Roman

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

^{_{V. Voicemail}}

---

Matthew had run into the night for what had felt like hours before he had secured safe harbor; fear and panic had gripped his heart and blinded him to all else, sending him fleeing into the cold, dark jaws of a city that suddenly felt very alien to Murdock. That damnable call had shaken him to his core; no longer was he the Devil, prowling the streets of Hell's Kitchen with an earned arrogance, striking fear into the hearts of criminals. Now fear had found him instead, and he was so very afraid. Afraid for his friends - Elektra, Foggy, Karen, Katherine - dragged into a war they possessed neither the knowledge of nor the ability to fight. Afraid for his city, now feeling the balance of power tip and give way beneath his feet. And his own basest instinct: he was afraid for himself. His enemy now knew all there was to know of him, and had all angles from which to attack him.

He had eventually sequestered himself in a previously-fortified bunker, a panic shelter for dark times. Dark times had come indeed. There was little here: food and water for emergency rations; extra batons and a replacement mask. Mostly it was just a hidden, secure place to hunker down, a space he now used to give himself time to let the panic wash away in the face of scheming and rational thought. He needed a plan, he needed a path of action. He needed time to process and to formulate. Kingpin knew his true identity; DareDevil seemed of little use, but perhaps more important than ever. With this new, omnipresent danger, could he go back to his civilian life? Would he need to? Would he be able to? He needed to think...he needed to think...he needed to rest.

-

He must have spent at least the rest of the night asleep; when he woke he could feel the ambient heat from outside filtering in, and the sounds and shakes of a city awake and alive rumbled through his bones. Matthew felt stiff - the consequences of spending the night in his armour - and he moved himself to sit against the wall as he undid the clasps on his helmet, setting it down by his side as he held a hand up and pressed it against the wall, letting the vibrations worm their way down his arm, the familiar rattles comforting him. He could not leave, not during the day; he was too conspicuous in his armour, especially with every criminal element in Hell's Kitchen now looking for him - and more than a few cops and federal agents in the Kingpin's pocket. He would barely make it half a block, rooftops or not. No, there was no leaving now - he would have to wait until the city went to sleep, until the heat dissipated and there was naught but dark clouds and moonlight left.

It took many bored, quiet hours, but eventually night fell. The city fell quiet and Matthew felt the cold begin to seep in, and he knew it was time to move. Carefully, quietly, he left the bunker behind him and moved once again to the rooftops he had raced across just the night before, pushing himself back towards the heart of the city and where he knew home lay. There was no time for vigilante heroics tonight, though the plight of the innocent and the schemes of the villainous still played heavily upon Matthew's mind, every inch of good and evil that writhed in combat around him worming its way into his bones. The conflict that had born him and that had sustained him, and that hoped to survive him. It would not be so, he would be sure of it, despite the machinations of his nemesis. Home grew closer and closer with every thudding footstep, and as he grew nearer the fear from the night previous gave way to outrage and anger. Kingpin threatened him on a ground unprecedented, and Matthew would not stand for such a personal affront.

He let himself in to his apartment through the living room window, clambering up the fire escape rapidly to avoid anyone waiting for him at the front door; with Kingpin's new knowledge, there was no such thing as 'too careful'. And he found his paranoia to be well-founded almost immediately. The draft hit Matt first, a through-breeze from the window straight through the front door; the smell of smashed and splintered wood was next, and in the breeze he could hear the slight creak of the hinges that what was left of his door hung on. His apartment had been ransacked, the wreckage spread out along the floor for Matthew to tread on and step over. There was little left. A low tone pierced the still air from the floor a few feet in front of him, and Matthew moved with purpose towards the discarded landline handset that had been thrown to the floor in the intrusion. There were messages waiting. He held the handset to his ear, and wrapped his free fist around his batons, preparing for any returning enemy agents and hoping the calls he had missed were not as grave as the one he had taken just one night before. Matthew almost flinched as the robotic voice blared into his ear.

"MESSAGE FROM: 'F-Foggy, it's Foggy.' PLEASE SAY 'LISTEN' TO HEAR THIS MESSAGE."

From even that short snippet, he could hear fear, shock, disbelief and, most tragically, betrayal in Foggy's shaky voice. He had no doubt this was Kingpin's first strike against him - turn his allies into enemies and isolate him from any kind of support network he'd previously had in place. But the method he would choose to employ...there was no real knowledge as to the depths of Kingpin's moral waters. Matthew paused, savoring the last few moments of his civilian life being untouched by Kingpin's murky, sullen hands.

"Listen."

