「Ding— [Zi-O SB-555DK] has been acquired」
「Ding— [Zi-O SB-555DK] > A door knob that can open a portal to the user's demand, with several limitations:
1. Can only cover up to 10,000 km between two ends.
2. Cannot access other dimensions or parallel worlds.
3. Doesn't function under strong electromagnetic forces.
4. The range of destinations is heavily affected by the time it is used. The user must manually record locations.
5. Once the user teleports and closes the door, the originating portal vanishes. Leaving it open risks being stranded.
6. The door can be locked to prevent pursuit.」
Although Sougo doesn't need to pay like other Marvel magicians, the ability still consumes his physical and mental energy, even burning his Orphenoc DNA. After using it six times over short distances, he's left exhausted and unable to stand. His mind becomes cluttered, making concentration impossible. However, compared to the steep costs other mages pay, Sougo considers himself lucky.
These abilities are upgradeable, but Sougo has yet to discover how. For now, he enjoys simple advantages—like instantly moving between his psych clinic and a house two streets away. The best part? S.H.I.E.L.D. can no longer track him.
---- Hell's Kitchen ----
On the bed in Sougo's Psychological Clinic, Daredevil Matt let out a strained groan. Sougo removed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball from the tweezers and sighed. "I know no one's coming, but still—tense up, or I won't get this bullet out."
Matt gritted his teeth as Sougo wiped the tweezers clean, then carefully widened the wound. "You could at least give me some anesthesia. I don't want to pass out from shock."
"A superhero afraid of pain? Should I laugh or be impressed?" Sougo smirked.
Matt exhaled sharply. "Not many people can actually hurt me, but Kingpin found someone special this time."
Sougo examined Matt's pale face. His lips had lost nearly all color. Pain tolerance varied from person to person, and Matt was more sensitive than most. It reminded Sougo that superheroes weren't invincible—they bled, they suffered. Maybe Batman had abandoned his thirst for vengeance after enduring unbearable pain time and again, eventually finding a better path.
Only the pursuit of true justice could drive these heroes to lick their wounds alone, night after night.
Sougo put the tweezers down, pulled out a small white bottle, and handed it to Matt. "You're lucky, Matt."
Matt's eyes narrowed. "Damn it… How do you even have this? You junkie?"
Sougo rolled his eyes. "It's the strongest concentration available. Either take it or pay me back—this stuff isn't cheap."
Matt reluctantly swallowed a pill, the pain fading bit by bit. He hated to admit it, but Sougo was right. In Hell's Kitchen, taking drugs was probably the most harmless vice around. Compared to the murderers and lunatics roaming the streets, a mere addict seemed almost angelic.
As Matt's complexion recovered, Sougo crossed his arms. "So, how'd you end up in this mess?"
"Kingpin hired some guys. I prepared for the worst, but these so-called 'ninjas' can lower their heartbeats. I never heard them coming—"
Matt froze as Sougo held up the extracted bullet, turning it over between his fingers. "Well, whoever they are, they've got time to spare. They even carved cherry blossom patterns into the bullet."
Sougo tossed the bullet onto a tray and began wrapping Matt's wound with bandages.
"You better recover fast. I have to get out of here soon."
"And die on the street outside?" Sougo asked.
"They're tracking me. Those ninjas have unique techniques. If they come here, we're both dead."
Matt didn't want to drag Sougo into this. The guy wasn't a saint, but he had saved his life. Before Sougo could respond, a sudden sharp noise cut through the room.
Matt's senses flared. "Dart! Move!"
He braced for the worst. Sougo wasn't a trained fighter—he had no chance. But instead of a fatal wound, there was a loud clang! The dart ricocheted off something solid.
Sougo lowered his arm, revealing a reinforced umbrella. "Miss, if you're hesitating this much, why not just have coffee with us instead?" He smirked. "Your old friend is being merciful. I've never seen an assassin aim for the least fatal spot between the shoulder blades. Since you're here, why not step out and say hello?"
A sharp scoff echoed in the air. Then, silence. The attacker had left.
Matt's mind reeled. "What? What old friend?"
Sougo shook his head. "Didn't you notice? Someone skilled enough to land a shot without you hearing it should've gone for your head or heart."
"Wasn't that bullet aimed at my heart?"
"Not even close."
Matt struggled to process the implication—until realization hit.
"Elektra…" he whispered.
Sougo sighed. "You still don't get it, do you? She doesn't love you, but she hesitated. That's why she ran. Don't waste time guessing a woman's mind."
Matt's body finally gave in, and he passed out from exhaustion. Sougo secured the clinic, locking the windows and shutting the blinds before gazing out at the New York night sky.
A meteor streaked across the horizon. Some couples below might have made wishes, but Sougo knew better. That wasn't a shooting star—it was Stark's suit.
He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Pepper knows you're flying around in your suit, right? Shouldn't you be home with her?"
The 'meteor' promptly crashed onto the roof of Sougo's clinic. Smoke rose from the battered Mark 5 armor as Stark groaned. "I should put you on my blacklist…"
Sougo smirked. "A middle-aged man sneaking out in a high-tech race car suit at night, avoiding his wife? Suspicious."
"She's putting a lot of pressure on me," Stark admitted. "I didn't… really think about—"
"Marriage?" Sougo cut in.
Stark coughed. "That's skipping a few steps, don't you think?"
"In your eyes, maybe. But are you different in her eyes?" Before Stark could retort, Sougo continued, "You haven't been with her as long as her chief security officer."
Stark scowled. "Then I'll fire the security guy."
He was dodging the real problem. Sougo could tell. Stark's emotions were tangled, and his usual arrogance masked his uncertainty.
To change the subject, Sougo asked, "How's that kid in the red and blue tights?"
"You mean the one swinging around like a flea? Jarvis says he's underage. I should grab him and send him home."
"I have a lead. Want to hear it?"
"He was near Hell's Kitchen. Kid's too scared to come inside, though. I saw a school logo on his pants—Queens."
Stark frowned. "You call that a lead?"
"He clearly can't afford a decent costume. That narrows it down to Midtown High or Forest High. Forest High's a boarding school—if any kid snuck out, their parents would break their legs. My guess? He's a freshman or sophomore, built his own tech, and can't wait to show off."
"New York isn't his playground," Stark muttered, watching the city lights. He knew better than anyone—something would happen to that kid sooner or later. And the media had already started paying attention.