredevil helped him pick up the oranges he had dropped at the bottom of the stairs.
He was an unemployed single father who couldn't even bear to replace his worn-out shoes in order to buy medicine for his daughter who suffered from asthma.
Now, Old Miller's pockets are stuffed with cash he stole from the pharmacy, and the safety on the gun in his hand is even off.
"Let me go... I don't know you! You freak!"
Old Miller felt no shame at being stopped; his eyes were bloodshot, a sign of excessive adrenaline.
"That's my money! I have a gun! I have a gun!"
"Mr. Miller, it's not worth it," Daredevil's voice was hoarse. "Think of your daughter."
"Shut up!!"
Old Miller suddenly pulled a folding knife from his pocket and stabbed Matthew in the abdomen without any strategy.
His movements were clumsy and full of flaws.
If it were a criminal from the past, Daredevil would have a hundred ways to dislocate his joints.
But faced with this father who only wanted to buy medicine for his daughter but whose sanity had been completely corrupted by the Joker's poison, he hesitated for a second.
That moment of mercy could be fatal.
"Laugh."
The blade tore through his battle armor, leaving a bloody gash on his side.
Daredevil instinctively slashed Old Miller's carotid artery with his palm.
The middle-aged man rolled his eyes, then collapsed limply to the ground, scattering the US dollars in his arms all over the floor.
He clutched his wound and took two steps back. He had saved many people, broken a drug dealer's leg, and snapped an assassin's arm.
I have never been confused.
But looking at Old Miller lying in the garbage heap, a sense of absurdity suddenly arose.
Is this the person he's protecting?
"Buzz--"
Three black pickup trucks ignored roadblocks and pedestrians, driving recklessly into the block.
The car window rolled down, revealing several dark gun barrels.
An HK416 assault rifle equipped with a silencer.
No warning is needed.
No need to shout.
"Puff puff puff puff puff!"
Those thugs still smashing shop windows, those hooligans shooting at each other with pistols, and even the homeless man who was just passing by picking up a banknote, fell down in droves like harvested Maze.
Kingpin's cleaning crew has arrived.
"Clean it up. The boss said, no prisoners."
The leader of the men in black coldly stepped over a corpse and raised his gun at Old Miller, who was lying on the ground.
"No!"
Daredevil, hidden in the Shadow, struck swiftly, his short stick lashing out and hitting the man in black on the wrist.
" Daredevil!"
"Focus fire!"
The well-trained assassins turned their guns on each other.
Daredevil tumbled and dodged, engaging Kingpin's elite assassins in a fierce battle within the narrow alley.
He had to protect Old Miller, who had just stabbed him in the back, and also the thugs holding Molotov cocktails, ready to throw them at him.
How ironic.
He was protecting a group of "bad guys" who were trying to kill him, in order to fight against another group of "worse guys" who were trying to establish order.
No matter how agile he was, no matter how sharp his senses were, he gradually felt powerless in this chaotic situation.
A stray bullet grazed his helmet, making his ears ring and his vision blur.
He was like a firefighter with only a broken plastic cup in his hand, standing in despair before a forest fire that had already reached the horizon.
It's five blocks from here.
The top of the unfinished building.
The Joker sat on the edge of the suspended I-beam, holding a bucket of freshly made popcorn.
"Tsk tsk tsk..."
The Joker grabbed a handful of popcorn, stuffed it into his mouth, and mumbled indistinctly.
"The audience this year has really poor manners. That old man held his gun like he was holding a fire poker. And that girl... oh come on, using a Molotov cocktail to smash an armored vehicle? Did you fail physics?"
He was watching a poorly made reality show, occasionally offering harsh critiques.
Until he heard Daredevil's heavy breathing.
The Joker pressed the transmit button on the makeshift radio next to him.
"Sizzle--Sizzle--"
A piercing static crackled from Hell's Kitchen's public address system.
Then came that nightmare-inducing voice.
How are you feeling, my Little Red Riding Hood?
Daredevil, who was fighting the assassin in the alley, froze, as a gun butt slammed into his back.
He grunted and threw the assassin away; the brief pause added another wound to his wound.
The sound continued, echoing throughout the burning city.
"Did you hear that? Those heartbeats."
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The Joker tapped the Mike three times, mimicking the rhythm of a heartbeat.
"You always thought they were scared, you thought they were calling for help. You thought that as long as you put on that bodysuit, jumped out and beat up the bad guys, they would go home gratefully and continue to be docile sheep."
The Joker let out a loud laugh.
"Completely wrong."
Listen to what's happening now.
"That's excitement! That's release! That's the wild celebration of Beast finally tasting blood."
Daredevil knocked the assassin unconscious with a single blow and leaned against the wall, panting heavily.
Those he rescued did not run away.
They surrounded them.
He was holding sticks, bricks, Kingpin a gun dropped by Kingpin.
There was no gratitude in their eyes when they looked at Daredevil.
It was nothing but fanaticism ignited by violence and a rejection of "outcasts".
Are you here to stop us?
A young man with cheap face paint asked, clutching a hand grenade tightly in his hand.
"You want to lock us up again? Back in that damn cage?"
Daredevil opened his mouth, his throat dry and painful.
On the radio, the Joker's voice became low and somber.
"Admit it, hero."
"When the sheep you're trying to protect wants to become a wolf yourself..."
What's the point of your sheepdog rules anymore?
You're not putting out a fire.
"You're just trying to stop the wood from burning. But this piece of wood... it wants to turn to ashes! Hahahaha!"
The young man pulled the pin on the grenade.
It was not thrown at the distant enemy.
Instead, he charged toward Matthew, who had just saved his life, with a ferocious grin.
"Boom!!"
The flames engulfed the alleyway entrance.
The Joker, watching the tiny Spark from a high-rise building, happily clapped the popcorn crumbs off his hands.