Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2016 1:46:58 GMT
Two Weeks Ago.
♪ All day I've faced the barren waste
Without the taste of water… Cool water…
Ol’ Dan and I, with throats burned dry, and souls that cry
For water… Cool, clear water… ♬
The soft, solemn sounds from the jukebox practically coated the bar with melancholy, like paint. The people there—mostly older men—sat with their heads hanging low. The bartender himself was sullen. He wore a white dress shirt stained with all kinds of alcohol. If someone walked in, he’d greet them with a simple nod, then ask them what they’d like. The bar itself was small; Hell’s Kitchen never offered much in terms of size. It was the perfect size for someone throwing a small party with his friends, and that was about it.
At the far corner table sat three men. One of them wore a large cowboy hat—tilted downward, in a way that hid his face. A long whip was attached to his belt, ready for use. His faded jeans and dirty boots completed his look nicely; he looked as if he’d been plucked from the West and placed in the bar. The second man’s attire was much more fitting for the city environment. He looked like a character from a 1940s noir film. Fedora, suit, cynical facial expression, cigarette… He fit the bill perfectly. The third man was the outlier of the trio. He was gigantic. His muscles bulged against his athletic clothing. He wore a black beanie hat, covering his bald head. Three shiny chain necklaces hung over his torso, and numerous dazzling rings decorated his sausage fingers.
♪ The nights are cool, and I’m a fool.
Each star’s a pool of water… Cool water…
And with the dawn, I’ll wake & yawn, and carry on
To water… Cool, clear water… ♬
The three of them were playing poker.
“I’ll raise,” said the cowboy hat.
“I’ll fold,” said the fedora.
“Danny, man, you always fold,” said the giant, chuckling.
“Because my hand always sucks, Ox.”
“Excuse me, you three,” said a voice. “Are you…the Enforcers?”
The trio looked up from their game. Standing in between the cowboy hat and the fedora was a man completely garbed in purple—purple coat, purple pants, purple shoes…even purple skin. He exuded an aura of…confidence, as if he was meant to be there, talking with the three men.
The man of purple turned to a patron behind him. “I would be ecstatic if you gave up your seat for me, sir,” he said to him.
The stranger nearly dropped his beer as he scrambled to get off his chair. Without even a “thank you,” the purple man moved the chair over to the Enforcers’ table and sat down.
The fedora shook his head, scoffing. “You must have some brass balls for sittin’ by us. What are you, anyway—dressed like that? You some kinda circus freak?”
The cowboy hat put his finger to his lips, signaling the fedora to be quiet. His head turned to face the purple man. “Yeah, we’re the Enforcers. Who’s askin’?”
“Tell me your names,” said the purple man, ignoring the question.
“Montana,” said the cowboy hat.
“They call me Fancy Dan,” said the fedora.
“I’m Ox,” said the giant.
“Interesting… Very interesting…” the purple man said, leaning back with a smirk on his face. “The three of you will call me…Master.”
“Master…?” the trio said together.
“Yesssss… I’m…hiring, as you might say. You’re currently unemployed, no?”
“We’re freelancers,” said Montana. “We hop from place ta place. Th’guy we used ta work for decided he’d had enough with Hell’s Kitchen. Moved to Manhattan, where all them ‘super heroes’ are poppin’ up.”
“I see,” said the purple man.
“You got money to hire us?” asked Ox.
“We’re pretty expensive,” Fancy Dan added. “But hey, cash is cash. I bet we can work someth—”
“You will work for me for free.”
“I am perfectly fine with that.”
“What’re ya wantin’ us for?” asked Montana. “What’re ya tryna accomplish?”
“. . . I want to be a king.”
Montana let out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee. “Ha! Ha ha! So does every other ‘super-villain’ in this town. What makes you so special?”
“I will succeed,” simply said the purple man.
Any trace of doubt was immediately wiped from Montana’s face.
“If you wanna do somethin’ like that,” said Ox, “you’re gonna have to deal with…the guy.”
The purple man furrowed his brow. “The ‘guy’?”
“The guy.”
