Even his smiles were complicated.

When he was Matt Murdock, he didn't feel like smiling, but he made himself do it anyway. Clients needed reassuring, and law-enforcement needed to see that he was positive and confident. The law was something that he was completely serious about: when he saw cops and lawyers being cavalier about it, it really grated on him. He had to choke back his outrage and keep up a positive front. When he was Daredevil, though, he wanted to smile, but he always fought the urge. Daredevil might have been born out of anger and guilt, but his more hands-on approach was incredibly satisfying. As much as he loved the law, it could be slow and frustrating; Daredevil could simply find the problematic person, grab them, and throw them down some stairs. But it wasn't right to enjoy that. The law was good, vigilantism was a necessary evil, and he tried to force his brain to think of them that way.

Matt was at New York's primary FBI field office. He was smiling, seemingly without a care in the world, content to just sit silently and wait for the person that he wanted to talk to.

If there was one thing that cops and federal agents loved to do, it was wasting defense attorneys' time. Even when they weren't trying to hide his clients from him-which they did often, beating on them while denying that they were even in custody-they still loved to stick him in the waiting area and let him sit around and wait. "Oh, you need to talk to this guy? Sure, sure, it'll be just a few minutes..." Early in his career, his blindness made him even more of a target for them. The cops and feds had snuck away and laughed about it, while the secretaries had felt badly for him; Matt had heard many behind-his-back conversations, over the years.

He didn't usually let them waste his time. Thanks to his enhanced senses, he knew if they were lying, or trying to hide something. Matt had terrified quite a few police officers and federal agents by mentioning the specific room that his latest client was in. "Oh, uh, I guess we actually do have him in custody, Mr. Murdock. Sorry about that." They were a little leery of him, now, and only the dumber cops tried to pull things on him. But they still made him wait. Matt was fine with that, today. He'd found a flimsy excuse to visit the New York field office, checked in with the receptionist, and cheerfully planted himself in a seat.

If the government was looking for Halo Knight, this was the perfect place for him to be. All he had to do was sit, wait, and listen.

The office stank. Matt was used to that, though. Most people smoked-New York was full of cigarette smoke and car exhaust-and Nelson & Murdock was probably the only smoke-free office in the city. He breathed through his mouth and listened to office chatter. This was one of the rare times that he was glad he was blind; he'd heard that this particular FBI office was extremely ugly.

Matt and Foggy had a client that was on the periphery of a major racketeering case: the man owned a small restaurant, and some mobsters had decided that they liked eating there. They hadn't been disruptive, they hadn't tried to extort him, and they hadn't told him which vendors or contractors to use. But they'd decided that they were "friends" with this man, and they "helped him out" from time to time. Once, when some money went missing, these men had decided to question a young black man who worked in the kitchen. (Matt thought that he was a great cook, and his sense of taste was extremely demanding.) He hadn't done it, but they'd brutally beaten him, and he hadn't been able to work for weeks. Another time, they'd thought that a Czech immigrant was a little too interested in the man's wife. The Czech man was never seen again. The restaurant owner hoped that they'd just scared him into leaving town, but...

It was common to hear about the mob "making an example out of someone." In some ways, this was the mirror image-the mobsters helped out this restaurant owner, never asking for anything in return, and it made other businessmen think that they were reasonable men. It would be safe to ask them for a favor, right?

Luckily, the mobsters ran into some problems, and they didn't have as much time for their favorite restaurant. The feds had built a major case against them. Many of them were arrested, and some of them actually flipped, which was something that never used to happen. They'd encountered someone that scared them even more than their bosses. The feds had interviewed the restaurant owner, and while he didn't know enough to be a major witness (or to be in danger), the feds were sort of keeping him in reserve. He'd be a good "anti-character witness." If any of their evidence was thrown out, he just might be called up. Matt had been meaning to go over some details with the feds...it provided him with the perfect excuse to be there.

He hadn't heard much, so far. A lot of complaining about witnesses and evidence (or the lack thereof), various racial/ethnic slurs, and jokes about strip-searching the secretaries to make sure that they weren't actually the Chameleon. They'd also joked about making Matt wait, and his presence had started a conversation about mobsters. Many of the agents were glad that Daredevil was taking on organized crime. It brought it to the public's attention, and forced the Bureau to do more. They implied that Hoover (who was referred to in whispers as "Her Majesty") thought that college groups and black groups were more of a threat than actual armed criminals. Apparently, to him, the mob was business as usual, while this new social stuff was much more dangerous.

