This story takes place somewhere slightly outside normal Daredevil continuity. Deal with it.
Daredevil: The Devil You Know
Part One
Red—The Blood of Angry Men
"The problem
with Silke was that he just didn't know his limitations. I hate to quote someone the likes of Clint
Eastwood, but a man has to know his limitations. Without that, well, stupid men do stupid
things."
He light a cigarette, and took a swig of the beer sitting in
front of him, while his audience looked at him with eager anticipation.
"Now, he
thought he could kill the Kingpin and just take over. Like that.
Life don't work like that—the world don't work
like that. This isn't a movie—this is
reality. And you know what the problem with reality is?"
He leaned
forward, eyes pulled close together, a lean and hungry look on his face.
"The problem
with reality is that it never ends.
There's no final reel—there's no credits. Once one story ends, the next one
begins. Silke couldn't comprehend
this—no, he thought that he'd kill the Kingpin, and
that would be that. But,
the Kingpin? He's not a
person…no, he's a lifestyle. He's an
idea. He's a state of mind."
Some of the
men squirmed in their seats—how long had it been since the Kingpin had passed
on? Three months? Four? Even still, the news of the retribution
against Silke and his men could send a shiver up even the spine of the toughest
guy here.
"You kill the
Kingpin, someone takes his place. Someone as tough as he.
Someone as mean as he. Someone with the absolute balls like he did. And that's something Silke and his capos
couldn't deal with. Now, we have an
opening, my friends. We have a way of
continuing the story. Out with the
old—you know the score."
He stood at
this point, crossing in front of his desk.
Their eyes followed him—after all, he was a self made man. And he was made. He was God.
God loves, God punishes. God is
first over all.
"The thing
with this corporation, as it is with you and me, is that it's a living
thing. And like any other living thing,
it has it's stages.
Birth, growth, maturity, decline, and death. All stages of life—a tree sprouts from a
small seed. Soon it becomes a sapling,
and soon it grows. It keeps on growing,
and then, suddenly, it stops. The next
thing you know, the branches fall off, the bark starts to strip, and then—it's
over. Just like that tree, so we must
first realize that whatever we do, it won't last forever. We won't live forever. But, you know something,
we can damn sure leave our mark on history."
He was God,
and he was good.
Matt Murdock
could hardly sleep in his bed anymore—he had thought, briefly, about getting
one of those "Sensory Deprivement Chambers", but they resembled a coffin too
much, and he was certain he had fought a vampire one time. Well, all the things that he had battled over
the years: ninjas, mutants, people with expanding legs…what hadn't he fought at
one point or another? The sheets, silk,
irritated his skin these days, and, anyway, the apartment was too noisy these
days. Ever since that college girl had
moved in below him—even now, at
She was Dian
Simmons, the daughter of the very wealthy Leyton Simmons, head of Simmons
Publishing Group—Matt could count down on both hands just the number of
magazines they published alone. She had
gotten the nice little flat to live in as a bonus for getting good grades last
year—and Matt knew his rent wasn't cheap.
But, then again, he had his experience with class action lawsuits,
including, recently, one of the largest monetary awards in
He'd only
gone out once this week, and it was Wednesday.
Not good. Sure, he'd be out all
weekend, but he had promised to go out at least three days during the week,
but, with the trial, and that damn injury he had gotten during a particularly
careless moment chasing an attempted rapist, he needed some time. But, his time in court was over, and it would
be good to get back out there. Tomorrow. Tonight, he
would try to sleep.
The knock on
his door shocked the absolute hell out of him—it wasn't a loud knock, but, with
his abilities, it didn't take much to startle him. Especially when he was
trying to sleep. He rose out of
his bed, and slipped on a robe—he had been wearing pajama bottoms, but he
preferred to hide his bruises and scars whenever he could. As he walked towards the door, he could hear
heavy breath, and a speeding heart, as if someone was going to need a lot of
bravery to do what they were going to do.
Not they, no, it was a girl. He
could smell patchouli and…it had to be incense.
And a hint of marijuana—she hadn't smoked, but someone close to her
had. It wasn't a she—no, as he got
closer he could smell the tell-tale sign.
Chanel number five. It was Dian.
