The thing about new players in town was that they never really heeded the warnings. They, of course, have heard of the infamous Daredevil keeping the streets of Hell's Kitchen clean, but like many before them, they always seem to think that they would never be caught by him. That their predecessors were probably a bunch of dumbasses to have let themselves get caught by some do-gooder in a red costume.
This one, for instance, was an experienced weapons smuggler, thinking much the same way, having gotten his experience elsewhere. In Hell's Kitchen, things didn't quite work like they did in other places.
The red figure squatted on the edge of a tall building, giving off the impression of a gargoyle, unmoving in the cool night breeze. This night smelled like any other nights to him: pollution, rain, sea and concrete. Police sirens, the hum of engines, footsteps, lighters being lit, glasses clanking against other glasses, laughter, screams, snores and barking were just a few examples of the things he was able to hear this time of the day. However, none of those counted as he concentrated on the deal being made in the secluded corner below him.
The buyer was obviously tense. So far he hadn't caught Daredevil's attention, as the vigilante focused on taking care of the matter of Wilson Fisk. Now that the Kingpin was behind bars, however, he wasn't quite so safe, and he knew it.
'Are you sure nobody followed you?' He asked the seller. 'You can never be too careful, not with that masked psycho running around on the streets.'
'Calm down, old man,' said the seller. 'The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can stop worrying about that wanker catching us with our pants down.'
The buyer grunted, unconvinced.
'You sure know how to make a client feel better,' he muttered. He shifted his weight, putting one hand on his hip and the other on his chin. He was studying the crates inside the van before him, filled with automatic rifles and ammo. 'I'll give a thousand for each box,' he declared.
'Now you just want to rip me off,' the seller complained.
'Do you want to get rid of this incriminating amount of weaponry before your next shipment or not?' The buyer asked, obviously not wanting to spend more money or time there than absolutely necessary.
His time was running out, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen didn't need a lot of it. He slipped off the side of the building, soundless and unnoticed by the bodyguards hired by both parties of the ordeal. Silently, he approached the closest one, taking him down with a single, swift move. No one noticed a thing, not yet. He was able to take down one more bodyguard before being spotted by the rest, but even then he was able to slip out of their sight and attack them unawares. The whole thig was over in just over a minute, and the police, drawn in by reports of gunshots in the area, found a handful of criminals prepared for arrest.
Watching it all go down from blocks away was a man, perched on his own spot on the roof of yet another tall building. Sharp eyes followed the red suit as he fled the scene, navigating the rooftops with ease.
'Target spotted,' he murmured as he started towards the direction Daredevil was headed, aiming to cut him off instead of chasing him.