“He’s talkin’ about Daredevil,” said Fancy Dan.
“Ah… I’ve heard of him,” the purple man said, nodding his head in understanding. “He’s one of those ‘super heroes.’ He wears red. He comes out at night and battles injustice.”
“Yeah,” Fancy Dan said, “an’ he’s fuckin’ terrifying.”
“Daredevil will not be problem, my slaves. When you have abilities like mine, no person or thing can harm you. Watch this.”
Suddenly, the purple man stood up and strolled casually over to the bartender, who still had that sullen, blank expression on his face. He did a double take as he saw the man in purple.
“Whaddaya want?”
“I believe I want—” The purple man tapped his chin, pretending to decide on a drink. “—for you to shoot yourself in the head.”
The bartender reached under the counter, pulling out his pistol. He pushed the barrel against his chin and pulled the trigger.
Blam!
The bartender’s head snapped backward as the bullet zipped through his cranium. He stood still, but only for a second, before falling to the floor like a tall tree. Everyone stood up in shock and slowly backed away from the scene, including the Enforcers.
“There’s no need to be afraid.” the purple man said, turning to the bargoers. He made sure to make eye contact with each and every person there, studying them. “I may have superpowers, but I am not one of these so-called super-villains. There is no need for fear. You see, my friends, I don’t shoot lasers out of my eyes, or cling to walls, or leap buildings in a single bound. . . . No, I have thee greatest superpower a man can ask for: thee power of influence. So come with me, my new friends. Join me on my conquest over the cesspool known as Hell’s Kitchen!”
Present Day.
It was a surprisingly nice day outside. Winter had its full clutches on New York City, but that didn’t stop the sun from shining. There was a complete absence of wind, setting up a calm atmosphere over the bustling city. Thin layers of crunchy snow covered the sidewalk, making some spots especially slick with ice.
Law partners Matthew Murdock and Franklin “Foggy” Nelson walked through these sidewalks, on their way to work. In terms of appearance, these two were complete opposites. Foggy’s build was pudgy and stout, while Matt was lean and athletic. Foggy’s long hair hung over his neck, while Matt’s red hair was shorter and neatly combed.
When Matt was younger, he was victim to a freak accident, leaving him permanently blind. The skin around his eyes was red—permanent scarring from the accident. Thankfully, Matt’s circular, red-tinted glasses almost completely covered it.
Matt and Foggy were the textbook definition of “true friends.” They’d met on the first day of fourth grade, only a few weeks before Matt’s accident. Ever since then, they were practically brothers. As they walked, Matt clung to Foggy’s arm, letting him lead.
“So what did you say after she said that?” asked Matt.
“Geez, Matt, I was like, ‘Girrrrrl, you better sit back down. I paid good money for this dinner.’”
“Really!” Matt said, feigning surprise. “Okay, what did you actually say?”
“It was more along the lines of, ‘Anne, please don’t leave! Pleeeaaase! Don’t leeeaaave!’” Foggy cleared his throat. “Something like that.”
“That sounds more like it,” said Matt.
“It’s just— How do you do it, Matt? You make the honeys practically drool at your feet! How do you do that? Is it the blind thing? It’s the blind thing.”
“It’s the blind thing.”
“Ugh. Y’know, if I told a girl that I have, like, autism or something, she’d throw herself out my window.”
Matt grinned. “It’s all about charisma and confidence, Foggy. And, don’t be a jerk. But, anyway, after you begged Anne to stay, what’d she do?”
“Well, she just ignored me and kept going. Just— Matt, we’re not in our twenties anymore. We’re both 31. In a few years, we’ll be in retirement homes. My mom and dad keep pestering me, saying, ‘Oh, you need to meet a nice girl. Oh, you need to start a family.’ I say you and me help each other out, Matt. You teach me how to get a girl, I teach you how to keep a girl—”
Matt snorted. “Keep a girl?”
“Well, yeah. Remember high school? Rebecca? Those four years with her were spectacular.”
“Oh yeah, I do remember her. You were smitten by her. But Foggy… We have court today, all right? Let’s focus on winning the case, then afterward we can go to Josie’s and talk about girls then.”