(Matt had listened to a number of law-enforcement conversations about both Matt Murdock and Daredevil, but he'd never heard anyone connect the two. He'd covered as many bases as he could. For instance, he'd stolen and burned the medical records that related to his accident. There was some unavoidable overlap between his two personas' activities-Hell's Kitchen was a small world-but he tried to keep them as far apart as possible.)

He sat there and eavesdropped, listening to anything that might be related to Halo Knight. But that wasn't all that he was doing. Since he was a lawyer, he kept going over Halo Knight's statements in his head, looking for the clues and meanings behind them. Matt was fifty-fifty on whether he was crazy or whether he was simply wrong and desperate.

You've fought greedy men, insane men, and outright evil men...but he could be something completely different. How do you fight someone that's driven by sheer hopelessness? That suit of his is sealed, so I couldn't smell him, but I don't think that he was afraid of me. He didn't act like it. Most people are afraid of death, the devil, things like that. But, if he meant what he said, Halo Knight is scared of...life, and how futile it can be. He's already broken, so there's nothing for me to break. That's just great. I turned myself into a monster, and I scare people like Karen, but not him.

And then there was the kid. He was obviously too young to be doing this, and he obviously didn't have any training. "Angel" must have read a few too many comic books when he was a kid: he seemed to think that any random millionaire could put on a mask and go fight crime. (The way he spoke, the way he smelled-his parents were definitely wealthy.) After the fight, when they'd been talking, Matt had been ready to scream at him. He was lucky to still be alive. But that was something that Stick would have done, and Matt had sworn to never be like him. An angry rant wouldn't accomplish anything. He'd been on the other end of plenty of those, from both Stick and his own father. Instead, he'd just listened, tried to stay calm, and laid things out for him.

The good news was that the kid was smart and resourceful. Matt didn't recall any newspaper stories with headlines like "local boy grows wings," which meant that he'd managed to keep them secret, and that was an accomplishment in and of itself. Most people would have been driven mad by an experience like that; he must have been strong-willed. He was also physically strong, and effective in the air. If they'd had a few months, Matt could have given him some basic combat training, though it wouldn't have been a perfect translation. His wings made certain things irrelevant, and they also opened up new possibilities. But, in all likelihood, they'd have to face Halo Knight again in the next day or so, which meant that he'd be paired up with a rookie.

What would you really have to teach him, Matt? There's more to this than just knowing how to fight. If the kid's right, and he's a mutant, his life could be radically different from yours. Remember the old "Mutant Menace" pamphlets that the fringe political guys used to pass around? How they were the Children of the Atom, bred for a post-atomic age, and that they were out to replace us? If those conspiracy theories become more popular, he'll have to deal with problems that you could never possibly understand.

Matt had always worked alone. No other heroes, and no cops, either. He didn't have any secret allies in law-enforcement. This was his personal mission-a dare he'd made to himself-and he didn't want to drag anyone else down with him. But he was responsible for the kid, now. And, even worse, he needed him. If Halo Knight flew above buildings, all Matt could do was stand there and watch. The kid was capable of fighting him in his own element. Halo Knight was the most powerful opponent that Matt had ever faced, and his one weakness-a lack of experience-would most likely be temporary. He'd be even more dangerous, next time. It would take both him and the kid to bring him down.

Whenever Matt was up against someone that was legitimately tough, he tended to go for their limbs. A broken arm or leg would hobble them and open them up to attack. If you wanted to break a person's arm, you first needed to grab their wrist or forearm. But, in this case, there would be energy coming out of his hand, and Matt would have to avoid it. Breaking his leg wasn't any easier. If he was floating, and not putting his weight on it, a kick to his knee wouldn't have the same effect.

From burglars and mobsters to a Space Age crusader that has far-out beliefs...yeah, welcome to the sixties, Matt.

Speaking of burglars: one of the goons he'd fought last night had claimed that there were a bunch of new feds running around the city. Matt hadn't heard the agents mention any ramped-up operations, so far. Normally, he would have written it off as a crook's overactive imagination (superheroes made them a little crazy), but this had been the ringleader, and he was a savvy enough criminal. Matt suspected that he could tell the difference between scuffed-shoe police detectives and well-dressed government agents. If that was the case, who could it be? Secret Service, CIA, Treasury, maybe military investigators of some sort? Matt hadn't noticed anyone like that while operating as Daredevil, so they must have been trying to avoid attention.

