Chapter 1

Brett

The radio in Detective Sergeant Brett Mahoney's unmarked car crackled. "Man down, in the alley off 40th Street, south side, west of 10th." The location was a block away. Mahoney called in to report he was responding. A minute later, he pulled to the curb and got out of the car. He shined his flashlight into the alley, which looked deserted. Then he saw it: a figure, dressed in all black, lying on his back next to a set of overflowing garbage cans. He wasn't moving. As Mahoney came closer, he noticed something else: a black mask covering the top half of the man's face.

"Holy shit!" Mahoney thought. "It's him – Daredevil or the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, or whatever he's calling himself these days." He pulled on a pair of gloves and approached the man cautiously. Mahoney checked for a pulse and found one. Good. He could see the man's chest moving up and down. He was breathing. But he didn't react when Mahoney touched him to check his pulse. So, unconscious. Mahoney swept the beam from his flashlight over the man's body and noticed blood pooling beneath him. He pulled out his radio and called for a bus. Then he reached out and carefully removed the man's mask. He turned his flashlight on the man's face. He was looking at the face of Matt Murdock.

Mahoney recoiled in shock. "What the fuck?" he thought. It didn't make any sense. Murdock was blind. Wasn't he? Of course he was. Mahoney had grown up in Hell's Kitchen, like Murdock and his law partner, Foggy Nelson. They all knew the story of Battlin' Jack Murdock and his son who was blinded in a freak accident, then orphaned when Jack was murdered. But there was no way a blind man could do what Daredevil did. Or was there?

Not sure why he was doing it, Mahoney bent over and picked up Murdock's mask, then stuffed it in his pocket. As he stood up, the ambulance arrived. Two paramedics hurried to Murdock's side and began examining and stabilizing him. When one of them reported, "Pupils non-reactive to light," Mahoney spoke up.

"He's blind."

The paramedic looked over at him, surprised. "What? You know this guy?"

"Yeah. Name's Matthew Murdock. He's a local attorney."

"What the hell was he doing here?"

Mahoney shrugged. "No idea."

When the paramedics had Murdock ready for transport, Mahoney followed them out of the alley. "Where're you taking him?" he asked as they lifted the gurney into the ambulance.

"Metro-General."

"OK. Thanks, guys. See you there."

Mahoney watched the ambulance drive away, then pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Franklin Nelson."

"Nelson, this is Brett Mahoney."

"Hey, Brett."

"I found your partner in an alley. He's on his way to the ER at Metro-General. Meet me there." Mahoney ended the call without giving Foggy a chance to ask him any questions.

During the short drive to the hospital, Mahoney considered his options. If Murdock really was Daredevil – as far-fetched as that seemed – where did that leave him? He was a police officer, for chrissake, sworn to uphold the law. Daredevil was a vigilante, a lawbreaker. But there was no evidence he was breaking the law tonight. He looked more like a crime victim than a criminal. What about all the other nights? The people Daredevil helped sure weren't clamoring for the police to stop him, and the criminals he beat up weren't about to call the cops on him. They had their own ways of delivering justice. Then there was Daredevil's role, not to mention Murdock's and Nelson's, in putting away Wilson Fisk – twice. He wasn't the only cop who felt the NYPD owed them one. Still undecided, he pulled into the ER parking lot.

Foggy

"Oh, shit," Foggy thought. It had finally hit the fan. Matt was on his way to the hospital, injured. Mahoney hadn't said how badly. Asshole. He must have discovered Matt's secret. And Foggy had no clue what Mahoney was going to do about it. His stomach churned.

He knew this day would come eventually. He stared at his phone's screen but found no answers there. He put the phone back in his pocket. He needed a strategy, a legal strategy. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't thought about what to do when it happened. He doubted he could be charged as an accomplice to whatever crimes Matt may have committed. Yes, he knew, generally speaking, what Matt was doing as Daredevil, and he hadn't stopped him – as if he could. But that didn't make him an accomplice in the eyes of the law. Still, a jury might be persuaded he'd taken a more active role, given their long friendship. Or the DA could try charging him and Matt with conspiracy. And even if he didn't have any criminal exposure, the licensing board would definitely take a dim view of his partnership with a known vigilante.

