Prologue
Hell's Kitchen- 6:52pm: New York
"You boys look thirsty," Matches Malone said. The well-built man placing a bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses on the table.
Dressed in a herringbone plaid suit wearing a striped shirt with no tie, Matches wore tinted sunglasses. The fair-haired man with a well-groomed mane and mustache chewing a match stick gently. Perplexed, the occupants of the corner table at Tootsies Bar and Grill, on Hell's Kitchen south side, eyed him and each other curiously. Clad in leather jackets, hoodies and blue jeans, the larger of the two hoodlums wore a docker hat. The two guidos seen nursing half consumed beers while mumbling and ignoring Matches. Both prone to checking their watches before glancing at the tavern door as they looked through him.
"I'm guess'n you two guys don't drink," Matches said.
"Fuck off, and take the whiskey with you," the smaller man said, a long scar seen running from his right eye to his chin.
"Damn Aldo, you're a hard man," his larger companion said chuckling.
"Apologies buddy; I was just try'n to be friendly," Matches said gathering up the shot glasses. "Just moved to The City, from Gotham is all."
"Do you know this guy Chugs, because I don't. Hell, he could be a cop or worse; a freaking mutant for all we know."
"The name's Matches…Matches Malone, and I ain't no mutant, benny!"
"Hold on there; you say your name's, Matches Malone," the larger man inquired grabbing the whiskey bottle. "Matches Malone; out of Jersey?"
"Yeah…North Jersey, what's it to ya; yous been there?"
Opening the bottle of whiskey, "Damn Aldo, this dude once rolled with the Joker's crew in Gotham," Chugs said, inviting Matches to sit down. "My cousin Vinny told me how he once beat down, The Batman."
"Bullshit, I ain't buying that," Aldo said, sizing up Matches.
Pulling out a chair, taking a seat, "Buy it or not, it's true," Matches said. "So, you're Vinny 'The Leech's', little cousin, huh? Well you're not so little. How's he been doing these days; still servin' that twelve-year bid."
"Yeah, after he was busted in Central City by the Flash, they gave him four more years for a botched escape attempt. My aunt says he might get out a few years early, on account of good behavior. Hey, you ever hear from The Joker? Boy, now that's a special kind of crazy."
"The last time I saw…"
"Screw that; you're going to tell me how you beat, The Bat," Aldo interrupted, filling everyone's shot glass.
"Right, let's see; it was New Year's Eve and the 'J-man'; that's the Joker, was feelin' nostalgic…"
Law of Attraction
Manhattan Criminal Court-10:15am: The Tombs
Susan Toliver was smiling; Matthew Murdock could feel it. The beautiful African American district attorney, thought to be a shoo-in for the deputy mayor appointment, excited. Her heart rate racing as she adjusted her glasses on her face and sighed softly.
You're pleased with yourself, aren't you Susan, Matt thought;hearing the prosecuting attorney finishing with her star witness. She believes, she's won already.
Taking her place in the lead chair of a three-man prosecution team, their overall demeanor was one of satisfaction. The prosecution's case, for all intents and purposes, a slam dunk.
"Mr. Murdock, I'm assuming you'll be cross-examining the witness," the judge said.
Standing, sighing, dropping his head for dramatic effect, Matt tapped his cane on the floor. The act meant to wake up the elderly woman in row three of the jury box. Bored and hungry, twelve of the sixteen jurors were merely waiting to conclude the trial before reconvening on a federal homicide case. Each one Matt was sure had already passed judgement on his client; their minds made up. A reformed small-time wheelman, drug dealer and thief, Kelvin Jones was on trial for double murder in the first degree. The case involving an apparent drug deal gone wrong. Arrested and charged for murder on the flimsiest of evidence; the word of an eye witness, Kelvin was looking at life. The seventeen-year-old African American male, positioned behind Matt, on the verge of a panic attack.
"Mr. Lincoln you don't deny being at the Brightway Motel on 10th Avenue during the night in question," Matt said, rounding the defense table with the use of his cane.
"Nah, but I didn't shoot nobody," Lonnie Thompson Lincoln said, his heartbeat and breathing steady. "I ain't never held a gun a day in my life; they scare me."
"You're a criminal Mr. Lincoln, why would a gun scare you," Matt replied, hearing four of the jurors sit up in their chairs.
"Objection," Susan Toliver said, standing behind the prosecutor's table. "The witness is a respectable businessman in the city and he's not on trial here, Mr. Jones is."
"Up held," the judge said. "Mr. Murdock, you'll refrain from attacking Mr. Lincoln, he's not a hostile witness."
"I apologize your honor, and withdraw the question. Mr. Lincoln, you testified to hearing gun shots and seeing my client that night. Could you explain why you were at the motel and exactly what happened once more?"
The owner of several carwash stations throughout the city, Lonnie Lincoln was a local fixture and Harlem businessman, so it would seem. Expected of being a low-level criminal by law enforcement, he'd never been caught in the act of a crime. His record strangely spotless given the fact he was considered a feared man in Harlem; Lonnie never receiving so much as a parking ticket in his sixteen years of driving. Often affiliated with seedy individuals and small-time hoods during the course of doing business, the NYPD believed him relatively harmless. The Daredevil being fully aware of his connection to the Kingpin. A professional cleaner and hitman, Lincoln was known in the underworld as, Tombstone. The 6'4" African American albino with pale pink eyes, short sponge twist platinum blond hair and matching goatee, thought to be among the best in his criminal profession.
"Like I said, I'm a single man with various lady friends," Lincoln was saying. "Some of them not as single as others, if you understand my meaning? On that night, I was meeting up with one of my aforementioned friends; when I saw, Mr. Jones entering room twenty-two on the second floor of the establishment called Brightway. Before I could make it into the front office, I hear two gunshots followed by the defendant running out the room and down the block."
"Why are you so sure it was my client, Mr. Lincoln," Matt said. "Did you get a good look at him?"
"Good enough, we locked eyes…just before he bolted."
Hearing the slight tension in Lincoln's voice and the clinching of his jaw, Matt hesitated. The emotional reaction almost unnoticed, devoid of any increase in heart rate or rush of blood through arteries and veins. Only shallow breathing and an intake of air to punctuate Lincoln's anger.
