Another kingpin of Hell's Kitchen had fallen.
John was in no hurry to leave. He walked over to Corey's lifeless body. The striped snake that had killed him was barely breathing, more air leaving than coming in. Corey was clearly not an ordinary man; even in his final moments, he had tried to take the snake with him.
"His muscles are extraordinary," John murmured, narrowing his eyes as he pressed his fingers into the stiff flesh. "It seems to be connected to anger."
He noticed the snake tattoo on Corey's arm. The bright red gradually faded to blue-green as death claimed him. Placing his left hand on Corey's skin, John closed his eyes. He sensed something different inside Corey, as if the man had been transformed, made stronger by some hidden force.
Standing up, John touched his chin, thoughtful. He drew his wand and tapped the table. Invisible waves rippled outward-a spell of his own invention, the super sense spell. It created a mental image of all nearby scenes, like magical radar, not unlike Matt's heightened senses.
Among the feedback from the spell, John found a metal frame in the room, cluttered with decorative objects. He reached behind a book and pressed a hidden button. A wall slid open, revealing a secret chamber.
Ferdinand, realizing what was happening, hurried to follow.
Behind the wall was a small room. The sight of cash stacked on the table made Ferdinand's eyes widen, but John ignored it and headed straight for a safe.
"There must be something valuable here, but it's a pity we don't have the password," Ferdinand said, unable to hide his regret.
John raised his wand and tapped the safe. "Alohomora."
The safe's knob turned by itself, and with a series of mechanical clicks, the door popped open after ten seconds. Ferdinand's jaw dropped. Even though he was used to John's unusual methods, this scene still left him speechless.
Inside the safe were bundles of cash and various valuables. John tossed some of the items aside, searching until he found a small box containing a blue vial.
"Evolution serum?" he muttered, staring at the label. He noticed a small line of writing on it and shook his head. "The water really is deep in Hell's Kitchen."
He stuffed the serum into his pocket and continued searching the safe. In a hidden compartment, he found a badge—an emblem with a skull and snake tentacles. It was hidden even deeper than the serum, clearly more important to Corey than anything else. John turned the badge over in his fingers, then made it vanish with a flick, making sure Ferdinand did not see.
"You want it?" John glanced at Ferdinand, who was practically drooling over the money.
"I…" Ferdinand looked from the money to John, then finally forced himself to look away. "I listen to the boss."
John smiled. "From the moment you said that, you started to look like a qualified driver, Ferdinand."
He left the rest of the valuables and documents in the safe. These were the foundations of Corey's power—evidence of the protection money he paid to certain officials in Hell's Kitchen. What John took would be enough to make those so-called protectors nervous.
"Boss, what about these things?" Ferdinand was still holding a bag stuffed with millions in contraband.
"Leave it," John said, unconcerned. "We're here to help, lawyer Matt."
Ferdinand, knowing Matt's identity as Daredevil, immediately dropped the bag. He had no desire to be targeted by the famous vigilante. Daredevil might not kill, but his fists were legendary.
John only took three things from the safe: the serum, the badge, and the documents. The rest he left untouched.
Just as Ferdinand was about to leave, John called him back. "Your brother got first place," John said, nodding at the money in the safe. "That's the twenty he deserves."
He shrugged. "I doubt anyone else will be giving him a bonus now." It was a small reward for Ferdinand's loyalty.
Ferdinand was stunned at first, then overjoyed. He rushed to the pile of cash and grabbed twenty bundles, resisting the urge to take more. For the first time, he understood the rules of John's game: obedience was rewarded. That was what a qualified personal driver should do.
After taking his share, he hesitated, then turned away, leaving the rest behind. He was starting to leave his old gangster ways behind. Rather than chasing money, he was choosing a new path. Holding on to this opportunity was Ferdinand's wisest choice yet.
The two walked out of the secret room. No one noticed Corey's death; everyone was still searching for Matt. It was a race.
Matt, moving quickly, found the imprisoned children beneath the Death Race's preparation room. Pulling on his mask, Daredevil faced the guards alone, telling the children to hide. But he was already wounded, and the fight was brutal. After finally battling his way out, he ran into Roman, who was returning with a beautiful woman on his arm.
Not recognizing each other, Matt attacked without hesitation, grabbing a helmet and striking Roman. Roman, stunned, quickly fought back. He had never trained formally, but years of street fighting had given him a strong physique and fast reflexes. Fists flew, and the fight was fierce.
Matt's wounds slowed him, and after taking a couple of punches, he felt blood seep from his injuries.
"Let's see who's the father now!" Roman taunted, wild with adrenaline.
