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Every raindrop was like the beat of a drum to him, and his ears rang with a cacophony of sound. It was something that had terrified him as a child, leading him to stuff his head between pillows on rainy nights. That was before his grandfather arrived, however. That was before Stick taught him to hone his senses. With a deep breath, Matt Murdock centered himself. Instead of the rain, he heard the echoes as it bounced off his surroundings. The chaos melted away as he gained a clear "view" of his surroundings. He could virtually see every cracked seam of tar on the roof and the splashes of water as they fell. 

It wasn't seeing. Not really. Nothing would ever bring his sight back. That was something the doctors made sure he knew all those years ago. But this was the next best thing. Like a bat, Matt knew where he was going. He knew where to make his next step. He knew how to judge a leap. Most importantly, he knew where to throw a punch or where to land a kick. He had been doing quite a bit a both over the last few months thanks to these extracurricular activities. Sure, he was sore in court the next day more often than not, but the Kingpin's men were behind bars. 

That was the most important thing.

He rolled on the balls of his feet, taking a deep breath before taking off across the rooftop. When he came to the edge, he kicked off and flung himself flipping through the air. He landed deftly on the roof across from the original building, slipping only slightly in the wet conditions. His sensei would not have been happy with that. Sloppiness could be deadly in the heat of battle.

Stick wasn't here though. He hadn't been in a long time. Ever since Matt originally told him that he was going to clean up the city in the confines of the law. That was before Murdock realized how truly gone the city was. That was before the war between Kingpin, the Rose, and Silvermane. Before Hell's Kitchen became a warzone.

"I'll see you later, man," a voice said as the door to the dive bar below creaked open. As the man stepped from underneath the overhang covering the entrance, he cursed as the driving rain began to soak him. "Fuck this shit."

He pulled a hood up over his head and trudged into the back alley next to the bar, mumbling as he did. From above, Daredevil stalked along the roof, making sure there were no other goons walking along with him. There were none. He was alone.

With another flip, the Devil was behind him. The vigilante grabbed his head and slammed him into the alley wall. The man stumbled back and fumbled for a gun in his waistband. With a flick of his wrist, Daredevil tossed his billy club at the dealer's hand, knocking it away. At the impact, Matt could hear several bones in the hand shatter. Murdock delivered a strong strike to the sternum, knocking the wind out of him so he couldn't scream before binding his hands.

"What the hell are you waiting for, freak!?" the man who spat at the vigilante. "I ain't telling you a thing!"

Joe D'Antonio was a drug dealer who peddled his poison to the high schools in the area, using students to sell directly to the others. Matt had managed to find him through one of said kids. He hadn't hurt the young man, of course. Kids were easy to scare. But D'Antonio thought he was a street hero. He had killed men in the service of the Kingpin. He had fought in the turf wars. He wasn't going to break by some intimidation.

Luckily, there were other ways to make street trash talk.

"Oh, you'll talk," Matt spun his billy club in his hand. "Or you won't be able to by the time I'm done. Where do your drugs come from?" 

"Screw you, man," he growled.

Matt grabbed the injured hand with one of his own, covering his opponent's mouth with the other, stifling a yell. Daredevil felt the splintered bones shift under the pressure of his grip, "Now, I'll ask again. Where do your drugs come from?"

Daredevil put more and more pressure on the injured man's hand. He could hear the man's heart racing as pain shot through his body. Matt had to be careful not to send him into shock. He let off, and Joe let out a yelp of pain, "Fine...fine. I don't know who I get 'em from. I get a shipment every Tuesday. That's all I know. Someone recruited me. I said yes. I get me orders every Tuesday. That's all I know man. Please."

Murdock untied the man, who collapsed to the alley floor. When he looked up, the vigilante was gone.