THE DAY DAREDEVIL DIED

by Paul Pinsdorf

The day Daredevil died is what today will be known as. Being the

world's deadliest assassin, I wouldn't normally take on a low-level

superhero. I think Daredevil is good at what he does, but I've fought the

Avengers single-handed. There is no way he is in my league. I have no

superpowers, except one. I can watch someone perform a task and copy it

exactly. I can only copy moves that I could physically perform. For

instance, I can copy Spiderman doing a flip but not climbing a wall. In

high school, I became the varsity starring quarterback after watching one

profession game on a Sunday afternoon. It was then that I realized I could

make a living with my ability to copy tasks. Hence, I became an

assassin/mercenary, the Taskmaster. I fling a shield like Captain America,

I shoot arrows like Hawkeye, and I throw a Billy club just like Daredevil.

So when this guy, who goes by the name Mr. Tongue, offers me a million

dollars to whack old hornhead, I jump at it. He tells me that Daredevil was

given a tip that a certain cargo of drugs is being moved at this dock at

midnight. It's 12a.m. and a freighter just docked. Two guys are wheeling a

huge box off the freighter and two more are escorting them, while holding

automatic weapons. I then see Daredevil make his move. He takes them out

rather quickly. I have to admit he's good. As he is examining the box I

make my move. Between the darkness and the element of surprise, he doesn't

stand a chance. I approach him from the rear with my Billy club in hand. I

get within range and throw it fast and hard, to the back of his head. He

moves slightly before impact and the club grazes his head. But he goes down

anyway. I approach him with my sword unsheathed, with the intention of

killing him swiftly. I stand over the unconscious hero and ready myself for

the killing blow. I raise my sword above my head and then bring it down

with all my might. Daredevil quickly moves before impact and does a double

kick from a handstand position, into my face. As I try to retain balance,

he leg sweeps me, which causes me to lose my sword and puts me on my back.

I roll up into a fighting stance and attack him with moves of Bruce Lee and

Jackie Chan. He dodges my strikes and heads for the shadows. He's running

because he knows that he is no match for me. Once I'm in the shadows I lose

sight of him. In fact, I could barely see anything. I feel a slight tap on

my shoulder. I turn and see a silhouette of Daredevil. And then I see

nothing. I wake up inside a police station with handcuffs on my wrists and

leg restraints on my ankles. He took me out like a third rate thug. I have

to admit the guy's good.