"Matt where are you? Are you hiding? Are you out of the city? I don't want to believe you'd run, Matt, Jesus, I don't want to believe you did this. Have you even heard? Do you even know? Are you shitfaced somewhere? In response? In anticipation? Donatella was ruled a suicide, Ricci is found dead after shooting himself in an alley, these accusations come out about you...and you've just fucking ghosted all of us!? Where the hell are you Matt you can't treat us like this! If someone's setting you up you need to tell us and we'll help but if it's not a framing, if it's all true...I don't know what to think. I don't know who you are. Would you please just call one of us?! Just to tell us where you are and try to explai-"

Foggy's voice cut off as Matthew hung up, unwilling to hear anymore. Hearing his best friend like that, desperate and angry, all of that confused pain directed explicity at Matthew, hurt him in a true way, a way that seared and branded him beneath the skin, made him believe he was at fault, that this wasn't the dark machinations of his nemesis, now looming over him and numbing his senses, blinding him once again. He felt like he was suffocating, and he had to push himself back towards the window to take a long drink of cool night air. He let the city flood in, all its sounds and smells and vibrations, waves of hot and cold alternating in the air currents. He breathed in deep through his mouth and tasted car exhaust, dirt, vapourised sweat. It was all there, swimming around him, and with his head poking out of his window and his city filling his head with its essence, he felt the fear subside and give way to that old righteous anger. He turned from the window and picked up his phone again, activating the voice commands.

"Search 'Matthew Murdock' in the news." He said, waiting patiently as the device gave a soft beep to acknowledge the command, and then a swishing sound to indicate the search being performed - and then another soft chime once completed.

"I FOUND TWENTY EIGHT RELEVANT RESULTS."

"Filter the most recent."

"MOST RECENT RESULT: WWW DOT NEW YORK DOT C B S LOCAL DOT COM. HEADLINE: NEW YORK ADA IMPLICATED IN DRUG TRAFFICKING RING. SECOND RESULT: WWW DOT N Y TIMES DOT COM. HEADLINE: MATTHEW MURDOCK, NEW YORK ADA, WANTED FOR QUESTIONING IN DRUG AND BRIBERY ACCUSATIONS. THIRD RESULT: WWW DOT FOX FIVE N Y DOT COM. HEADLINE: DISGRACED ADA MURDOCK ON THE RUN FROM POLICE. FOURTH RESU-"

Matthew stopped the read outs. There was enough there to infer from the context - Kingpin had attacked Matthew's position as ADA, his legal channel through which to dismantle Fisk's empire while the Devil assaulted him more literally. With ADA Murdock discredited, his existing work would be in question, and all his incarcerations reversed - and there would be no one left with the bravery and boldness to take on Fisk and the system he owned. Matt had to concede it was a cunning move on Kingpin's part; he only wondered why it had taken Fisk this long to try such a method. If the opportunity was there to remove him, why wait? Perhaps Fisk enjoyed the game, saw it as chess; Matt had only ever been successful at putting away low-level members. Maybe, unwittingly, Matthew himself had been a cog in Fisk's great machine, churning the used-up meat to make way for fresher, fitter blood.

Irrelevant. The time for courts and sentences had passed. Matthew knew his next steps almost instinctively.

He slept in his armour. He would need it.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Snart - Cold As Ice

@Hillan

Isn't it crazy how these old(er) songs that have entered a kind of cheese-fest zeitgeist of the 70's and 80's and linger on as singular lines or half-remembered lyrics we sing over and over as schoolchildren actually turn out to be killer tracks when you sit down and listen to the full record?

I recently had this with I Think We're Alone Now, I song I previously literally only knew the titular line of as a half-baked cultural memory and hadn't ever actually personally experienced. I watch Umbrella Academy, hear the track, go take another listen, and discover it's actually an absolute banger. And yet do I think Umbrella Academy chose it because of it's legitimate musical achievements, or because it was a convenient, widely-recognized song to help paint the pastiche they were striving for, an easy nostalgic cash-in?

Who knows. Both tracks rock.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

As a question to everyone; in your head, do you have a theme song for your character? Do you have one for the game at large?

On my end, Spidey's theme is probably just the Spectacular Spider-Man theme, but I'm making that diegetic, so, a little better than just taking it, I guess. Otherwise, his arc theme is The Distance by Cake. I think it connects pretty well to what I'm going for this season with Spidey, and I figured Spider-Man: The Distance was a good arc name, and so it was.

As for an overall theme for the game, though? I'm drawing a blank, which is kind of why I ask the question in the first place. Last time, in UOU, Glitter and Gold by Barns Courtney was my pick, but it somehow doesn't seem to fit as well to this game, but maybe it's just the clashing mental association between this and UOU. Who knows? What do y'all think?

@DocTachyon

Probably this. I haven't thought much about songs per post or character etc but this song probably encapsulates a lot of the themes I'm trying to put across with Murdock.

I have several other songs that will start to be featured in future posts, as well as themes for characters who won't be showing up until my second arc. The fun of listening to said songs (which are fantastic tracks in their own right) is picturing the upcoming significance of them. Hopefully you guys will find my choices fit as well as I think they do.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Was just chatting with Doc on Discord when I brought up the idea of Injustice in this RP's universe, and I figured I'd bring the discussion here.

So. The biggest and bestest superhero went nuts and created a totalitarian dystopia. Who did it and where would your characters be in that mess?

@Simple Unicycle

I’d love to explore a DareDevil who crosses the line, or has the line crossed for him, and truly gives in to his darkest impulses. Either becoming a Punisher figure against the regime or an authoritarian who cordons off Hells Kitchen and turns it into his personal kingdom.

More than likely however Murdock would oppose the regime and then promptly be killed.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Honestly like top tier Batman if you ask me.

Edit: And easily the best Clayface that's ever been written.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

He was rail thin with long, greasy black hair,

@Byrd Man

?