He and Matt counseled their clients in criminal cases not to talk to the cops. An experienced interrogator – and the NYPD had many of them – could easily trick even an innocent person into making damaging admissions. He would follow his own advice, at least until he found out what Mahoney knew, and he had a chance to talk to Matt.

He opened the bedroom door a crack. Marci was asleep. Good. He closed the door gently. He sent her a short text, before he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Once he arrived at the hospital, Foggy talked his way into the treatment area and eventually found the room where Matt was being treated. Mahoney was standing just outside the door.

"How is he?" Foggy demanded.

"Still out. They're working on him," Mahoney replied curtly. He jerked his head to the right and headed down the hall. Foggy followed him to an empty treatment room. After Foggy shut the door behind them, Mahoney pulled Matt's mask out of his pocket and tossed it to Foggy, who caught it reflexively. "How long have you known?" Mahoney demanded.

"Assumes facts not in evidence."

"Cut the crap, Nelson. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

"Am I under arrest?"

"No."

"Is Matt?"

"Not for anything that went down tonight."

"That's not an answer." Foggy put the mask in his pocket, then stood with his arms folded across his chest.

Following up on his original question, Mahoney asked, "So you're telling me, what, he made a fool of you for – how long? Years?"

"Same objection." Foggy tried to keep a poker face, hoping his expression didn't give away how close to home the question hit. Before Mahoney could ask another question, they heard the sounds of a commotion from down the hall, in the direction of Matt's room. Foggy turned and ran out of the room. Mahoney followed him. When they reached Matt's room, Matt was struggling to get out of bed, while a man and a woman were struggling to keep him there.

"Matt! Stop!" Foggy yelled.

Matt stopped fighting and turned his head toward Foggy's voice. "Fog?" he mumbled. "Where?"

"You're in the hospital, buddy," Foggy told him. "You're injured. Chill out and let them help you." He added, in a whisper only Matt could hear, "It's OK, they don't know." He'd deal with the fact that Mahoney did know, but later, when Matt was more coherent.

The man who had been struggling with Matt – a middle-aged, balding Asian man with "T. Nguyen, M.D." embroidered on his dark blue scrubs – turned to look at Foggy. "Who are you?"

"Franklin Nelson, his law partner – and his attorney."

"You're not family?"

"I'm the closest thing to family he has. And I have his medical power of attorney."

"OK," Dr. Nguyen replied, then turned to Matt and asked, "Mr. Murdock, can you tell me what happened to you tonight?" the doctor asked.

Foggy stepped in before Matt could answer. "I'm sorry, doctor, but I can't let you question my client with this officer present." He glared at Mahoney, who glared back.

"Detective, please – " the doctor began.

Mahoney stalked out of the room. Foggy made sure the door was closed. "OK, doctor, ask your questions."

"Mr. Murdock, I'm Dr. Nguyen, you're in the Emergency Department at Metro-General. You've been stabbed, and you have a concussion. Do you understand?"

Matt nodded. "Um-hmm."

"Can you tell me what happened to you tonight?"

"Jumped me. Two, three. Shoulda known. Stupid." Matt fell back onto the pillow, breathing heavily.

"Did you hit your head, or did someone hit you in the head?"

"Don't remember."

"Do you remember being stabbed?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you know what with?"

"Nuh."

"OK," Dr. Nguyen said. "We'll let you rest now." He left to see other patients, after promising to come back later and check on Matt. Not long after that, two orderlies arrived to take Matt for a CT scan. Foggy followed, not trusting Brett not to try to question Matt when he was in Radiology. Brett was waiting outside the treatment room when they returned.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"OK," Foggy replied and followed him a few steps down the hall.

"Look, Foggy, I'm not trying to jam you up, you and Matt," Brett began. "No one in Hell's Kitchen – least of all me – has forgotten that the two of you took down Wilson Fisk. But I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around all this. What's the deal with Matt? I need you to help me out here."

Foggy sighed. "It's not my call, Brett. It's Matt's story to tell, if he decides to tell it. I'll talk to him about it, but not now. He's still pretty concussed. I'm guessing they'll want to keep him overnight for observation."

"Yeah, probably so," Brett replied. "I'll come back in the morning. But then I want some answers. You staying with him?"

"Yeah," Foggy said. "I'm not going anywhere."