He's livid, but is somehow controlling his physical response to the emotion, Matt thought impressed. Whatever happened that night, Tombstone wasn't happy about it.
As a juvenile, Kelvin was an ex-gangbanger and drug dealer. After leaving that life behind him, he began working at one of Lincoln's carwash stations. The mere sight of his former employer causing him to react with constant fidgeting and a rapid heartbeat that threatened to drown out every sound inside the courtroom. Unwilling to discuss the events of that night, beyond denying that he killed the two men, the teenager was utterly terrified. The young man offering little in way of a defense for himself.
"You locked eyes," Matt said stumbling, reaching for the defense table to keep his balance.
"Counselor, are you okay," the judge said. The concern in his voice registering in a unified gasp throughout the courtroom.
"I'm fine your honor," Matt replied quickly, the action meant to draw sympathy and the attention of the jury. "Mr. Lincoln, how far away were you from my client when you, 'looked him in the eye'?"
"About fifteen feet, give or take. The street lights outside the motel and over the rooms helped, I guess."
Running a finger over notes handed to him by his friend, law partner and co-chair, Foggy Nelson, "Yet in your police report you couldn't describe Mr. Jones, nor his clothing or weapon," Matt said. "The facial description you gave the police was also extremely vague. For someone who witnessed so much Mr. Lincoln, you appear to have seen very little."
"Objection, Susan Toliver said again. "Mr. Murdock is badgering the witness."
He's a killer Susan, Matt thought. The man's heart rate hasn't spiked since he's been sworn in.
"Overruled," the judge replied. "Let's give Mr. Murdock some leeway to cross-examine, Prosecutor."
"Did you know the defendant?"
"Kelvin use to work for me at one of my carwash stations in Harlem. That's until he was fired for not showing up to work a few months back."
A fugitive from a city-wide man hunt, Kelvin was apprehended in an abandon building in Hoboken three weeks after the shootings. Matt conducting his own investigation as the Daredevil; concluded he'd been living in those condition for over six months. Taking the case pro bono, Matt's interest was centered around Lincoln and his reason for framing the homeless teen.
"Yet you never told the police you knew him personally, why? The reason my client is a suspect today is due to an anonymous tip and you picking him out of mugshots and a lineup. No weapon was found and there's no forensic evidence that he was ever there."
"Objection, your honor. Mr. Murdock is leading the witness. Mr. Lincoln has no way of knowing who placed that call to the NYPD criminal hotline."
"Up held; Mr. Murdock, rephrase the question please, and allow the witness to answer."
"Yes, apologies your honor. Mr. Lincoln, why did you pick the defendant from the police lineup?"
"Because I saw him running from the scene of the crime."
"But you never saw my client commit said crime, correct?"
"Nah, I wasn't standing next to him."
"Would it surprise you to know, that on the night in question; that five African American males fitting your initial description was apprehended that night?"
"Nope, doesn't surprise me really, they all look alike anyway," Lincoln said.
"What…would you please repeat that, Mr. Lincoln?"
"I said it didn't surprise me, all of them look the same to me," Lincoln said again.
With a deafening roar that began as a whisper, the courtroom erupted. The request of the prosecuting attorney to approach the bench, the mumbling of the jury, the clamor of the gallery, the clicking of news cameras and the calling to order by the judge; doing little too rattle Lonnie Lincoln. The milk white man sitting next to the judge not registering the slightest elevation in blood pressure, body temperature, heart rate or breathing.
"Bailiffs, take Mr. Jones back into custody and clear the courtroom now," the judge ordered while banging his gavel.
"Am I done here," Lonnie said unfazed, putting on tinted shades.
"Yes Mr. Lincoln, quite done," the judge barked.
Picking up papers, "What in the hell just happened," Foggy Nelson whispered. "Did he just throw this case? Did you use a 'Jedi-mind-trick' on the guy or something?"
"I had nothing to do with it," Matt said. "Perhaps a crisis of conscience or guilt; who can say how the human mind works. Regardless, our client will be a free man because of it."
And a dead one, Matt thought, assisting Foggy with clearing their documents. Lincoln must have wanted Jones found and used the NYPD and justice system to do it. By implicating Jones in a double homicide; both murders Tombstone no doubt committed, he brought the full weight of the NYPD down on the teen's head.
"I would congratulate you two, but this circus is just getting started," Susan Toliver said sighing heavily. "I'll have all charges dropped and your client released by tomorrow afternoon. Without Lincoln, our case won't hold up. And given what he just said on the witness stand, I'd be a fool to try and build anything on what he gave me. We can file the motion to dismiss first thing in the morning, if you agree?"
"I'll handle it Matt," Foggy said.
"I just want to get clear of this fiasco as soon as possible," Susan said, glancing at the reporters waiting outside the courtroom. "The news outlets are going to have an Oprah moment behind this one."
"Well, at least they can't say you're racist" Foggy said.
Feeling Susan's gaze, "I'm going to let that slide today Nelson," she moaned, shaking her head, walking away.
"What did I say? Hey, we going to celebrate our victory tonight or what?"
"Not tonight Foggy, give me a rain check. I've got a date with a tall blond."
Patting Matt on the shoulder, "You just be sure to wear protection and play safe," Foggy replied.
Listening as reporters tried to question Lonnie Lincoln, "Always Foggy, always," Matt said.
Hell Kitchen-1:23pm: New York
An autumn wind produced a chill as the sun hung over New York City. A crisp breeze blown over the Hudson River reaching 54th Street as trash and debris followed. The scent of the river and city rising up the side of a newly renovated brownstone located at 357 West. Climbing stairs to the top of the building, Salvador 'Chugs' Romano began to sneeze uncontrollably. His allergies forcing him to stumble as he reached the rooftop garden. Depositing a cumbersome potted plant onto the deck of the patio, the big man wiped his hands on his jeans; all the while bent over waiting for Aldo and Matches to bring up another one. The two smaller men actually having an easier go of it than he expected.
"Thought you two would be winded hauling that thing up here," Chugs said sneezing.
