Forest of Death

[Author's Note]: For anyone familiar with the MCU, you'll know that the Defenders storyline takes place after the Avengers. I want to clarify that this fanfic will not strictly follow the MCU timeline. While I'll be using elements from the MCU, particularly character origins, the story will take its own path as it progresses, with many drastic changes occurring at certain points.

The city is becoming restless—more so than usual. But this time, it's from a direction no one would expect. The Hand, typically known for their discreet operations, have become unusually active. Their movements are far more visible, almost frantic. Whatever they're planning, it can't be good.

For the past few days, I've been following leads, searching everywhere I can think of, but the results have been frustratingly sparse. The Hand are masters of erasing their tracks; any evidence disappears like it was never there, burned away before anyone can see it.

The only solid clue I've found is the bloody massacre at the residence of someone named Adam. The crime was discovered quickly by a neighbor—a local social media influencer who called the police after hearing screams and loud noises. They posted about it online before the authorities even arrived. The news spread like wildfire, attracting immediate media attention. With reporters swarming the scene, the Hand didn't have time to cover it up entirely.

I talked to Brett Mahoney about it since it was his case. After some cooperation, we became aware of the tampering going on in the background. Weapons at the crime scene had gone missing without being reported, disappearing as if they were never there. The meticulous placement of blood spatters suggested that they were wiped clean in key areas, possibly to hide the specific types of wounds inflicted—wounds I knew only a skilled assassin would make. Bodies had been swapped with others of similar size, a crude but effective tactic to obscure the true identities of those involved. The replacement corpses showed signs of cuts, but it didn't sit right with evidence from the house. Likely inflicted post-mortem to create the illusion of a frenzied attack. Reports left out crucial details, like the number of assailants and the condition of the original bodies.

And yet, there were other clues that were harder to erase. Traces of a rare poison lingered in the air—a subtle, acrid scent that most would miss but not me. It was the same type used in several assassinations I'd investigated before, a signature of the Hand's covert operations. The poison wasn't strong enough to kill outright, but it induced a paralysis that left victims defenseless, a perfect complement to their swift, deadly strikes.

Then there were the scars etched into the walls—some shallow, others deep, each telling a story of violence. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the marks were made by a combination of weapons: the jagged edges from shuriken and the smooth, precise cuts from a ninjato. The clean, effortless lines indicated these weren't random strikes; they were the work of highly skilled assassins, each cut deliberate and deadly.

Surveillance cameras in the area showed unexplained blackouts and disruptions, precisely timed to the moment of the attack. It wasn't just a simple power failure. The footage had been tampered with expertly, frames deleted in a way that wouldn't raise suspicion, enough to fool the media. Not enough to go unnoticed by those looking for clues. Clearly, they didn't have enough time.

The remaining footage showed brief shadows moving faster than any ordinary person, the kind of speed that only someone highly trained could achieve.

Digging deeper into the rabbit hole, the most shocking revelation unfolded before me: Adam was killed by Richard—the same guys I helped escape the warehouse operated by Kingpin. When I first saw Adam's face, a suspicion lingered in the back of my mind, but to have definitive proof that Richard is the murderer? That was something I never expected.

I look at the paper one more time and sigh in resignation, clenching my fist. It's my fault. I didn't stop him when I had the chance. Now an innocent man is dead because of me. I blame myself. The mistake has been made, and now the burden is mine to bare. I must capture him.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Jessica Jones. I needed her help, and from what Officer Brett had told me, she was already looking into the case. Danny Rand could be useful too, but with his lack of subtlety, it was best to leave him out of this one.

The phone rang for a while before she finally answered.

"Jessica, I need your help," I said without wasting time.

"Well, there's a surprise," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Never thought I'd hear you asking for help, especially after you walked out on everyone."

"I didn't want to get involved, but now I have no choice. It involves a person name Richard. I am sure you are aware," I said, brushing off her jab. "I can't talk any more details. Can we meet?"