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

^{_{IV. Consequences}}

---

Elektra's mournful, defeated voice played on Matt's mind as he followed Harry Ricci, Mob Lawyer, along his winding night-on-the-town. He played the short, awkward conversation over and over in his mind, only paying half-attention to the movements of his target - but enough to notice that, despite bouncing from bar to bar to bar all evening - the better part of four hours since finding him initially - the smell of alcohol was one that merely clinged to Ricci, rather than originated from him. When the wind hit him Matt could smell only cola, not bourbon, on his breath, and his heartbeat had been the elevated thudthudthud of a stressed and anxious man all night, and not the lax thump - thump of a sedated drunkard like many of the other patrons of the bars and club that Ricci had visited this evening. They were making a slow, winding path downtown, inching ever closer and closer to the address that had been whispered to Ricci some hours earlier; but Matt couldn't help but wonder why he bothered with the charade of trawling the clubs at all, rather than heading straight to the end destination. It reeked of suspicion. It reeked of a trap. Matt double checked his positioning, ensuring he was following at a safe distance, reassuring himself that he hadn't been made. The trail continued to the next block over - 35th - and as Ricci entered yet another bar, Matt chose the moment to softly descend from the rooftop via a fire escape on the exterior of the building. He hit the ground with a crunch and crouched low, hunkering down behind a large dumpster to wait for Ricci. The address was now just two streets over; Matthew had no doubt this bar was the last before the end destination, and whatever or whoever lay there for Ricci.

Matt wasn't sure what to prepare for, but he poised on the balls of his feet and hovered his hands over the holsters of his batons on his thighs nonetheless; the night was noisy, thick with the smell and heat of drunkards young and old. Matt lost himself in them, letting his senses wander the street, astrally moving from couple to couple, in and out of bars. A whiskey chaser and laughter at the one friend who chucked it down the wrong pipe and now spluttered, heat blossoming on their cheeks. A jibe and a joke as a group left one bar and debated on the next, each member arguing for their own suggestion and deriding the others. A couple sitting across from each other, a glass of wine each, fingers wordlessly intertwined and a heat building at their cores as the woman used her legs to play with her partner's. Two long-time friends reuniting, arguing over who gets to purchase the first round, a warm, loving tone in both voices, before the decision is made and four drinks are bought, a clink of glasses saying more than either of them could put into words. All of this surrounded Matthew, a living, breathing city of good people with kind hearts.

But surrounding that was the darkness Matthew fought against. Up high in the flats above him, there were sobs as a husband drunkenly berated his wife and son. In the next building over, halfway up, two young men - too young to be in this world, but involved all the same - compared guns and knives and organised weed, cocaine, and heroin for a night of selling. Two streets over, shivering women in provocative clothing solicited passing men, their hearts thudding with cold and anxiety about bringing enough money back to their pimp. It was always there, cloying and clawing at Matt's mind, an underlying decay that threatened to rot away the very foundations of the city and bring it all down until everything sunk into the murky pits that the bad men and women of Hell's Kitchen called home. He would not - could not - allow them to hollow out his city any more. He had made small progress since beginning his crusade, the saviour of the people, beating back would-be muggers and rapists, assaulting laundering operations or arms deals. But these were simply symptoms of a greater illness; now, Matthew needed to be the cure to the disease, not the medication to treat it. He needed to go after the biggest fish he could. The assault began here and now, with Ricci and his mysterious contact.

The door to the bar Matt was watching from his vantage point in the alley across the street swung open, and from it erupted sound and smells, but Matthew cared only about the smell of Ricci's cologne and the sound of Ricci's heartbeat. The cologne was tinged with a nervous sweat now, and his heartbeat had elevated to an even higher level. Matthew was worried his mark might pop and have a brain aneurysm before they reached the meeting point.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Ricci's brain remained unruptured as he stepped out of the bar and let the door close behind him, straightening his tie as he looked up and down the street both ways. Matthew waited for a few tense moments, holding his breath unconciously, and then Ricci turned and began walk to their final destination, one block over. 34th and Lexington; a nondescript street with a bodega and laundrette on one side, and low-income apartment buildings on the other. There was a service alley down the side of the bodega and Matthew could already feel the presence of someone there, a low heat and a steady pulse as they waited patiently. Ricci beelined for the alleyway, and Matthew tensed up in anticipation. This was it.

The man nodded as Ricci approached and then he asked, as previously instructed, for a 'house special with a sour twist'. The contact nodded again, and wordlessly retrieved something from his coat before handing it to Ricci. It seemed to be some manner of large envelope, but it was bulky and Matthew heard a rattle from within as Ricci gripped it, a sound that seemed familiar to him but he was somehow unable to place within the context. Whatever was in that envelope, it was what Ricci had arrived for. The contact spoke as Ricci tore the top of the envelope off and peered at what was inside. His heartbeat spiked again, and now Matthew began to move across the street to the alleyway, his own pulse rising as he prepared for action.

"You've done excellent work thusfar, and he extends his gratitude. He asks you for only for one final favour."

Ricci gave him a long stare, and then nodded with a particular sense of finality.

"The organisation thanks you for your commendable loyalty. Naturally, we all wish you good luck."

