Author's note: This is a work of fiction, making no financial earnings on the characters by Marvel. This is simply a love letter to Stan Lee and the dark and gritty atmosphere of the Netflix Marvel series, both of which have died recently at the time of this writing. The story will only start out with one or two heroes, but with hope, will become something more.

...

Chapter 1: Justice is Blind

"Daniel Britto," came a voice beside him. His tone accusing and smug. Daniel's brown and scornful eyes met the blue ones of the judge, "I asked how do you plead?"

"Not guilty, you're honor," calmly replied Britto with a light hispanic accent. The audience and jury gasped together in unison. Britto was charged with 27 charges of murder, 16 manslaughters, 15 extortion, 3 drug trafficking, 1 rape, 1 attempted murder, and knowledge being withheld for human trafficking.

"Mr. Britto, you do realize that the procecution has evidence beyond a doubt to convict you of over half of these charges?"

"I do realize that, Judge Harris" Britto said as he looked cooly at the procecution. A blind lawyer. What's New York City gonna pop out next? It would make sense why he took Britto's case unlike every other prosecutor. They had the common ability to physically see the handiwork of him and his gang, the Enforcers. Their boss owned most legal and illegal sources in the city, a literal kingpin of crime.

Still, Britto knew Oscorp would get somebody to do it and he was surprised it wasn't their own lawyers. Guess they didn't want to lose anyone. They had enough money and when the man in black had caught him a week after the Oscorp raid, Britto thought his employers would let him go until Oscorp recognized him.

Now, it was the case of the year. Danny Britto, the Enforcer, against a blind lawyer, Matthew Murdock. The papers were calling it 'The Case of Blind Justice'. The easiest case that no one would take out of fear of an almost imminent death.

"Very well, the prosecution may begin," said the late middle aged Judge Harrison. The blind lawyer stood up, using his cane to get to the middle of the room. "Danny Britto," the brown haired man said, gazing at where the killer sat. Danny squirmed a little. Feeling like the blind lawyer could see right past his pitch black glasses. "You see this man and what he's accused of, what he can do to you, is terrifying. To be honest with you, I debated a day or two with my partner here to see if we wanted to take this case. We're traditionally public defenders, and after this trial we plan to be again. However when Oscorp approached us and explained that an anomaly never before seen in history: that every single soul, no matter the money, fame, or just the fact it is moral to prosecute these charges would take this case out of fear of death. And it was the last point, the fact that it's the moral thing to do, that got Mr. Nelson and I to take this case. Because no one else would do it, and because it has to be done."

...

"I can't believe they got this son of a bitch," said Freddie as he bit into his sandwich and staying glued to the tv. Until another fire at least, "I tell you, Danny, gives your name a bad name. Ain't nobody gonna be wanting to name their kid that after today."

"Fuck you, Freddie," Danny responded, "At least I got a lot longer to live than him...or you're old ass."

"If we go by age then sure, but I sure as shit didn't survive this long by being stupid like your dumbass."

"Okay, Freddie, first of a-,"

"Now there, gentlemen," came a strange looking man, "I'm sure he didn't mean nothing by it.". The man was dressed in blue jeans, a plaid button up shirt, a belt with a buckle on it, and a cowboy hat. The lasso on his side completed the cowboy facade.

"It's nothing, man, just someone crossing the line with respect," said Freddie, "Speaking of which, civilians are not allowed here."

"You know," he said with a southern draw and some grizzle down his throat, "Respect means a lot to me. If you show me respect, I promise to pay it in kind."

"Alright, cowpoke," Danny said as he stood up, "I think you've been playing to much Red Dead or having to much to drink. Probably both." The cowboy pointed up at the tv. Danny slowed his approach as he did it. It felt off. Something felt very off.

"Now that man, right up there, has more honor and integrity to the job then anyone else I know," the cowboy was quiet for a moment, letting the two firemen soak the sentence in, "Now, he is a man of great character whom I respect and admire almost to the fullest. So much so that I would assemble a team of the greatest hitmen and have them peel this entire firestation apart." The door upstairs leading to the clubhouse opened revealing not firefighters, but blood soaked killers. Danny and Freddie turned around to see the intruders. Three of them were larger men. Two of them bald of similar build, height, and faces. The biggest difference was one had a buzzcut while the other one was truly bald. The third being smaller, but having bloodied knuckles and light messy brown hair. The last one to accompany them was a much skinnier and smaller man who was of mixed decent and adorning an impressive handlebar mustache. His arm seemed to be out of place. The firefighters watched in disgust as he casually popped it back into place. It was the last thing Freddie saw as the cowboy pulled a revolver and shot him in the back of the head.

"FRED! FU-," the cowboy had cut Danny's words off by throwing his whip at him and managing to lasso his neck with it. Hitting a button at the hilt, the lasso extended and tossed the hilt end over a railing on the ceiling. Danny was already struggling for air, not noticing the cowboy had let go of the hilt and grabbed it back. But he did notice it when he pressed the button again. He noticed the whip getting smaller. He noticed it's grip getting tighter. He noticed he wasn't on the floor anymore. After that, Danny didn't notice much of anything else.

"Hey, guys, get this," the cowboy said, "Boy's name was Danny."

"That's fucked up, Montana," said the buzzcut large man.

"Boys, I believe we've got a job to do," said a new man who came from where Montana had entered not five minutes ago. He had silver hair though appeared to be very young, having a set of goggles and wearing all blue: jeans, jacket, and gloves. In his fists, he held two small strange devices. "We've gotta free our Danny so that the Danny you just murdered in cold blood wasn't that, cold blood."

"Oh, come on, Shultz," Montana responded, "Just start the firetrucks." Shultz then went to the firetrucks and aimed his small devices at the ignition. With little difficulty, the ignition turned without a key. He proceeded to do this two more times. "Gentlemen, you know what the Kingpin said. Oscorp is to large an opponent for him to even consider using his resources to free Danny. We are on our own out here. You know what this means. Don't fuck up."

...

"How does the jury plea?" asked Judge Harrison. Murdock and Nelson had dismantled Britto. There was nothing he could do with these shit lawyers he had. Just as Britto planned. He had to go down hard in one day.

"Guilty, you're honor."

"Then, Mr. Britto, it pleasures me to say that you'll have life in prison with no chance of parole. I would have gladly given you the death penalty, but you had better thank this prosecution as they had a strict no death penalty rule for themselves and did not ask for one. But I promise you, Mr. Britto, you'll spend the rest of your life in a cage."

"Still live longer than you, old man," Britto said as he spit at the judge.

"Get this literal monster out of my sight." And with that, the one day case had just put these two nobody lawyers on the radar. If they could survive that long.