There was a pause, long enough for me to hear her sigh.

"Fine. But we're meeting on my terms. I pick the spot."

"Deal," I agreed, hanging up before she could throw in another snarky comment.

As soon as the call ended, Jessica sent me a location, telling me to be there by 1 PM—just two hours from now.

I expected her to push the meeting to tomorrow, but the urgency likely means she's close to cracking the case—and she might need my help to finish it.

The location wasn't far, an abandoned warehouse that had aged terribly. The metal walls were rusted and decayed from years of rain and neglect. Dust covered the place, settling on the remnants of shelves and boxes, likely filled with worthless junk the warehouse owners couldn't be bothered to move.

Amidst the debris stood Jessica Jones, holding a folder. "Good, you're on time. Here's the situation," she said, handing the documents to me. "I tracked down the taxi driver whose car Richard stole. I couldn't get the exact destination, but I managed to piece together his trail. Your boy Richard must've watched a lot of crime flicks because he's playing it smart—leaving a trail that goes nowhere. He's probably hiding out in the woods."

"I'm guessing you figured that out because there's no sign of him in any of the nearby cities," I said, confirming my suspicions.

Jessica smirked. "And here I thought you were still chasing your tail. Nice to see you're catching up." There was a flicker of pride in her voice, but it was buried under her usual sarcasm. Her expression turned serious again as she continued, "Even with that, it's still like finding a needle in a haystack. We don't know which forest he's in, but here's what we do know—he didn't stop at any gas stations. He's probably running on one tank of gas, which narrows it down to about eight forests nearby."

She paused, studying my reaction. "That's all I've got. You must have more info, though. A little bird told me the cops have been questioning drivers entering the nearby cities. What's the deal? Are they closing in, or are they just sitting around eating donuts?"

"The police are closing in on his location," I said, nodding. "We've narrowed it down to two possible forests." I handed her my findings. "See if they line up with what you've got."

Jessica skimmed through the names, handing them back with a smirk. "You're not as behind as I thought. Yeah, the two forests match. So, how do you want to play this?"

"I figured we should search together to reduce the danger. But I have a strong feeling The Hand is already a step ahead of the police. Splitting up might be our best bet."

Jessica's eyebrows rose. "Perfect. Though I gotta ask—danger? Are we talking about those superhumans Danny's always rambling about?"

"No. The danger is Richard," I clarified.

Jessica scoffed. "Richard? What, is he the Terminator now? Why would I be in danger from some guy? I've dealt with worse."

"Trust me," I said, locking eyes with her. "I've seen him fight. He's not just some guy—he's a killer. His moves are precise, deadly. One wrong step, and even with your strength, you could get hurt. It's better if you call me as soon as you spot the taxi, rather than going after him alone."

Jessica stared at me, clearly weighing my words. After a long moment, she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. I'll trust you on this... but if you're wrong, you owe me—big time."

I nodded, fully committed to owing her a favor. By asking her to join this operation, I'd already put her life in danger. Even though I'm fairly certain the forest I'm sending her to check isn't where Richard is hiding, I can only hope that if she runs into him, she'll call for backup before taking him on alone.

Then there's the Hand ninjas. They're likely already searching the same areas. Jessica would cross paths with them, I'm not too worried—she can handle herself against them.

The drive toward Richard's potential hiding spot was long taking around 4 hours, giving me plenty of time to think. Once there, I began searching for the vehicle he'd stolen. Since there hadn't been any sightings, it was safe to assume the car was hidden along with him. Finding it would confirm Richard was nearby.

It was harder than expected. With my radar sense's 45-meter range, I thought it would be easy to spot a large object like a car. For a while, I started to think I was in the wrong place. But after an hour and half of searching, I found it—a cab, stationary among the trees, covered in leaves and dirt.