He listened, he thought about the possibility of government involvement, and he considered Halo Knight's statements...which included what Halo Knight had said about him.

"The darkness." That was what Halo Knight kept calling him, and Matt really hated it. He did feel dark inside, and angry, and vengeful. But he'd never let himself become evil. His father and Stick had both ended up as bitter, burned-out men. Matt sometimes wondered what ten or fifteen years of this would do to his psyche.

An elevator went by, and it contained a familiar-sounding voice. Matt had never met him, but he'd heard him on TV and the radio, and he'd overheard him during past visits to the FBI. It was the man in charge of the NYC field office. His office was on the next floor up, and Matt heard him get off the elevator, walk across the floor, and field a variety of questions.

One of the questions: "Did you find anything out?"

His whispered response: "No, not here. In my office." Louder: "Nancy, hold my calls."

Matt sat up a little straighter.

The boss and the younger-sounding agent went into his office, closing the door.

"They're CIA," the boss said, sitting down.

"What, all of them? All those men-in-black sightings? I thought CIA guys were lone wolves, why would-"

"Yeah, I know, I've never heard of anything like it. But my friend at the Agency assured me it's true. They've flooded our jurisdiction with operatives, and you'll never believe who they're after."

The younger agent laughed. "It's one of Tony Stark's girlfriends, isn't it? I knew that one of them had to be a sleeper agent..."

"Not even close: they're hunting that freak that's been flying around. You know, the spaceman with the silver helmet."

"What? Why?"

"Well, for one thing, he's connected to the space program. And he's a mutant."

"Wh-are you k-no, come on, stop joking around."

"It's true. He's a mutant, and he was helping us somehow, but he went rogue and escaped."

Another mutant?

"Oh, man, Fred's gonna go crazy. He lives for this mutant stuff."

"No, none of this leaves the room."

Matt heard confusion in the younger agent's voice. "If it's classified, how are we gonna help them find him?"

"This isn't an investigation. They're handling the search, and when they find him, they're taking him out. No witnesses, no loose ends."

That makes things a little more complicated.

"Here's what's happening," the boss said. "At some point today, the CIA will call Hoover, and tell him that we need to help them cover up an operation. One that hasn't happened yet. It'll involve a multi-party shootout, and our job will be to seal the site and run interference with the NYPD. By that point, it'll be over, and we need to claim that it involved two gangs of armed men. It'll actually just be one-a team of CIA hitters versus this powered target. But they won't tell us that. Knowing them, they'll make up something about commies. Anyway, you'll take point at the scene, and you'll be the one that scares off any curious cops. We'll gather up the evidence and ship it off for 'analysis'...but this particular lab is actually a CIA front. They'll destroy it or stick it in a warehouse or something."

"I can't believe Hoover would just go along with that," the younger agent said.

"When even Hoover isn't trying to play some angle, you know that it's terrifying, high-level stuff."

The younger agent had started pacing around the room, and Matt heard his clothing wrinkle as he made a flurry of gestures. "This is ridiculous! Don't get me wrong, I know that the Agency does stuff in the city. Surveillance, document handoffs, running assets. And some of the homicides that come across the wire, they sure sound like their style. But something like this? An entire kill-squad? God, come on, this isn't South America or Eastern Europe! They should just bring him in alive."

"No, he knows too much, so they're afraid of losing him to the Russkies. And they don't think they can hold him, anymore."

Matt didn't like this. Sometimes, police officers and armed civilians would get attacked by criminals, and Daredevil would help them...but he wouldn't yank the guns out of their hands to prevent them from killing their attackers. He held himself to that standard, not others. They had a right to self-defense. This was different, though. If he and the kid managed to beat Halo Knight, what would they do with him, afterwards? Hand him over to have his throat slit?

The younger agent: "So, why did he go off the reservation, exactly?"

"Officially? He was training to be an astronaut, and an 'isolation test' broke him. Unofficially? His powers are affecting his brain, and making him hallucinate. At first, they thought he could see the future, and the Agency got pretty excited. He has these 'memories' of things that never happened. Light versus darkness, super-people that don't actually exist. But, apparently, he's just crazy."

