A thin cloud shifted and the sun re-emerged, its light glaring off the polished black casket. She had to look away. Karen's hair clung to her neck like a noose that she could only paw at helplessly. Foggy looked at her with a grimace and peeled his own hair away from his forehead. They squeezed each other's hands and peered at the priest through the insensitive sunlight.

'…and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. This body we commit to the ground, to the elements, its resting place.' Lantom shook off the heat like an unwelcome question and surveyed his audience, a black ring, suffering in the sun. 'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'

Foggy looked at his friend. Karen's hand was limp in his own. He had only been to one funeral before; his grandmother's, and although he was young and barely knew her, he still cried. He cried until he fell asleep in his dad's coat on the drive home. Now he was going to cry again and so was Karen.

'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. Yes, says the Spirit, the will rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them.'

Both their hands and their lips were trembling and a merciful cloud passed in front of the sun.

'Lord, we thank you for those we love but see no more.'

Lantom looked up and straight over to them. Foggy felt another stab of guilt over missing Ben's funeral. He mouthed the words so the priest could see, 'I'm sorry!' If he had spoken them he would have choked. The priest gave no reaction and continued. Foggy almost groaned.

'Receive into your arms your servant, Doris Urich, and grant that increasing in knowledge and love of you, she may go from strength to strength in service to your heavenly kingdom, through Jesus Christ our Lord.'

From inside the thick of the crowd, someone tentatively cleared their throat; a young woman. Her dark skin seemed to drink up the sunlight as she stepped towards the casket. She had a brown envelope in her hand and a red tinge to her eyes and nose. Foggy turned to Karen.

'That's her sister,' she said.

His heart sank a little.

Lantom put his hand on Jean Urich's shoulder and stepped away, joining the circle of mourners. The young woman stood at the head of her sister's casket and opened the envelope. Her fingers were steady and her puffy eyes surveyed the crowd. Every bowed head rose to watch her speak and the clouds gave them another reprieve.

'My sister was sick for a long time. So long I can't remember what she sounded like before. I know she didn't hold it against me but I wasn't there for her enough. I was… lazy and I let Ben do everything.'

Jean pulled a folded letter from the envelope, her dark eyes scanned the words.

'It wasn't until she lost Ben that we found each other again and by then it was too late. The only thing left to say was goodbye. She wouldn't let me apologise.'

Someone in the crowd blew into a tissue. Karen's eyes stung.

'It wouldn't be right for me, or anyone, to stand here and talk about Doris as if they were there for her through it all. The only person worth listening to was taken from her.'

Foggy squeezed Karen's hand again.

'I don't think anyone here thought we'd be missing him today and it's a cruel truth that he spent a long time preparing for a life without her that never came. It should be Ben up here. Instead I have a letter he intended to read today.'

Karen's grip tightened and Foggy gave a sharp yelp, passing it off as a whimper.

Jean cleared her throat again and read Ben's words.

'Every second I spent by your side meant something to me. Every second we spent apart I carried you with me. You made a good man out of me even when you weren't around. You're not really gone. We were never really apart. I'll miss you and I'll mourn you but I don't need to grieve because we'll always be together.'

Foggy looked at Karen with tears in his eyes, she was wiping away her own. Her grip on his hand had softened and the pain had dulled.

Jean folded the letter away and wiped her eyes. The sun had finally left them and a breeze played with the hem of her dress. 'Ben never had the chance to say these things to Doris but she did get the chance to hear them. I'm happy for that at least.'

Jean looked over to Father Lantom and then took her place once more within the crowd. Through the weary faces, Karen caught her eye and they smiled, faintly but sincerely at one another.

Lantom took Jean's place and waited for the crowd. Karen thought he had a patient face. The priest put his hand on Doris's casket and said the final words.

'After saying our final farewells, let us go forth in the certain hope of being reunited with Doris at the end of time. Go forth with God's peace and may the Almighty bless you now and forevermore. Amen.'