Next to the car was a stone, an arrow carved into it. I knew then that I'd found him. I grabbed my phone and called Jessica, telling her to stop her search. She replied with her usual sarcasm and some annoyance, telling me she'd be there in an hour.

With time to spare, I considered searching the area more thoroughly. But that risked alerting Richard, and capturing him alone would be difficult. Instead, I returned to my car, carefully erasing any trace of my movements in case he came back.

As I neared my car, my radar sense picked up movement—more than thirty people, all moving with chilling precision. Their subtle steps and coordinated pace hinted at their origin. The Hand. Quickly, I ducked behind a tree, hiding from view as they passed. I trailed after them, watching their movements. They didn't even glance at the arrow Richard had left behind; they were already heading toward his location like they knew exactly where he was.

I had no choice but to act now. Letting the Hand weaken Richard seemed like the best option. Interrupting my thought was a sharp whoosh.

One ninja dropped instantly, gurgling, clutching his throat as blood poured between his fingers. An arrow jutted from his neck, his wide eyes filled with shock as he slumped to the ground, drowning in his own blood.

Panic spread through the group. The remaining ninjas scattered, darting behind trees for cover, but another volley of arrows followed with deadly precision. The second arrow struck a man in the head, driving through his skull with a sickening crack, his brain splattering the bark behind him. His body twitched for a moment before collapsing in a lifeless heap. Two more arrows struck their marks—a shoulder shattered by one, a thigh torn open by another. The injured men screamed in agony, clawing at the dirt as their blood spilled freely.

The trees provided no shelter. Fire arrows rained down, igniting everything around them. Flames roared to life, consuming the branches, the heat unbearable. A few ninjas, driven mad by the burning air, tried to flee, but their movements were predictable.

Additionally, with the light illuminating from the flame, shot was being fired more rapidly. An arrow tore through one man's neck, severing his windpipe. He collapsed in the dirt, twitching as blood sprayed in arcs from the wound, his body convulsing violently as his comrades stared helplessly. He tried to scream, but all that escaped was a low gurgle before he choked on his own blood.

The remaining ninjas, eyes wide with terror, huddled behind the burning trees. Desperate, they devised a plan, readying their blowpipes and firing a volley of darts toward the source of the arrows. For a brief moment, the onslaught seemed to pause, as if they'd halted Richard's brutal assault.

It's a trap! I cried out in my head. Realizing the mind games in play.

An arrow screamed through the air, impaling a ninja directly in the eye. The impact was so violent, the man's skull cracked, and his body thrashed uncontrollably on the ground, blood pouring from the gaping wound. His screams pierced the darken forest, a horrid, guttural sound that seemed to echo through the forest, leaving the remaining ninjas paralyzed with fear. None of them dared move, their faces ashen as they watched their comrade writhe in the dirt, his remaining eye wide with terror, waiting for death to take him.

Watching this nightmare unfold, I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. How could he do this?! The fury roared inside me like the flames engulfing the trees, but I forced myself to stay hidden. As much as I wanted to intervene, charging in now would mean joining the bodies littering the forest floor. Even with my radar sense, I couldn't pinpoint Richard's location. He was still out there, a ghost in the trees, raining death from above.

I concentrated with everything I had, focusing all my senses in Richard's direction. My radar sense extended, greatly increasing my range of perception, though at the cost of narrowing my field of view. It was a trade-off I was willing to make if it meant tracking him down and stopping this bloodshed.

The screams of the ninjas faded into the background as I focused on the subtler sounds. I picked up the rustling of leaves, the soft movement of branches, and the distant scurrying of animals startled by the chaos. But most importantly, I tracked the distinct whistle of arrows cutting through the air, each shot with deadly precision. Following the trail, I found him.

Richard.

He was perched high atop a tree, his armor making him sound like a walking fortress. I could sense the subtle clinking of metal plates as they shifted with his movements, each piece fitting tightly together like a well-built machine. The armor wasn't just for show—it was thick and layered, absorbing most sounds, but I could still detect the faint grind of metal as he moved. His helmet, adorned with what felt like sharp protrusions, made him seem even more formidable, like a predator in the wild.

