"The blood-red apostle from hell is a monster. It doesn't just kill—it devours everything, leaves nothing behind."
"What? You're asking why there's no blood?"
The obese man's voice trembled as he knelt on the floor, his body shaking uncontrollably while sweat soaked through his clothes. His eyes were wide, unfocused, as if the memory alone was enough to break him. "Because… because that thing stuffs it into its mouth!"
The last thread of reason in his gaze snapped as he spoke, his words spilling out in a frantic rush. He wasn't just scared—he was unraveling.
Standing before him was a towering bald man, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the room whole. Wilson Fisk tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but cold as he studied the man in front of him.
"The story's interesting," Wilson said, his voice low and controlled. "But as far as I know, Daredevil isn't a demon. He's blind. You're telling me a blind man is running around eating people?"
"Blind?" The obese man's reaction was instant, violent. He sprang to his feet, pointing a trembling finger straight at Wilson. "No! That thing isn't human! It's a devil wearing human skin!"
The memory clawed its way back into his mind, dragging him down into the same terror he had barely escaped. His breathing turned ragged, his voice cracking as his description spiraled further into madness.
"It had two blades—cutting people down like grass—and that tongue… that huge tongue…"
Wilson's expression darkened slightly, patience wearing thin. "He's rambling nonsense."
He waved a hand dismissively, already losing interest. "Do you think I've never seen Daredevil before?"
The guards didn't hesitate. They stepped forward, grabbing the man by the arms as he struggled weakly, his protests dissolving into incoherent noise. Within seconds, he was dragged out of the room, his voice fading into the distance.
Silence returned.
For a moment, Wilson stood there alone, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Then, slowly, his expression shifted. The calm mask cracked just enough to reveal something beneath it—frustration.
A few days ago, his operations had taken a hit. Bullseye and his crew had vanished without a trace, leaving a hole in his organization that couldn't be filled overnight. He still had power, still had money, but without reliable enforcers, that power felt… incomplete.
"Heh…" A quiet chuckle escaped him, humorless and sharp. "Whoever you are… Daredevil or something else… you'd better pray you don't cross me."
His fist slammed down onto the table.
The impact rang out like a gunshot, the alloy surface denting under the force as deep cracks spread from the point of contact. This wasn't the strength of an ordinary man. Beneath that massive frame wasn't fat—it was muscle, dense and terrifying.
"I'll show you what happens to traitors."
His voice dropped, heavy with promise.
…
Footsteps echoed along the sidewalk, steady and measured.
A man with a guide cane moved through the streets, tapping lightly against the pavement as he walked. Matt Murdock kept his posture relaxed, his expression calm, though his senses were anything but.
Just days ago, he had officially opened a law firm with his partner. The workload had already piled up, and now he was handling a particularly difficult case—one involving a company accusing its own employees of embezzlement. The evidence wasn't in his favor, and overturning the case would be an uphill battle.
Still, he wasn't the type to give up easily.
"Hey, have you heard about those rumors?" His partner walked beside him, voice carrying a mix of curiosity and unease. Foggy Nelson glanced around as if expecting something to jump out at any moment. "People are talking about some blood-red hunter running around Hell's Kitchen."
Matt's brows furrowed slightly, though his response was casual. "Yeah, I've heard."
"They're saying it's got scythe-like arms… and this huge mouth that can swallow a person whole…" Foggy continued, clearly getting carried away as he described it.
Matt's expression tightened.
He didn't like where this was going.
Over the past few days, he had been busy dealing with crime in other parts of the city, which meant he hadn't personally witnessed whatever was happening in Hell's Kitchen. But the rumors… they lined up a little too well.
A red figure. Active at night. Targeting criminals.
It was uncomfortably close to his own identity.
For a brief moment, a strange thought crossed his mind.
Were people starting to see Daredevil as a monster?
He pushed it aside quickly. That wasn't something he needed to worry about right now.
The distant sound of police sirens cut through the night, pulling his attention back to reality.
Focus on the present.
That was what mattered.
…
Hidden deep within a dark corner of the city, far from prying eyes, an abandoned house stood in silence.
Inside, the walls were covered in thick strands of crimson spider silk, layered over each other until the entire interior looked like something out of a nightmare. At the center of the room, a massive cocoon hung suspended, its surface pulsing faintly.
Then—
Crack.
A sharp sound broke the stillness as the cocoon split open.
Something moved inside.
The shell tore apart as a blood-red form crawled out, its limbs twisting unnaturally before snapping into place. The creature stretched, its body reshaping itself into something humanoid—something far more terrifying.
Bladed arms extended outward, long and jagged, glinting under the dim light like weapons forged from flesh itself. Behind it, a pair of wings unfurled, riddled with countless tiny holes. From those openings, thin strands of silk began to spill out, drifting through the air like threads of death.
Even the reinforced security door nearby wasn't spared. The silk pierced through it effortlessly, leaving behind clean, precise holes as if the metal had been nothing more than paper. The concrete walls fared no better, scarred with marks that spoke of overwhelming force.
"I've gotten stronger."
The voice that came from the creature was… wrong. High-pitched, almost childish, yet carrying an undercurrent of something far more sinister.
This was Carnage.
Before, it had needed a host to unleash its full power. But after being fed energy—after days of hunting and killing—it had changed. It had evolved.
It no longer needed anyone.
Energy pulsed through its body, the transformation complete. Confidence surged within it, the urge to report this newfound strength rising to the surface.
Then—
Crash.
Glass shattered.
A dark figure slipped through the broken window, landing silently inside the room. The black suit clung tightly to his body, moving as if it were alive. As he straightened, his mask peeled back, revealing a familiar face.
Peter Parker smiled, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he took in the scene.
"Found you…"
On his shoulder, the suit shifted, twisting into a grotesque face that grinned with sharp teeth.
Venom spoke, its voice low and eager.
"My son…"
Carnage tilted its head, staring at the two of them.
For a brief moment, there was confusion.
Then—
Memory returned.
That black symbiote… it was the one that had created him.
And after that?
Nothing.
They had left him alone. Abandoned him. Left him to starve.
Now they show up?
…
Peter clenched his fists, his breathing uneven as thoughts churned through his mind. "Venom's already strong… and now there's this one too. Let's see who can stop me now. Not S.H.I.E.L.D., not anyone."
His voice grew colder, sharper.
"Everything I lost… I'll take it all back."
He stepped forward slowly, eyes locked onto Carnage, a greedy glint flashing within them. There was no hesitation, no caution—just desire.
"This one's even stronger than Venom…" he muttered. "Come here… let me take a closer look…"
Carnage didn't move.
The childish tone vanished.
Something colder took its place.
Its bladed arms lifted, slicing through the air in a blur, the motion so fast it created a faint whistle. The atmosphere shifted instantly, the tension snapping tight as killing intent flooded the room.
Then it pointed—directly at Peter.
"Abandoning me… that's one thing."
Its voice dropped, sharp and absolute.
"But disrespecting Lord Butcher…"
The air seemed to freeze.
"Then you're not leaving here alive."
.....
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