— Jessica —
I arrived at the turf of the Black Dog gang that they had recently claimed. They were a newly rising gang who were making their name in extortion, drug trade, and organ trafficking.
Of course, the neighbors didn't take kindly to their new neighbors and competitors. They hired my 'master' to remove their rising competitors before they could become strong enough to threaten them.
My disgusting, perverted, obsessive, psycho, control freak, master.
Every waking moment, I searched for a way out. A way to escape. A way to end him. But the longer I stayed under his control, the more impossible it felt.
A few years ago, I was just an ordinary girl. After I completed high school, my father took our family to an amusement park. But who would have thought I would lose my family, father, mother, and brother in an accident on the way back due to crashing into a truck carrying some chemicals?
I was in a coma for many months. After I recovered, I slowly went back to everyday life with my adoptive family, with my adoptive sister playing no small part in that.
Soon, I found that something was different. I felt stronger. I realized I had superpowers: superhuman strength, durability, improved healing, and the ability to jump very far.
I was excited about my powers and decided to use them to fight crime part-time at college.
The initial years were fun. Whenever I stopped crime in the city, I felt a sense of achievement, no matter how little time I had to patrol the streets due to my college commitments, while covering my face to protect my identity.
After four years, I completed college and wanted to dedicate more time to vigilante work.
But then the dreadful day arrived.
It started in a restaurant, just another meaningless brawl—thugs roughing up civilians while I stepped in to stop them. I didn't know they were already under his control. I didn't know he was watching.
When the police arrived, he gave his first command.
"Take care of them. I want to eat in peace."
My body moved before I could resist. The cops fell like dominoes. I wanted to stop, but my hands kept moving, and my strength turned against the innocent.
Then, I was ordered to join him for dinner and sat across from him without wanting to. That was the start of my nightmare.
Kilgrave saw the world as his playground. He controlled people like chess pieces, making them destroy themselves for his amusement. He took pleasure in breaking them, in proving his power was absolute.
With beautiful women, it was worse.
They weren't lovers. They were dolls—used, discarded, replaced. His boredom set in quickly, and he'd cycle through them within a week. But me? I was special.
A weapon and a plaything wrapped in one.
I became his assassin, his enforcer. I executed rivals, silenced witnesses, and erased inconveniences. Whether I wanted to or not, my hands were covered in blood. In months, I had taken more lives than I could count. Each one weighed my soul, pressing down until I felt like I would suffocate.
And when I wasn't killing?
He would take me to bed. He would make me perform degrading and humiliating acts just to satisfy his perverse mind. Sometimes, he even ordered me to serve his clients.
His control over me was absolute, but that didn't mean I didn't have free will. It's more like his commands override my free will. It didn't matter what I wanted; once he ordered something, I would do it, despite how much my brain was screaming at me not to.
Then came the worst night of them all. Kilgrave wanted to make a point—to show me how completely he owned me.
"Kill them," he said, gesturing to the family huddled before me. A father. A mother. Two children. Their eyes were wide, their hands clutching each other in silent prayer.
I tried to stop myself—I really did. I told myself I wouldn't do it and would fight back this time.
But the moment the order left his lips, my hands moved. A crack. A choked gasp. A sickening crunch. The silence afterward was deafening.
I didn't remember how long I stood there, staring at the blood on my hands. I didn't remember leaving the room.
That was the day something inside me broke.
I had held on to the hope that I could escape. Perhaps one day I'd be free. But that night, I realized the truth.
I was never leaving.
I was never going to be the same.
The nightmares would never stop.
With my desolate thoughts, I finally found my targets. There were twenty-something thugs. Mostly with bats or knives, but a few also had guns with them.
"Damn, sweetheart, did you take a wrong turn on the way to your sugar daddy," one of the thugs who noticed me mocked with a lecherous face.
Yes, I was aware of my outfit, but it was something selected by my master. The only thing he was as obsessed with as me was the color purple. And he really liked making me dress in provocative clothes to show off his claim on me.
His voice turned everyone's attention to me. All of their gazes were at precisely one point on me, or more like two points.
"Hey, Larry, I doubt you will last more than a minute with her," another thug joked, addressing one of his fellow thugs.