But what really caught my attention was his bow. It was large, solid, and metallic, the string giving off a quiet tension with each draw. The bow hum with power, I could sense the strength behind each shot. When an arrow was released, the air cut sharply as it flew toward its target with deadly accuracy.

It was that precision, that control over the weapon, which had led me to him. Every shot was calculated, the arrows striking with an almost mechanical accuracy. The force was palpable, but not overwhelming—enough to kill, enough to terrify. It was lethal, and it sent a shiver through me as I realized just how methodical Richard had become.

He's a killing machine.

I thought there was still hope for redemption, but now I see it—there's no light left in him. I'm sorry, Richard. I failed you. You wouldn't become a monster, if I had arrived to rescue you earlier. I won't let it go on any longer. I'll make this right.

With his position confirmed, I no longer needed to focus entirely on tracking him. The steady rhythm of arrows and the sound of his movements gave me enough to follow. The ninjas were a perfect distraction, allowing me to get closer without drawing his attention.

Even with his deadly accuracy, Richard's focus is narrow. His field of awareness is limited, maybe 80 degrees at most. I watched one ninja, just outside that range, manage to close the distance before Richard finally noticed and took him down with the same precise, lethal shot to the neck or head. It's a weakness I can use.

Slowly, I made my way toward him, moving from tree to tree. With each step closer, his field of vision narrowed, making my progress quicker. The advantage of him being unaware of my presence worked in my favor, yet every step forward brought with it the mounting urge to hurry. Every second that passed meant another ninja would die. They were criminals, no doubt, but death wasn't the answer. Justice was.

The conflict gnawed at me, but I forced myself to move carefully, without drawing attention. Minutes felt like hours, but soon I was just seven meters away from him.

Taking cover behind a thick tree, I studied the stability of the branch Richard was perched on. It seemed fragile enough that I could break it with a well-aimed throw of my baton. The plan was simple, but effective. However, I had to consider my next move carefully. What would happen after the branch gave way? Richard was skilled—he wouldn't just fall helplessly. He'd most likely grab onto the tree, halting his fire. The ninjas, thinking their opportunity had come, would charge forward, emboldened by his sudden silence.

I ran through the possibilities. Richard could try to move among the trees, but with that heavy armor weighing him down, it wasn't likely. His original plan had been clear: rain arrows down on the ninjas, thinning their ranks before they reached him. By the time they got close, there would be only a few lefts, and he'd take them on with confidence, relying on his armor.

But now that I was here, his plan was ruined. He'd know it. If the branch broke, he wouldn't confront the ninjas head-on—he'd retreat. The question was, how would he escape?

Searching around, I sensed another stone about ten meters away, etched with the same arrow carving, pointing toward a specific direction. At first glance, it looked like an obvious escape route, but something about it didn't feel right. Leaving such a clear trail made no sense—Richard wasn't the type to be careless.

I continued to scan the area, looking for more clues, and that's when I realized it. The arrows weren't meant to lead me to safety or Richard's escape route—they were part of a larger bluff. They were designed to lure me and the others into a false sense of security, lowering our guard and directing us toward a trap.

The first stone with the carving was too obvious, its placement too clean. But the real danger was deeper. It wasn't just one trap; Richard had layered the area with misdirection. The arrow might have been leading toward a visible snare, but as I expanded my senses, I picked up on subtle shifts in the ground—tripwires, hidden pitfalls covered in foliage, and faint vibrations where natural objects had been disturbed.