Foggy’s eyes lifted from the sidewalk so he could look at Matt. “You sure we’re gonna win, man? There are so many…holes in this story—”
“We’ll win, Foggy,” Matt assured him. “He’s innocent. I’m certain of it.”
Later…
The Trial of David Tompas. Day 9.
“Mister Murdock—your closing statements, please.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Cane in hand, Matt stood up from his seat and made his way to in front of the jury box, which was to the right of the judge. He used his radar-sense to observe the jurors one final time. Matt could tell that over half of them already made up their minds. The question was, was their decision “innocent” or “guilty”?
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Life is…strange,” Matt began. “Some of us lead simple lives, while others—they like to live a little more dangerously. David Tompas’s life used to be good. In fact, it still is good. What we’re looking at here is murder. Mister Nelson and I have proven that David is incapable of such a thing. This was a simple case of a man—a husband and a father—being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This is about a man who witnessed suicide. His fingerprints were not found on the weapon. The bruising on the victim’s wrists were a result of David trying to stop him from committing suicide. The victim’s wallet was in David’s hands only so that he could return it to the victim. It sounds fallacious. I realize that, but it’s true. These are facts. My opponent will try to distract you all from these facts. He will not provide you with a conjecture on David’s ‘motive.’ He may bring up David’s financial situation and his mental stability, but these are irrelevant.
“David is an innocent man, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. He showed great bravery in trying to save this person—to stop the victim from taking his own life. And…he failed. Think about that. He failed. David’s going to have to live with that for the rest of his life. Mister Nelson and I believe that’s punishment enough. David doesn’t deserve to deal with this grief in a prison cell. Thank you.”
Matt returned to his seat, where Foggy gave him a firm pat on the back.
“Well-done, pal,” he whispered.
Matt could actually feel the heartbeat of David Tompas, who was sitting next to Foggy. His head rang with each thump-thump from his client’s heart.
It seemed Foggy could sense David’s fear as well. “It’s gonna be all right, man. We’re almost done,” he whispered into David’s ear.
“Mister Maddox—your closing statements, please.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Trenton Maddox… His cheap Axe body spray made Matt’s nose burn. Given the shallow depth of his heartbeat as well as heftiness of his breathing, Matt deduced that Maddox was a big guy. He’d eaten a taco before the trial, and judging by the gurgling noises from his stomach, it wasn’t agreeing with him.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury… We all saw what happened yesterday, didn’t we? You all witnessed just how broken David Tompas is. His mental stability is vital, despite what my opponent said earlier. David slapped his wife across the face that very night, then stormed out the house. He then met the victim—whose name, which Mister Murdock neglected to mention, was Henry Mill. David mentions that he doesn’t remember the event very well… That is quite convenient. He killed Henry, and when a wallet flew out of his pocket, David remembered, ‘Oh hey, I need money!’ Again, I have to bring up yesterday, when David blew up in front of all of you—when he revealed just how broken he truly is. David needs help. His financial and marital problems have clearly affected his mental health. They say that justice is…blind—”
Matt pursed his lips tightly.
“—but, I implore you, ladies and gentlemen, use your eyes. Not your hearts. Thank you.”
Later…
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge.
“We have, Your Honor. We find David Tompas to be—”
David held his breath. This was it.
“—guilty, on all charges.”
“No…” he whispered.
Foggy was already talking to David. “Hey, it’s gonna be all right. It’ll be okay, David. We can always appeal. This isn’t over.”
The judge said, “Please remove Mister Tompas from the courtroom, so that we can move on to sentencing.”
Matt could sense the demented glee radiating from Maddox, his reputation for winning untouched. Foggy had his doubts, but Matt was sure that the two of them could defeat Maddox. All of the fruit was there, but the branch was pulled away from them at the last second.
Two guards came to pick David up. He let them take him without any resistance, but his anger stood out like a stain on a white shirt.
“You guys lied to me…” he whispered as the guards began escorting him out. “You said you could help… But you lied.”
