HALLOWEEN. EARLY EVENING.
"Someone please tell me why our reception smells like squash."
Foggy Nelson scratched his head in confusion, figuring out the answer to Matt Murdock's question as he glared around the room, and in particular the several dozen carved pumpkins that lined the walls and formed a pile on top of the coffee table.
"Yeah, Jennifer, why is it that we have enough pumpkins to out-last the Hobgoblin?"
The secretary shrugged. "You told me to."
"I said 'be generous' to those kids. Not clean out their inventory."
"Kids, Foggy?" Matt Murdock asked.
"Yeah. The third-grade class of Mid-town elementary was doing some sort of fund-raiser, selling carved pumpkins and stuff for their class trip to Washington or whatever. I decided, what the hell, and help the kids out, you know? Might as well theme up the office for a bit, too." Foggy grunted. "But I didn't mean buy out the entire third grade!"
"It was for a good cause!" Jennifer retorted.
"Well, you're cleaning this up once Halloween's over. You're gonna need a freakin' dump truck or something to get rid of all this -" Foggy paused. "Wait, how much did all this cost?!"
Jennifer hesitated for a second. "Well, with about three dollars a pumpkin, and about, oh, I'd say thirty, forty pumpkins -"
Foggy gaped his mouth open. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Waitaminute, I didn't want to spend THAT much. Geez, I -"
"Foggy, it's okay," Matt cut in. "After all, it is for a good cause." Matt grinned in amusement. "Just take comfort in the fact that you helped the Third Grade of Mid-Town Elementary towards sending them to Washington DC."
Patting Foggy's shoulder, he made his way back into his office. "But yeah, at least put a few of them outside. I think some of them were WAY past their expiration date."
Finding his desk, Matt took a deep breath as he sat down while his fax machine came to life, spitting out a sheet of lined bumps that landed on the tray. Snatching the paper from the machine, his fingers ran through the lines of Braille, reading through the letter - Dear Mr. Murdock and Mr Nelson, hello my name is so and so, I would like to have your office represent my case, yadda yadda -
Placing the note on top of his desk, Matt took off his sunglasses and rested his face on his head. No rest, no rest at all. God knew the last time he actually slept longer than three hours a night. The recent string of cases his office had taken on was seriously beginning to take its toll.
Not that running around in red tights for the majority of everyone else's sleeping hours helped matters much either.
Matt sighed. "Eh, you can sleep when you're dead."
Foggy crept himself into Matt's office.
"Matt, you look like shit," he remarked.
"Yeah, it's the pumpkins."
"Really?"
"No."
Foggy made his way to right in front of Matt's desk. "You know, you should consider sleeping throughout the ENTIRE night more often? I think that Daredevil's put enough overtime for a couple weeks, huh?"
"You're right," Matt replied. "I think I'll probably cut down on my runs after Halloween. You know, relax a little before Thanksgiving?"
"Screw that," Foggy said. "Start now. It's Halloween, and it's a Friday night. Parties and drink specials across New York. C'mon, let's go drink."
"Hey, maybe I can dress up as Daredevil AND go out at the same time," Matt remarked.
"Yeah, and probably win a couple costume contests."
"Because no Daredevil look-alike can beat the original."
"Yeah, but a Frankenstein or two might."
Matt shrugged. "I don't know. It's gonna be crazy tonight, for sure. The Kitchen's going to get crazy."
"No more than it usually is. C'mon, let the police or Spider-Man take care of it tonight." Foggy went behind the desk and pushed Matt's rolling chair away from the desk. "You, my friend, need to cut loose."
*Oh God, somebody help me!*
Matt suddenly shot up from his seat.
*Jesus! Help me, somebody! Please!*
Hearbeat. Two blocks away. Female. Mid-twenties. Heart beating rapidly.
"Matt, what's up?"
Breathing short. Ribs injured. She ran. She was probably chased. Injured heavily. Mugging? Beating?
But only one set of heartbeats. Still, sounds of . . . something attacking her.
"Foggy?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll take you up on that offer in a little bit. I'll be back."
"Daredevil out to make a quick errand?"
"Yeah. I'll call you later."
------------------------------------------------
HALLOWEEN. FIVE HOURS AGO.
"Too old to be dressing up for trick-or-treating, aren't you?" the man in red cracked, though his expression remained fixed.
"Too old to be playing Cowboys and Indians, aren't you?" the man in crimson replied, remaining fixed and motionless.
"These things don't fire themselves," the man in red responded.
The man with the crimson eyes and the horns remained unamused.
"Are we going to have to dance, you and me?" the man in red uttered.