Lantom waited a moment and then bowed his head, walking over to Jean and the rest of Doris's family. He shook hands with every one of them. The black crowd dissipated listlessly, lifelessly, as though not to offend the dead. Foggy and Karen followed soon after.

'I know it's rich of me to say this but I'm pretty pissed off that Matt's not here.'

Karen nodded slightly. 'It is rich of you.'

'This is different, I was in a really, really bad place when Ben died.'

'We all were, Foggy.'

'But this is just… we owe Doris. He could at least pay his respects.'

They walked from the cemetery arm in arm and the hot, harsh sun returned.

'I think your judgement goes funny when money's involved, Foggy.'

Foggy groaned. 'I know you're right, but I'm going to continue being irritated. At least until we see Matt again and I forget all about it.'

Karen smiled weakly as they left the Urich's behind.

Three men inside. Tar and tobacco overtake the smell of the room. They're wearing old leather shoes and old leather jackets. One of them is coming to the end of a cold, another will develop throat cancer in a month's time. They're sat around a TV but it's on mute. One of them can't handle their drink. The door's made of thin steel and the hinges are rusted iron. Matt kicked it down. He threw his sticks smashing the TV, turning off the lights and crashing into the back of the smoker's head. He wasn't getting back up for a while. The other two approached him. Matt let them have the first shot. The man with the cold cracked a knuckle against Matt's helmet. Matt Murdock closed a hand around the back of the man's neck, raised a knee up towards his face and crushed his nose, leaving a swipe of blood on his costume. Matt drove his fist into the man's solar plexus, again to his left kidney and threw him into a chair. Matt turned towards the last man, the one who couldn't handle his drink. He pulled out a gun but Matt stood his ground. Two men in the dark, the devil and the drunk. The man cocked his gun, a round slid into the chamber, nine millimetre hollow points. He fired six times. He hit the wall, the door, the wall, the smoker's leg, the wall and the floor. Matt stepped forward and the drunk ran out the door, throwing his gun away.

The night was quiet now. Every distraction had been tucked in to bed. It was time to pay his respects. Matt retrieved his sticks and holstered them. One of the men had regained consciousness but continued to play dead. Matt grabbed him by the collar. The man with the cold tried to strike out but the blows glanced off Matt's armour and he returned them with a kick to the leg and a quick backhand to the right temple. Matt threw him against a wall, lifted him once more by the collar and waited for the man to stop whimpering. Matt pointed to the coffee table.

'Is that the only copy?'

The man lashed out again so Matt head-butted him in his crushed nose. He screamed.

'Are there any other copies?'

'Y-Yes.'

Matt grabbed him by the wrist and twisted. Another scream. 'I don't like being lied to.'

Matt gave the man's wrist a sharp twist and he fell to his knees. Matt picked the USB off the coffee table and made to leave, stepping over the busted door. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to the cowering man.

'Next time you won't be so lucky.'

Matt walked out and melted into the dark.

He had left his roses on a roof nearby. Matt changed out of his costume, into a suit and snuck down the fire escape. His sticks rattled gently in his old boxing grip bag. The cemetery was a short walk away.

Matt stopped at the gates. Somewhere close by, a muffled heart beat frantically. Someone had been buried alive. Matt rushed through the headstones, searching for the sound, following the scent of fresh earth. He concentrated on the vibrations from his footsteps, feeling them travel through sturdy soil until they reached a plot that seemed looser. Matt ran until he stood directly over the pounding heart. He did a quick scan of the cemetery to check if he was still alone and changed, again, back into his costume. He would have to wash the mud off his suit in the early morning. With his hands, Matt began to dig and soon after a bloodied man scrambled out of the shallow grave.

He was gasping and drenched in sweat. Only now could Matt hear just how furiously his heart had been beating. The man scraped dirt out of his eyes and squinting through the dark at Matt. His expression turned from relieved back to terrified and, suddenly, the stench of urine appeared. The man collapsed in a heap at Matt's feet.