The contact left and Matthew waited for Ricci to move before he approached - but Ricci didn't move, he just stood in the alley alone, clutching his envelope and...waiting. Matthew grew impatient. He removed his batons from their holsters and stepped around the corner, quiet and menacing, letting his boots crunch on the badly-kept ground of the alleyway to announce his presence, doing his best to appear intimidating and frightening. Ricci pushed his hand into his envelope as he turned around and Matthew immediately broke into a sprint as he realised where he recognised that metallic rattling and slight clinking. Ricci had pulled a pistol out, and as the envelope dropped to the ground he stretched out his arm and pulled the trigger haphazardly, squeezing it over and over. Matthew threw himself into a slide underneath the first two bullets, feeling the air split in front of them and the shockwaves of pressure left behind them, the white-heat of the shot lingering in the gun's barrel before exploding again and again and again, every new shot another cacophony that overwhelmed Matt's mind; from the slide he slung himself into a sideways roll before springing up and pushing a boot against the wall to vault backwards. Sparks and mortar flew as a bullet crumpled against brick where Matthew had been mere moments before - and as Matt practically flew through the air, propelled by adrenaline alone, he swung his batons down on Ricci's arm, shattering the radius bone and putting his shooting arm out of action. Matt landed to the side and flipped, bringing his boot aggressively into Ricci's chest and taking him to the floor, before following the fall with his baton again, this time cracking ribs. The gun clattered to the floor, and Matthew stood slowly, looming over the panting Ricci. He made a vague clawing at the discarded pistol with his non-broken arm, and Matt stepped on his wrist with an aggressive amount of pressure, letting Ricci squirm and groan for a few seconds before he dropped and drove his knee into the side of his head, knocking Ricci unconscious, and allowing Matt to search his body.

There wasn't much; change and small notes from the bars, a balled up napkin that reeked of sweat, a wallet with a few business cards and very little else. In his left jacket pocket, however, Matt found a phone - modern, sleek. No case. He flipped the silent switch on the side off and pressed the home button, feeling the faintest whirring from within as it fired up out of standby, but there was no forthcoming click as the phone unlocked; he pressed the home button again, and the phone gave out a slight vibration. Entry locked. He had a good idea how to gain passage however; reaching down, he took the broken arm of Ricci in hand - the dominant hand, he made an educated guess at, as it had been the hand Ricci had taken the pistol in initially - and pressed the thumb against the home button. The phone unlocked, and Murdock dropped the arm, to a significant groan from the groggy, semi-unconcious Ricci. He held the home button down until the voice command system activated.

"Activate text-to-speech dictation." The phone dinged with an affirmative. "Open messages." The phone made a swishing sound as the relevant app opened, and at this point, began to dictate the names of those whom Ricci currently held conversations with. Matt listened with growing impatience as the phone listed known low-level mob thugs, local business, several different females including one that shared Ricci's name...and then it said 'Kingpin', with as much anticlimactic aplomb as Matthew would expect a waiter reading the day's special soup for the fifth time in one dinner order. His heart skipped a beat, and he opened his mouth to say, 'Open my conversation with Kingpin', but only got as far as "Open-" before he heard Ricci's weight shifting behind him with a considerable groan, and then that metallic clank of the gun being picked up from the ground, and how could he have been so careless to not have kicked it away, clenching the phone in hand as he tensed his legs to dive out of the way of the incoming bullet-

There was a gunshot that felt louder than any of the shots before it, but Matthew felt no air splitting in his direction, no belch of heat towards him. He heard a wet, squelching sound; the unmistakable thick trickle of blood hitting ground; a low, moaning gurgle. The smell of fresh blood exploded forth, and he heard Ricci's pulse quiver and become thinner and faster - and then there was a final, sickening thud and a following clatter of metal on concrete.

Matt turned around. He already knew where the last bullet had gone, and it mattered little now. Angry as he was, any frustration or rage at lost answers - or even lost lives - was impotent and irrelevant. The phone pinged, vibrating as it rang and dictated its call aloud.

'INCOMING CALL FROM: KINGPIN'

Matthew answered, and brought the phone to his ear. He couldn't bring himself to find appropriate words. He wasn't sure he needed to. The dulcet, menacing tones of his nemesis soon erased all other thoughts from his mind.

"I am so sorry that we must first meet in such unpleasant circumstances. Believe me, were your self-imposed involvement in my affairs not to have come at such... inopportune a time, I may have admired your...tenacity. Alas, your indomitable efforts have proved an unbearable thorn in my side, and so, the time has come for such an opponent to be...removed. Obviously, my men have found themselves...outmatched, in the past. And it would seem that subterfuge, though poorly executed, still underestimates your abilities. And so, we have come to the only remaining solution to you, my final problem."

Matt cleared his throat. "I am far from your final problem. Even if you kill me, there will be more that come for you. And I will not go down easy."

Through the phone, Kingpin chuckled, and Matt struck the wall with the baton in his free hand, removing a chunk of brick at the impact point."Please, have no doubt that I will kill you. But before that...inevitable end, I will first make an example of you. I will show the world that those who seek to hinder me will lose...everything. You see, this city is mine. And it shall remain. Mine. What you do now is of no concern; you have already chosen your fate, and the fates of others, through your actions. There is a universal truth, Mr. Murdock. And it is that everything...everything. Has consequences."