"I don't get it," the younger agent said. "I mean, if there was even a one percent chance that he could see the future, wouldn't the Agency take a flier on him? I know I would."

Matt felt (and smelled) cold sweat bubbling on his neck...he recalled one of Halo Knight's statements, about how he'd "seen" Matt attacking Angel over and over again. Matt was pretty sure that they wouldn't be getting into another fight, but Halo Knight had showed up at the exact moment that they had fought. Was it just lucky timing? Also, from the sound of it, he'd been talking about "light versus darkness" for a while, and the public had only found out about a certain winged man a few days ago. That was a creepy coincidence, to say the least. Matt flashed back to all the years he'd spent in Catholic school. From what he remembered, visions were notoriously hard to decipher. Could Halo Knight actually be sane? He already had one proven ability, so why not two? Maybe some of it had just gotten lost in translation. But, if that were true, and he was right about Matt being "darkness"...

Calm down, Matt. It's probably nothing. And, come on, it's kind of funny. A blind man worrying about someone else's 'visions.'

The younger agent's heart was speeding up, and his breathing mirrored it. He was trying to work up the nerve to say something.

"So...if one of our people sees this guy...I'm assuming that we're supposed to keep our distance and call the Agency."

"Yeah, that's right," the boss said.

"I think we should try to grab him," the younger agent blurted out.

Silence.

"Just hear me out, okay? With all the bad blood between the Kennedys and the Agency, we should be cleaning up, right? We should be taking advantage of that. But, as long as Her M-as long as Hoover is in charge, we can't, because he doesn't get along with the Kennedys, either. This is our chance to earn some goodwill. If we caught this guy, it'd look like we were cleaning up the Agency's mess. And, come on, why just kill him? It'd make more sense to keep him drugged and harmless. You know, scan his brain waves or whatever they are, and see what's really going on in there. Who's to say he can't predict the future? There's a guy with a magic hammer out there, and a former TV star who's swinging around on webs."

The boss didn't say anything for about ten or fifteen seconds. Then, finally, he said, "Technically, the CIA is only supposed to have jurisdiction over foreign-born mutants, while we have the domestic ones. And my contact told me that he's American. So, yes, it should be our case."

The younger agent was clearly on the edge of his seat; so was Matt, who was trying to act calm and bored (he was sitting in a waiting room, after all). This could be the perfect solution. If the FBI would take Halo Knight once he and the kid captured him, they wouldn't be handing him over to be killed in cold blood. But all he could do was sit and listen and hope.

"This Daredevil stuff has helped to thaw things out with the Administration," the boss said thoughtfully. "He's gone after the mob, so we had to follow suit, and Bobby loved it. If we could replicate that success with this mutie, I wouldn't complain. But I need to think about it. Hoover would explode, and even a big win wouldn't completely protect us from him."

"Hoover is an old man. A few more years, and he'll be done. How many more Kennedy presidencies do you think we'll have? Another one for Jack, maybe two for Bobby? We need to keep getting on their good side."

"I can't argue with that, but we can't rush in half-cocked, either. I need time to think this through."

As strange as it sounded, Daredevil and Matt Murdock were getting their wires crossed. As Daredevil, he took situations into his own hands, relying only on himself. If something needed to be done, he did it. But Matt Murdock was forced to rely on the system. He could do a great job, but if the cops, judges, witnesses, and other lawyers didn't do theirs, it was all for naught. This time was different, though. Daredevil needed these men to step up to the plate and help him out. Matt loved how independent and free Daredevil was, so it really annoyed him, having to hope that someone else did their part.

He was also frustrated by his lack of options. Ideally, if they managed to capture Halo Knight, he should be given a fair trial. Matt would have even volunteered to defend him. But, given how top-secret all of this was, they'd never let him get that close to the spotlight. He didn't like the idea of Halo Knight being detained indefinitely and studied, but it was better than letting the CIA assassinate him. The young man under the helmet could be mentally unstable; he might not be responsible for his actions.

Since he couldn't see, Matt was constantly on the receiving end of jokes about justice being blind, a pattern that had started on his very first day of law school. That famous statue had a blindfold, but it also had a pair of scales. Matt's life was all about balance. His role in the system versus his role as a vigilante, sacrificing for Hell's Kitchen versus having his own life. He found himself trying to find the perfect balance-point in this new situation. Matt thought about Halo Knight, the kid, and the government. If he just kept looking, he'd eventually find the right balance.