Chapter 73: Granting Power

Hells Kitchen, New York

Daredevil 

Across New York, The Hand had attacked. Anyone who stood in their way was either dead or fleeing with what was remaining of their forces; the smart had relinquished their control and fell under The Handpalm.

Elsewhere...

"It's me-" 

Again, words were cut off as the dangerously beautiful woman stabbed out again. Matt barely defended himself. A handful of Hand ninjas had just ambushed him, and now his lover had returned, a notion that his mentor and teacher had warned him of. 

The Hand then retrieved Elektra's corpse from the grave and placed it in a stone chamber to be exposed to the Resurrection Elixir. Alexandra Reid manipulated a resurrected Elektra and took her under her wing, re-training her to truly become the prophesized Black Sky and the Hand's most lethal weapon.

Matt didn't know if she would be angry or happy that his lover was revived, but he knew one thing: she hadn't returned the woman she had been. He hated himself. He had abandoned his revenge on the hand to pursue a more noble cause, working with S.H.I.E.L.D., but sometimes, he felt like he was doing the wrong thing. 

Had he failed his friends again? A memory of a smiling black man flashed in his mind before he pushed it down. 

He rolled across the ground, throwing knives carving off the rooftop he and his former lover, Elektra, had battled on. 

Harlem, New York

System message: Persona acclimation beginning...

System message: Third Persona has been confirmed. Host, please stand by. 

"Just who will he get next?" Thought Cole, wondering about the third persona. 

Cole growled in displeasure as his clouded eyes returned to focus. He glowered at the strongly built assassin who pushed with all his might with a short blade. He had grown to the point that standard weapons were useless. Cole had caught the blade with his bare hand and disdainfully backhanded the man across the room, his body hitting the wall in a sickening crunch. 

System message: Hydra Operative Broken. Hydra [Jeremy York] relationship-Despised. Reward(s): Smith & Wesson Model 500. .44 Magnum Model 629.

His brows rose as he peered at the disabled man. He tagged the man; Hydra had been an ongoing question for him. The system relationship/alignment function was an ace that allowed him to determine just who significant individuals and entities were. 

It was like he kicked an ant hill. Once they controlled York and Rand, the other corporations would fall individually. 

'Sir, it seems they were expecting security forces,' Alfred hedged. 'Even with all your tech and forethought, your movements and actions have potentially been monitored and assessed.' 

He nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing with his artificial intelligence. There were bound to be images of him coming and going that he couldn't scrub. Then, the broker uncovered whatever he could, not just on Cole. He didn't fool himself that the information salesman had paid more attention to him than others. 

'They were aware of Kaecilius and Anna's absence, and the manner Kaecillus's movements are even more liable to be tracked and monitored.' 

'He agrees, at least somewhat, Kaecillus was probably already a known agent to shield, and the man hadn't been unconscious being around Jeremy.'

Cole summoned the two newly acquired guns. The weapons had resonated with two of his three personas; both had ingrained affinities for firearms and explosives. The excitement of getting two handsome guns smoldered Jeremy York's temperature.

A standard notification flashed before him as he mentally pushed them right and left; nothing else had been awarded outside weapons and equipment. 

He had spoken too soon. 

System message: Black Sky Candidate #45 Immolated. Reward(s): Martial Art: The Hidden Rain Villages Mirror Image Style. 

He squinted his eyes as his mind absorbed the new martial arts. Well, Taijutsu, wildly enough, his body was already producing chakra or, in his case, chi; each was technically the same; now, he had a faster way to train and grow the small pebble he had for a core. 

Cole held countless martial arts; one, in particular, was Dim Mak, an art that blows could paralyze and even cause delayed death. Cole had so many techniques that he hadn't been made to go all out. Rhino had been a threat, but the brute needed to be more imaginative to use his strengths. 

The X-men came close, a mistake he swore not to make again; he had been dealing with the unpowered, and his first showing was subpar; next time, he would unleash everything on them, especially if he didn't have to worry about the two telepaths. 

