"Yes!"
The bullet hit the bullseye.
Bullseye raised an eyebrow. Did he just realize how... majestic his ex-boss's corpse looked?
Was this a turning point for him? Out with the old, in with a new boss—one who could crush both heroes and villains alike.
They were all monsters in their own way, just playing different games in the same cesspool.
After decades in the underworld, Bullseye had worn many masks: mercenary, assassin, enforcer, even a twisted mockery of a lawyer once during a scheme involving Matt Murdock.
His history with Wilson Fisk—Kingpin—went back years. They hadn't worked together in a decade, but men like them never truly severed ties.
Still, stabbing Heisenberg in front of Fisk? Yeah, that was the final nail in that coffin.
Now?
Now it was Bullseye's time.
No one was going to stop Mr. Bullseye from living his best life.
With that confidence, he turned to leave the reception room, satisfied.
But he hadn't even taken a full step when Heisenberg's voice rang out behind him.
"Hey, hold up a second."
Bullseye paused. Heisenberg was smiling—sincerely, it seemed.
"Look at that," Heisenberg gestured to Kingpin's crumpled form. "Don't forget to clean that up. It's too messy."
"Uh…"
Bullseye blinked. Too messy? Seriously? The Kryptonian psycho had done the deed himself!
These bosses were all the same—hypocritical and full of contradictions.
Still, Bullseye bowed his head slightly, voice calm. "My bad. I'll send someone to clean it."
"Mhm."
Satisfied, Heisenberg let him go. Bullseye left to call some of his old crew.
Heisenberg didn't care whether Bullseye betrayed him or not. If he did… well, it'd be time to 'clean house.'
He turned his attention back to Barbara.
She was still tense. When Heisenberg approached, she instinctively backed up half a step.
But she recovered quickly. She knew fear had no place in her job.
Even if Heisenberg disgusted her sometimes.
"You really need to stop producing so much blood," she muttered, flinching as she eyed the mess.
"Haha, first time killing a crime lord. I'll try to be gentler next time," Heisenberg chuckled.
He was grinning inside. Acting like a charming rogue had its perks.
"They're all goblins…," he mused.
Adults know how the world works. But sometimes, pretending to be naive makes things easier.
He gave no mind to the unease radiating from S.H.I.E.L.D.—or Barbara herself—and asked gently, "Now that it's done, why don't we hit up my nightclub? I need someone smart to help run the place. Never managed one before."
"Of course," Barbara said, feigning reluctance. "You're my top priority. Even if I end up as your babysitter."
"Car parked downstairs or… shall I fly you there?"
"Fly?" Barbara gasped, eyes widening as she grabbed his hand. There was excitement, but also uncertainty.
"I…" she hesitated. "I can actually fly?"
"As long as you let me carry you."
"Well, go ahead! Just don't squeeze too tight—let's fly!"
"…Seriously?" Heisenberg mumbled, looking down at the giddy agent now snuggled against him.
Barbara Morse, a S.H.I.E.L.D. elite and future Avenger—Mockingbird—wasn't faking it. Not completely.
She had ways of flying—jetpacks, gliders, Quinjet. But this? Being lifted by a Kryptonian? That was new.
Heisenberg took off, soaring toward the sky.
He aimed for the high clouds, wanting to impress her.
But before he got far, he halted midair in alarm.
Barbara's eyes rolled back, her nose bleeding.
"My God," he muttered. "That was too fast!"
He forgot the biological positioning—the physics of flying with a human. Superman always held people close to his center of mass. No flailing limbs, no sonic booms.
Heisenberg looked down at Barbara and sighed.
Maybe next time, he'd leave the flying theatrics to Kal-El.
Of course Superman has the strength to lift a mountain—but strength alone isn't enough. If he simply tried to push from beneath, the mountain's own structural integrity would fail. The pressure would cause Superman to pass through the rock like a knife through butter, and the mountain would collapse under its own weight.
So how does Superman lift such immense objects without destroying them?
The answer lies not just in brute force—but in Kryptonian biology.
After exposure to Earth's yellow sun, Kryptonians develop an additional energy-based biological system—a "solar-absorptive bio-electric aura"—a kind of second circulatory system distinct from the digestive or respiratory systems. This system absorbs and stores solar radiation, empowering Kryptonians with their trademark abilities: heat vision, super strength, frost breath, and more.
But most importantly—it generates a bioelectric field, also called the bio-force field, which forms around their body and anything they physically touch. This field allows Superman to interact with objects at his level of strength without instantly pulverizing them.
In other words, Superman's body protects what he carries—not by perfect balance or careful physics, but by extending his invulnerability to other objects through his bio-field.
That's why Lois Lane can fly through the stratosphere in Superman's arms without her eardrums bursting or her body freezing. It's not just romance—it's physics made possible by Kryptonian biology.
Heisenberg remembered all this as he struggled to stabilize Barbara. He needed to replicate this ability—this "biological stance"—to protect her.
Thanks to his enhanced Kryptonian brain, he quickly understood the principle: it wasn't about shifting space or balancing universal forces. It was about projecting the solar-charged energy field around his body to envelop and protect what he touched.
He concentrated on the sensation of releasing energy—not as an attack like heat vision or frost breath, but as a diffuse aura from his skin, not dissimilar to electromagnetic fields.
Could it be through the pores?
Maybe. But regardless of the mechanism, it was working.
In two minutes, Heisenberg ran thousands of calculations, optimizing how his bio-electric field interacted with external mass. Then he smiled.
He turned toward Barbara, who was just recovering on the sofa where he'd left her. She looked dizzy and disheveled, but determined—clearly not someone who would give up easily.
"Sorry I surprised you," he said, beckoning her with a sheepish grin. "Feeling any better?"
"Emmm…" She hesitated, clearly seeing through his grin. "I don't handle G-force well. Never got a full score in flight class. I think 6 G is my upper limit."
"No trouble. I was careless," Heisenberg said. "Come on—I've got it now. I've stabilized my field. Let's try again."
"No, no—I'm still—UHHHH!!!"
Before she could finish, he launched into the sky with her in his arms.
This time, he was faster—But she didn't feel crushed.
She screamed, yes, but it was more from exhilaration than pain.
Because something was different.
When Heisenberg leveled off at 20,000 meters, he loosened his grip. And Barbara... floated beside him. Weightless. Untouched by the cold or the lack of pressure.
He'd done it.
He'd established his own bio-electric field, shielding her as effortlessly as Superman does.
Heisenberg had achieved his Kryptonian "biological stance."
He succeeded.