The phone hit the ground before the line went dead. Matthew was already running.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

^{_{III. Dinner Date}}

---

Matthew took a deep breath as he and Kate stood in the square outside the courthouse, having been ushered out by the police when they had secured the scene. Vincent Donatella, the defendant that Spencer and Murdock had hoped to pressure into spilling some big secrets, had been discovered dead by his mob lawyer in the defense chamber, hanging from the light fixture by his own tie. An obvious suicide, the police said. Obviously suspicious, Murdock thought. The corpse, and the room, had reeked of that cologne-and-leather combination that Matt now knew was the hallmark of the mysterious gentleman he'd glimpsed earlier that day, and that hadn't made a single appearance before or since. The man was obviously suspect. Probably mob-connected. Probably higher than Vincent had been. Matthew had no doubt that the accused had indeed hung himself; but there was no way it had been an independent decision. But regardless of who was responsible, there was only one outcome: a dead man, and a dead lead with him.

The trial had been thrown out and a new investigation now begun; Murdock and Spencer went through their questioning and witness statements, as did the mob lawyer. Kate had fled the scene to her preferred bar the second she'd been granted release by the pair of detectives assigned to the scene; Matt had hung around, ostensibly awaiting the arrival of Foggy and Karen, but surreptitiously eavesdropping and gathering information as best he could. The uniform cops knew very little, only basic details and what perimeter to keep around the crime scene as forensics had their way with it; the detectives were either dumb or playing as such, their questions meandering and aimless. Across the square, Matt could hear the two of them muttering between themselves, pondering about where the line for 'bare minimum' rested for such a case - it was clear neither of them thought there was much investigation needed for such an open-and-shut case. The cynic in Matt just dryly assumed they were lazy and poor detectives. The Devil in Matt wondered who had paid them to think as such.

He smelt Karen and Foggy approaching before he heard their footsteps and he waited until their voices were within reasonable earshot before he turned and smiled, waving awkwardly. Karen waved back and then blushed, and Foggy chuckled.

"Thank you for coming, you two. Foggy, I'm sorry to pull you out of the office again."

Foggy scoffed and punched Matt lightly on the arm. "Shut it, Murdock. You know I'm only practicing my quarters game in there most days. Marianne never gives me anything when you've got something big on, you know that."

Matt sighed. "And I'm sorry about that, too. Kate dressed me down for involving you today, and she was right to, though not for the reasons she thinks. I shouldn't involve you if it's jeopardizing your career."

"Don't worry about my career, man. Cum Laude, remember? Marianne might not make me partner in the next five years, but she's not firing me either." Foggy put a hand on Matt's shoulder to reassure him, and Matt nodded. "Plus they pay me whether I'm working a trial or not, so it all works out at about the same amount of drinking anyway. Speaking of...?"

"Yes!" Karen interjected, enthusiasm in her voice. "I rang Kate on the way over to ask about post-trial cleanup and she's neck-deep already - probably drinking away her anger - so if both my bosses are drunk I've got free reign."

"Now that is courtroom thinking right there." Foggy quipped. "I'd be careful, Matt, Karen's a lot prettier than you. Kate might find herself working with a new ADA."

They all chuckled, and Matt considered it - but 100 meters behind him and to the left, in an oft-overlooked alcove in the exterior of the courthouse building, he had been listening to the distinctive tick tick of a Patek Phillipe model 5327G watch, and had caught a whiff of a particular cologne. They had lowered their voices and were talking politely and nonchalantly, but there was no mistaking; this was the mysterious man Matthew had last witnessed leaving the defense chamber, and here he was again, post-crime, privately discussing a seemingly inane matter with the mob lawyer.

^{"Some terrible rain today, I hear; though not a cloud in sight?"}

"There's been a mild shower uptown, but it's cleared up nicely. Should be sunny days."

^{"How lovely. I do appreciate optimism when I see it. Still, pragmatism has its virtues."}

"You'd be forgiven for doing what you had to the way things are goin' these days."

^{"And one must do what they need to to get by. It can be difficult out there by yourself."}

"What if I found myself needin' some friends?"

^{"I would find yourself a good bar; I find companionship flows like water, where alcohol is involved."}

"Any recommendations?"

^{"34th and Lexington, downtown. Ask for a house special, with a sour twist. They'll get you what you need."}

"Thanks. Sounds like a good place. I'll have to check it out."

^{"You're very welcome. Have a wonderful night. Best of luck to you."}

They parted, and Matt took a private moment to internalize the address and process the conversation. Innocuous, even with context, but a subtext barely masked below the surface. He was brought back by Foggy giving him a light shove. He'd been out for a few seconds, focused elsewhere.

"Sorry, Foggy. I'd love to, but I can't; previous arrangements with El. She's forcing me to take her to dinner."

Foggy shook his head, but smiled at the same time. Karen looked away slightly. "No worries, man. I'm sure she really bent your arm on that one. You need a cab?"

"No, you two go ahead and enjoy your afternoon, evening, night - wherever you end up. I'm going to walk back to the apartment and freshen up. I could do with clearing my head after today."