"Shut the fuck up, Barry," Larry shot back, irritated. "That's rich coming from a two-pump chump."
"What did you just say, you motherfucker?" Barry stomped toward Larry, ready to throw down.
Their laughter echoed off the alley walls.
They didn't care that I was there. They thought I was already theirs.
Whatever, it was not the first time. Let's get this over with. Although I was not interested in returning, I had to return as soon as possible, according to his orders.
Looking nearby, I saw a trash can. I picked up its lid and threw it toward one of the thugs with a gun. The lid spun like a frisbee and sliced that thug's neck and another one who was directly behind him.
The wet thud of two objects falling silenced the entire room.
"Tom!" one of the thugs screamed and aimed his gun at me. I was already on the move. I ran and grabbed the nearest thug to use as a shield. The bullets behind me missed me entirely.
Even with my enhanced durability and vitality, I did not like being hit by bullets. Even if I knew these low-caliber bullets couldn't even pierce my skin, they would still damage my clothes.
The thugs shot on my shield who flailed with each bullet impact. By the time they emptied their magazines, the thug was already shot into a sieve. I threw his body away and took advantage of the time they reloaded their guns.
I lunged at the nearest thug armed with a knife, my fist slamming into his throat. Cartilage crunched under my knuckles as he staggered back, choking on his own breath. His body convulsed for a second before he collapsed, his gasps turning into a wet, gurgling noise.
A thug took advantage of that and hit the back of my head with an iron rod. I looked at him, bored. It stung a bit, but that's it.
The thug stood there, the iron rod still raised but bent slightly due to impact, his face slowly morphing from triumph to sheer terror as he realized I wasn't even fazed.
"M-monster," he screamed in terror as the rod fell from his hands.
That's right. I was a monster.
I grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. His legs kicked uselessly, his hands clawing at my wrist. It didn't matter. My grip tightened, his gasps turning into desperate wheezes. Then—snap. His body went limp.
I dived behind a crate as I dodged a bullet. The thugs were done reloading. They fired a few more bullets but stopped soon after.
They were closing in.
I dived out of my hiding place towards the fallen rod. The thugs shot at that moment but missed again. Picking up the rod, I threw it towards one of the thugs with a gun. The rod hit squarely in his chest, and it caved in.
I ran towards another thug while the last two thugs with guns tried to hit me. I grabbed the thug when I reached him and kept running towards another. The thug was held sideways to shield me from any stray bullets.
I reached for another thug and threw the one in my hand toward one of the gun wielders. He crashed into his buddy, and I heard a sickening crunch. One of them didn't survive the impact.
I dodged the knife of the thug in front of me and punched him in the face. That was enough to end him. I snatched his knife and threw it at the last gun-wielding thug. It hit his shoulder and lodged inside as the thug screamed in pain.
I should work on my aim. At least it disabled his main arm, and I was free for some time from any more bullets flying my way. That was more than enough time to finish the rest of the thugs.
I felt my soul scream at every kill, but I ignored its desperate cries as I downed one thug after another amidst their howling and begging for mercy.
Unfortunately, in the end, one of the thugs ran outside from behind.
A tiny part of me felt relieved that one got away. I didn't want to follow and kill him, but my body moved anyway. My orders were clear: eliminate the Black Dog gang as soon as possible.
I left the building from the back entrance and arrived at an alley. The thug was running away, and there were even more thugs outside.
When would it be over? I would have to kill even more people. Why?
There were a few fallen thugs. Did they have an internal conflict? Not that it mattered.
I picked up a stone and hurled it at the fleeing thug. He fell and started crawling. I walked forward and stomped his head while passing by.
Another thug who was on the ground barely got up. I grabbed his head and bashed it on the wall. Kicking his bat in my hand, I threw it, and it hit his head.
Another thug ran away, seeing that. No, I wouldn't waste my time finding him. I just wanted to escape from this nightmare. I picked up a broken brick and threw it towards the fleeing thug. My luck seemed to be good, as it again hit the head.
Now, only three thugs remained. One was standing, and another two were on the ground, one of whom was now trying to get up.
I turned to the only one still standing. I saw the same fear in his eyes I saw in the thugs, but strangely, it disappeared the next moment.
Was he no longer afraid of me? Weird.