Setting the potted plant down, "This guy is stronger than he looks," Aldo said. "You must work out or somethin', you're not even sweating. I mean truth be told; I actually stopped helping after the fourth floor."
"You don't think I didn't notice you bastard," Matches said laughing. "I got the burn in my legs and arms to prove it. Whoa, this place is posh, I'll give it that. Bet it cost a few nickels too?"
"The boss has expensive taste," Aldo said.
"He pays well too," Chugs added, blowing his nose into a handkerchief. "This here is just one of the digs he owns in The City. Wait till you see his penthouse in Manhattan, now that's how a man's supposed to live."
"Is he some kind of gardener," Matches inquired, examining the flora crowding the patio. A large variation of flowers and vines also seen through a glass enclosure built along the eastern wall. "What's with all the freakin' plants?"
"Well about that; his new lady friend is really into shrubs, so he keeps them around," Chugs said.
"Some guys have all the luck, right," Matches said. "The fancy houses, big cars and a different woman every night. Must be easy to get'em with a pad like this?"
"That was the boss until this latest one. Think he was seeing her on the sly for awhile, but not anymore. She shows up and you swear he's a totally different guy. The lady has him wrapped around her little finger. Believe it or not; she's even giving us orders too…like we freakin' work for the broad!"
"She must be somethin' to look at huh," Matches said. "I mean to have a guy like your boss fall'n all over himself."
"She's gorgeous, and I'm talkin', with all caps," Aldo said. "Hair like fire this one. And don't mention those legs; wow, they stretch for days, like ivory pillars for sure."
"If the boss ever heard you talkin' like that Aldo, he'd kill you," Chugs said.
"Then he better never hear me, you smuck!"
Soho-4:27pm: New York
With the flashing of cameras, Lonnie Lincoln adjusted his shades and rolled up the window of his 1970 Buick GS Stage One. The white on white muscle car coming to a stop outside Oliverios, a Soho restaurant on the corner of Grand and Broadway. Closed for renovations, the property was somewhat empty. A team of contractors on a ridgid deadline taking little notice of the mayhem outside. Exiting his car dogged by paparazzi, Lonnie avoided and ignored all questioning. The pale skin businessman disappearing inside the establishment; leaving the photographers seeking entrance at the door. Greeted by two bodyguards in dark suits, he was led to an office at the rear of the restaurant. The restaurant manager vacating the modest office at the request of the man waiting inside.
"Aren't you the popular boy in school, Lonnie." Mr. Sweet said, browsing over a large book. The short slender man with large glasses wearing a very expensive blue suit and bluish-gray tie. "In your line of work, I'd have thought it a liability?"
"You have to work the angles and gain the advantage," Lonnie said smiling.
Putting the book back onto a bookshelf, "It's this flawed thinking that has brought me here today," Mr. Sweet said. "Your anonymity was your greatest asset, but now it's squandered. That stunt in the courtroom was ill-advised, reckless and thoughtless. I needn't tell you what's at stake and to whom you answer."
"No, you don't, I'm fully aware who's running things," Lonnie said.
"I suppose the boy couldn't be left to rot in prison with what he knows," Mr. Sweet said. "But you shall deal with him expeditiously…one way or the other. If you will find this too difficult, a suitable replacement will be found."
"This is my business and I'll handle it."
"The boss will be pleased to hear it. Much has been put into your hands, don't allow it to fall through your fingers."
"Again, this is my business and I'll handle it. The boss should be made to understand that."
"What he understands; are failures and success; the former punished and the latter rewarded."
East Harlem-10:49pm: Daredevil
One of the roughest neighborhoods in New York, Spanish Harlem wore the title like a badge of honor. Considered a blight on the city, El Barrio boasted the highest crime rates in Manhattan. Home to many of the city's most violent gangs, its renewal was thought long overdue. The territory controlled by the Maggia Family. A powerful crime syndicate trafficking in drugs, extortion, murder and flesh. The only true threat to their power and influence was the businessman and multibillionaire, Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin. The man buying up various properties in the area as of late. His latest acquisition and contribution, The Platinum City Nightclub.
Outside New York's latest hotspot, music poured out like expensive liquor. Every intoxicating rhythm and beat of rap music causing many to dance before ever entering. The numerous sport cars, luxury sedans and SUVs filling the crowded parking lot while impeding the flow of normal traffic. The NYPD redirecting all other vehicles away from Park Avenue and 125th Street as the night took hold.
Pushing passed a slight headache, Daredevil watched the scene unfolding more than two hundred yards away. The overwhelming sensory input of the surrounding ambient noise and the nightclub, creating some discomfort. Muffling the sound, 'The Man Without Fear', wore fitted earplugs. The small devices allowing the crimson vigilante to reduce the audible stimuli effect to some degree. The suppressed echoes of reverberating sound painting the world in a dull gray haze. Slowly, moving along the ledge of the building, Daredevil sifted through random conversations and useless chatter. Aligning himself like an antenna, he tried to find the one perfect frequency among thousands.
This won't work, Matt thought. Too many people, too many layers. I need to get closer, if I ever hope to find Tombstone.
Peeling back his glove, "Dial Foggy," he spoke into his wrist cellphone.
Ringing several times, "Hey Matthew, what's up," Foggy said, the music in the background coming from the Platinum Club. "How's your date going, buddy?"
"Stood me up," Matt said. "Wanted to cash in that rain check, seeing the night's still young."
"Hey, Pam and I are in line outside that new club in East Harlem! I know it's not your scene; the rap music and all, but you should join us! She could call up one of her friends and we'll make a night of it!"
"You read my mind, good sir."
"Yes, Mattie is joining us," Foggy told Pam. "Call up your friend, the hot one; only the best for my pal! Mattie, have your Uber driver drop you off at the front of the club and call me when you arrive! We all should be able to get in right away due to your handicap! If not, we'll tell them we're lawyers and threaten to sue!"
"Will do; I'll see you soon."