"Yeah, I bet." Karen said, compassion in her tone. "Out of the blue, that one. What a tragedy. You know he had a daughter?"

Foggy took Karen by the arm. "I'm sure we're all aware. We'll see you later Matt; call if you need us to uh, 'rescue' you from your hostage dinner."

Matt laughed and waved again as they walked away arm-in-arm towards the local favourite, then turned away and began walking in the opposite direction. He reached the street and walked south, the sounds of the city - footsteps, chatter, engines, birds - painting the world around him, each noise exploding out from its source in maroon eruptions in his mind and drenching its immediate surrounding in lines and edges, carving out the shapes of buildings, cars, and people from the blackness that lay just behind it. The heat on his skin felt like blurred auras of the things around him; moving, throbbing blobs of engine blocks as the pistons exploded petrol over and over, every person a warm presence in a very literal sense, balls of heat brushing past him on all sides. The city oozed and pulsed and Matt felt every inch of it. He shared his lungs with it and it breathed with him, almost for him. He could sense the pulse of Hell's Kitchen; feel it through the soles of his shoes, smell it in the air, hear it surrounding him. A city's heartbeat, thumping and thudding and throbbing through every fibre of Matt's being - and in his core, he could feel the venom poisoning his city's heart, the corruption coursing through the streets. The courthouse was not exempt, and Matthew had been a fool to believe it could be. No more. Not again. He couldn't allow the men who hid in shadows to harm the innocent any longer. The Devil would bring their punishment.

Matthew headed home.

-

He had completed a cursory sweep of his apartment when he'd returned home, and found it empty, Elektra having left shortly after Matthew, and clearly still out. Certain he'd been alone, he had opened a hidden compartment beneath his bedroom floor, wherein he had stashed the Devil; and then he was out into the early evening, the sun setting on his back as he leapt across rooftops and dropped down walls, testing the retractable wire in his batons as he went. He made it eight blocks before the cellphone on his belt buzzed, and he paused, ducking low and pushing himself up against the rooftop water tank as he undid the clasps of his helmet and removed it with one hand and fetched the phone from its pouch with the other. He pressed a button on the side of the device, and a quiet, robotic monotone spoke the single word, 'ELEKTRA'. Matt swore underneath his breath.

"Hi, honey." He said, wincing. He hoped she couldn't hear it in his voice, but he was bad at lying to her.

"Am I to assume I am dining alone, tonight?"

Ah.

"Oh god, El, I com-"

"-pletely forgot? This is far from the first time. The wine is quite good here, you know."

Shit.

"Today's trial, El, it didn't go exactly to-"

"Plan? No, I hear it didn't. You're mourning a tragic loss?"

Oh, god save him.

"I'm sorry babe, Kate has got me-"

"Kate also thinks the wine here is rather agreeable."

There was a pause that neither of them felt comfortable filling. Matt could hear Kate's wry, wine-fueled laugh in the background of the call, and more importantly he could not hear Elektra as she quietly seethed.

"I'm...busy. I've got to get this done. I'm sorry, El."

There was a pause.

"That's it?" She asked, with more than a hint of defeat about her tone. Matt's disappointments had long since passed incredulity.

"It's important."

"More important than this?"

Another pause. Matt heard Elektra sigh.

"Don't answer that." She said, and then hung up. Matt swore and stood, punching the water tank hard, leaving his hand against the wall to feel the ripples of the resevoir inside bouncing off themselves before calming back to still water. He turned his helmet over and over in his hands, feeling the curvature, pushing his thumbs down on the tips of the horns. This was important. The Devil was important. What he could accomplish, was important.

More important than Matthew Murdock's happiness? He asked himself.

This is Matthew Murdock's happiness. The horns answered back.

He put his helmet back on and took off running. The sun set on the Devil, and he leapt into the night.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

^{_{II. Case Closed}}

---

Matthew's hand twitched as he sat patiently while the defense lawyer finished his barrage of inane, irrelevant questions to the one surprise witness he had managed to drum up for the trial. Matt could hear the man's heartbeat from here - high tempo, a light, rapid pulse, wild fluctuations as he gave his answers. He was lying. The sweat coming off him assaulted Matt's sense in waves of uncomfortable heat and foul odors - but Matthew also knew that the trail of 'factual' documents and corroborating individuals would be set up far beyond the scope of his reach. He wouldn't be indicting anyone for perjury today, but the dishonestly from both the witness and the defense lawyer built a slow, bubbling anger within Matthew. A rising rage combined with more cups of coffee than he'd had hours of sleep, and he could feel himself becoming irate and unstable. He flexed his fingers and clenched his fists alternately, feeling the patterns of his own skin and the smooth, varnished surface of the table equally, focusing on them both to center himself.

You are Matt Murdock, New York Assistant Defense Attorney. You will charge this man. You will attain a verdict of guilty. There will be justice.

