[center][img]https://static.tumblr.com/8y60per/DXKnmgo4g/dd_logo2.png[/img][/center]
[center][sup][sub]IX. Done.[/sub][/sup][/center][hr]

Matthew awoke to cool air and muffled murmurs. There was a large - [i]large[/i] - crowd around him, he could feel immediately:  - the collective heat of them throbbed, pressing on his skin from all sides; myriad heartbeats drummed a mismatch beat across the surface of his skull; the white-noise whispers washed over him like static from a tuned-out television set. Their sound and heat illuminated his world, and through them he could see he was inside the rear compartment of some kind of vehicle. Matt tried to move to push the trunk open from within with his legs, and realized his hands and feet were bound with plastic zip-ties - they were thick and tight and they dug sharply into his wrists as he attempted to loosen them and wrestle himself free.

He stopped as he heard the doors of the vehicle open and slam shut on one side, and then felt footfall - heavy, two sets - walk around the front of the vehicle - long, tall, boxy, likely some manner of Hummer or stylish APC - and open the door on the opposite side. Two more sets of feet got out, one after the other. One light and deft. The other heavier than either of the first two.

The three waited for the one, and as the one moved away, walking straight forward, the light set followed and the first two walked back around the vehicle to the trunk where Matt was. The muffled crowd exploded into vibrant clarity as the lid was flung open. The two men regarded Matthew for a second as he did the same, then caught his feet in their hands as he tried to kick at their chests from his awkward position. One of them buried a fist in Matt's stomach, and the other wrested Matt's remaining baton from its holster, hitting him across the head with it - Matt's head erupted and he felt a splinter crack across his cowl. Dizzy and winded from the blows, Matt struggled feebly as he was roughly seized, wrenched up and out of the trunk, and tossed out of the vehicle. Matt rolled as he his the ground. Concrete, asphalt. The back of his head hit a curb. He was close to the edge of the crowd, and through the growing noise Matt could pick up a few scattered conversations.


[center][i]"The Devil of Hell's Kitchen!"[/i][/center]
[i]"Shit, that's the Devil!"[/i]
[right][i]'Fuck, man, he's got Daredevil!"[/i][/right]
[center][i]"Yo, that's the dude that's been fucking up Fisk!"[/i][/center]


Across the blank space in front of him - the crowd, he could feel now, were being dispersed in a wide oval by masked men in body armour and armed with rifles - another voice came. Matthew shook to his bones to hear it.

[b]"Cut him loose."[/b]

The two men that had tossed him now approached again, this time brandishing large knives they had pulled from their belts. They cut Matt's binds and stepped back as he pushed himself up off the ground, breathing heavy as he did so. He felt groggy still from the toxin; his side ached from his puncture wounds; his arm flared with hot pain from his shoulder whenever he moved it; his head rang with a thudding migraine from fatigue. Matt was wounded, exhausted, poisoned, and his state made it difficult to focus his radar, instead swimming in the buzz of noise and heat from the crowd - but all concern for his physical condition melted away as he tuned his senses onto the man stood not twenty feet across the empty space from him.

God, but he was a behemoth. Wilson Fisk stood seven feet tall, every inch of him rotund and straining against his suit. He rippled with carefully sculpted muscle hidden behind a veneer of obesity, but Matt knew his secrets. This confrontation had to be fast. Fisk would crush him with a single hand if Matt allowed it to drag on. Kingpin chuckled low, regarding the unsteady Murdock with disdain. 

[b]"They call you the Devil, the Man Without Fear. But this..."[/b] Fisk threw his arms out, gesturing widely at the open air and the crowd that circled the two men. [b]"This is what happens when you meddle with a real demon. New York is a fine city full of fine men, Daredevil, but it needs dark men just as much. We are two sides of the same coin, two opposing forces keeping society in balance. Witness Times Square, a monument to self-destructive consumption. Men like me keep the billboards on, keep the companies ticking, keep the city from crumbling. Men like you..."[/b] he cracked his knuckles, sneering. [b]"Men like you let the common people think they don't need men like me. But they do. Without me, New York collapses. You've had your fun, you've peeked behind the curtain. You've set me back a day, maybe two at most. And where has that left you? Poisoned. Exhausted. Bloodied. Beaten. At my feet, begging for mercy. But you will find none."[/b]

Fisk moved with surprising speed, dashing towards Murdock and clearing the space in a matter of just a few seconds. He launched a fist towards Matt's chest and Matt brought both arms up crossed across his breast to block the blow, stumbling back as the force of Fisk's fist hit him hard. He launched a feeble counter swing but Fisk grabbed his forearm and yanked, dislocating Matt's already injured shoulder and throwing him ten feet. Matt skidded on the ground, and around him he could feel the electric buzz of recording phones.

