The Long Game Begins

I glance over at Daredevil and the Punisher. Two of my all-time favorite characters, standing right here. Honestly, they're legends—right up there with Batman, Spider-Man, and all the other icons who've mastered that fine line between justice and vengeance.

Could I take them both? Yeah, probably. But it wouldn't be a cakewalk. I'd be lucky to walk away in one piece. They've got something I'm still working on: experience.

Sure, I've got Jason Todd's skills—his instincts, his muscle memory. It's sharp, almost automatic. But it's still his. I'm still figuring out how to make them mine, how to take his training and make it second nature for me.

That's why I hit the gangs so hard. It's not just about cleaning up the streets—it's about sharpening myself. Every fight, every punch, every scrape—it all adds up. Each one is like adding a new tool to my kit. I know I'm not ready for the big leagues yet—not until I've faced enough real threats to actually own my skills.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I turn to Daredevil. "Alright, let's get to it. What's your plan?" I ask, cutting to the point. No reason to waste time.

I need to know what he's thinking. What's his angle here?

And then there's Kingpin. Just hearing his name makes me tense up. The guy's no small-time crook. His control over New York's underworld? Unreal. He's not just muscle—he's a genius. A master chess player, always five moves ahead of anyone trying to take him on.

And if someone somehow backs him into a corner? He's got backups for his backups. One plan fails, there's always another ready to go. He leaves no evidence, no paper trail. That's why no one—neither the system nor us vigilantes—can touch him. He's wrapped in layers of corruption that protect him like armor. Fighting him is like punching a concrete wall.

Daredevil finally breaks the silence. His voice is calm, steady, like this isn't his first time explaining it. "Kingpin's the most powerful guy in New York's underworld. Judges, cops, lawyers—he's either bought them or blackmailed them. That's why he gets away with everything. On paper, he's Wilson Fisk, head of Fisk Industries. Philanthropist. Billionaire."

He pauses, turning slightly toward me. He can't see my face, but he doesn't need to. Daredevil doesn't miss a thing—posture, breathing, heartbeat. He knows I'm already familiar with Fisk's double life.

"But on the streets? He's Kingpin. The crime lord behind everything dirty in this city," Daredevil continues, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Drugs, human trafficking, weapons smuggling—you name it, he's running it. That's what we're up against."

The anger in Daredevil's voice is barely restrained. I don't need to see his face to feel how personal this is for him. This isn't just a fight for the city—it's a fight for himself.

Then Punisher chimes in, his tone blunt and practical. "So how do we handle him?" He knows this won't be easy. He's tried before, and even he couldn't reach Fisk. If anyone understands the uphill battle ahead, it's Frank Castle.

Daredevil exhales, shaking his head. "We can't take him out in one shot. Not without evidence. And getting that? It's gonna take time. What we can do is go after his operations. Disrupt his supply lines, destroy his shipments. Hit him where it hurts—his wallet."

"He has limits," Daredevil continues, his voice steady but resolute. "He can't make big moves in the open without exposing himself. If we hit him hard enough and often enough, we weaken him—but we also keep enough heat on the streets to control the gangs."

I nod slightly, catching on to his plan. Daredevil isn't trying to topple Kingpin in one move; he's aiming to dismantle him piece by piece. Continuous strikes to weaken his empire while letting him enough resources in reserve to keep the gangs in check. It's a long game, but it might be the only one that works.

Daredevil continues. "We start with his supply lines," he says firmly. "Drugs, weapons, counterfeit goods. Everything flows through his network, and he depends on that steady cash flow to keep his machine running."

Punisher lets out a humorless laugh. "That's it? You think cutting off a few shipments is gonna slow him down? Fisk has backups for his backups."

"It's not about stopping him cold," Daredevil says, his tone level but firm. "It's about throwing him off balance. Make him react. Force him to spend time and resources patching holes. The more distracted he is, the less he can plan. Meanwhile, we gather intel. Build a case. Get something solid to finally take him down."

I lean back against a rusted pipe, crossing my arms. "So, we're not looking for a knockout blow. Just jabs to keep him off his game."

"Exactly," Daredevil replies. "The more we keep him reacting, the less time he has to plan. And while he's distracted, we work on gathering intel. Evidence. Something solid enough to bring him down for good."

Punisher doesn't look convinced. His jaw tightens as he stares at Daredevil. "Sounds messy."

"It will be," Daredevil replies. "But it's the only way that works."

Punisher shifts, the tension rolling off him in waves. He doesn't like it—doesn't like anything slow or uncertain. But he doesn't argue, either. After a moment, he glances at me. "You in?"

I look between the two of them—two legends, two completely different approaches to the same goal. And for once, they're on the same page.

"Yeah," I say, pushing off the pipe. "I'm in. But if we're doing this, we do it right. No half-measures. We hit him hard, and we don't stop until he's done."

Punisher smirks, just barely, and for a second, I think I might've earned a little respect. "Alright," he says. "Let's see what you've got."

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Author's pov

Which spider man you guys want in story?