Marcus quickly located the secret passage the Extremis soldier had mentioned. It was sealed shut by a thick blast door, built from a reinforced alloy strong enough to withstand direct hits from military-grade C4. Clearly, this was Killian's personal escape route—no expense spared on protection.
Unfortunately for Killian, there was no such thing as indestructible when faced with Adamantium.
Marcus drew his Adamantium Katana, and with a blur too fast for the human eye to follow, slashed downward.
A web of cracks instantly spread across the door's surface before it shattered into dozens of small, neat metal fragments that clattered to the floor.
Beyond it lay a narrow, winding passageway disappearing into darkness. Fresh footprints were still visible on the dusty floor—Killian's, without a doubt.
"So, the great Dr. Killian finally runs," Marcus muttered, stepping closer. "For a supposed criminal mastermind, you'd think he'd at least try to make a dramatic last stand. But no… he's chosen to bolt like a rat."
He sheathed his blade and slipped into the corridor. "Let's just hope you haven't gotten too far."
But Marcus was already too late.
---
Abandoned Factory – Surface Level
Dr. Aldrich Killian had emerged safely from the tunnel and was now in an old, deserted factory on the outskirts of town. There, waiting for him, was an inconspicuous SUV—though "inconspicuous" was a lie. The vehicle had been heavily modified, loaded with reinforced armor plating and military-grade tech.
Everything had gone according to his plan. He'd used Maya as bait, disguised himself as a grunt, and kept two vials of the Extremis Serum on his person. Once he reached the docks, he would board a private ship—arranged through criminal channels—and vanish overseas.
A new lab, new funding, and a fresh start were all waiting. AIM would rise again.
But just as he was about to open the SUV's door, a shadow blocked his path.
A man stood there—tall, lean, and dressed in a dark red leather suit that clung tightly to his muscular frame. A pair of devil-like horns adorned his mask, which covered his upper face completely. His eyes were hidden behind the mask's fabric, yet he faced Killian with uncanny precision.
In the dimly lit factory, the man stood still as stone, not needing light to see.
Daredevil.
Killian froze, his face twisting in fury. The name left his lips like venom. "You…"
Even though it was their first encounter, everyone in New York knew the crimson devil who haunted its alleys—the blind vigilante who terrorized criminals and defended the innocent.
Matt Murdock, attorney by day, avenger by night. Blinded as a child by radioactive chemicals, he had gained radar-like senses and reflexes beyond normal human capability. Through years of martial arts and staff combat training, he became Daredevil—the guardian of Hell's Kitchen.
"You're the man in charge of this illegal facility, aren't you?" Daredevil said calmly, his head tilted slightly as if listening to the air itself.
"I—no, no, you're mistaken," Killian stammered, raising his hands. "I was just passing by!"
Daredevil's lips tightened into a thin line. "Your heartbeat says otherwise. You're lying."
His enhanced hearing was more precise than any polygraph ever built. There was no escaping his judgment.
With a quiet click, Daredevil drew two short batons from his belt, snapping them together into a single, staff-like weapon. He pointed it at Killian's chest.
"Stay down and don't resist," he said firmly. "The police are on their way."
Killian's expression hardened. His voice dropped into a low, bitter growl. "Why do you people always have to interfere?"
Before Daredevil could answer, Killian's right arm began to glow—a molten orange radiance spreading across his skin like living magma. His palm ignited into searing flame, radiating intense heat that warped the air itself.
He lunged forward, trying to drive his blazing hand into Daredevil's face.
But before Killian even moved, Daredevil had already sensed the attack through his radar sense. He sidestepped effortlessly, letting the blow crash into an old steel cot.
The metal bed hissed and sagged as it melted into glowing liquid iron that splattered across the floor.
Killian gritted his teeth, his eyes wild with fervor. He wasn't just another mad scientist—he was the most successful subject of the Extremis experiment, his body more powerful and unstable than any of his creations.
"My research could change the world!" he shouted, voice rising with manic passion. "Every crippled, broken soul could be whole again! Why can't you see that I'm doing this for them?!"
His words weren't entirely false. The Extremis Project, if stabilized, could indeed restore lost limbs and heal incurable injuries. It could end physical disability as humanity knew it.
And Killian, once a frail man plagued by congenital defects, had poured his life into conquering his own limitations—refusing to accept weakness, refusing to surrender to fate.
But Daredevil was unmoved. He shook his head slowly, his tone quiet but resolute.
"Tell that to the judge, Doctor. Maybe he'll find sympathy for you. I don't."
"Sympathy?" Killian snarled, his mouth curling into a twisted grin. The heat from his body intensified, metal groaning and dripping like wax beneath his feet.
"I don't need sympathy," he hissed. "I need victory!"
With a furious roar, Killian slammed his fist into the molten steel beside him, sending a wave of glowing iron droplets spraying toward Daredevil.
The blind hero spun his staff with fluid grace, deflecting each piece midair before it could touch him. But Killian was already charging in, his fist blazing like a miniature sun.
Daredevil ducked, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. The heat still washed over his face, scorching his skin and igniting the edge of his leather cowl. The mask burned away, revealing his eyes—pale, unmoving, lifeless.
The eyes of a man who could not see.
Killian froze mid-strike, astonishment flickering across his face.
"You… you're blind?" he breathed, his anger momentarily replaced by fascination. His molten fist trembled, its glow dimming slightly.
He relaxed his arm, eyes wide as he studied Daredevil's scarred face with almost reverent awe.
"You're… one of us," Killian said softly, a strange light gleaming in his molten eyes.
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