Matt took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. A long, drawn-out exhale left his lips as his client’s words sank in.
That Night…
Matt Murdock’s Apartment.
“You sure you don’t wanna go to Josie’s tonight, man?” Foggy asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” said Matt, taking off his glasses and putting them on the counter. He began undoing his tie. “I’m just…not in the mood; it’s been a long, disappointing day.”
“Amen to that. All the more reason to go to Josie’s and get regrettably shitfaced!”
“No, Foggy. I think…I’m just gonna stay here and let off some steam.”
“. . . Do you need a hug?”
“No, Foggy, I don’t need a hug.”
“You need a hug. Come here.”
“No. Foggy, I—”
Matt felt Foggy’s arms slide over him, pulling him into a brotherly embrace.
“Hm, this is nice,” Foggy said as he rested his chin on Matt’s shoulder. “I can tell you needed this.”
“Foggy…” Matt said slowly. “If you don’t let me go this instant, I will throw you out the window so hard, you’ll end up in Westchester.”
“Ohhh, all right.” Foggy opened the door to the hallway, ready to leave. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Matt.”
“See you tomorrow, bud. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
Foggy walked out, closing the door behind him. With his radar, Matt could sense his law partner walking down the creaky hall toward the even creakier stairs.
The layout of Matt’s apartment was…basic. He had a small bedroom and bathroom, directly next to one another. He had a refrigerator and a single kitchen counter, with a small sink. A couch and two chairs lay in the middle of the apartment. It wasn’t much, but Matt never needed much. He knew how to live with very little.
Once Foggy was out of the building, Matt made his way to the bedroom. He opened up his closet and pulled out the bottom drawer. He rummaged through the clothing until his fingers touched what he was looking for. Its smooth texture… Its tight surface… The two horns sticking out directly above the eye sockets…
“Time to go to work,” said Matt.
♪ All day I've faced the barren waste
Without the taste of water… Cool water…
Ol’ Dan and I, with throats burned dry, and souls that cry
For water… Cool, clear water… ♬
The soft, solemn sounds from the jukebox practically coated the bar with melancholy, like paint. The people there—mostly older men—sat with their heads hanging low. The bartender himself was sullen. He wore a white dress shirt stained with all kinds of alcohol. If someone walked in, he’d greet them with a simple nod, then ask them what they’d like. The bar itself was small; Hell’s Kitchen never offered much in terms of size. It was the perfect size for someone throwing a small party with his friends, and that was about it.
At the far corner table sat three men. One of them wore a large cowboy hat—tilted downward, in a way that hid his face. A long whip was attached to his belt, ready for use. His faded jeans and dirty boots completed his look nicely; he looked as if he’d been plucked from the West and placed in the bar. The second man’s attire was much more fitting for the city environment. He looked like a character from a 1940s noir film. Fedora, suit, cynical facial expression, cigarette… He fit the bill perfectly. The third man was the outlier of the trio. He was gigantic. His muscles bulged against his athletic clothing. He wore a black beanie hat, covering his bald head. Three shiny chain necklaces hung over his torso, and numerous dazzling rings decorated his sausage fingers.
♪ The nights are cool, and I’m a fool.
Each star’s a pool of water… Cool water…
And with the dawn, I’ll wake & yawn, and carry on
To water… Cool, clear water… ♬
The three of them were playing poker.
“I’ll raise,” said the cowboy hat.
“I’ll fold,” said the fedora.
“Danny, man, you always fold,” said the giant, chuckling.
“Because my hand always sucks, Ox.”
“Excuse me, you three,” said a voice. “Are you…the Enforcers?”
The trio looked up from their game. Standing in between the cowboy hat and the fedora was a man completely garbed in purple—purple coat, purple pants, purple shoes…even purple skin. He exuded an aura of…confidence, as if he was meant to be there, talking with the three men.
The man of purple turned to a patron behind him. “I would be ecstatic if you gave up your seat for me, sir,” he said to him.
The stranger nearly dropped his beer as he scrambled to get off his chair. Without even a “thank you,” the purple man moved the chair over to the Enforcers’ table and sat down.
