wielding wind in Marvel

Midnight in Hell's Kitchen.

Luke stood at the edge of a rooftop, his hood pulled up, looking down at the city below. This was Hell's Kitchen—the Gotham of Marvel. He had arrived earlier that morning, and for a moment, he had wondered if the rumors were exaggerated. The streets didn't seem too different from the rest of New York.

But now, under the cover of night, the city revealed its true face.

Dark alleys hid more than just shadows. Desperation clung to the streets like a suffocating fog. The distant sound of sirens never stopped. Luke moved across the rooftops, jumping from building to building, searching for trouble. It didn't take long to find it.

"Please, please stop!"

Luke halted at the edge of a roof and looked down.

In the alley below, two men were beating an old homeless man, kicking him while he curled into himself on the ground.

Luke let out a small chuckle out of amusement. He remembered how, back in his old life, his gang used to do the same thing. Beating up homeless guys who got too close to their turf, using them for entertainment when there was nothing better to do. Back then, it had been just another part of life.

The men finally stopped, one of them grabbing the old man by the collar. "Listen up. If you want to get paid, you better do what we told you. Bring us a kid. A good one. Not one of the dirty, useless ones."

He spat on the man before shoving him back to the ground. Then they left.

Luke watched as the old man crawled to the entrance of the alley, where two young boys rushed to his side.

"Are you okay?" one of them asked.

The old man coughed, his breathing ragged. "I'm… I'm okay. I just—" He sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as he clutched his ribs.

"You need to rest," the second boy insisted. "We'll take care of you."

"No," the old man said firmly. "I promised I'd protect you when I found you. I need to do this."

Even though his body was clearly in pain, the man forced himself to stand. Then he started walking, step by agonizing step, disappearing into the night.

Luke watched in silence, his smirk long gone.

He had never given a second thought to the things he had done before. He and his old crew used to laugh about stuff like this. But now, seeing it from the outside, watching the desperation, the way the man's dignity had been reduced to nothing—it made something twist in Luke's gut.

He followed.

The old man wandered the streets, eventually finding a child—a boy, no older than seven. He coaxed him with a forced smile, whispering quiet reassurances. The kid, too innocent to recognize the danger, took the old man's hand and followed.

Luke's fists clenched.

Soon, they arrived at the pier.

A group of well-dressed men in suits were waiting, overseeing a sickening transaction. Several other homeless people were already there, exchanging kidnapped children for stacks of cash. No hesitation. No guilt.

The children were herded into a shipping container, their frightened eyes darting around as the metal doors swung shut. The suits locked it.

Luke landed behind them without a sound.

One of the men turned, raising an eyebrow. "Well, well. What's this? A Daredevil wannabe?"

Then he saw Luke's eyes.

The shadows of his hood cast his face in darkness, but his green eyes glowed in the dim light, filled with unfiltered rage. A promise of violence. Yes, back in his old life he was a criminal, but he only ever beat people up and Stole things that's how he does things that's how his gang does things

So, seeing these people actually kidnap kids to take them God knows where. made him furious.

Before the man could react, Luke flicked his wrist.

A powerful gust of wind yanked the entire group toward him, their bodies dragged helplessly through the air. Before they could even scream, Luke struck.

Bones shattered.

He didn't hold back. These people didn't deserve it.

By the time he was done, none of them would be walking for a long, long time.

Breathing heavily, Luke moved to the container, forcing the doors open. "Go. Get out of here."

The kids ran past him, disappearing into the night. He made sure they were all safe before turning to leave himself.

Then—

Thud.

Two light footsteps landed behind him.

Luke froze.

Slowly, he turned around.

A man stood there, dressed in red, a devil's mask covering his face. Twin batons rested in his hands. The symbol on his chest gleamed under the dim lights. The Symbol is of a two D

Who the hell is this guy?

Luke didn't recognize him, but after what he saw today, his stomach churned. He had originally planned to stick around for a while, but now? He just wanted to go home. He knew he'd see things like this more in the future, but for now, he needed to get away.

Raising a hand, he sent out a small wind blast—just enough to push the man back. But the stranger dodged it effortlessly.

Did he seriously dodge my wind attack?

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Luke didn't let him. He threw a punch in the air, unleashing a powerful wind blast—but the man dodged again. Luke threw another, and another, but nothing landed.

Alright, fine. Let's see how you handle this.

Luke switched tactics, weaving his hands to send waves of wind. When that didn't work, he started mixing wind blasts with the wind waves, forcing the man to react in different ways. But no matter what he did, the guy dodged every single one.

Luke narrowed his eyes. Enough of this. He dashed forward, closing the distance in an instant. Normally, that would be the end of a fight. But somehow, this guy wasn't just dodging—he was keeping up. He slipped past Luke's attacks and even managed to land hits of his own.

Luke swung his leg, but the man evaded it with ease and struck Luke's ankle. He threw a quick punch, but the stranger ducked and struck him hard in the ribs with both sticks slamming into his side.

Krrr… Luke gritted his teeth through the pain. He forced himself to push forward, but it was clear—close range wasn't an option.

He leaped into the air, using the wind to propel himself high. Looking down, he started throwing wind blasts from above. The man dodged, as expected, but then Luke did something new. He stopped attacking for a moment, making the man pause as well.

Then, out of nowhere, a wind blast came flying at him—without Luke moving.

The man still dodged.

What the hell? He shouldn't be able to predict the trajectory of my wind attacks without reading my movements. So why can he dodge even when I don't move?

Luke quickly adjusted his position in midair, flipping his body so his lower half pointed toward the sky. Then, with a powerful blast from his feet, he shot downward like a missile, his fist charged with wind.

You're not dodging this.

The man tried—but there was no time. Except—he threw one of his sticks. It struck Luke mid-air, knocking him slightly off course, just enough for the man to sidestep at the last moment.

Luke crashed into the ground, punching it with a wind fist on impact. The force made everything around them shake. He was about to use Sky Breath when—

Thwack!

Something hit him square in the forehead. A stick.

"Alright, I think you should seriously stop right there," the man said. "That last attack could've sent a shipping container flying. Let's not destroy the place."

Luke stood up, rubbing his forehead. He wanted to keep going, but then the man added, "If I wanted to end the fight, I would've thrown a knife instead of a stick."

Silence.

Luke clenched his jaw, then finally asked, "Who the hell are you?"

The man hesitated, then replied, "I can't give you my real name, but people call me Daredevil."

Luke frowned. "Wait—you're the Daredevil? The guy who's supposed to be this city's hero?"

"I'm not a hero," Daredevil said.

"Well, that doesn't matter." Luke crossed his arms. "Why the hell are you dressed like that? The whole reason I started fighting you was because I thought you were a bad guy. What kind of good guy dresses like the devil?"

Daredevil didn't say anything.

Seeing that, Luke switched topics. "You probably figured out who I am, right?"

"Yeah. You're Windwalker. A recent vigilante."

"If you know my name, you probably know my power," Luke said. "So tell me—how the hell did you dodge my wind attacks?"

Daredevil stayed quiet.

Luke narrowed his eyes. "My wind isn't visible. Not unless I condense it to the point where you can actually see it—like my Wind Fist. So how the hell are you dodging something you can't see?"

Daredevil didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject.

"Why did you come to Hell's Kitchen?"

Luke stiffened. The fight had distracted him, but now that Daredevil mentioned it—

He exhaled sharply. His fists unclenched. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

Under his breath, he muttered, "…to refocus."

He didn't know—but Daredevil heard him.