Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1
Chapter 1: Fear
The night was young in New York City. Millions of people were out and about on the busy streets, for both business and pleasure. While the city was perfectly populated during the day, there was a certain liveliness that only appeared at night. The beating heart of New York was its people, and those people were never more themselves than when the sun went down.
This was more true for Matt Murdock than it was for most. As Matt crouched atop the corner of a residential building in Hell's Kitchen, he felt like he could finally shed all pretence. Not that he was necessarily dishonest about himself during the day, but he had a side of himself that he refused to show to anyone else.
The side that craved the adventures of the night.
Matt's costume had both red and black sections, and was made of a lightweight material that allowed for maximum flexibility. To him, this was far more important than durable armour, because he needed to be able to exercise his agility as he moved. He had black gloves and form-fitting boots, as well as a red cowl with two tiny horns that covered the top half of his face.
His look was completed with red pieces over his eyes, preventing anyone from looking into them. What people did not know was that those pieces also did not allow for him to look out, but that was by design. While on one level they were for intimidation, they were also there because Matt did not rely on his eyes.
Matt took in a breath as he focused his superhuman senses. For the past two decades, he had grown accustomed to being deprived of his sight. Instead, all of his other senses had been heightened to an astonishing degree. While at first the amount of sensory input was maddening, he had learned to control his senses so that they were only operating at peak capacity when he chose.
And in this moment, he was choosing to listen.
The footsteps of people on the sidewalk right below him. The horn of an angry taxi driver a block away. A woman yelling at her husband in their apartment because of some lipstick on his collar. The clink of glasses as a group of friends celebrated a birthday in a nearby bar. Some water from the street draining into a sewer grate.
The muffled scream of a woman as someone stuffed a sock into her mouth.
Matt instantly sprung into action. Turning around, he ran along the edge of the building, staying perfectly balanced as he moved at high speed. As he reached the corner, he leaped over the alleyway, effortlessly landing on the opposite roof. He made sure to land on a rolling maneuver, so as to not lose any momentum as he moved.
He could hear the footsteps of multiple men as they dragged the woman with them. Three men. She was struggling, trying to avoid stepping forward. The patter of her shoes against the pavement indicated that they were heels, likely an expensive designer brand. One of the men coughed. He was standing apart from the other two, and was smoking a cigarette. Matt could smell and taste the ash.
One of the men spoke. Even through the man's words, Matt could hear the quickened heartbeat of the woman.
"Stop struggling, or I'll cut off one of your pretty little fingers!"
Mid-thirties. Gruff, throaty voice. Slightly overweight. Accent indicated mix of multiple Eastern European ancestries.
The smoking man spoke.
"Hey, hey! Don't be talkin' that kinda shit. Boss said he wanted her unhurt. No finger cuttin', no nothing, you hear?"
Early thirties. Clear effect of smoking habit on larynx. Thin but lean build. Likely African-American given the dialect and accentuation on certain syllables.
First man spoke again.
"You ain't the Boss, Turk! Don't be telling me what he said. Bad enough we didn't grab any of that art back there. Bet we could pawn that off for some real cash."
"He said no art, just the girl! You want to piss off the Boss, that's your business, man. Remember what happened to Monty? He was in the hospital for weeks."
"Yeah, yeah, lay off. Dick."
Matt waited for the right moment. Turk opened the back door to a truck that was parked in the alley. Matt was standing right above the group. He could tell exactly where everyone was positioned. Turk stood to the side as the other two men pulled the woman towards the truck. As they stepped inside the back of the truck, Turk placed his cigarette between his lips.
Now.
Matt jumped and landed on the roof of the truck. The impact of his landing jostled the woman and the two men as they were stepping inside, causing all of them to lose their balance and fall to the floor. Turk dropped his cigarette and looked up, seeing the costumed figure standing above him.
"Shit!"
Turk reached for the gun on his belt. Matt anticipated this move and tossed one of his batons. The baton travelled like a bullet, smacking Turk square in the forehead. As Turk fell to the ground, Matt jumped off the truck and landed on the pavement. He grabbed the man closest to him with both hands and threw him out of the truck.
The last man, the one who spoke earlier, got back to his feet. He kicked out at Matt, but his attack was clumsy. Matt easily sidestepped the blow before seizing the man by the leg. Matt brought his elbow down on the man's knee, causing him to yell in pain. Matt then grabbed his shirt with both hands before headbutting him, knocking him out.
Matt could sense that the other man was recovering. Turk was still on the ground. Turning around, Matt pulled out his second baton as the other man brandished a pocket knife. The man swung horizontally, but Matt deflected the attack with the baton. The man then tried a forward stab, but Matt moved far too fast for him.
Getting low, Matt performed a spin kick, striking the man in the shins. Matt spun around and landed another kick before the man had even felt the pain from the first blow. Severely staggered, the man dropped the knife. The clink of the knife landing on the pavement sent a sound wave through the air, giving Matt an even more accurate read of his surroundings.
Matt followed up with an aerial spin kick, hitting the man in the side of his face. As the man fell to the floor, Turk scrambled away, running down the alley.