The fedora shook his head, scoffing. “You must have some brass balls for sittin’ by us. What are you, anyway—dressed like that? You some kinda circus freak?”
The cowboy hat put his finger to his lips, signaling the fedora to be quiet. His head turned to face the purple man. “Yeah, we’re the Enforcers. Who’s askin’?”
“Tell me your names,” said the purple man, ignoring the question.
“Montana,” said the cowboy hat.
“They call me Fancy Dan,” said the fedora.
“I’m Ox,” said the giant.
“Interesting… Very interesting…” the purple man said, leaning back with a smirk on his face. “The three of you will call me…Master.”
“Master…?” the trio said together.
“Yesssss… I’m…hiring, as you might say. You’re currently unemployed, no?”
“We’re freelancers,” said Montana. “We hop from place ta place. Th’guy we used ta work for decided he’d had enough with Hell’s Kitchen. Moved to Manhattan, where all them ‘super heroes’ are poppin’ up.”
“I see,” said the purple man.
“You got money to hire us?” asked Ox.
“We’re pretty expensive,” Fancy Dan added. “But hey, cash is cash. I bet we can work someth—”
“You will work for me for free.”
“I am perfectly fine with that.”
“What’re ya wantin’ us for?” asked Montana. “What’re ya tryna accomplish?”
“. . . I want to be a king.”
Montana let out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee. “Ha! Ha ha! So does every other ‘super-villain’ in this town. What makes you so special?”
“I will succeed,” simply said the purple man.
Any trace of doubt was immediately wiped from Montana’s face.
“If you wanna do somethin’ like that,” said Ox, “you’re gonna have to deal with…the guy.”
The purple man furrowed his brow. “The ‘guy’?”
“The guy.”
“He’s talkin’ about Daredevil,” said Fancy Dan.
“Ah… I’ve heard of him,” the purple man said, nodding his head in understanding. “He’s one of those ‘super heroes.’ He wears red. He comes out at night and battles injustice.”
“Yeah,” Fancy Dan said, “an’ he’s fuckin’ terrifying.”
“Daredevil will not be problem, my slaves. When you have abilities like mine, no person or thing can harm you. Watch this.”
Suddenly, the purple man stood up and strolled casually over to the bartender, who still had that sullen, blank expression on his face. He did a double take as he saw the man in purple.
“Whaddaya want?”
“I believe I want—” The purple man tapped his chin, pretending to decide on a drink. “—for you to shoot yourself in the head.”
The bartender reached under the counter, pulling out his pistol. He pushed the barrel against his chin and pulled the trigger.
Blam!
The bartender’s head snapped backward as the bullet zipped through his cranium. He stood still, but only for a second, before falling to the floor like a tall tree. Everyone stood up in shock and slowly backed away from the scene, including the Enforcers.
“There’s no need to be afraid.” the purple man said, turning to the bargoers. He made sure to make eye contact with each and every person there, studying them. “I may have superpowers, but I am not one of these so-called super-villains. There is no need for fear. You see, my friends, I don’t shoot lasers out of my eyes, or cling to walls, or leap buildings in a single bound. . . . No, I have thee greatest superpower a man can ask for: thee power of influence. So come with me, my new friends. Join me on my conquest over the cesspool known as Hell’s Kitchen!”
Present Day.
It was a surprisingly nice day outside. Winter had its full clutches on New York City, but that didn’t stop the sun from shining. There was a complete absence of wind, setting up a calm atmosphere over the bustling city. Thin layers of crunchy snow covered the sidewalk, making some spots especially slick with ice.
Law partners Matthew Murdock and Franklin “Foggy” Nelson walked through these sidewalks, on their way to work. In terms of appearance, these two were complete opposites. Foggy’s build was pudgy and stout, while Matt was lean and athletic. Foggy’s long hair hung over his neck, while Matt’s red hair was shorter and neatly combed.
When Matt was younger, he was victim to a freak accident, leaving him permanently blind. The skin around his eyes was red—permanent scarring from the accident. Thankfully, Matt’s circular, red-tinted glasses almost completely covered it.