"Someone please tell me why our reception smells like squash."
Foggy Nelson scratched his head in confusion, figuring out the answer to Matt Murdock's question as he glared around the room, and in particular the several dozen carved pumpkins that lined the walls and formed a pile on top of the coffee table.
"Yeah, Jennifer, why is it that we have enough pumpkins to out-last the Hobgoblin?"
The secretary shrugged. "You told me to."
"I said 'be generous' to those kids. Not clean out their inventory."
"Kids, Foggy?" Matt Murdock asked.
"Yeah. The third-grade class of Mid-town elementary was doing some sort of fund-raiser, selling carved pumpkins and stuff for their class trip to Washington or whatever. I decided, what the hell, and help the kids out, you know? Might as well theme up the office for a bit, too." Foggy grunted. "But I didn't mean buy out the entire third grade!"
"It was for a good cause!" Jennifer retorted.
"Well, you're cleaning this up once Halloween's over. You're gonna need a freakin' dump truck or something to get rid of all this -" Foggy paused. "Wait, how much did all this cost?!"
Jennifer hesitated for a second. "Well, with about three dollars a pumpkin, and about, oh, I'd say thirty, forty pumpkins -"
Foggy gaped his mouth open. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Waitaminute, I didn't want to spend THAT much. Geez, I -"
"Foggy, it's okay," Matt cut in. "After all, it is for a good cause." Matt grinned in amusement. "Just take comfort in the fact that you helped the Third Grade of Mid-Town Elementary towards sending them to Washington DC."
Patting Foggy's shoulder, he made his way back into his office. "But yeah, at least put a few of them outside. I think some of them were WAY past their expiration date."
Finding his desk, Matt took a deep breath as he sat down while his fax machine came to life, spitting out a sheet of lined bumps that landed on the tray. Snatching the paper from the machine, his fingers ran through the lines of Braille, reading through the letter - Dear Mr. Murdock and Mr Nelson, hello my name is so and so, I would like to have your office represent my case, yadda yadda -
Placing the note on top of his desk, Matt took off his sunglasses and rested his face on his head. No rest, no rest at all. God knew the last time he actually slept longer than three hours a night. The recent string of cases his office had taken on was seriously beginning to take its toll.
Not that running around in red tights for the majority of everyone else's sleeping hours helped matters much either.
Matt sighed. "Eh, you can sleep when you're dead."
Foggy crept himself into Matt's office.
"Matt, you look like shit," he remarked.
"Yeah, it's the pumpkins."
"Really?"
"No."
Foggy made his way to right in front of Matt's desk. "You know, you should consider sleeping throughout the ENTIRE night more often? I think that Daredevil's put enough overtime for a couple weeks, huh?"
"You're right," Matt replied. "I think I'll probably cut down on my runs after Halloween. You know, relax a little before Thanksgiving?"
"Screw that," Foggy said. "Start now. It's Halloween, and it's a Friday night. Parties and drink specials across New York. C'mon, let's go drink."
"Hey, maybe I can dress up as Daredevil AND go out at the same time," Matt remarked.
"Yeah, and probably win a couple costume contests."
"Because no Daredevil look-alike can beat the original."
"Yeah, but a Frankenstein or two might."
Matt shrugged. "I don't know. It's gonna be crazy tonight, for sure. The Kitchen's going to get crazy."
"No more than it usually is. C'mon, let the police or Spider-Man take care of it tonight." Foggy went behind the desk and pushed Matt's rolling chair away from the desk. "You, my friend, need to cut loose."
*Oh God, somebody help me!*
Matt suddenly shot up from his seat.
*Jesus! Help me, somebody! Please!*
Hearbeat. Two blocks away. Female. Mid-twenties. Heart beating rapidly.
"Matt, what's up?"
Breathing short. Ribs injured. She ran. She was probably chased. Injured heavily. Mugging? Beating?
But only one set of heartbeats. Still, sounds of . . . something attacking her.
"Foggy?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll take you up on that offer in a little bit. I'll be back."
"Daredevil out to make a quick errand?"
"Yeah. I'll call you later."
------------------------------------------------
HALLOWEEN. FIVE HOURS AGO.
"Too old to be dressing up for trick-or-treating, aren't you?" the man in red cracked, though his expression remained fixed.
"Too old to be playing Cowboys and Indians, aren't you?" the man in crimson replied, remaining fixed and motionless.
"These things don't fire themselves," the man in red responded.
The man with the crimson eyes and the horns remained unamused.
"Are we going to have to dance, you and me?" the man in red uttered.