death of me ? daredevil

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The city was quiet tonight, an eerie calm hanging over Hell's Kitchen. Maeve stood at the edge of the alley, her senses alert, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She had just stepped out of Frank's warning and into a fresh new threat. Fisk was making his move again, and he wasn't known for playing nice.

Echo's heart raced in her chest as the shadows seemed to shift around her, every movement amplified by her heightened perception. She could hear every distant siren, every footstep on the street above, every breath that filled the space around her. Even the heartbeat of Daredevil, still lingering nearby, thudded like a drum in her ears.

This is it, she thought, taking one last breath. This is what I'm here for.

The familiar weight of her powers thrummed under her skin, and with one quick glance to the side, she saw Daredevil slip into the shadows. His movements were quick, calculated—he didn't need the cane to navigate through the dark alleys. He had honed his other senses to perfection, his body a finely tuned instrument for battle. Maeve moved, her own footsteps silent as she darted into the streets, following the trail that led toward Fisk's territory. The area was silent for the most part, but there were still too many thugs scattered around. No doubt they'd been stationed there to keep watch over whatever dark dealings Fisk had going on behind closed doors.

She paused just at the corner of a rundown building, listening intently. Her mind reached out, seeking the presence of anyone in the area. The low hum of a few nearby figures seeped into her mind—two, maybe three. They weren't close enough to be an immediate threat, but Maeve knew that could change quickly.

Stay alert, she reminded herself.

Then came the faintest sound—a soft whoosh of air as Daredevil moved into position, his agility allowing him to scale the side of the building with little more than a whisper. He was up there, watching.

Maeve's pulse quickened, her body ready for the fight ahead. She reached out with her mind, focusing on the low murmurs of a conversation nearby. The voices were muffled, but they were talking about Fisk. She needed to know more.

"... got the shipment ready, should be in tomorrow," one of them said.

"Fisk wants it clean. No mess," the other responded, his voice low and rough.

Maeve's eyes narrowed. This was what she'd been waiting for—proof that Fisk was pulling strings, making moves, and using the chaos of the city to his advantage. She wanted to hear more, but the words weren't enough to go on just yet.

Stay hidden, Maeve thought to herself, feeling Daredevil's presence above. She didn't need to see him to know where he was. His movements, even his breath, were as familiar to her as her own.

Without warning, she launched herself forward, her steps soundless as she closed the distance between her and the two thugs. In an instant, Maeve was between them, her powers giving her an edge that no one could match. The first thug barely had time to react before Maeve's sonokinetic blast sent him crashing into a nearby dumpster, his body slamming into the metal with a sickening thud.

The second man drew his gun, but Maeve was faster. Her hand shot out, her powers crackling through the air as she disarmed him with a quick burst of sound. The gun flew from his hand and skidded across the pavement, coming to a stop several feet away.