Retrieving a duffle bag hidden atop a roof some distance away, Daredevil changed his clothes. Dressing in the shirt, slacks and dress shoes concealed in an air-tight pouch, he placed his costume inside. Matt waiting ten minutes before making his way over to a Gas Station across the street and calling an Uber. Directed to the nightclub, the driver dropped him off a hundred yards away. The traffic much too heavy to allow him to get closer otherwise. Offering to assist Matt, being refused, the driver was given a twenty-dollar tip for his trouble. The man offering Matt his personal business card should he need him again.
Outside the club, all the countless patrons lined up to wait for access, were content to do so. Their excitement almost palatable as their spectral shadows pulsed with every heartbeat. The surrounding two blocks lit up like Christmas in Time Square in Matt's mind's eye. Matt forcibly muting all sounds and dampening his focus mentally while approaching Foggy and his date. Smiling at the fact he actually needed to use his cane.
"What the hell Mattie," Foggy said. "I told you to get dropped off at the front door and call me!"
"I'm fine, besides; you never said this place was so packed! Sweet Christmas, it's crowded!"
"My friend Elora is already inside," Pam said.
"Hot name, right buddy," Foggy added. "You'll love her, she's got a great personality and her father's a banker from Central City!"
Translation; you can't see her anyway and our law firm, really could benefit from the connections, Matt thought.
Patting Matt on the back, signaling for a bouncer, Foggy explained Matt's condition and their occupation. Given access immediately, they were escorted inside the club and given a table on the second floor overlooking the lower level. Making a quick phone call consisting of shouts, Pam informed her friend of their location.
"Hey, Elora, meet Matthew Murdock," Pam shouted.
Standing, reaching for her hand clumsily, "Nice to meet you," Matt screamed over the music.
Taking his hand, Matt couldn't hear all of what Elora was saying, forced to use his earplugs and block out most sound. Foggy once again explaining his condition. Fit, Elora's resonance echo revealed an athletic female surrounded by countless others throughout the club. Her skin and its elasticity, telling him she was a few years younger than him. Weeding through competing smells, Matt had found the one he'd been searching for after entering the club. The rare mix of very expensive Jamaican oils, ganja and adamantium.
"Excuse me ladies, I need to use the rest room," Matt said. "You mind if I borrow Foggy for a minute?"
Locking onto Lincoln's scent, Matt used Foggy as a human shield while maneuvering through the club toward the rest rooms. Following the scent into a short narrow hall leading to a flight of stairs, Matt stopped to zero in on his target. Posted at the bottom of the stairs two couples were viewed making out. Matt forcing Foggy to continue up the stairs and toward a door marked, 'Security'.
"Where the hell, are we going," Foggy said.
Ignoring his friend's protest; that they were passing the rest rooms and proceeding into a restricted area. The scent of marijuana became stronger the closer they came to the club's security station. Matt removing his earplugs and pulling out his cellphone.
"I need to make a call," he said, holding the phone up to his face.
"I don't," Foggy said leaving, headed back to the men's bathroom.
Concentrating, "We got a full house tonight," Matt heard a man saying. "At thirty-five a head on the door and fifteen to twenty per drink."
"Diddy's in the VIP with his team," another man said. "He wants you to comp him and James Harden a few bottles of Ciroc."
"Give them five bottles of that shit, and a bottle of Cristal Champagne, on me," Lonnie said. "Make sure they know they owe me. I heard someone say the blind defense lawyer is here; send that muthafucka two bottles of Cristal. If I ever catch a case, I want that blind dude defending me, he's good."
"We picking the kid up tomorrow?"
"What do you think," Lonnie said. "He'll find his way back home; the streets are too hot for that problem. Let him cool off a bit."
"I thought the boss wanted him taken care of?"
"He will be, but on my time…my way."
"The press keeps calling, looking for a statement; they're not letting up."
Laughing, "You think those fools really care about one black kid falsely accused of a crime," Lincoln said. "Their attention span ain't long enough to sweat me out, so screw'em. "Shit, Bloomberg made a career locking us up. Maybe I should run for mayor next time and get paid to do it."
"Mr. Fisk wouldn't like..."
Hearing Lincoln grab the man by the throat, "Did I ask what he thought, fool," he said. "Don't ever presume to tell me what, 'he, may…or may not like! You talk like I'm not the one paying you; get your ass out of my sight!"
Hearing the man opening the door, Matt brought the cellphone up to his face. The extremely large African-American man eyeing him while massaging his throat vigorously.
"Leave, now," he said.
Returning to the table with Foggy, receiving two bottles of Cristal, Matt got to know Elora much better.
Hudson River-5:32am: New York
Aldo Betto hated the water. The brutish man of an average height, retching over the side of the boat. Anchored in the Hudson River, a two-hundred-foot, eighty million-dollar Amels Yacht swayed gently beneath him. Chugs chuckling softly, watching him while eating a New York style bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. The smell filling the morning air as the sun rose over The City in the distance. Flirting with a crewmember, Matches was typing the cute brunette's information into his phone. The woman's number just one of four he'd collected while aboard ship.
"That Matches really has a way with the ladies," Chugs said.
"We done here or what," Aldo said, trying to catch his breath.
"The boss wanted all arrangements checked one by one for the party tomorrow night," Chugs said still laughing. "We best make sure everything is in order and completed."
"When do I get to meet the boss," Matches said. "I could really use the bread if he's looking to put me onto some work."
"About that, me and Chugs put in a good word for you," Aldo said. "Mr. Sweet, the boss's assistant; he'll be looking into it for sure. He's a weird one, but decent guy and very smart."
"Don't worry, we left out the bit about you beating, The Bat," Chugs said. "No need to make him think you're crazy."
"Thanks, you bum."
"Malone, check the guest list against the one the boss gave me," Aldo said handing the paper to Matches. "If a name doesn't jive, you let me know. Chugs, you go talk to that security guy, make sure he's on top of things."
Taking the list, Matches did as he was instructed. Browsing over the twenty or so names on the list, most belonging to prominent businessmen, movie stars and city officials, he okayed it. The names of Senator Robert Kelly, Catherine Moon and Congressmen Henry Stanmore among the only politicians.
"Ya'gotta be kidding me," Matches said. "All these people are famous."