Richard was cautious. This must be his plan to counteract the failure of his original strategy. This wasn't just about killing one or two ninjas. Just like his long-range attack with the bow, this setup was meant to slowly whittle down their numbers while confusing them, making it easier for him to escape. As they grew more desperate, they'd make mistakes, accidentally triggering the traps. The more time they spent chasing him, the fewer would remain, until Richard could safely take them on in close combat. From estimate I believe only a dozen of them would remain after we escape the confine of the trap maze.

The traps weren't just meant to harm—they created a maze, one difficult to navigate, even for the one who set them. Richard had left the stone carvings not as an escape route for others, but as a guide for himself. They reduced the complexity of the traps for him, marking a safe path through the dangers he'd set up.

I scanned the area again, carefully observing the stones. One by one, I traced the path until I found it—a route that stretched further than the others, leading beyond the edge of my radar sense. This wasn't like the false trails that led to dead ends. It extended too far, suggesting it was his real escape route.

Now that I knew Richard's path and his likely next move, I devised a plan. I couldn't risk engaging him in the middle of this trap-laden maze, even if I was confident, I could navigate it. Fighting with hidden dangers all around would only increase the likelihood of my own death.

Instead, I'd wait until he reached the open ground beyond the traps, where I could confront him directly—on my terms.

I sprang into action, knowing I'd already spent too much time analyzing. Any further delay, and my plan would fall apart. With every ounce of strength, I hurled my baton at breakneck speed toward the branch. Normally, such force wouldn't be enough to break it, but combined with his weight, it was just enough to snap the wood, causing Richard to lose his balance.

As expected, his reflexes were sharp. The bow in his hand vanished into thin air, freeing his arm to grab hold of the tree and prevent his fall.

I'd seen mysticism before with the Hand and Danny, but I still wasn't prepared for this. Snapping out of my brief shock, I rushed forward. Richard had already landed safely from the tree and was sprinting toward the trap maze.

The Hand's ninjas had caught up as well. I expected them to attack, but most ignored me, focused entirely on Richard. Two of them were sticking to me, clearly tasked with stalling me. But they didn't get the chance—before they could make their move, I was already in the maze, closing the gap on Richard.

Shurikens flew toward me from the two of them, aimed at my legs to cripple me. But with trees surrounding me and traps looming everywhere, they failed to land a single hit.

One ninja, growing overconfident, tried a risky maneuver through the traps, thinking he understood the layout of the trap maze. His arrogance cost him—he didn't see the sharp wire until it was too late. It sliced cleanly through his leg. His comrades didn't even glance at him, their cold eyes locked onto Richard.

But Richard wasn't fleeing like a cornered prey. He was the predator, and we had stepped into his territory. Occasionally, when he gained enough distance from us, he turned and fired. We could see his movements and predict the trajectory of the arrows, dodging most of them. Still, in the chaos and distractions, a few unfortunate ninjas fell—some inexperienced, others just unlucky, caught in the crossfire.

The number of ninjas had dwindled to around twenty, more than I'd estimated. But something else played out beyond my expectations—Richard wasn't running anymore. He stood there, like a solitary warrior, a sword materializing out of thin air in his hand. The atmosphere shifted, and the temperature plummeted, a cold, domineering sensation rippling across the plains.

I understood now. He was ready for the battle ahead. Outnumbered twenty to one, but he knew the ninjas wouldn't focus solely on him. My presence had split their attention. Knowing how dangerous he was from that night in the warehouse, it was no surprise that a bloodbath could be on the horizon.

I gripped my baton tightly, my resolve hardening. I had to incapacitate him before the ninjas reached him. It was the only way to prevent the bloodshed and bring him to justice. Luckily, the sun had set just enough to cloak the area in darkness, reducing his vision. As for me, this was my element—this was when I was at my strongest.

But just as I prepared to strike, something utterly unexpected unfolded. On his left arm, a fish dish appeared out of nowhere. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, its fragrant scent barely having time to spread.

I've seen a lot of bizarre things living in a bad neighborhood, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

What the hell?! My mind screamed in shock, utterly dumbfounded by the surreal sight.