Matthew looked toward the jury. A few glanced back quizzically; most ignored him in favor of focusing on the witness in the box. Steady hearts in most of them, although a few slightly elevated. Most likely simple nerves. He heard nothing from Katherine Spencer beside him; his DA was stoic and measured as always, her heartbeat a steady tide against her equally balanced breathing. In, out. Pump, pump. Nothing seemed to phase Kate...Matthew wondered if she had some kind of trick, some meditation or happy place. It didn't matter. She was up already, cross-examining the witness, carefully pulling at the threads that the defense had spun until they fell apart. Matthew had discussed his proposed strategy with Kate in Pre-Trial, and she had heartily agreed; pulling the accused off the streets would barely dent the mob's operation, as there were other lieutenants already subsuming the responsibilities and the money that came with them. But if they were able to glean a few vicious insights into the mob, with names and locations attached? They might be able to begin to staunch the flow of crime and corruption that had plagued Hell's Kitchen for years. This was the best shot they'd had in months; if they succeeded here, Matthew might not have to bring the Devil back out of his cage again. He might be able to stem that zealous tide of anger.

To his left he heard low murmering from the defendant and his lawyer. They were worried, that much was clear - a bead of sweat broke on the lawyer's forehead that he hastily mopped off with a handkerchief, and the defendant himself whispered in harsh tones, with the heat and heartbeat of anger. They were losing, but that was obvious; it was what they were whispering about amongst themselves, while Katherine was distracted prodding and probing their surprise witness, that was interesting.

"You said you could get me off, Harry." The defendant hissed through the side of his mouth. "You said easy, no sweat."

"Shut your mouth, Vincent, trial ain't done yet." His lawyer hissed back, eyes fixed forwards on the judge.

"Didn't realise they had so much on ya. You never learn to be careful?"

"I never learned to deal with snitches proper. Told bodies are worse than words."

"You shouldn't have snitches in the first place."

"I shouldn't be here in the first place. How'd this go from a night out to bein' rinsed by the DA?"

"It ain't my problem you got a dirty habit and fidgety paws. You should consider AA."

"I should consider recommending we get another lawyer. You ain't good to us if you can't do your job. We'll get someone who can."

There was a pause in the conversation and Matthew noticed a distinct rise in the lawyer's pulse that indicated panic. Katherine finished her questions, and the witness was taken from the box by the court's security officer, practically dripping from sweat. Matt suppressed a gag as they walked past him up the aisle and out of the room. Katherine sat back down beside him as the court settled, the jury silently deliberating among themselves about the questions asked and answered. The defendant remained quiet as the lawyer tried to calm himself, and Kate leaned toward Matt, her body heat pressing on him uncomfortably in the stifled hall. He focused on her perfume over the lingering cloud of body odor.

"I think this is a slam-dunk, Murdock. You've outdone yourself with this pre-trial work."

Matt smiled politely and nodded. "I can't claim all the credit. Karen managed to dig up the history and Foggy's consultancy was instrumental."

"I understand we employ Karen, but you should watch how much you rely on your friends. Especially when they currently work for external law firms."

Anger flashed in Matthew again and he could feel his face twitch, before taking a moment to collect himself.

"I trust Foggy, and he's not working on any cases right now. I wouldn't cross-contaminate."

"But every time you involve him, you risk the integrity of our cases."

Matt's cheeks flushed as frustration burst forth, his rising heat feeling like it was scorching his own skin from the inside. To their left, the defense lawyer rose from his seat and approached the judge. Matthew couldn't hear their whispers over his own heartbeat in his ears, too rattled and irate to focus properly. The judge rapped her gavel and stood.

"The defense has called for emergency recess, and is granted such. Court will reconvene in three hours." She sat, and rapped her gavel again as murmurs erupted among the courtroom. "Dismissed!"

Matthew and Katherine dutifully stood, Matt taking Kate's proffered elbow as he allowed her to lead him from the room, cane and casefiles tucked underneath his other arm. She spoke to him in a low, measured tone as they slowly filed out.

"What the hell is this about? Emergency recess?"

Matt shrugged. "Probably buying time to find another surprise witness or pay off the judge." He replied, with reluctant resignation giving his voice a weary tinge. Kate shook her head brusquely.

"Judge is clean, I made sure. She's newest in the city, no prior involvement with known crime organisations, and she's put away several mob thugs already. She's the best we could get for this case."

"Another witness or 'overlooked' evidence then. They'll dig something up."

"We'll see." Kate replied, with a distinct finality that stopped Matthew's mix of anger and defeat in its tracks. "Let's just sit tight for three hours and get right back in." They pushed through the double doors at the back of the courtroom and found themselves in the main corridors again, the hustle and bustle of the judiciary system weaving around them. Matthew found a bench, while Kate looked impatiently up and down the hallway. "I'm going to get lunch and find the judge. Meet me back here in two-and-a-half. If you find yourself fidgeting, try tea this time."

Matt gave a half-hearted chuckle as Kate walked away, and he tracked her by the click-clack of her heels against the stone tiles. Ten meters. Twenty. Thirty-five. Her perfume mingled with the crowd of busy attorneys, court officers, defendants and claimants, and at fifty meters, he felt safe to stand and walk in the opposite direction, listening carefully for his marks; their voices, their heartbeats, their footsteps. He drew deep breaths through his nose, trying to find a hint of their cologne or body scent. He didn't have to go far.
They were muffled, their voices bleeding through several walls and closed doors as they discussed...something. Matt couldn't quite make out the whole conversation, just scattered pieces. He focused, blocking out the ambiance that bounced around his skull and zeroed in on their discussion, all the while following their sounds and scents trying to get closer. Their private court chamber was well-guarded, and Matthew knew he risked being held in contempt should he be found snooping around too close during recess, but he had to know if his strategy was working. He had to know if what he and Kate were trying to do was working. He had to know.