Slumped over the rail of the ship, "Yeah, the boss is throwing a private fundraiser for some political joe," Aldo said. "All hush-hush; no one's supposed to know about it. It's the kind of suit and tie thing these rich guys like to attend; lets them be seen by other bigwigs. Is everything else square?"
"Like rain my friend," Matches said. "Guess the boss-lady will be there too, huh?"
"I would think so; the party was her idea."
New York 6:21am-3:43pm: Kelvin Jones
Waking up early, Kelvin Jones walked the yard of Rikers Island accompanied by two armed guards. Given his morning meal, he only drank the orange juice and ate a slice of toast. His stomach still queasy from the night before; the slender teen unable to sleep. The thought of returning to the streets of New York plagued him. It was very unlikely he would be able to avoid Lonnie Lincoln for to much longer. Processed out of the system before noon, he was sold a metrocard and released from the correctional institution. The teen riding a bus across Rikers Island Bridge; taking the Q101 into Manhattan before wondering the better part of the day. The burner phone placed in his pocket, he assumed by one of the prison guards, felt vibrating. Ignoring it, unable to shake the feeling he was being followed, he hopped the bus to Central Park.
Surrounded by people, Kelvin was outwardly distressed. The teen looking over his shoulder religiously as he walked toward North Meadow. The forty-acre woodland area located at the northwest corner of Central Park. The wide pathways near the main trail at102nd Street teeming with life. Still dressed in the shirt and slacks he wore in court the day before; he closed a gray windbreaker around himself. The drab item of clothing contrasting with the bright orange, red and yellow hickory and sugar maple leaves rustling in the trees overhead. The cool autumn afternoon drawing joggers, strolling couples, pet walkers, sightseers and vendors to the world- famous park. Stopping to take a seat on a bench as he started mumbling to himself, Kelvin retrieved the burner phone from his pocket. Staring at the device for several minutes, he slowly dialed a number.
"You found my present," a man said over the cellphone. "Guess you're done running lil'homie? Should've worked this out like men; came to an understanding."
Kneeling to tie his shoe, Matt blocked out all the competing noises. His focus targeting Kelvin, whom he'd been following since his release from jail. Positioned more than thirty feet away, he was listening to his conversation with Lonnie Thompson Lincoln. The hitman located at one of his carwashes according to background noises over the phone.
"Tell me what to do," Kelvin said. "I can't live like this anymore, Lonnie. I just want to go back to the way things was before."
"Shut up! Don't start cryin' now; this is all on you! I've got the goddamn district attorney on my back and the press snooping around in my business; cuz you wanted to play hide and seek and force me into court. But I'm going to help you out of this. So, say thank you, and be quiet."
"Thank you, I won't screw up again. You just tell…"
"Tell me you're not stupid enough to finish that sentence over the phone? Believe me, I'll find a way to square us. Be at the building on 110th and 3rd around 7:45 tonight. Don't make me find you again, Kelvin."
Harlem-7:20pm: Daredevil
Leaping the ledge of a building, the Daredevil dropped two stories. The crimson vigilante rolling to his feet as he ran to a stop overlooking 110th Street. The low level five story buildings of the surrounding area all but adjacent, making traveling above the city convenient. Quiet, the night air was relatively still. The scent on the breeze reminding Matt he was home, that he was in New York. Allowing himself to access the full range of his abilities, reminded him he was alive. The quick pounding of various sounds and heartbeats manifesting as ghostly shadows all around him as they flashed and pulsated. The living silhouettes sonically viewed moving above and below locked behind dark prisons consisting of brick and mortar, wood and metal.
So, Kelvin was working for Lincoln the whole time, Matt thought. Must have started selling drugs again, perhaps doing a lot more. Got in way over his head this time. Could have seen something he wasn't supposed to while in Lincoln's employ. Something Lincoln needs to know he hasn't told anyone else about. Obviously not his lawyers, seeing he hasn't been detained or arrested yet. Can't be anything good to trigger a man like that. He almost lost it just thinking about it in court. I need to speak to Kelvin, but I have to do it as, The Daredevil.
Turning off its lights, slowly pulling up in front of what looked to be an abandoned building, a large black Land Rover parked less than a block away. The three occupants inside vaguely heard discussing orders and a woman. Daredevil running parallel to their position from above, drawing closer to ascertain the threat.
You've got enough on your plate tonight, Matthew, Matt thought to himself. You can't save the world, you're not Superman.
Taking a drag on a cigarette, "This blows bad," a man with a New York Italian accent said.
"What gives, I thought yous were headed Downtown to see the boss," a man with a North Jersey inflection inquired.
"Yeah right, but first he wanted that we should do a favor for a friend," another male Italian New Yorker replied. "No doubt his lady wants a slice from some restaurant in Harlem. Go figure, he sends us to get it. He'll be texting with details shortly, so sit tight and keep your panties on."
Hearing the heartbeat of Kelvin Jones approaching, Daredevil could view the radio waves emanating from his pocket. The burner phone he carried tagged with a small, but very powerful tracking device. Opening the vehicle door, one of the three men exited the SUV, and begun walking toward Kelvin.
"Hey, are you Kelvin Jones," the Italian New Yorker said. "The names Aldo, Mr. Lincoln wants that you should come with me."
"I don't know, man; Lincoln really send you?"
"What, you think I just walk up to every black kid in Harlem asking, 'are you Kelvin Jones', Einstein? You coming or not, cuz personally, I don't like this neighborhood."
Following the guido from a distance, Kelvin wanted to run. His body posture and gaunt frame angled away from the man, placing himself off to the left of him. Opening the vehicle's passenger side door, a much, much larger Italian got out of the car. Kelvin seeing the man and freezing in his tracks.
"Hell to the nah, I'm good dude," he said backing away. "You tell Lincoln, I'll get at him another time. I'll call him and we can work something out later."
"That ain't an option, kid," Aldo said reaching for a weapon placed at the small of his back.
Leveling a taser at Kelvin, the thug fired the device. The two prongs and cords instantly diverted and entangled in a long white titanium baton. Like a wrecking ball Daredevil rammed into the criminal sending him flying into a store front news stand. Rushing in, he quickly delivered several jabs in quick succession. The attack removing one of three opponents from the fray instantly.
