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Daredevil knew he wasn't going to get anything useful if he kept poking, so he got straight to the point.

"Do you know Kingpin?" he asked, his voice steady but pressing. He needed to get a read on this guy—figure out how much he knew before deciding what came next.

John's mind jumped, pulling up fragmented images and associations: Kingpin… Wilson Fisk… collider… bald… fat. It all fell into place fast.The guy was impossible to ignore if you paid even the slightest attention to the city's underworld. He himself uses the low level members of kingpin gangs to increase assimilation.

"I know," he replied casually, as if it were common knowledge. If Coulson is the village chief of marvel then kingpin is the first boss monster most protagonists have to deal with in early stage.

Without waiting for a follow-up, he turned and strolled deeper into the alley, stepping over the unconscious bodies like they were trash on the sidewalk. No second glance, no hesitation.

Daredevil followed.

"We want to deal with him," he said, breaking the silence.

That made John stop. He turned back, his expression blank except for a flicker in his eyes. We. That was a word worth coming back to later. For now, he focused on the rest of the statement.

"Deal with him?" he echoed, skepticism dripping from his voice. He studied Daredevil, his sharp gaze trying to dig under the mask. He didn't think the guy was naive enough to believe it would be that simple.

People loved the idea of a single villain. They wanted to believe taking down one big bad would solve all their problems. But that wasn't how things worked. Not here. Not anywhere.

Taking out Kingpin wouldn't fix Hell's Kitchen. Hell's Kitchen would burn.

His mind churned through the grim math. Killing Kingpin wouldn't make the city safer; it'd make it worse. Fisk's empire—the smuggling, the rackets, the "peacekeeping deals" with other gangs—was like duct tape holding a crumbling wall together. Without him, everything would fall apart.

"You sure you wanna keep going?" John said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm curious what's rattling around in that head of yours."

For a second, Daredevil didn't answer, like he was weighing how much to say. Then he took a step forward, voice quiet but firm. "Kingpin's not just a man. He's the embodiment of everything wrong with this city—greed, corruption, power unchecked. Taking him down isn't about revenge. It's about sending a message."

John laughed, dry and humorless. "A message? You think the scumbags running around here give a damn if Fisk's gone? You take him out, they'll just see an opportunity. Blood in the water. A feeding frenzy."

Daredevil's jaw tightened, but he held his ground. "Maybe. But if we don't act, nothing changes. The cycle keeps spinning, Fisk gets stronger, and more people get hurt. At least if we dismantle his operation, we can weaken the cycle. Buy people time to figure out what's next."

"Time? That's a nice story, Red, but this isn't a Disney movie," John said, shaking his head. "Take Fisk out, and you'll have every wannabe crime boss crawling out of the woodwork, clawing at each other for what he left behind. Hell's Kitchen doesn't 'recover.' It doesn't heal."

"Maybe not," Matt admitted. "But that doesn't mean we let fear stop us. Every fight, every stand—it matters. Not because it fixes everything, but because it shows people they don't have to accept this. That there's hope."

That word made John pause. Hope. He didn't trust it. Hope wasn't something that stuck around. It was slippery, fragile. It let people down more often than it lifted them up.

He stared at Daredevil, searching for cracks in that certainty, but there weren't any. The guy was dead serious. And that made him dangerous.

"You really think you can make a difference?" John asked, his voice softer this time.

Matt didn't hesitate. "I have to. If I don't try, who will?"

He took another step forward. "I know what happens if Kingpin falls. I know it'll get worse before it gets better. The vultures will come, and it'll be chaos for a while".

"Then why bother?" John pressed, his voice edged with challenge. "Why not leave things as they are? At least Fisk keeps some kind of order. Take him out, and every two-bit thug in the city will be fighting over the scraps."

Daredevil stepped closer, his voice low but resolute. "Because order built on fear and exploitation isn't order—it's oppression. People deserve better than what Fisk gives them."

John studied him in silence, trying to decide if Daredevil was brave or just stupid. Probably both and that what make people like him .

"You're an idealist," he muttered, his voice so low it was almost swallowed by the ambient noise of the city. Almost.

But Daredevil's superhuman hearing didn't miss a beat.

"Maybe," Daredevil said with a shrug. "But I'm not ignorant. I've been in this fight long enough to know what happens when power like Fisk's is left unchecked. He's not just another bad guy; he's the rot that's eating this city alive.And I need to know if you're in or out."

John didn't answer right away. His thoughts were racing, picking apart Matt's words and running them through the cold logic he trusted more than hope.

He wasn't like Daredevil. He didn't fight for hope or to inspire change. For John, it was survival.

Hell's Kitchen was a mess, and Fisk was a big part of why. Standing on the sidelines wasn't an option. But John didn't have Matt's moral high ground.

I've got Jason Todd's skills but none of his tools, he thought bitterly. No Wayne money, no Bat-tech. If I want to hit Jason full potential, I need gear. Fisk's takedown might be the way to get it. John thought making his decision.

It wasn't about hope. For John, the choice was clear.

It was about staying alive.

*********

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