Now that I looked at him, he looked different from the others. No tattoos, no scars, groomed appearance, and casual clothes. He looked a couple of years younger than me.
Was he merely a passerby who was at the wrong place at the wrong time? That would be worse as I didn't want to kill another innocent.
When I attacked my previous targets, there were no innocent civilians nearby. When I killed everyone, even if they didn't deserve to die, they were still criminals, so the guilt was a bit less. But it was different with an innocent civilian.
Of course, he could also be part of the gang, just that he didn't like to dress the part. I felt sick as just for that little uncertainty, I would have to kill him.
"Relax, miss. I am not with them. I am just a taxi driver and came here due to a misunderstanding. There, you can see my taxi standing right there," the guy who claimed to be a taxi driver said. And indeed, there was a yellow taxi standing outside the alley on the street.
The urge to kill decreased, but it was still there. He might be lying. A cornered rat will do anything to save its life. But I could feel he was speaking the truth, at least partially.
Maybe because the guy understood that was not enough, he continued, "If you don't believe me, you can look around. These five thugs circled me. I was just here to pick up a fare, and these assholes decided to tax me for working their turf. I said no, and things got ugly."
He gestured to the scattered thugs, "These two thugs lying down are because I hit them. Yes, I played dirty and attacked while tricking them. But I don't feel guilty when the fight was one against five. Moreover, you must have seen that me and those thugs with their weapons drawn, who were previously standing, were facing each other."
Once again, it was the truth, but once again, not the complete one. However, the evidence was sufficient to prove that he was not affiliated with the Black Dog gang.
As he said, they certainly looked like they were fighting when I first saw them, and this guy was facing the gang members.
"Leave. Don't mention whatever happened here to anyone," I said coldly. If Kilgrave found out that there was a witness, then my next task would be to eliminate him, which I certainly wouldn't want to do, but would have to do.
"Thank you," the guy said and turned. I turned my attention to one of the thugs on the ground, still unconscious. I stomped his face—just the last one to go, who was slowly getting up.
But just as I wanted to kill him and be done with it, the taxi driver stopped in his tracks and turned around.
What did he want?
"You don't like doing this, don't you?" the taxi driver asked with a steady voice, though his tone felt more like a statement.
I stiffened.
"You don't want to kill them," he added, not even bothering to frame it as a question this time.
My fists clenched. "Stop this nonsense and leave. Or I don't mind adding you to the bodies on the ground." I let a sliver of killing intent leak out. Just enough to make him back off.
I didn't know how he could tell what he said, but whatever the reason, he should stay away from the city's darker parts, especially from a murderer like me.
He flinched, but only for a second. Then, as if steadying himself, he exhaled slowly.
"I can see it in your eyes," he continued, his voice quieter now but no less sure. "You don't want to do it. But you have to. Because someone's forcing you."
My body tensed.
"It's blackmail, isn't it?"
I froze. What?
His expression didn't change. He watched me, analyzing every flicker in my face and shift in my posture.
"I mean, to make someone as strong as you do something against your will…" He took a small step forward. "It has to be blackmail. Whatever the bastard holds over you, it's enough to keep you in line. To make you follow orders like a doll." He said those words despite knowing he might die for uttering them.
What he said was not far from the truth, even though it was untrue.
"That is none of your business," I snapped, my voice colder. "You shouldn't poke your nose where it doesn't belong, or it may prove fatal to you." He would only die faster if he continued poking in Killgrave's business.
He held my gaze. This time, he didn't even flinch. He looked confident.
This little fucker was sure I wouldn't kill him.
He was right, and he was taking advantage of it. But even if I wouldn't kill him, I could still beat some sense into him. Perhaps then he'd understand how cruel this world can be.
He tilted his head, eyes dancing with amusement. "What do you do for fun?" He asked something strange.
I blinked. What?
The sheer absurdity of the question made me hesitate. One second, we were talking about blackmail and life-or-death situations. Now he wanted to discuss fun?
"I mean, if you're free after… well, whatever it is you're doing right now, how about we go for a walk in the park?" he asked.
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. He had to be joking. But he didn't look like he was.
What the fuck? Is he asking me out? Right now? Fucking horny teenagers.