"What the . . . . some goddamn ninja bullshit!"
Turk grabbed his pistol off the ground, which had gone flying away from him when he was struck by the baton. Matt's ears perked up as he heard Turk wrap his fingers around the weapon. His own heartbeat sped up as he rushed for Turk. He knew that he had no cover in the alleyway, and that if Turk got off a good shot, he would be down for the count.
Matt ran as fast as he could. Turk started to turn around as his finger rested on the trigger. Matt knew he had several options, but he did not know which one would give him the best chance for success. He also knew that he had virtually no time to weigh the pros and cons of any of them. He decided to go with a jumping kick.
Matt's left boot collided with Turk's side, and once again, the gun fell out of his hands. The weapon harmlessly fell to the pavement as Turk went down. Matt then crouched over Turk's body, grabbing him with his left hand. Matt could sense the fear emanating from the hyperventilating man. Matt then threw a downward punch, aimed straight for his face.
With his last opponent incapacitated, Matt stood back up. He took a moment to breathe as the adrenaline stopped pumping. He then made his way back to the truck, where the woman was sitting. Her mouth was still gagged and her hands were bound behind her back. After picking up his baton, Matt pulled the sock out of her mouth before untying her hands.
The woman cringed as she shook out her wrists. Matt finally allowed himself to take stock of her. Early forties. Average but healthy build. Elegant perfume. The way her earrings moved through the air, they had to be fairly large. Clearly upper class.
"They won't be down for long," said Matt. "Get back inside. Lock up. Call the police."
Matt turned around without waiting for a response.
"Wait!"
Matt stopped.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Matt paused for a moment before looking back over his shoulder.
"Daredevil."
Without another word, Matt ran towards the nearby wall before leaping onto a dumpster. Jumping off of it and grabbing at a pipe, he climbed for a few seconds before moving to a fire escape. In less than half a minute, he had scaled the side of the building and left her line of sight. The entire time, Vanessa watched him with great interest.
Only a few streets away, a group of people filtered out of a bar. The group waved and said their farewells to each other as they went their separate ways. One of them was a young blonde woman, who started making her way down the street. Before she could get very far, one of the group, a black man of similar age, called out to her.
"Hey, Jen!"
Jennifer turned around to look at him.
"Talk to you for a second?" he asked.
Jennifer nodded.
"Look, I'm sorry about all that happened," he said, taking a few steps towards her. "Know we had to play nice cause of the group, but . . . ."
"Jacob . . . ."
Jacob sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. Jennifer folded her arms, but did not move or look away from him.
"I want to make it up to you," he said. "Been thinking about it, all of it. How it all went down. It wasn't right, for you or me. I don't want that to be the end, you know?"
"Yeah," she said. "I know."
"So can we talk? Maybe see if we can figure this all out? Walk you home, maybe?"
Jennifer was silent for a few seconds as she thought over her response.
"I'll walk myself home, Jacob. But we can talk. Thursday, after I get off? Dinner. We'll talk. For real, I promise."
Jacob smiled.
"Sounds good."
"Goodnight, Jacob."
"Night."
Jacob put his hands in his jacket pockets and turned around, walking the opposite way. Jennifer stayed still for a minute, running things over in her mind. Sighing again, she then continued down the street, heading for her apartment. Her walk home only took a few minutes, and was completely uneventful.
Jennifer rubbed her eyes as she unlocked the door to her small apartment. After closing and locking the door behind her, she tossed her purse onto her couch and kicked off her shoes. There was a small table next to the couch, with a picture frame placed next to a lamp. The picture was of her and Jacob smiling together, wearing ski gear and standing on a snowy mountain.
Jennifer made her way to the bathroom, leaving the door somewhat ajar as she went inside. She turned on the water in the shower and started getting undressed. All this time, a silent figure waited in her bedroom. He was standing in the shadows, watching her through the open doorway. He stared as she took off all of her clothes, leaving them in a messy heap on the bathroom floor.
After she stepped into the shower, the figure slowly started moving. He was very methodical in his approach, ensuring that he made no noise as he moved through the apartment. He was wearing a grey cloak over a black bodysuit, with a metal mask over his face that resembled a skull. His right hand was placed inside of a gauntlet that had a scythe blade.
Slipping into the bathroom through the opening, the figure approached the shower. He could see from her silhouette from behind the shower curtain that she was scrubbing her hair. He watched her for a few more precious seconds, running his eyes up and down her body, knowing that he wouldn't get another chance. He then reached for his belt and pulled out his customized pistol.
Aiming at her, the figure then pulled the trigger. A cloud of barely visible gas shot out from the gun. Jennifer gasped, but after a second, she made no other noise. The figure then put the gun back on his belt and pulled the shower curtain out of the way. Jennifer looked at him and opened her mouth, but was shocked to realize she couldn't scream, or make any noise at all.
The figure stayed still for a moment before speaking.
"Don't be afraid."
The figure then swung his scythe blade horizontally, slashing Jennifer across the throat.