A door opened twenty feet ahead and to the right around a corner and the voices came through clearly and Matthew froze, moving backwards towards a bench he had passed a few feet back to take a seat and try and appear innocuous as he listened. A set of footsteps walked out the doors, paused, and then disappeared in the opposite direction. Matt used the sound to paint a rough picture of the owner: tall, male, smartly dressed, neat hair, glasses. The distinct ticking of a Patek Phillipe 5327G model watch - exceedingly expensive. A peculiar and singular scent, fine leather and tasteful cologne combined. It hadn't been present in the courtroom, or indeed any pre-trial on-goings. Matthew racked his brain, trying to decipher the mystery of this individual that had suddenly injected himself into proceedings at this critical juncture. He didn't have long to think; the door opened again, and another man stepped out. The smell hit Murdock instantly, and this was without question Harry, the defendant's mob lawyer. He held the door open and spoke back through it, presumably to his defendant, the only remaining man in the chamber.

"I'm advising you, Vincent. As your lawyer. Think about your options."

He let the door close and then walked away, towards Matthew this time. Matt hunched a little on the bench, holding his cane in both hands between his legs. He wasn't quite sure what face to pull, if any. The lawyer rounded the corner and stopped short when he spotted Matt on the bench.

"Stretching your legs, Murdock?" He asked, an air of irritated incredulity inflecting his voice.

"I got restless, so I took a walk. Lot of coffee today. Can't say I'm one-hundred percent sure where I am."

"Too close to the defendant's chamber, that's where. Wouldn't wanna accuse you of tryin'ta snoop now, would I, Assistant Defense Attourney?"

Matt's face twitched but he maintained composure. "Of course not. I know when I'm not welcome."

"And yet here you are anyway."

Matt said nothing, just stood and took a few steps towards the lawyer. He could hear a nervous heartbeat and smelt mild sweating, but a thick layer of the mysterious man's cologne rested above anything else. "I just needed to stretch my legs. Clearly I wandered too far. A lot to think about in this case." He took a step back and gestured down the corridor the way he'd came, holding out his other hand with an open, upturned palm. "Care to help me back to court? Assuming you can step away from your client temporarily, of course."

The lawyer sniffed and took a moment to regard Matthew. He wasn't sure if he was sneaky or just an idiot. After a few painful moments he conceded, and stepped in front of Matthew, who put a hand to his elbow as they walked in silence back towards the courtroom.

-

Two-and-a-half hours, after Matthew's jaunt, had translated into two more beverages - although he had taken Kate's advice and gotten cups of hopefully-soothing herbal tea instead. The bitter, earthy taste still clung to his back teeth, and he fetched a small cup of cool water from the nearby water dispenser on the wall as Katherine paced back-and-forth in front of the doors to the courtroom. She muttered angrily to herself, and Matthew simply let her stew; patience was never Ms. Spencer's strong-suit. They were waiting for the reappearance of the defense in order for court to be reconvened; as it stood, they were twenty minutes late and another ten away from contempt. Matthew kept an ear open, but mostly tried to ignore the distinct flavor of peat from the tea and chalk from the water it had been made with.

"Something's happening, Murdock." Kate suddenly interjected, and Matthew listened. She was right; at the far end of the corridor, a commotion was steadily building, with several guards ushering people in one direction while a few more jogged in the other. Kate took off towards the crowd, and Matthew found his stomach replaced by a pit of cloying despair. He crushed his empty cup in his hand and took after Kate, walking at a brisk pace, barely bothering with the pretense of his cane, trying desperately not to break into a run. He caught up with Kate as she wormed her way through the crowd and then reached back to grab his hand and pull him through too - and then he realised they were heading towards the defense chamber, and the pit of despair swallowed his lungs too. They had reached the bench that Matt had been sat on a mere three hours ago when Matthew heard a gurney being rattled out of the chamber and across the hallway. Kate swore profusely.

"Fuck. Fuck. It's a goddamn bodybag, for fuck's sake."

Matthew grimaced. "Who's in it?"

"My client." Came a voice from behind them both, and Matthew knew who it was before Kate whirled around furiously to confirm. "Overwhelming the accused seems like a nice tidy strategy one way or the other, huh?"

The pit changed from despair to rage and now took Matthew's heart as well and he dropped his cane on the spot, taking two long, quick strides straight forward with a clenched fist, winding his shoulder back -
Kate caught his arm before he even got to release it with a remarkably firm grip and roughly pushed his cane back into his other hand. The lawyer took a step back.

"Case closed, assholes. At least he's off the streets, huh? Nevermind about his little girl."

He walked away as Kate guided Matthew to the bench.

"Get a damn hold of yourself, Murdock. He's right." She straightened up as Matt breathed heavy, rubbing her forehead as she took a deep, measured breath herself. "Case closed."

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

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