"…Did one of the thugs hit you in the head?" I asked flatly. "Because that would be the only explanation for this level of stupidity."
"Don't test my patience and scram," I continued in an irritated voice. He was getting on my nerves.
Fun and dating were words that had no place in my life. I was not worthy of them.
He smirked. "Woah, chill, girl. I'm trying to help you."
"By asking me on a date while we're standing in an alley full of dead bodies?" I deadpanned.
He lifted a finger. "Correction. Mostly dead bodies."
I clenched my fist. I hate him.
Before I could punch him, he suddenly turned and kicked the last thug, who had been trying to get up. The guy collapsed face-first with a grunt of pain. He barely spared the thug a glance before looking back at me with that infuriating grin.
"Tell me something," he said, casually adjusting his shirt. "Did you ever bunk a class in school? Or college? Skip out just to have fun?"
My fist loosened slightly. Why was I even entertaining this conversation?
And no, I never bunked a class. Why should I? Even in college, I prioritized my studies while doing minimal vigilante work that wouldn't interfere with them. Only after completing college did I take the vigilante work more seriously.
He grinned wider. "No need to answer. You totally look like a goody-two-shoes rules follower."
My fingers clenched again.
I can hit him, right? Just a little?
He took a cautious step back. "Hey, hey, hey, stop right there. At least let me finish my explanation."
I exhaled slowly. If this so-called explanation wasn't worth it, he was getting a few broken ribs. A couple of months on the bed should be enough to clear the fog in his head.
"What do you do in between your orders?" he asked another of his random questions.
I frowned. Why does he keep asking these pointless questions?
"Nothing," I answered flatly.
What would I even do? I felt like a drone. When I did not follow my master's command, I was on standby to accept his next command. I either stayed in my room, looking at the wall, or wandered aimlessly. Sleeping always felt dreadful due to the nightmares.
He blinked as if the idea of someone doing nothing was inconceivable. "Nothing? Really?"
I didn't bother dignifying him with another response.
He studied my face and exhaled. "Yeah, I figured that'd be the case. That's why I turned around."
I narrowed my eyes. Turned around?
"I want to help you," he continued. "Even if you didn't mean to, you saved my life today. I wasn't sure I'd make it back in one piece against those thugs. And it turns out they had even more people inside—with guns. If you hadn't shown up, my dead body might've been lying in a ditch right now."
My eyes softened just a fraction.
He was sincere—I could tell that much. Both in his gratitude and in his desire to help. But…
I sighed. What can he even do?
"I appreciate the gratitude," I said, my voice quieter than before. Then, a bitter smile tugged at my lips. I continued self-derisively, "But you need to understand. I'm a monster. A cold-blooded killer. You shouldn't associate with someone like me."
He tilted his head, then grinned. "What if I want to?"
I exhaled sharply. I can feel the headache coming.
His eyes sharpened. "What exactly did he order you to do?"
I frowned. "Why do you care?"
"Come on, humor me." He waved a hand dismissively. "Just tell me. What were his exact words?"
I exhaled. Why am I even entertaining this? "He told me to eliminate the Black Dog gang and return as soon as possible."
His face lit up. "That's great."
I narrowed my eyes. "What's so great about that?"
He smirked. "This is why I called you a goody-two-shoes rules follower. You're obedient even to your blackmailer."
My fist twitched. A few bones should be okay.
He raised his hands defensively. "Wait, wait! Let me finish. I'm saying—you can't break his rules, sure, but who says you can't manipulate them?"
Manipulate Kilgrave's rules. Was he serious? Kilgrave controlled me. How could I manipulate him?
The taxi driver continued when I didn't reply, "Define as soon as possible."
Hmm? What? Define as soon as possible?
"Stop going in circles. What do you mean? Be clear," I said coldly.
He sighed as if I had said something dumb. "Is as soon as possible equal to any definite quantity of time? He didn't say come back in one hour, two hours, by seven pm, etc. He asked you to come back as soon as possible. That time can be anything from a second to multiple hours or even more." He looked at me, expecting me to follow his thought process.
I paused. The idea made my head spin. Could it really be that simple?
"That would be a lie. He would find out," I said, shaking my head.
Hearing that, the guy makes a thinking expression.