Matt and Foggy were the textbook definition of “true friends.” They’d met on the first day of fourth grade, only a few weeks before Matt’s accident. Ever since then, they were practically brothers. As they walked, Matt clung to Foggy’s arm, letting him lead.
“So what did you say after she said that?” asked Matt.
“Geez, Matt, I was like, ‘Girrrrrl, you better sit back down. I paid good money for this dinner.’”
“Really!” Matt said, feigning surprise. “Okay, what did you actually say?”
“It was more along the lines of, ‘Anne, please don’t leave! Pleeeaaase! Don’t leeeaaave!’” Foggy cleared his throat. “Something like that.”
“That sounds more like it,” said Matt.
“It’s just— How do you do it, Matt? You make the honeys practically drool at your feet! How do you do that? Is it the blind thing? It’s the blind thing.”
“It’s the blind thing.”
“Ugh. Y’know, if I told a girl that I have, like, autism or something, she’d throw herself out my window.”
Matt grinned. “It’s all about charisma and confidence, Foggy. And, don’t be a jerk. But, anyway, after you begged Anne to stay, what’d she do?”
“Well, she just ignored me and kept going. Just— Matt, we’re not in our twenties anymore. We’re both 31. In a few years, we’ll be in retirement homes. My mom and dad keep pestering me, saying, ‘Oh, you need to meet a nice girl. Oh, you need to start a family.’ I say you and me help each other out, Matt. You teach me how to get a girl, I teach you how to keep a girl—”
Matt snorted. “Keep a girl?”
“Well, yeah. Remember high school? Rebecca? Those four years with her were spectacular.”
“Oh yeah, I do remember her. You were smitten by her. But Foggy… We have court today, all right? Let’s focus on winning the case, then afterward we can go to Josie’s and talk about girls then.”
Foggy’s eyes lifted from the sidewalk so he could look at Matt. “You sure we’re gonna win, man? There are so many…holes in this story—”
“We’ll win, Foggy,” Matt assured him. “He’s innocent. I’m certain of it.”
Later…
The Trial of David Tompas. Day 9.
“Mister Murdock—your closing statements, please.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Cane in hand, Matt stood up from his seat and made his way to in front of the jury box, which was to the right of the judge. He used his radar-sense to observe the jurors one final time. Matt could tell that over half of them already made up their minds. The question was, was their decision “innocent” or “guilty”?
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Life is…strange,” Matt began. “Some of us lead simple lives, while others—they like to live a little more dangerously. David Tompas’s life used to be good. In fact, it still is good. What we’re looking at here is murder. Mister Nelson and I have proven that David is incapable of such a thing. This was a simple case of a man—a husband and a father—being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This is about a man who witnessed suicide. His fingerprints were not found on the weapon. The bruising on the victim’s wrists were a result of David trying to stop him from committing suicide. The victim’s wallet was in David’s hands only so that he could return it to the victim. It sounds fallacious. I realize that, but it’s true. These are facts. My opponent will try to distract you all from these facts. He will not provide you with a conjecture on David’s ‘motive.’ He may bring up David’s financial situation and his mental stability, but these are irrelevant.
“David is an innocent man, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. He showed great bravery in trying to save this person—to stop the victim from taking his own life. And…he failed. Think about that. He failed. David’s going to have to live with that for the rest of his life. Mister Nelson and I believe that’s punishment enough. David doesn’t deserve to deal with this grief in a prison cell. Thank you.”
Matt returned to his seat, where Foggy gave him a firm pat on the back.
“Well-done, pal,” he whispered.
Matt could actually feel the heartbeat of David Tompas, who was sitting next to Foggy. His head rang with each thump-thump from his client’s heart.
It seemed Foggy could sense David’s fear as well. “It’s gonna be all right, man. We’re almost done,” he whispered into David’s ear.
