Marvel’s Shadowed Knight

In his panic, he tried to reach for his gun—but he never got the chance.

A powerful right hook had already knocked him unconscious.

Those still on the shore, who hadn't yet stepped off the boat, stared in disbelief at the sudden figure before them.

Did Batman really exist in this world?

"What are you all waiting for? Attack!" The man who had been speaking with the crew earlier didn't reach for his gun first. Instead, he immediately turned and retreated as fast as possible.

The others were clearly dissatisfied with his cowardice, but he was their superior—there was nothing they could do about it.

They quickly drew their guns and took aim at the Bat.

But no one fired.

Each of them was waiting for someone else to take the first shot.

The Bat frowned. Something about these men felt off. At the same time, a layer of his mask slid into place, fully covering his face.

Now, he was truly without weakness.

He took slow, deliberate steps onto the dock, yet still, no one fired.

In his experience, Hydra soldiers were usually fanatics—none of them feared death.

But these Hydra agents were clearly different.

Something wasn't right.

Then, glancing at the man who had chosen to run first, the Bat understood.

A cowardly leader breeds cowardly soldiers.

Finally, someone mustered the courage to fire the first shot—then gunfire erupted in a chaotic frenzy.

Bullets rained down on the Bat.

But they were useless.

Though the impact made him sway slightly, it was clear that none of it was doing any real damage.

A dark figure emerged from the night, stepping steadily toward them.

Fear slowly crept into their minds, swallowing their rationality.

When fear reaches a certain point, people no longer act logically.

One Hydra soldier pulled out a dagger and lunged at the Bat.

The Bat sidestepped, his hand slamming into the soldier's elbow, twisting his arm into the crook of his own.

With a sharp upward lift—

Crack!

The crisp sound of breaking bone echoed through the air.

A brutal hammer fist followed, twisting the already-broken arm into an unnatural angle.

Even if treated, that limb would never fully recover.

The Bat's open palm struck the soldier's head, silencing his screams as he collapsed, unconscious.

The scene sent a shiver through the surrounding men, but the situation was already out of their control.

The Bat surged forward.

A thug, seeing him suddenly appear in front of him as if teleporting, squeezed his eyes shut and swung his now-empty gun at the Bat's head.

But the Bat moved faster.

He wrapped his arm around the thug, his right hand pressing against the man's face while his left gripped the back of his neck.

Then, instead of applying force, he smoothly shifted his attack—his left hand curled into a fist and struck the back of the thug's head.

The man slumped to the ground.

The Bat didn't pause.

If they wouldn't come to him, he would go to them.

But these men weren't willing to wait for death.

With a roar, they all charged at him.

His right fist smashed into one thug's collarbone while his left was already prepared for an incoming attack.

The moment another enemy threw a punch, the Bat caught his arm, then used his freed right hand to grab the man's elbow.

And snapped it.

"Ahhh!!"

Even though their comrade's agonized scream sent a chill down their spines, retreating was not an option at this moment.

Another thug lunged at the Bat with a knife, but the Bat was much faster. He closed the distance in an instant and delivered a heavy palm strike to the man's jaw.

The impact sent the attacker crashing backward onto the ground.

Yet, despite witnessing this, the surrounding men showed no intention of backing down. They continued charging forward.

Sidestepping into the fray, the Bat collided directly with one of them.

"AHHH!!"

The man screamed in agony, suddenly realizing what had happened.

The others finally saw it—the Bat's palm had struck directly between the thug's legs, delivering a brutal, unrelenting blow.

But the Bat wasn't slowing down.

He twisted and unleashed a powerful kick, landing squarely on another thug's cheek.

Meanwhile, the coward who had initially fled had returned.

He now stood in the back of a pickup truck some distance away.

And this time, he wasn't holding a simple firearm—he had an M72 rocket launcher.

"Go to hell, all of you!" he shouted, pulling the trigger.

The warhead roared forward, engulfed in flames as it hurtled toward the Bat.

But the explosion radius clearly included the thugs around him as well.

"BOOM!!!"

Flames erupted, consuming everything in their path.

Watching the inferno, the man in the truck was ecstatic. He tossed the empty launcher aside and burst into laughter.

"Hahaha!!"

He even pounded the side of the truck's cabin, shouting,

"Did you see that?! What 'superhero'? One rocket and there's nothing left! Hahaha!!!"

The driver inside seemed like he wanted to say something but ultimately held back.

The man in the truck bed raised both middle fingers in the direction where the Bat had stood, flipping him off as a final taunt.

"Boss, we should leave now," the driver finally said, unable to contain his unease.

Rocket launchers were different from regular gunfights.

In Hell's Kitchen, the police might ignore shootings, but using heavy firepower? That would make them investigate thoroughly.

Even the gangs of Hell's Kitchen would give the cops a free pass—just to find the guy who broke the rules.

In this place, you could use guns. You could even use machine guns.

But heavy weaponry? That was off-limits.

Just as the man in the truck bed was about to reply, a grappling hook suddenly latched onto their pickup.

With a sharp whirring sound, the line retracted, and a shadowy figure shot toward them.

The man reacted quickly—he immediately ordered the driver to floor it while pulling out his Desert Eagle.

He fired a shot toward the Bat's direction—

But in that instant, he realized the gun was useless against him.

The Bat was already upon him.

Before he could react, he was completely subdued.

The Bat's mask slowly retracted, revealing his face.

"I will know everything," his voice, deep and menacing, echoed in the man's ears like a demon's whisper.

Meanwhile, flashing red and blue lights illuminated the road ahead.

The driver grew increasingly anxious.

Would the cops stop them?

The very thing he had hoped wouldn't happen—happened.

The police signaled for them to pull over.

But when he turned around, expecting his boss to give orders—

The truck bed was empty.

There wasn't a single trace of him.

(End of Chapter)

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