[b]"You are to be an example of what happens to vigilantes who try to destabilize the empire I have crafted, the empire that is the foundation of EVERYTHING THIS CITY IS AND EVER WILL BE! There will be NO MORE 'Devils', NO MORE 'superior men', NO MORE MASKS!"[/b] 

Fisk crossed the gap again and this time seized Matt's cowl in one hand, squeezing until the splinter down Matt's forehead ruptured and cracked completely. Fisk tore Matt's mask from his head and crushed it beneath his feet. There were scattered gasps and screams from the crowd as Matt's face was exposed, and in the distance, Times Square billboards lit up with Matt's bloody face as the news was live-streamed on every channel. 

[b]"You may have thought you could topple me, Mr Murdock. You may have thought you were RIGHTEOUS enough, ZEALOUS enough, MORAL enough."[/b] With every word Fisk put another fist to Matt's face, cracking his nose and jaw and teeth and lips. Matt felt only pain. Behind the pain, anger began to rise. [b]"You are a MAN, Mr. Murdock. Just a man, with fear, and weakness, and no true power. You hoped to leave a legacy by becoming my undoing, but your only legacy will be a warning. A warning to any other would-be 'hero', any other vigilante who believes they can affect ANYTHING in MY CITY! After tonight, EVERYONE will see what happens when they cross the Kingpin. And no one EVER. WILL. AGAIN."[/b]

Fisk picked up Matt by the collar and punched him in the stomach. Matt felt ribs break and coughed blood, the hot red spray staining Fisk's suit jacket. Another punch, a punctured lung. Fisk slammed Matt to the ground, kicking him in the stomach and then marching over to the two men who had pulled Matt from the car in the first place. He held out a hand, and they gave him Matt's baton. He walked back towards Matt, who had rolled over to his back to face Fisk. He was numb to pain, and behind his eyes the Devil rose with white-hot fury. 

Fisk raised an arm to bring the baton down. Adrenaline flooded his system. Matt made his move.

He snapped up a broken shard of his cowl and dug it viciously into the back of Fisk's knee. Fisk yelled as his leg buckled and Matt kicked at his opposite ankle, breaking it and sweeping the leg out and bringing Fisk to both knees. Fisk tried to grab Matt but he rolled sideways and then picked himself up, putting the toe of his boot in Fisk's solar plexus, winding the giant, and then brought his leg up to break Fisk's nose with his knee. Fisk put his empty hand on the ground and Matt stomped the wrist, snapping it clean; he snatched the fallen baton from the floor and brought it down on Fisk's kneecap, shattering his patella, and then again, and then the back of his head, and again, and again, and again. Fisk grunted with each blow and Matt felt the loosening of bone and heard the cracking of the skull from behind his scalp as the skin tore and split, ravines of flesh opening and letting loose rivers of blood that poured down his back and dyed his white suit red. Fisk put a hand up and behind to catch the baton; Matt grabbed the fingers and pulled them sharply backwards, snapping them and Fisk shouted again and cradled his hand. Kingpin spoke, gurgling through the blood streaming from his nose and wheezing.

[b]"You can't stop me...you can't put me down...I'll be back...I'll always be back..."[/b]

Matt loosed the cable of his baton and wrapped it quick and tight around Fisk's neck. He stomped on his back, pushing Fisk to the floor, and grabbed both ends of his baton, pulling up hard with everything he had left. His shoulder, broken and stabbed, screamed with pain that Matthew could not hear over the ecstasy of the Devil. There was a gurgle as Kingpin tried to say something. Matt didn't hear him.

[url=https://youtu.be/fVvj5ZQmj_I]There was a snap in the base of Fisk's neck, and he shuddered and lay still.[/url] 

[i]Just a man.[/i]

Matt let go of his baton and stumbled backwards. The crowd was silent. Kingpin's men were silent. Matt fell to the ground, spent completely. The world went dark, and before he blacked out completely, for a solitary, tranquil moment, Matt felt like his great struggle was done.