Marvel Multiverse Gacha

Setting up the camera, John broke the silence. "You know, Kilgrave," he said, his tone sharp but calm, "do you realize how weak you really are?"

Kilgrave glared at him, his defiance flickering, but the tension in his body betrayed him.

He knows me.

"I'm not talking about your powers," John continued, adjusting the tripod and angling the lens toward Kilgrave. "Those are impressive—no argument there. But your choices? Your thoughts? That's where you're pathetic."

Kilgrave's body stiffened, and though his eyes burned with anger, there was a flicker of doubt.

"You could've done so much more," John said, pacing slowly in front of him. "You had the kind of power most people can't even dream of. You could've built your own empire—ruled nations. Instead, you stayed small. Petty. You wasted it."

He stopped, turning to fully face Kilgrave, his gaze icy. "And the worst part? You crossed paths with them."

Kilgrave's breath hitched as John gestured toward Daredevil and Punisher, who stood quietly to the side.

"Oh, it's not because they're special," John continued, his tone casual, almost taunting. "Well, they are, but that's not why you screwed up."

John pointed toward Daredevil. "Take him, for example. The so-called Devil of Hell's Kitchen. By day, he's a blind lawyer, preaching justice and law. By night? He's out there beating the crap out of people, breaking the same laws he claims to uphold. Hypocritical, don't you think?"

Daredevil shifted slightly, his silence confirming that John's words struck a nerve. He already suspected John knew his identity, and this was proof.

"And don't let the blindness fool you," John continued. "His other senses? They're insane. Like, superhuman insane. He can hear heartbeats well enough to tell if someone's lying. Can you even imagine? A blind man who 'sees' the truth better than you ever could."

Kilgrave's gaze darted toward Daredevil, his confidence cracking under the weight of the revelation.

Punisher stood silently, his eyes narrowing. He'd known Daredevil had enhanced senses, but he hadn't realized just how precise they were. It gave the vigilante an edge even Frank couldn't match.

"And then there's Punisher," John said, turning to face the silent vigilante. "Ex-Marine, black ops, all-around badass. He doesn't need superpowers or fancy gadgets to be dangerous. He's in near-peak physical condition, and the dude knows more about warfare than most generals."

John paced toward Kilgrave, his voice calm but intense. "Without superpowers—no healing factor, no enhanced strength or crazy durability like Jessica—he's still one of the deadliest fighters alive.

Kilgrave's eyes widened, the full weight of who he was dealing with sinking in. The man he'd controlled last night wasn't just dangerous—he was a force of nature.

"You've heard of SHIELD, haven't you?" John asked casually. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division?"

Kilgrave's reaction was immediate. His eyes widened, his shoulders tensed. Of course, he'd heard of SHIELD. Everyone with powers had. They were the big dogs, the ones who cleaned up messes like him.

"Yeah, I thought so," John said, smirking. "Let's just say Punisher here could hold his own against some of their top agents. And that's without any fancy tricks or enhancements."

Punisher glanced at John, his expression unreadable, but the slight twitch of his eyebrow betrayed his surprise. He wasn't used to people knowing this much about him—let alone calling him out so openly.

"You know," John said, adjusting the camera again, "it'd be a lie to say I don't like these two. Daredevil, Punisher—they're heroes. Well, antihero in Frank's case. I respect what they stand for. I'm not saying I'd throw myself in front of a bullet for them, but if I can help? I will."

Kilgrave's gaze shifted between John, Daredevil, and Punisher. The defiance in his expression was giving way to unease.

John's tone turned cold, his words cutting like a knife. "And that's where you messed up. Attacking them while I'm working with them? That's a no-go."

John stepped closer to Kilgrave, leaning down so their faces were inches apart. "See, if you'd hurt them before I got involved, I wouldn't have cared. But now? They're my teammates. And going after them? That's like spitting in my face."

Kilgrave swallowed hard, his bravado cracking under the weight of John's words. For once, he didn't have a snarky comeback or a smug retort.

John straightened up and took a step back, giving Kilgrave a moment to stew in his own fear. Then, he pulled something small from his pocket—a glass vial filled with a clear liquid. He held it up, letting the light catch on the glass.

"Can you guess what this is?" John asked, his tone calm but sharp. Kilgrave didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the vial.

"It's called Veritaserum," John explained. "Colorless, odorless, and impossible to tell apart from water. One dose of this, and you'll spill every truth, no matter how hard you try to hold it in."

Kilgrave flinched slightly, his mind racing. He wanted to call John's bluff, to insist it was fake, but a small voice in the back of his head reminded him of the camera setup John had pulled out of a pouch too small to hold it. If he could do that, what else was he capable of?

"You know," John began, his voice quieter, more serious, "this stuff isn't exactly easy to come by. Actually, getting it at all was pure luck. The kind of luck you don't count on happening twice."

Kilgrave swallowed, his usual arrogance slipping as the gravity of the moment began to sink in.