The Punisher kicked the iron gate, sending it crashing down into the puddles.
Daredevil stood at the doorway, scanning the area with his Radar Sense.
However, his senses had only recovered to about 70-80%, and the images he scanned even had rough edges.
The factory was so empty that even the heartbeat of Haozi could be heard...
wrong!
There is one!
At the deepest point, there are several walls separating the interior.
How many people are there?
Fully armed once again, Frank held a shotgun, pointing it forward with extreme vigilance.
Daredevil tilted his head. "There's only one, but its heartbeat is extremely slow; it beats faster than a person falling into a deep sleep."
"That's probably not human."
The Punisher removed his night vision goggles and cut into the darkness first.
Daredevil followed, but he didn't use that thing; his world never needed light.
The rain hadn't stopped, and water was leaking from the hole in the roof.
The Punisher has night vision goggles, but Daredevil doesn't even need them; his world never uses light.
But his nose was itchy; the smells here were too complicated.
Bloody, sweaty, pissy...
There are also many other flavors that are hard to describe.
"Someone had dragged something on the ground before we got here."
Daredevil crouched down, his right hand tracing the excessively wide mark on the ground. "At least a dozen times."
The Punisher stopped two steps ahead, the muzzle of his gun never leaving the corner at the end of the corridor. "A dozen times? There's only one Luke Cage."
Daredevil stood up and brushed the wet mud off his fingers.
He didn't reply, his unease growing stronger.
This feeling... is like entering a funeral hall that someone else has specially arranged, where everything on the table and hanging on the walls is an offering that the murderer has deliberately left for the person collecting the body to see.
"Let's go in and take a look."
The corridor was lined with iron gates on both sides, each with a number engraved on its panel.
But the iron gate was empty, and the wall was covered with scratches, some of which had been dug in two or three centimeters, with bits of flesh and blood still stuck in the cracks.
The Punisher used the muzzle of his gun to force open a door.
A metal-framed bed, restraint straps, an overturned chamber pot in the corner, and teeth marks all over the bed legs.
The Punisher glanced at the dense, deep teeth marks on the bed leg. "A converted workshop dungeon?"
"It's a pigsty for selecting test subjects."
Daredevil muttered something under his breath and retreated into the corridor.
After passing through the scratch-covered corridor, the view suddenly opened up.
This used to be Kingpin's assembly workshop, where several abandoned can conveyor belts lay like the skeleton of a giant beast.
There's graffiti on the workshop wall: a bright red mouth stretched to the base of its ears, and below it, a line of words scrawled crookedly with a paintbrush:
Kitchen area, no unauthorized personnel allowed.
"Enter."
The Punisher pulled back the bolt and strode inside.
In the center of the workshop stood a modified dental chair, its base welded to an iron frame, its armrests and legs wrapped with leather restraints.
The belt snapped completely from the inside out; the force required to snap such a thing is immeasurable.
The two estimated the force; if this punch were to hit someone, it could break seven or eight ribs in an adult, and it wouldn't be surprising if it killed them.
Countless syringes were scattered around the chair.
The Punisher picked up a needle; the tip was bent.
The only person capable of producing this effect is Luke.
The Punisher, looking around, noticed a blackboard hanging on the wall.
The blackboard was covered with neat handwriting written in dense white chalk, with the first line even underlined:
A complete record of a tough guy's marinating process.
The first step involved intravenous injection of a nerve inducer, but forty-two needles were lost, and the attempt to puncture the skin failed.
The second step, using a heavy-duty alloy steel saw, resulted in three saw blades being ground flat and five blades breaking, with zero damage to the cuticle layer, indicating failure.
Frank read line by line, his face growing darker with each line.
Step three, chrysanthemum invasion, successful!
A smiley face was drawn at the bottom of the blackboard, with a line of small words next to it.
Marinate for four hours to allow the meat and bones to absorb the flavors, then wait for it to be ready to serve.
The Punisher stood motionless in front of the blackboard.
Frank.
I saw it.
The Punisher grabbed the bottom edge of the blackboard with one hand, ripped the entire board off, slammed it under his foot, and then stomped down with the thick sole of his tactical boot.
Without further delay, the two stepped through the broken glass across the workshop and pushed open the half-closed office of the workshop director at the end.
The main lights were off inside; only rows of old monitors emitted a faint blue glow.
All of the dozen or so monitors were on, but only the one in the very center showed a picture, which was playing in a loop.
The Joker sat in the dental chair, swinging his legs back and forth, waving at the camera.
"Hello! Mr. Little Red Riding Hood, and also our new arms-obsessed friend!"
"By the time you follow the smell here, the party organizers will already be on the night bus! Don't bother looking for me, Hell's Kitchen is so big, you won't even be able to find your own underwear!"
Off-screen, the sound of someone cracking sunflower seeds can be heard; with a spit, the shell is spat onto the camera lens.
"I know what you're up to with those gloomy, resentful faces. You bastards! Give us back the big black guy from Harlem! Hahahaha!"
The Joker mimicked a woman's voice in a high-pitched voice, then his features contorted into a menacing and aggressive expression.
"Return it to you? Of course! Our restaurant always pays ten times the price for any counterfeit item and returns the original item to you!"
In the video, the Joker brings his face close to the camera, and two rows of yellow teeth are squeezed out from the cracks in his paint.
"The best meat needs to be cooked again; only when it's cooked to the perfect doneness will it have that chewy texture! The gift bag is in your backyard, so handle it with care and remember to leave a five-star review in my guestbook!"
The videotape clicked to the end, automatically rewinding and playing it again from the beginning, and laughter echoed throughout the office once more.
Just as Daredevil was about to speak, the ground beneath his feet suddenly trembled.
Clang!
A dull thud echoed from deep within the factory.
Daredevil's short stick slid into his palm, and he sensed that unfamiliar heartbeat approaching between them.
He was relieved that the heartbeat wasn't Luke's, which meant he was still alive.
The footsteps weren't Luke's either; his steps weren't this heavy, and he was barefoot, Luke hated.
"He's out, be careful."
The dark figure crashed through the wall and stepped into the area illuminated by the blue light.
Luke Cage.
The yellow T-shirt was reduced to just a few strips of fabric hanging around the waist, and the person's body had swelled to twice its size, with arms thicker than a normal person's waist.
Several strange tubes were inserted into his back, the other end of which was connected to metal canisters welded into his shoulder blades. The canisters contained some kind of liquid and rose and fell with his movements.
Luke Cage's eyes were terrifying, bloodshot and filled with a sense of utter inhumanity.
" Luke!" Daredevil called out, trying to wake him, "It's us!"
Luke Cage tilted his head, his nostrils flaring as he roared.
The roar sent chills down Daredevil's spine, making his hair stand on end.
Her already poor hearing has gotten even worse.
"Step back!" Daredevil brandished his staff, "He's already..."
Why would the Punisher listen to him?
Push the safety of the shotgun all the way down and aim at the target.
"That's Luke! He's just under the influence of drugs!" Daredevil reached out to try and pull down the Punisher's gun barrel.
"I know, which is why I can't let him live like this!"
With a roar, Luke's back arched, the liquid in the metal canister pumped rapidly, and his size swelled up again.