He felt his body relax as he shattered bones and flesh and shifted through styles before ending on his new chi-laden style. The Mirror Image Style of the Hidden Rain Villages is a unique style requiring much of his chi during battles. The system had downloaded all relatable information at the base level; it was his job to take it further, and it was an art seldom mastered by shinobis. 

This style creates an after-image of the user, which attacks simultaneously with the user, making it harder for opponents to dodge combos and deal more damage. Cole had created one after image as he battled against the ensuing Hand. 

The Hand soldiers weren't your run-of-the-mill warriors; each member was a highly trained and adaptive martial artist from the hidden clan. 

Cole was in a symphony of violence while having an out-of-body experience due to the constant system notifications. 

He murdered without pause. Jeremy had been held back long enough. Cole knew he would have to take it up a notch now more than ever; damn the mandate of the Red Lantern Ring, his rage was really beyond time and grave. 

The Hand that remained had stayed to the last man and had rushed him. The mission was over. The target wasn't some teenager but a powerful mutant, and they were trapped in this building of horrors as their members screamed and attacked each other. 

Cole had moments when his past life sensibilities poured through. Even when he knew he was dealing with Marvel logic, he still seldom went on wanton slaughter; regardless of what the media said about him, his targets deserved it. 

Miranda|Laura Boggan

As a guildmember of the New York branch of Asassin, the last thing Miranda expected was an attack. At least not against him, Jeremy York, a name and birthright she questioned, not aloud; she didn't want to experience that mind-flaying method again. 

Just who was it? She had awoken the moment her door opened. The flat of the blade reflected the dim light from the hallway. Her assailant was masterful, but so was she. She rolled across the bed, the sharp blade bisecting the pillow. 

Using the sheets as a weapon, she entangled the killer, snapping his neck as she took the second one down and sped across the hall to the lady she was told to watch. She shuddered at what would occur if she failed. 

She had held out childlike hope that her guildmates would come for her, but as an assassin, she knew that her failure was equivalent to death. And if they came, she would be executed as a defector. Miranda's training was for naught as she spilled all her guild secrets someone of her level knew. Her target was far beyond what he was described as. Her only solace was the Yorks would fare worse than her, far worse than her partners. She had witnessed so much that she hated to think what would happen to the guild if he focused on them. 

Laura, the mother, the boy brought here had been awake; she had heard the gunfire and the sound of battle. She was familiar with death and the sounds of men partaking In it. It had been a part of her life. 

Miranda pulled her along. "I'm sorry. He won't let me go. I know too much." Laura sobbed. Miranda had no idea what she was on about, but it sounded like she thought this attack was because of her. 

"I'm so sorry. I just wanted to protect them. They are all I have left." Her incessant rant continued; Miranda allowed it; stealth was out the door, and she needed to arm herself. 

"Does he know?" Miranda asked, running through the halls. She halted, her hand slamming on a panel sealing the door behind them.

"I'm not sure. I asked for protection. He is The Abbott. He helps." 

"He's the who?" Miranda did hear right, but Abbott wasn't her jailer. She peaked around the corner.

"The Abbott. He operates-"

The assassin interrupted. "No. He's not whoever that is. He's The Red Hood." She had watched him come and go, and being nearby had awarded her a wealth of knowledge. Jeremy York was The Red Hood, a vigilante with a body count of the most heinous serial killers. 

Laura Boggan didn't reply, her mind wrapping around the possibility. Was the man known as The Abbott, the killer of gangs and mobsters, really The Red Hood? 

Miranda had Laura had been on the floor with Jeremy York, sharing one of the apartments on the spacious floor. She managed to make it to his office, and her eyes bulged as she saw the dead bodies thrown across the floor. 

"What is that? The mother asked. Her ignoring the bodies around her made Miranda's eyes squint. This woman was more complex; from how she moved, she was classically trained. She could use this to her advantage. She wanted out; what better night than now when the insane teen was occupied? 

She turned and stared at the chalk-white desiccated hand on the stand in his office. 

"A parting gift from Kaecillus." A voice that she hatefully recognized.