If he could
see, he would marvel at her simple beauty—fair skin, long blond hair, her well
toned body hidden by the baggy, college hippie clothes she wore. She was a natural beauty, which was lucky,
because, due to her college hippieness, she now declined to wear makeup. But, like any other self respecting young
woman, she couldn't bring herself to skip out on the leg and underarm shaving,
not only because it was disgusting to her, but it itched like nobody's
business. As Matt opened the door, she
smiled, then cursed herself for doing it—he was blind,
she reminded herself.
"Hello? Can I
help you?" Matt faked his surprise when
she answered. He always said that if he
ever gave up the superhero business, maybe he should go into acting.
"Don't you
know it's dangerous to open your door to strangers, Mr. Murdoch?" She added a sort of playfulness to her
voice—figured that would be the best way to communicate with him. She had gained her crush on him two years
ago, when she saw his picture on television, as the was
defending a young African American who happened to be at the wrong place at the
wrong time. Larceny, they accused him
of, simply because he was black. She
admired the way he carried himself, how he seemed to use the law to change the
system. Then she moved in, finding out
two days later that he lived in the same building—Matt Murdoch, the wonderful
defender of the little man, the man who was changing the world. And, he was cute. God, was he cute.
"Well, I
guess I need to start using my peephole.
Oh, wait, I'm blind. Sorry, I
forgot." She laughed—her blood was
rushing around. Her heart was beating
hard, and, he could feel the heat coming from her skin. She coming on to him? Matt felt puzzled by this.
"Mind if I
come in, Mr. Murdoch? I need some legal
advice."
"Sure, Dian…I
was having trouble sleeping anyway."
"Why?"
"Couldn't get
the song ‘Best of What's Around' out of my head." Good line, he thought. Gives them a bit of common
interest. She brushed past him,
her arm, her soft skin grazing against his free hand
as she walked by.
"My
favorite song from my favorite band.
I'm beginning to think this was a good
idea."
Matt was
late, Foggy thought, as he sat in his office, running through a few old
files. He probably needed the rest, with
the case and all, and he had probably gone out last night, though Foggy
couldn't remember hearing anything on the news about Daredevil, but, then
again, given the news that had hit around seven this morning, old Hornhead
busting a couple of gangbangers last night probably wouldn't have made the top
story.
Matt came in
around nine thirty, whistling, and who could blame him. Foggy walked into Matt's office as Matt was
taking off his suit coat and placing it around his desk chair. Matt heard Foggy coming toward him right
after he walked in—no doubt a lecture about being late. But, after last night, Matt was surprised he
didn't call in sick.
"Office hours
start at eight, need I remind you?"
Foggy had a jovial tone in his voice—good. Matt could tell he wasn't angry. Hell, Foggy probably thought he had gone
patrolling last night.
"Sorry,
Franklin, but I had an really strange night last
night?"
"
"No, I didn't
go out last night. It was a…well, it was
a woman." This captured Foggy's
attention. Matt heard the pulse racing,
the undeniable sign that Foggy's imagination was going into overdrive. Matt smirked, knowing that whatever he was
imagining wouldn't even begin to measure up.
"Who?
What? Details,
buddy, details. How'd you
meet? I haven't heard you talk about any
women in a long while…"
"She's this
girl who lives in the apartment below me.
She young—very young. Twenty-one-year-old college
senior. But, she was really great. Anyway, I was having trouble sleeping."
"Okay, she's
young, but, hey…Who was she?"
"Dian
Simmons. Daughter of
Leyton Simmons." Matt could hear
Foggy's heart skip. The
rush of blood away from his face.
The breath leaving his body. Matt raised his eyebrows,
something had completely taken by surprise.
"You haven't
heard?" Foggy's voice contained an
element of shock in it, another alarm sounding.
"No, what
happened?"
"They found
Leyton Simmons dead this morning. Murdered. Shot
through the head."
"Oh my god…"
Matt could hear a television coming through from the room next to his
office—they were watching the news. It
was true, it was too true.
He sat in his
office, watching his boys' handiwork on the television. One down. Pretty soon, the world would know his name,
and, more importantly, so would the Kingpin.
Or, more accurately, whoever was running the Kingpin's business right
now. Oh, yeah, he had sent a
message. And they were getting it loud
and clear. And, unfortunately for them, there were more messages on the
way. God was speaking to his
people. And, if they were smart, they
would listen to God. No one ignores God.