Charging in, the largest of the three men was carrying a homemade blackjack. The short metal club wrapped in leather and electric-tape being rotated in a tight circle. Swinging it, the big man overestimated the vigilante's speed, attacking to soon. His momentum carrying him passed the mark aligning his jaw with the hero's fist. Preforming a series of strikes and kicks to the gut and knees, Daredevil brought the man to the ground swiftly. Lining up his jaw once more; the Devil was braced for a finishing shot.
Surprisingly the third man was on him unexpectedly. The criminal's speed and movements indicating he'd had some training. Spinning, bringing a knee up into the man's gut, Daredevil was caught off guard to feel it brushed aside. The ensuing uppercut staggering him back as he spun away from a straight right aimed for his head.
"Get Aldo on his feet and go after the kid," the third thug with a Jersey accent said, circling Daredevil. "I'll handle this guy."
"But that's the freakin', Daredevil," the big thug said.
"Yeah, but he ain't, The Bat!"
Glancing at the biggest man assisting Aldo, "The boy is with me, you harm him in anyway, you answer…"
Side stepping another jab followed by a step-in-left-cross, Daredevil warded off several snapping jabs meant to separate him and the much larger man. The Jersey thug, angling between them as the Italian carried his partner to the SUV.
Who the hell trained this guy, Matt thought, hoping there were no more like him. His fighting style is a bastardized mashup of five different techniques. All centered around American and Muay Thai boxing.
"You truly think you can beat me," Daredevil said, hearing the man's pulse and heart barely racing.
"Let's see."
Rushing in as Daredevil reached for his baton the thug penned it to the ground with a foot and pushed him away. Driving a knee toward Daredevil's face, he then backed him off, kicking the weapon aside.
"Really, now how fair would that be, benny," the thug said.
Pulling off, screeching its tires, the Land Rover was in pursuit of Kelvin. The large Italian behind the wheel looking on smiling as Daredevil sought to maneuver around his companion. Attacking the man with a flurry of feints and kicks, forcing him to cover up, Daredevil had planned to pursue the vehicle. Grabbing the crimson vigilante's arm, the thug drew him in close, locking him up.
"I know your secret," he whispered, triggering a device that dropped Daredevil to his knees and made every dog within two-hundred-yards howl.
Batman-8:27pm
Revealing his iconic costume as he stripped, Batman appeared to be little more than a living shadow while leaping from building to building. Descending the stairs of a fire escape leading into an alley behind two apartment complexes, he summoned his car. Watching the twice black all tinted, Porsche Panamera Turbo S come to a stop near the alley, Batman entered the car and sped away.
Shedding the disguise of Matches Malone completely, pulling down his cowl, the thought of pursuing Kelvin Jones had crossed the Dark Knight's mind. The boy's safety of paramount concern given the caliber of adversaries arrayed against him. The files on Lonnie Thompson Lincoln, forcing the Detective to conclude Kelvin's life was in mortal danger. The text message gleaned from Aldo's cellphone, giving him the location of where they'd take the teen; if they indeed had him.
"Alfred, give me an update," Batman said making his way across town.
"All is well, Sir," Alfred said. "Master Dick, has performed admirably in your absence. As for Master Damian, he seems to thrive no matter the situation. A very remarkable and capable young man, you'd be proud, Sir. How fairs your investigation, Master Bruce?"
"A lot of moving pieces here, Alfred. I'll need you to pull up everything you can on a juvenile named, Kelvin Jones. He's an African-American male living in Harlem, New York. Highlight any personal or indirect affiliation to Wilson Fisk."
"At once sir, I'll contact you with any prevalent information as soon as possible."
"As of now Alfred, we go silent. Our friend is very sensitive to all forms of audible communication."
Clark needed to be removed, Batman thought, turning onto 1st Avenue. Perhaps he was considered too powerful or couldn't be controlled by this woman using Kingpin. It wouldn't be the first time someone sought to subvert Clark's will, in hopes of manipulating his power. But why use Fisk at all? Anyone attempting to acquire and enslave Clark, would find little need for Fisk after the success of the abduction…unless.
Roosevelt Island-10:36pm: New York
Seated next to Chugs, Kelvin thought about leaping out of the SUV countless times. The vehicle moving quickly over the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge in route to Roosevelt Island. An Island enclave directly between Manhattan and Queens, RI rose up from the center of the East River like the angry red scar on Aldo's face. Kelvin noticing several lacerations covering the faces of both kidnappers.
"Who beat your ass, man? They did a hell of a job, real talk."
"You want that we should do the same to you," Aldo said. "A good guy, might've given his life tonight because of you, ya lil'shit! So, shut up and keep your mouth closed or Chugs will do it for you!"
Paying a toll, driving along the I-278 West exit in silence, they drove for a few more miles before coming to Main Street. Approaching midnight, the Island seemed almost deserted as few vehicles were seen on the roads. Many of the public housing buildings aligning the street lit as the ten story residential complexes glowed in the distance. Driving the length of the two-mile Island, Kelvin was aware of where they were headed, visiting the Franklin D. Roosevelt Four Freedoms Park with Lonnie numerous times.
Batman & Daredevil-11:42pm
Perched atop a building three hundred yards away, Batman waited. Through high powered bat-shaped binoculars, he studied the approaching Land Rover. The weighted SUV entering the park slowly with lights turned off. Stopping in front of the Renwick Ruins, a national historical site famous for being the first smallpox hospital in the United States, the vehicle shut off.
"We can finish our sparring session later," Batman said, never taking his eyes off the Land Rover.
"I thought you had a rule about dropping in uninvited," Daredevil said, approaching the Gotham vigilante.
"If the Kitchen's your playground; you may want to inform Frank Castle and Jessica Jones. I'll allow you to assist me, but we do things my way, no questions asked. You'll wait for my signal and move when I tell you to."
"What the…hold on," Matt said, watching Batman preparing to leave.
"They're expecting you; it's your City after all. So, you get to play the part of hero. Force them to show their hand, and expect the unexpected. There's more going on here than you're aware of."
"You could fill me in," Daredevil said.
"There's no time, she's here."