'Please don't kill me!' he wailed. It was the drunk from earlier.

His voice rebounded off every headstone.

'That's not why I'm here. Who buried you?'

The man reeked so much Matt could hardly stand to be around him and his patience was quickly wearing out but he was traumatised to the point where Matt couldn't bring himself to hit him. The drunk wailed some more.

'Who did this to you?' Matt said, raising his voice.

The drunk spoke between cries. 'I… d-d-don't… know.'

Matt covered his nose. 'Well what did he look like, at least?' he said, irritated.

'Just a… g-guy.'

Matt no longer had any reservations about hitting him.

'What kind of guy?!' he shouted. The man flinched away and wailed some more.

'He was…' the man took some deep breaths, 'dressed all in black, like you used to, but instead of a mask he had a little white badge.'

'Just a white badge?'

'I th-think, maybe a skull.'

Matt listened. They were alone. Whoever it was, they hadn't stuck around. The drunk tried to stand but screamed instead. His clothes were soaked through with blood and sweat. Matt sighed.

'Hold still,' he said, putting a steadying hand on the drunk's shoulder. The man's shoulders relaxed and he sighed heavily. Matt knocked him out. It was a long walk to the hospital.

Foggy stacked his coins on the bar whilst Josie poured their drinks and Matt stood beside him in silence. Except, for Matt, it was never silent. Above them, music played from the TV, behind them the normal buzz of chatter filled the air, and, on the other side of the room, Karen tapped her phone on the edge of the table, waiting for them to return.

Foggy was staring at him.

'You know I'm sorry,' Matt said.

'Do I? Whoops, I forgot my stethoscope, guess I'll just have to take your word for it.'

Matt sighed and rolled his eyes behind his shades. 'Come on, Foggy.'

'I mean, how do I know you were out punching people, really?'

Josie set down their drinks and gave Foggy an indignant look as he slid his coin tower towards her.

'Last week, when I wanted to do Monopoly night, did you actually have to punch someone or was that just another excuse?'

Matt opened his mouth, hesitated, then took a sip of his drink instead.

'I can't believe you! The one chance I had to be the richest person in the room and you stood me up.'

'You still had Karen.'

'You know how much she hates capitalism, Matt. Besides, it sucks with only two players.'

'Okay, I really am sorry for that. Next time I will be one hundred percent in.'

'Yeah, you will be. Or I'm telling Karen.'

Foggy picked up the drinks and walked back to their table whilst Matt listened. He wasn't lying.

'You took your time,' said Karen.

'Matt was flirting with Josie again,' said Foggy, setting Karen's drink down in front of her. 'She's married, pal, let it go.'

Matt sighed and sat down.

'Is that what you were doing earlier, too?' she asked him.

'I'm sorry, Karen.'

'It's not me you should be apologising to. Do you know how much she left us? Money that Ben wanted her to live off?'

'Not exactly, no.'

'So what were you doing?'

Foggy buried his nose in his glass and looked away.

'I had a meeting with the police about Fisk and Hoffman. Somehow they've been put on the same cell row.'

Foggy raised his eyebrows but kept pretending to drink.

'Is Fisk talking yet?'

Matt shook his head.

'It's probably his best defence at this point considering everyone around him is either dead, gone or in there with him.'

Foggy set his glass down. 'There are still plenty of people willing to testify against Fisk in exchange for better deals though, so, I wouldn't worry about it.'

'It still doesn't feel like it's over.' Karen said.

'Well, it isn't,' said Matt.

'Yeah, even after Fisk is put away I don't expect he'll see the light when he's in there,' said Foggy.

'It almost makes me wish the guy in the mask had just dropped him off a rooftop or something,' said Karen.

Foggy's mouth hung open and Matt tried not to react.

'Fortunately, for us, he didn't,' Matt said, 'because we've been spoiled for clients since the trial started.'