“Mister Maddox—your closing statements, please.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Trenton Maddox… His cheap Axe body spray made Matt’s nose burn. Given the shallow depth of his heartbeat as well as heftiness of his breathing, Matt deduced that Maddox was a big guy. He’d eaten a taco before the trial, and judging by the gurgling noises from his stomach, it wasn’t agreeing with him.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury… We all saw what happened yesterday, didn’t we? You all witnessed just how broken David Tompas is. His mental stability is vital, despite what my opponent said earlier. David slapped his wife across the face that very night, then stormed out the house. He then met the victim—whose name, which Mister Murdock neglected to mention, was Henry Mill. David mentions that he doesn’t remember the event very well… That is quite convenient. He killed Henry, and when a wallet flew out of his pocket, David remembered, ‘Oh hey, I need money!’ Again, I have to bring up yesterday, when David blew up in front of all of you—when he revealed just how broken he truly is. David needs help. His financial and marital problems have clearly affected his mental health. They say that justice is…blind—”
Matt pursed his lips tightly.
“—but, I implore you, ladies and gentlemen, use your eyes. Not your hearts. Thank you.”
Later…
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge.
“We have, Your Honor. We find David Tompas to be—”
David held his breath. This was it.
“—guilty, on all charges.”
“No…” he whispered.
Foggy was already talking to David. “Hey, it’s gonna be all right. It’ll be okay, David. We can always appeal. This isn’t over.”
The judge said, “Please remove Mister Tompas from the courtroom, so that we can move on to sentencing.”
Matt could sense the demented glee radiating from Maddox, his reputation for winning untouched. Foggy had his doubts, but Matt was sure that the two of them could defeat Maddox. All of the fruit was there, but the branch was pulled away from them at the last second.
Two guards came to pick David up. He let them take him without any resistance, but his anger stood out like a stain on a white shirt.
“You guys lied to me…” he whispered as the guards began escorting him out. “You said you could help… But you lied.”
Matt took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. A long, drawn-out exhale left his lips as his client’s words sank in.
That Night…
Matt Murdock’s Apartment.
“You sure you don’t wanna go to Josie’s tonight, man?” Foggy asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” said Matt, taking off his glasses and putting them on the counter. He began undoing his tie. “I’m just…not in the mood; it’s been a long, disappointing day.”
“Amen to that. All the more reason to go to Josie’s and get regrettably shitfaced!”
“No, Foggy. I think…I’m just gonna stay here and let off some steam.”
“. . . Do you need a hug?”
“No, Foggy, I don’t need a hug.”
“You need a hug. Come here.”
“No. Foggy, I—”
Matt felt Foggy’s arms slide over him, pulling him into a brotherly embrace.
“Hm, this is nice,” Foggy said as he rested his chin on Matt’s shoulder. “I can tell you needed this.”
“Foggy…” Matt said slowly. “If you don’t let me go this instant, I will throw you out the window so hard, you’ll end up in Westchester.”
“Ohhh, all right.” Foggy opened the door to the hallway, ready to leave. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Matt.”
“See you tomorrow, bud. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
Foggy walked out, closing the door behind him. With his radar, Matt could sense his law partner walking down the creaky hall toward the even creakier stairs.
The layout of Matt’s apartment was…basic. He had a small bedroom and bathroom, directly next to one another. He had a refrigerator and a single kitchen counter, with a small sink. A couch and two chairs lay in the middle of the apartment. It wasn’t much, but Matt never needed much. He knew how to live with very little.
Once Foggy was out of the building, Matt made his way to the bedroom. He opened up his closet and pulled out the bottom drawer. He rummaged through the clothing until his fingers touched what he was looking for. Its smooth texture… Its tight surface… The two horns sticking out directly above the eye sockets…
“Time to go to work,” said Matt.
He dwells in eternal night—but the darkness is filled with sounds, scents, tastes, and textures many cannot perceive. Although attorney Matt Murdock is blind, his other senses function with superhuman acuity. His radar-sense guides him through every obstacle. He stalks the streets by night, a red-clad foe of evil.
HERE COMES…
By Sonny Daye
#1: Night Demon
Part 1
HERE COMES…
By Sonny Daye
#1: Night Demon
Part 1