Pulling Kelvin out of the Land Rover, Aldo and Chugs threw him on the ground. The two thugs brandishing handguns held down at their sides while standing over the boy. Parking behind the first SUV, a second vehicle came to a stop. The driver causing the utility van to tilt as he stepped out. Wearing black slacks, a navy-blue tactical turtleneck sweater and black gloves, Wilson Fisk studied the scene. The large man expressionless as he looked on.
"Boss, what are you doing here," Aldo said. "We thought we were meeting Tombstone?"
"Take the boy inside," a female voice ordered.
Exiting the passenger side of the SUV, the beautiful redhead dressed in an outfit matching Fisk got out. Her long red hair tied away from her face and braided down her back.
"You heard Lillian, Take the boy inside," Fisk said glaring at the two thugs.
"Right away boss," Aldo and Chugs said in unison.
Hauled into the Smallpox Hospital, Kelvin tried to protest to no avail. Chugs snatching the teen up like a fish in the paws of a bear. Following them inside the Gothic Revival styled building; Aldo, Fisk and the woman entered. The front entrance of the National Landmark, leading to a porch that opened on three sides. The ancient three story building itself, constructed with nine U shaped bay like compartments. The outer facing walls that made up the structure finished in a granite veneer. Its central block design crowned with a hipped-roof having a gentle slope enclosed with parapets on all sides. The entire structure resembling a small weather-beaten castle.
"Boss, do you think it's wise to be here," Aldo said. "This ain't something you usually…you know, get involved in."
"That's not your concern," the redhead said. "What we choose to do is our business. Just take the boy into the basement and be quiet. Good help is so hard to find, don't you agree Frisky?"
"Absolutely, my dear Lillian," Wilson Fisk said. "Get the boy into the basement and remain silent."
"Gotcha boss, sorry," Aldo said.
Opening a hidden entrance built into the floor of the building, Aldo used his cellphone to light the way. Descending a flight of stairs leading into what looked to be an ancient catacomb, he lit several torches placed in sconces along the wall. The secret passageway and crematorium built beneath the hospital to dispose of the dead.
"Put the boy down, and give me your weapon," Lillian told Chugs.
Doing as he was ordered, Chugs put Kelvin down and handed the redhead his weapon. Restraining the boy as he fought to break free of his grasp, he held him in place.
"It doesn't have to be this way you know," Lillian said. "All you have to do is join us, and we could be one big happy family."
Squirming violently, "You're crazy bitch," Kelvin said.
"You need to watch your mouth boy," Tombstone said stepping out of the shadows. "I do all this for you and this is how you repay me? If I had a heart, it would be broken."
Drawing his gun, "What the hell is going on here," Aldo said, maneuvering away from Tombstone and the redhead.
Walking over to Lillian, Tombstone kissed her passionately. His hands groping her body as if prepared to take her in front of all present. Standing beside them watching with a smile, Wilson Fisk looked on enraptured.
Utterly perplexed, confused and dazed, "Boss…what's happening," Aldo and Chugs said in unison.
"Don't fret it boys, chunky butt likes to watch," Tombstone said slapping Fisk on the backside. "You see Kelvin, your reaction was normal; hate you had to see what you saw homie."
Leveling his weapon, Aldo fired at Tombstone. The trained killer dodging the projectiles as he darted away and then toward the hoodlum in a blur. Shocked at the man's inhuman speed, Aldo sought to fire a third time, his weapon aimed at center mass. Squeezing the trigger, he felt his wrist go limp. The weapon discharging as it bounced off the stone floor still in his hand. With a savage cry, Aldo fell back tripping. His eyes locked onto the glimmering pointed adamantium teeth of Tombstone; the man smiling a bloody platinum smile.
Releasing Kelvin, Chugs swung the boy into the professional killer. The man catching him and tossing him aside effortlessly.
Circling the much larger man, "Get Fisk out of here, baby," Tombstone told Lillian. "We can't lose our golden ticket."
Moving in to attack, Tombstone halted, the albino turning toward the stairs. Descending the stone staircase, backing down Lillian with his baton, Daredevil appeared. The crimson vigilante disarming her before moving her aside as Fisk simply watched. listening to all the vital signs of everyone within the chamber, Kelvin's heart rate was beating much as it did in court.
He's not afraid, Matt thought. He's excited.
Seizing the opportunity while the killer was distracted, Chugs wrapped the pale man in a bear hug. The big man squeezing all the more seeing his friend trying to stop the bleeding from his wound. The thick squat man visibly drifting in and out of consciousness.
"Kelvin…are you…in or out," Tombstone coughed.
Racing down the stairs toward the large criminal thug, Daredevil halted hearing a visceral scream that filled the catacombs. Chugs shaking, seizing and writhing in pain as he released Tombstone. The man's internal organs shriveling up as his body began to decay, Daredevil viewing the thug's resonance echo dimming instantly. Smiling, Tombstone and the creature that had once been Kelvin, stood over the remains of the dead criminal. The slender milk white teen, with jaundice yellow eyes, heartbeat and body functions almost non-existent.
"Ain't that some freaky shit, Devil," Tombstone said smiling.
Stepping out of the shadows, "Expect the unexpected," Batman said, administering a pain and neuro inhibitor to Aldo's arm.
"What are you doing here," Lillian said. "How did you find me?"
Helping Aldo, "I wasn't looking, Harley," Batman said flatly. "But it's easy to see you've been keeping yourself busy. I take it, you and the Joker are no longer an item?"
"Harley Quinn is mine," Tombstone said. "The clown never appreciated her; the woman's a boss like me."
"You hear that Batsy, I got swagger!"
"Does Ivy know you're doubling for her and manufacturing a cheap version of her hypno-toxin? You lack her green thumb Harley; dead plants and cross strains aren't something she's known for."
"That stuff ain't cheap or easy to make," Harley said. "Thankfully, old Frisky was so inclined to foot the bill for all the essential ingredients. As for Ivy, we don't discuss her, right poppy?"
"That's right mamma, she left our little family. Luckily, we found a way to keep our golden goose laying fat golden eggs."
"How long will that last," Batman said. "Until you secretly transfer all of Fisk's money into offshore accounts…and kill him along with the guest aboard his yacht tomorrow night?"