Foggy snapped out of it. 'Yes! No more will I have to take all of Marci's condescending shtick.'

Karen smiled. 'As long as you don't end up becoming your own Landman and Zack.'

'Karen, that would never happen. I am far too self-aware and compassionate and good-looking, to ever head down that path.' Foggy raised his glass to his lips and added, 'probably.'

Karen narrowed her eyes at him.

'Karen has a point, Foggy. We'll have to be careful with who we choose to represent. We don't want to get a reputation defending the kind of person that wouldn't have helped Karen or Elena.'

'Right, I know,' said Foggy, 'I'm just happy that I don't have to jump the subway turnstiles anymore.'

Karen and Foggy turned to watch as the TV began the evening news and Matt's ears pricked up.

'Hold on a sec,' Karen rushed over to the bar.

'They're talking about you, buddy.' Foggy whispered.

'I know.'

Karen returned to the table and Josie turned up the volume. Everyone in the bar was listening.

'…are asking, has this vigilante gone too far? Let's go over to Eddie at the scene. Eddie, is this the work of the masked man?'

'Well, Susan, the police have acted very swiftly in cornering off the building but I had a chance to speak with several of the witnesses who say that they heard gunshots and, moments later, saw a man in black fleeing the scene.'

'Now, Eddie, could this be the Daredevil?'

'It's certainly possible and, if we wanna look at this logically, there are no other suspects at this point. I'm sure there are plenty of people, including myself, that knew he would cross a line sooner or later.'

Foggy watched silently and Karen's pulse raced.

'Mmhm. Let's be honest here, Eddie, do you think the police share some of the blame here?'

'Oh, certainly. We're dealing with a police force right now that's been reduced to almost half its numbers due to the extensive corruption revealed in the wake of the Fisk arrest. Obviously, that kind of setback is going to have severe consequences where violent and brutal crimes like this become more common.'

'Yep, yeah, thank you, Eddie.'

Matt finished his drink.

'That was Eddie Brock reporting at the scene of a triple homicide and now we'd like to hear what our viewers at home think. Let's open the lines.'

Foggy finished his drink and made a face. 'That's all for me, children.'

'You're leaving?' said Karen.

'Yessir, Marci's got a job interview tomorrow and I have to be there in case she needs a last minute pep talk.'

Karen cooed, grinning.

'Yeah, I'm done too,' said Matt, rising slowly from his chair. 'Can you walk me back, Karen?'

'Sure. Although, you should really get a dog.'

'Yes! Yes, he should, Karen. Yes he should.' Foggy said, pointing at Matt across the table.

Karen stood up and took Matt's arm in hers. 'However, I am slightly drunk, so we're going to have to combine our powers if we're going to make it home.'

'I'll try my best,' said Matt.

'Alright then, let's go!' Foggy lead the way out of the bar and waved a goodbye at Josie who only glared back at him. He opened the door for Matt and Karen and they stepped into the cold night. It was quiet outside.

'Umm, which way is it?' laughed Karen.

'Foggy?' said Matt.

'What?'

'Could you show us the way?'

Foggy came up behind them and moved their bodies in the right direction. Matt could feel tension in his movements and felt a pang of guilt for keeping up his charade.

'Can you make it from here?' said Foggy.

Matt nodded. 'Thank you, Foggy.'

'I'll see you tomorrow, buddy.'

He left, walking down the street towards Marci's apartment, waving Karen goodbye.

'He's waving,' said Karen.

Matt waved back and then, with Karen leading the way, headed home. The silence had an eerie quality to it that would have had Matt thinking, if it wasn't for Karen's footsteps and slightly raised heartbeat, that he had lost his enhanced hearing.

'Can you feel that?' said Karen.

'Yeah. We're being watched.'

'Fuck this, let's call a cab.'

Karen let go of his arm and dug around in her purse. Matt heard her punch in the numbers and then a tired voice emanate from the receiver. Karen took his arm again.

'Taxi for two outside Josie's as quick as you can?' she said.