"So, your blackmailer ordered you not to lie. Strange, how can he tell whether you lied to him? Whatever, we can still think of something else," he said the latter part more to himself than me, as he thought of a countermeasure while looking blankly in the distance.
Of course, because one of the first orders he gave me was to be truthful.
A little part of me hoped he would think of a solution, and I watched him with strange anticipation.
He suddenly turned back to me, his eyes burning with intensity. "Give me five minutes. Just five. And don't question anything I do."
I stared at him, searching for any sign of deception. He looked… serious. Dead serious.
My rational mind screamed at me to walk away. But a sliver of hope coiled inside me for the first time in years.
"…Fine. Five minutes."
He flashed me a smile before turning to the last remaining thug, who was still groaning on the ground. He crouched down next to him.
"Hey, buddy," he said in a low voice, just loud enough for me to hear. "You saw what happened, right? How she killed your fellow gang members without a second thought. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not end up like them."
The thug swallowed hard, his eyes darting between him and me.
"She gave me five minutes," he continued, voice urgent. "We need to run—now. If we split up, we've got a fifty percent chance of surviving. If we stay here? We both die."
The thug hesitated. His gaze lingered on the bodies scattered around us. His breathing was ragged, sweat dripping down his forehead. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he scrambled to his feet and ran deeper into the alley.
The taxi driver gave me a toothy smile and ran after him.
I still didn't do anything. Five minutes were not up.
Good. I told myself. Let them run. Everyone should run from monsters. Finding the thug after five minutes would be a pain, but that was enough time for that taxi driver to run away. He shouldn't associate with me. But why did my chest feel tight? Was I disappointed by his choice?
He ran, picked up a fallen bat on the floor, and kept running. He soon caught up with the thug, unexpectedly swung the bat while running, and hit the thug's knee.
I blinked. What?
Even I could hear the crunch. The thug fell and started howling in pain. The taxi driver dropped the bat and began searching for something. When he didn't find it, he went into the building.
Soon, he came out with a rope. He tied up the whimpering thug, gagged him with a torn piece of his own shirt, and then—without hesitation—dragged him toward a dumpster.
The thug flailed, muffled screams escaping through the fabric, but he didn't slow. He ripped open the dumpster lid, shoved the thug inside, and slammed it shut.
Then he turned to me with a completely straight face.
"Oh no." He made a mock, disappointed expression. "One of the thugs ran away and hid somewhere. Looks like you'll have to search the entire city to complete your order."
I stared at him. I opened my mouth. Closed it.
My lips twitched. Was that allowed?
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I realized many of my readers have some doubts regarding the fanfic, so I decided to address a few.
Character Attributes:
Why didn't I use numbers instead of grades for attributes?
Tracking numbers across many characters and power levels becomes a nightmare over time. Grades let me show progression while keeping things clean and easy to follow.
To understand how this system works, revisit Chapter 2.
Some of you are confused about the sub-grades; they follow a format similar to F1, F2, F3. A simple way to understand it is that the higher the number in the same grade, the stronger the character is.
I initially wanted to use the standard F-, F, and F+. But I scratched the idea for two reasons.
First, it created confusion between the F grade and the F subgrade.
Second, some platforms don't display symbols like "+", which leads to formatting issues.
(If the "plus" didn't appear above on your screen, you now understand what I mean.)
Fanfic Theme:
This is a dark fanfic. The story delves into crime, manipulation, and moral ambiguity, exploring how such themes can impact a superhero universe like the Marvel world.
Themes often glossed over in superhero stories—I'll be diving into them unapologetically.
As you've seen in this chapter, such content won't just appear—it will intensify.
The protagonist? He's not your typical hero.
He is not a teen going through a phase that he will grow out of. He may appear to be a teenager here, but he was an adult in his previous life. He's manipulative and pragmatic and isn't afraid to use others for personal gain.
If you're looking for a noble, righteous lead, you won't find him here.
If you're into a complex, dark, and morally twisted protagonist, you're in the right place.
Release Schedule:
Now, the part most of you care about: chapter updates.
I will aim to release one chapter per week. That said, I have a full-time job and write only in my free time. So, no promises—but I'll do my best.
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Drop a comment—it gives me the dopamine boost to continue writing more chapters.