Marvel: DNF Invades

Chapter 13: A Good Night in Hell's Kitchen

The fighting on the street was getting wilder by the second.

Another wave of gang reinforcements arrived.

Luke was still holding his ground, his firepower alone keeping an entire group of armed thugs pinned down. If someone told this story later, no one would believe it.

Residents of Hell's Kitchen trembled in their homes as the explosions echoed for blocks. Gang fights weren't unusual here, but rarely did they get this intense. Something serious was going down tonight.

The gangsters exchanging fire with Luke never figured out how many enemies they were facing. The sheer intensity of the attack made them assume there had to be at least ten guys.

They couldn't have imagined it was just one kid.

Luke spotted more reinforcements arriving. But this time, it looked like two different groups were showing up at the same time.

This was getting even crazier.

For some reason, the newcomers started shooting at each other as soon as they got out of their cars.

Gunfire erupted in all directions, bullets slamming into cars, walls, and bodies. In an instant, the fight turned into an all-out bloodbath. Now, it wasn't just Luke versus the gangsters—it was a three-way war.

A massive explosion sent a dumpster flying, trash and flames scattering everywhere. The gunfire was relentless, making Luke's ears ring.

Russian and English curses mixed in the chaos. Looked like the new arrivals were from the Russian mafia.

Luke stood behind the hood of a wrecked car, his energy shield glowing orange as bullets ricocheted off it harmlessly.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. This was insane. And fun. He had been tossing grenades left and right, and now the fight had turned into a complete disaster for everyone involved.

Both the original gangsters and the Russians kept getting blown up, and neither side could figure out which team Luke was on.

"Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill them all!" Ross screamed excitedly in Luke's ear.

Ross got his wish.

Just as the two groups were slaughtering each other, another convoy rolled in. Four vans screeched to a stop, and a fresh wave of gunmen spilled out, barking orders in Japanese.

The Yakuza had joined the party.

Now, the three-way battle had turned into a four-way free-for-all.

The Yakuza had numbers on their side. They quickly surrounded the Russians and the first group, mowing them down in a hail of gunfire.

The Russians, cornered and furious, dug in and returned fire with everything they had. More bodies hit the pavement.

The street was a goddamn war zone.

Luke, crouched behind the car, just watched the carnage for a moment, impressed.

"Damn, this is insane," he muttered. "Nice weather tonight, I guess everyone decided to come out for a walk."

At first, it seemed like the Yakuza had the upper hand, but then—

High beams flashed. An SUV roared onto the scene, tires screeching as it came to a stop.

Five or six guys jumped out, two of them carrying something long and heavy on their shoulders.

Luke's eyes widened. "No fucking way... RPG launchers?"

A second later, the rockets flew.

Two missiles cut through the night, trailing fire before slamming right into the middle of the Yakuza formation.

BOOM—

Just like that, the battlefield fell silent.

The Yakuza never saw it coming. Half of them were blown to pieces instantly.

The first group of gangsters—who had been struggling against the Russians and Yakuza—suddenly found themselves in a much better position. With their enemies in shambles, they went on the offensive.

Luke, watching the chaos unfold, quickly pieced things together.

These RPG guys had to be working for Kingpin. Nobody else in the city would roll up with that kind of firepower.

Well, if Kingpin wanted a war, Luke was happy to keep playing.

He lobbed another grenade toward the guys with the RPGs. The moment they saw it, they ditched their launchers and dove for cover.

BOOM—

The SUV behind them got shredded.

The Russians were still fighting for their lives, while Kingpin's men focused on wiping out the Yakuza.

With Luke's grenades raining down and RPGs blasting from the other side, the street turned into pure hell.

Luke reached into his storage space, but—nothing.

He had thrown all 163 electric grenades.

Damn.

These grenades were great. He needed to make more for next time.

In the distance, sirens wailed.

The NYPD was finally responding.

They must have gotten so many calls that they couldn't ignore this one. Even the famously lazy NYPD couldn't sit this out.

Kingpin's guys weren't sticking around. The moment they heard the sirens, they dipped.

The surviving Yakuza mumbled something, then started retreating too.

The Russians, though? They didn't give a damn.

Instead of running, they turned their guns on the cops.

The moment the NYPD pulled up and stepped out of their cars, they were met with a hail of bullets.

A few officers went down instantly. The rest panicked, scrambling for cover behind their squad cars, firing back blindly.

Luke whistled. "Damn. Gotta respect the Russians—they don't give a shit."

"Kill! Kill! Kill!" Ross kept screaming.

Luke rolled his eyes. He wasn't as crazy as Ross. It was time to leave.

Before taking off, he glanced at the battlefield one last time. The NYPD was completely pinned down. The Russians were outgunning them so badly that the cops didn't even dare peek out from behind their cars.

Luke shook his head.

"The NYPD in this world is weak as hell," he muttered.

To be fair, they weren't really to blame.

They had come expecting a routine gang shootout, not a full-scale warzone.

Their tiny police pistols were nothing against submachine guns and AK-47s.

Luke slipped away from the battlefield, cutting through a side street—

And ran straight into another group of Russians.

They were armed to the teeth, carrying submachine guns and AKs.

For a split second, both sides froze.

One of the Russian brutes stepped forward. "Hey, kid. You see a group of people run by here? Which way did they go?"

Luke sucked on his finger like a clueless child, then pointed in a random direction.

"Over there!" he said in a baby voice.

The Russian nodded, then turned to his men. "Chase them! Anatoly wants us to take as many alive as possible!"

"Ura!!" the Russians roared before charging off.

As they disappeared down the street, a mischievous grin spread across Luke's face.

"Idiots," he muttered. "Enjoy your wild goose chase."

He pulled a skateboard from his storage space, dropped it on the pavement, and rolled away like nothing had happened.

By now, most of the fighters had scattered. Only the Russians were still exchanging fire with the NYPD.

For the residents of Hell's Kitchen, it was going to be a long, sleepless night.

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