"How in the…how'd you know about that," Tombstone said, Matt registering true fear in him for the first time.
"Is this why he needs Kelvin," Daredevil said. "The boy's his partner?"
"The boy is obviously a mutant like his father," Batman said. "That's the only reason Tombstone hasn't killed him."
"We don't kill family Batsy," Harley said. "When junior found daddy, Ivy, Frisky and mommy enjoying grown-up time; he didn't take it so well."
"Got himself locked up, thinking he could frustrate my plans," Tombstone said. "With Fisk's money and connections, wasn't a problem righting that wrong."
"Now we're one big happy family again," Harley said, edging toward Daredevil. "And the family that steals together, kills together!"
Daredevil
Dodging an immobilizing blow meant for the back of his neck, Daredevil side-stepped Harley's karate chop. Slamming an elbow into her face, he was surprised that she still stood. Even more so when the woman laughed and readjusted a broken nose.
"She enjoys the pain," Batman said, warding off an awkward strike from Kelvin. "Don't hold back, incapacitate her quickly."
With a nasally voice, "Don't go tell'n all my secrets Batsy," Harley Quinn said. "Frisky, help me kill the Devil and I'll give you a treat tonight."
Batman
Off balance, Kelvin reached for Batman as Tombstone maneuvered around them. The hired killer content to gauge and judge his sons fighting prowess in his mutant form. No doubt a formidable street fighter when in human guise, his inhuman speed and quickness was becoming a liability. The misjudgment of Batman's skill and reach in comparisons to his own, leaving the gangly teen open.
Moving towards them, "No, watch your footwor…" Tombstone had begun to say.
Pinning Kelvin's foot as he slid inside a slashing attack, the elongated fingers of the boy raking air, Batman spun around and behind him. Delivering dual fist blows to the solar plexus, followed by a head-butt to the back of the head, Batman shoved Kelvin at his father.
Throwing his son aside, "Cold ass move, my man," Tombstone said cracking his knuckles. "Saw that coming. My boy needs some work, I can admit it. Not my proudest moment, but I'll get'em there."
"Before we get started, who hired you and Ivy; and where's Superman?"
"I'm street Batman, we survive by eating rats, not becoming one," Tombstone said smiling.
Daredevil
Daredevil had only fought Wilson Fisk twice in all the time he'd been pursuing the crime lord. What most mistook as obesity was anything but. Deceptively quick and impressively strong, the man was an all-pro linebacker in a sumo wrestler's body.
Cleaving a chunk of rock from a support pillar, Fisk charged the crimson vigilante. Diving away, performing a somersault as he bounced his baton off the man's kneecap and rolled to catch it, Daredevil made note of everyone positioned in the chamber. Avoiding a large rock thrown by Harley, he bounced his baton of the female criminal's head. The woman staggering back, falling into a wall, all the while laughing insanely.
Time to even the odds, Matt thought, rushing the Kingpin.
Batman
Faster, quicker, stronger and viciously calm, Tombstone pressed every advantage no matter how minute.
He's not giving me time to breathe, Batman said. Want allow me to think, to calculate and assess.
Snapping at Batman's arms as they fought, Tombstone sought to distract him. Keeping the Gotham hero and urban legend off balance until he could break his guard or simply bite him. Redirecting his punches, mindful of the adamantium teeth of his adversary, Batman readjusted his fighting style. Centering his footwork in Taekwondo and Capoeira, he used open hand attacks to the face combined with swiping and focused leg assaults. Slowing Tombstone's advancement and putting distance between them as they traded blows, he regained the upper hand.
Slapped and back-handed, "You're a clever one, aren't you muthafucka," Tombstone said backing off. "Guess we do this the old fashion way!"
Charging Batman, taking him off his feet, Tombstone growled. Going limp allowing the pale killer to drive him back, Batman placed a knee into the man's groin as they fell. Grabbing Batman by the throat, Tombstone began to laugh.
"Homie, Harley spanks them harder than that, with her lil'baseball bat," he said, opening his mouth.
Daredevil
She's certifiably insane, Matt thought, dodging clubbing blows and debris.
Throwing rocks and debris at him, Harley was on her hands and knees searching for anything she could use to assault Daredevil with. Her laughter pinging and echoing throughout the underground labyrinth as the Devil guided Fisk along the eastern wall of the chamber. Running up the wall and leaping fallen rubble, utilizing parkour to evade Harley and Fisk, Daredevil dislodged most of the wall sconces. The falling dust and granite veneer extinguishing the torches that lit the catacombs.
Batman
Pressing his weight down, "Never tasted bat, I wonder if you taste like chicken," Tombstone said snapping at Batman's face as they grappled.
Repositioning his hips, turning them slightly, Batman waited. The light inside the chamber dimming suddenly. Sensitive to light, as a result of albinism and photophobia, many albinos avoided viewing most direct light sources unprotected. Allowing the passageway to go completely dark, grabbing Tombstone by the face, Batman triggered his cowl's optic lenses and strobes with a series of blinks. The intense debilitating flash of lights causing the albino killer to writhe back in pain. Shoving a palm thrust under his chin, Batman heard adamantium grind against itself. Tossing Tombstone off him as the man collapsed in a heap, the Dark knight flipped to his feet firing a miniature inoculation dart. The tiny needle lodging into the neck of Fisk as Daredevil evaded it.
Moving to confront Harley Quinn, "What do you know about Ivy and Superman," Batman said, watching the female criminal groping in the dark.
"Awww, are they dating now Batsy," Harley said. "Go figure."
"Fisk and Aldo will need to be hospitalized as soon as possible," Batman said preparing to depart. "I've summoned the NYPD to this location, they'll be arriving shortly. I suggest, you restrain Harley before that happens."
"That's it, you're done? What about the plot to assassinate the guest aboard Fisk's yacht?"
"Contact Donovan Marsh or Luke Cage," Batman said ascending the stairs. "It's your city; protect it yourselves. Aldo is a good man at heart, if he can be rehabilitated...it might be worthwhile, Matthew."
To be continued (Black Panther/Wonder Woman)