Matt felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The night's silence disturbed him and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being hunted. He listened hard but even the wind was quiet. He remembered Nobu slowing his heartbeat to surprise him.

'Let's wait inside.' Matt said, gently shuffling Karen back towards the bar.

'Yeah, okay.'

The steady din and warmth of Josie's bar welcomed them back and settled their nerves. Karen let out a sigh and her frame seemed to relax.

'This was a good idea,' she said, sitting down in the nearest chair. Matt took the seat next to her. Karen ran her tongue against the back of her teeth so Matt turned towards her; she was about to say something.

'I hope you make it to my funeral, Matt.'

Becoming blind causes the brain to re-wire itself. All that empty space used for processing visual information is repurposed for the other senses. This redistribution enhances the remaining senses, allowing blind people to hear more, feel more, taste more. But there are more than just five senses. We sense time, we sense temperature, we have a sense of balance, of pain and hunger, even a weak sense of magnetic fields. A blind person without Matt's training or his chemical accident can still interpret speech much faster than a seeing person. And yet Karen's words still had him stunned.

'What?!'

'Well you and Foggy don't exactly have a great track record.'

Matt's own heart was racing.

'Karen I-'

Outside a car horn sounded, breaking their secluded bubble.

'Let's go,' she said, quickly rising to her feet. 'I don't wanna pass out in the cab.'

Once again, Matt followed her out into the night although this time he could feel warmth radiating from a running engine. And something breathing overhead. Karen opened the car door for him.

'Thanks.' He got inside, heart racing, he wanted to pull Karen in straight away but she took her time going around to the other side. There was someone out there. A set of steady lungs, taking in the cold air and releasing it again like slow, warm steam. They drove away listlessly but Matt listened until the engine drowned out anything else. His skin was cold and sensitive whilst Karen radiated sleepy heat from beside him.

'Hey, no passing out, remember?' he said, faintly.

'I won't,' she said, using his shoulder as a pillow.

They turned corner after corner but Matt couldn't relax. The sound of that steady exhale haunted him with its familiarity. But it had been so many years.

Karen began to snore.

A gunshot rang out and the wind whistled through the hole it left in his window. Matt jolted upright in his bed and reached for his cane. He was alone in his apartment but a bullet had buried itself at the foot of his bed. A rough, little burrow in the wooden frame. There was splintered glass on his floor and more gunshots came from the building opposite but none of them in his direction. Matt dived to his wardrobe, flinging open the doors and emptying out his box. Scooping up his father's old boxing gear, he hastily threw it onto his bed and began pulling on his suit. The gunshots and stopped and been replaced by another sound, like a giant crow passing overheard being chased by a miniature plane. Matt fastened his helmet and snuck out to the roof.

It was much warmer inside his suit. Despite Melvin not having time to complete it, Matt considered it a masterpiece. Light enough not to get in his way but sturdy enough to make him feel threatening. Although it was gaudier than his black outfit, it would at least prevent him from being impersonated. At least, that was the idea.

By the time he reached the neighbouring rooftop, whoever had been there, whoever had shot at him, was long gone. The smell of burnt powder was quickly dissipating. He must have only just missed them. There was also the tangy smell of iron, of blood. Matt followed it and reached down, picking up a small rectangular piece of card. It was thin with rounded edges. He pulled off a glove to feel it better. It wasn't new but it was in good condition, not trash that accidentally been tossed away or blown over here. A small splash of blood had fallen on it, Matt ran his thumb over the surface. There was an intricate and sprawling pattern covering it and, on the other side, he felt the ace of spades. Matt flipped it round in his fingers a few more times as he paced the rooftop, searching for anything else that could have been left behind but that seemed to be all. He was alone.

Matt headed back to his apartment and, after putting away his costume and boxing memorabilia, cleaned the broken glass off his floor and taped up the hole in his window. The wind would have kept him up all night.

Regardless, he couldn't sleep for hours.