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[color=red]Daredevil #0.1[/color] [color=gold]Hits keep coming[/color][/center]
[color=gray]The New York night is cool, refreshing in a way. The air hangs heavy, wrapping around me like a blanket, or a noose. I carry the duffle bag over my shoulder, contents making noise as I swing it with every step. I hear my joints creaking, every muscle in my body flex as I traverse this rooftop. The darkness shrouds my actions, giving me cover, providing a sort of safety. Six blocks away, I hear sirens. Ambulance. John Edwards is the EMT on duty in that car, he has a heavy foot and he never cares to compensate his driving in the corners. The scanner in the police cruiser two blocks away hasn't made a noise. I can focus on my task at hand.

My breath is cool, I'm keeping my tempo. Trying to stave off the adrenal response for now, I know I will need it later. I have arrived, and the preparations have been made. The bag slung over my shoulder is lighter, my hand searches for the zipper and plunges inside of the duffle, I grab the water bottle. I drink my fill and try to clear my head. This has to work, it's all I have left to try. I avoided the sentries, none of the scouts on either of the street corners have seen me. I've stayed quiet for weeks, they believe they are rid of me... Honestly, that would have been wise. I get up, I stand over the edge and I calm my breath. I listen to their voices. There's many of them, more than I thought. I double check my suit, every lace tied, every strap secured. Nothing will throw me off tonight. My jaw is clenched so hard I can almost already taste blood.

I hear Ted's words of advice in my head. 
"Be Smart, Murdock". He warned me, many times. 
Not poking the bear that already killed you is the smart thing to do. 

The thing is, I know that he's right, but I'm stubborn. And that makes me foolish.

I jump. And within seconds, I am inside, the door closing behind me with a loud slam. Voices shout, and I face the hall, six rooms, four one one side, two on the other. One narrow path between me and my goal. One man comes, he yells at me in Spanish, I was never very good at Spanish. He pulls out his gun, I throw the rebar with my left. His shoulder is clipped. Seven meters between us. He screams. I am on him before he finishes. My knee drives into his nose. Cartilage crumbled. I plant my left foot. Chamber my right and kick through his centerline. I strike him down before he can react. A satisfying crack, the fracturing of his jaw as he hits the floor. Three more spill the first room on the left. Carrying weapons.

 [i]Good.[/i]

First guy walks towards me, I meet him, his hands are shaking. Too much junk in his veins - wired. He swings the metal pipe, it sings through the air. I half-step and then surge onto him. Mid-recovery my elbow snaps to the back of his head. He stumbled forward, into the wall. I held back, I could have knocked him out.

Second comes charging, a bat in his hand, a vertical slash, I feel it whizz by the cloth on my mask. His battle-cry tips me off. His feet are lighter, faster. Less recovery on the swing.

I can't hold back. He turns towards me, I jab with my left, and then again. The metal bat is driving towards me.
I strike his face with my jab, he disorients. I pull him by his shirt with my right arm, push him behind me, into the first. Third guy strikes like lightning. I can't move out of the way. A right hook, wide swing, he's a fighter. Fist collides with my face and I stumble backwards.

***

Matt fell to the floor, the other boys laughed at him. "Hahaha, so I guess it skipped a generation, huh?!" Dirk taunts, and the other boys erupt into another tidal wave of humiliation. "Yeah, Battlin' Jack and Losing' Matty, huh!" The other boy, Nick laughs. Matt lied on the ground, anger building in his chest. Tears filled his eyes, which made the bullies laugh even more. He couldn't breath, and it wasn't from the punch to his jaw. This came from within him. Dirk, Nick and the other three boys were beginning to walk away. As Dirk turned around, Matt Murdock pounced. Tackled him to the ground and threw one hook into his nose, blood sprayed instantly. Dirk kicked him in the ribs, while his friends pulled him off of him. For the next two minutes, the four ten-year old boys beat the ever living shit out of 9 year old Matt.

No school personnel bothered to help Matt patch up his wounds and scrapes. He sat outside of the principles office, his lip leaking blood all over the floor when his dad arrived. Matt got suspended, Dirk's dad was a lawyer and an important donor to the school. There was nothing Jack could have done. 
"Father's a boxer and a brute, how could his kid be any different?" Dirk's dad had told the principle with a smug smile. "He brutalized my poor Dirkington, so my boy fought back against Murdock's savagery. It's shameful." 

Matt was quiet on the ride home. He expected his father to be angry with him, ground him or even hit him. He never did that. Jack sat down at the kitchen table, the bills were stacked high, most of them said 'overdue' on the envelope. His eyes had a sense of defeat in them. Today was Thursday. Which meant tomorrow was fight night. He looked at Matt and his bleeding, swollen face. "Get the kit, boy." Jack ordered, and Matt nodded. He sheepishly appeared. Usually, it was Matt that patched up his father after a fight. The boy winced when the disinfectant hit his lip. "That's gonna scar, Mattie." He warned and Matt shrugged. "Who cares, I had to fight back. They have been picking on me and some of the other boys for weeks, Dad." Jack nodded.
"Ouch"
"Yeah yeah. What do they always say about us Murdock's, Matt?"
"We sure can take a beating." he responded by instinct, his father smiled and nodded. 
"And in life, the hits never stop coming. But this isn't how you should fight back, son. You can't be like me. Trying to punch my way out of trouble. I want you to be better, Matt."

***

I recover, the taste of blood in my mouth makes the adrenaline run through my entire body, I don't get angry. I plant my right foot, I keep my balance. He steps in, expecting me to back out. I step forward, fearless.
Deliver a body shot, I hear his ribs creek under the weight of my punch. Air is knocked out of his lungs. I follow with an uppercut with my right.
His feet are off the ground. 
Footsteps behind me. Metal in the air.

I pull the guy in front of me by the collar as I turn around and I throw his limp body. A 210 pound missile towards the other two who are shoulder-to-shoulder. All three of them hit the back wall, crumbling. I realize I haven't stopped holding my breath.

I exhale and refill my lungs. I hear four more sets of footsteps coming into the hall, first door on the right. My heartbeat drums in my ears. I taste blood from my lip, and I can't help but smirk. I ready myself my grabbing the chains out of my bag.  I hear the electrical light above me flicker. The first set of footsteps are combat boots, he pulls a gun as he rounds the corner. As he sees me, I slash the chain straight upwards. Destroying the light, leaving them all in darkness. I hear his arm take aim. I step to the side. Gunfire ensues.

It's gonna be a long night. 
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