Matt heard the faint crackle of electricity and spun, kicking the approaching woman with a roundhouse that sent her sprawling. She had been about to use a stun baton on Roman, but now she was out cold. Roman, confused, grabbed Matt and slammed him against a cabinet.
Matt landed an elbow that made Roman's back ache. They broke apart, and Roman prepared to charge again, but Ferdinand burst in and punched him away.
"Ferdinand?" Roman yelled, bewildered. "Why are you hitting me?"
Ferdinand was sweating. "Not only will I hit you, I'll flush you down the toilet if you keep this up!"
Roman, feeling aggrieved, backed off.
Matt heard Ferdinand's voice and dropped the stun baton he had picked up. Roman, still wanting to argue, looked over and fell silent. Matt was not Tony Stark—he did not have high-tech weapons, but his fighting style was ruthless. Roman had not realized Matt was carrying a stun baton, and if he had pressed his attack, he might have ended up paralyzed.
He broke into a cold sweat, realizing his big brother had just saved his life.
Inside Satan's Mansion, chaos erupted as Corey's death was finally discovered.
Outside, John stood with his arms crossed, looking at his father's battered car.
"The good news is, the car still starts," he said. Despite its battered appearance, there was no real internal damage. The bullet holes in the glass had not penetrated the inner layers. John's father had modified the car to look like a business vehicle, but beneath the surface, it was a supercar with the defense of a tank.
When Roman heard the car's owner was coming, he felt as guilty as a child caught stealing. His brother had exaggerated the boss's reputation so much that Roman feared ending up in cement at the bottom of the Atlantic.
"Lawyer Matt, from a professional perspective, how long do you go to jail for stealing a car worth millions?" Roman asked nervously.
Matt, having rescued the children and changed back into his suit, replied, "More than ten years."
Roman's face went pale. Would he spend the rest of his life in prison?
John laughed. "The car's been modified in many places. The shell is alloy, and the glass is damaged. The repair bill is twenty-five."
Roman wailed and pulled out what little money he had. "This is all I have."
The prize money from Brooklyn was not enough to cover the repairs. He had hoped to win big at the Death Race, but the chaos meant no one cared about the champion, and he could not collect his winnings.
John took the money and smiled. "Very good. Your maintenance fee is paid."
"Really?" Roman was overjoyed. "The big boss is generous!"
"It's just enough, with your twenty-bundle bonus." John snapped his fingers.
Ferdinand, who had barely had time to enjoy his own bonus, untucked the bundles from his waistband and put them in the car, heartbroken.
Roman stared, realizing this was the closest he had ever come to such a sum. The money was gone in an instant, and his dreams of opening a repair shop vanished.
"I could have used that money to start a business," he muttered.
"Now it's my money," John said, twisting the knife. "And by the way, the cleaning fee for the car is ten thousand dollars."
Roman, already devastated, fell into despair. He had won two races and still ended up in debt.
Fudge staggered out of Satan's Mansion, clutching the car door and vomiting. "For God's sake, there are giant snakes in there eating people. We need to leave before the reporters arrive."
He had never seen anything so wild. The Viper Gang's boss had been killed by his own snake. The place was in chaos, and the celebrities inside could not risk being photographed in such a violent scene.
"Matt, when did you get out?" Fudge? he asked, wiping his mouth. "Where were you?"
"Lawyer Matt is handling my theft case," John replied. "Now he owes me thirty thousand."
"Thirty thousand?!" Roman wailed. "Didn't you just pay ten thousand?"
"This back seat is real leather," John said, pointing to where Fudge had vomited.
"Then you should make him pay!" Roman protested, not even knowing Fudge.
"Because he is your attorney now," John said with a smile. "Otherwise, you would be in jail."
Roman could only grit his teeth and accept his fate.
Fudge had wanted to place a bet for John, but there was no time. "It's all right. That is your commission," John said, stuffing money into Fudge's pocket. "There will be more trouble in the future."
Fudge wanted to refuse, but the money was too good.
"By the way," John said, pausing before getting into the pickup, "I know a good tailor. Your clothes do not fit, Matt. I suppose you cannot see that."
Matt thought for a moment and replied, "Thank you for the recommendation. I might order a set."
The pickup drove away. Roman took his battered car to a repair shop, and the two lawyers watched them go.
"He's a weirdo, and he's not right in the head," Fudge said, patting his heavy pocket. "But he has money."
"You don't know," he added, "that guy actually let one person kill another."
Fudge was beginning to understand why Matt wanted nothing to do with John.
Matt's mind wandered. As they walked down the street, a black SUV started up. Inside was Madame Gao, who had left earlier. Matt's head snapped back. He could not hear a heartbeat from the car. As it drove away, Matt's face grew more solemn.
Hell's Kitchen was only getting more complicated.