He landed onto the rooftop, gravel separating beneath his feet and flying about around him, giving him a brief glance at his surroundings with every pebble that hits the solid surface. Seven assailants in all, six lackeys and one leader. A wannabe heavy hitter that's been running around in a Halloween costume. Dubbed himself "The Jester".
Where do these guys come from?
The masked vigilante thought to himself, breaking out into a sprint. His targets were all quite adept in the art of parkour, which was made evident by their constantly changing position. He was chasing three of the criminals down one row of small buildings, while another row, on the opposite side of a street that separated them, the other three were making their getaway. Their leader was a bit more of a wildcard, leaping around quite a bit more, making it difficult for Murdock to pin him down.
He was gaining on his three rapidly. Two of them were getting extremely tired, perspiring more than they had been before this whole chase started, heart pounding, heavy breathing, the usual signs. The third however? Not nearly as tired. Just slow as hell. Matt took a moment to listen extra carefully, pin point their weaknesses:
The first tiring criminal was no longer trying too hard. He had lost the incentive, that much was evident. He was now longer jumping around, trying vigorously to evade, no, he was sprinting in a straight line, leaping over alleyways when necessary, yes, but not weaving, ducking or even jumping if he didn't need too.
The second tiring criminal was still full of fight, just fading fast, after all, he was the one carrying the bag of money. He was between the other two men, still attempting to evade, what Matt did take note of, was the wheezing and occasional cough. His breath was much more laboured than the others'. Probably asthma, would make it easier to incapacitate him using a lunch shot.
The Slowpoke was simple, his steps were odd, he was limping a bit, and the joint in his knee popped with every step.
This was going to be easy.......
Matt sprinted, closing the gap quickly, and leaped into the air. After a single somersault, he landed, feet first, onto the second tiring criminal's shoulders, drilling him down into the roof, who promptly dropped the bag of money he was carrying onto the roof in front of them. The costumed vigilante grabbed the man by his hair, and quickly smashed his face into the hard, cement roof, sending blood splattering. He wasn't getting back up. Daredevil grabbed the bag, and launched it about twenty feet ahead, landing directly in the first tiring criminal's line of running. The man tripped, as Murdock had hoped for. What he wasn't counting on, was the way the man fell, sideways onto his right leg, snapping it like a wishbone at thanksgiving. At least now he wouldn't have to physically incapacitate the man.
All that was left was the slowpoke. The men on the other side of the street hadn't gotten very far, they were maybe fifty feet ahead, alone with The Jester, who had taken to the street. Matt stood, and listened to the man's steps, the clicking of his knee. In one quick arm movement, he had launched his red baton like a projectile. The object, smashed into the man's knee, seemingly breaking it completely. The man crumpled to the rooftop, screaming in agony. It didn't take long for The Guardian of Hell's Kitchen to sprint up to the screaming man, retrieve his weapon, and leap over the roof to the street below. He ran quickly, climbing over various vehicles before finally catching up with the men on the roof above. Matt clamoured up a nearby fire escape in mere moments, the men were just sprinting past his position. He hopped up before them.
"Come on then."
The masked man called out, raising his red glove and gesturing them forward. They accepted his invitation, each taking a shot at the man, each of which were promptly shot down as the vigilante destroyed each of them, breaking one's arm, and knocking the other two out, each with a quick jab to the bridge of their nose. They'd have chronic nose bleeds for the next few days, a lot of bruising and a minor concussion, but they'd be fine.
Finally, he was alerted to the final member of the gang. A high pitched, shrill laugh from the street below. The cocking of a magnum forced the man to leap into action. A single flip to the side walk a mere thirty feet below and a fifty meter sprint to the intersection where The Jester stood, clad in his poorly sewn costume, which hung from his body like an elder brothers hand-me-down's. This man, in any other situation would be a joke, but now? Now he held a gun to a woman's temple.
This was no joke.
"Put the gun down, Jester. This could all end painlessly. No one has to get hurt."
The Jester's grease paint covered face scrunched up, an eye twitching. His trigger finger twitched, something that made Matt's heart skip a beat. He was trying to get a solid read on Jester's body language, determine his true intentions, but it was difficult to drown out the screaming of his hostage and the 'ooh's and 'ah's' from the surrounding crowd.
"Bull$hit! There is no way you're letting me get out of this with no physical damage, so there's no way I'm letting you out with no collateral damage! So c'mon, "Daredevil", show me what your made of! Let's have an arch enemy style face off!"
Matt raised a brow beneath his bright yellow mask, cocking his head.
He asked. Jester stopped dead in his tracks, looking around awkwardly.
"Did you just say we were arch-enemies?"
Daredevil asked, stepping forward. He dropped his right hand down to his side, and slowly gripped his baton tightly, which was sitting in it's holster on his thigh. He heard the scumbags face tighten into a frown. The Jester was sweating he was nervous.
"Well, ya, I figured we were. I mean, I wear a costume too, I pulled off a bunch of bank robberies. You've chased me like twice, but I've gotten away, and now we're having a hardcore stand off, arch-enemy style."
The Daredevil began to laugh, to which The Jester fumed at, breathing rather heavily.
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! STOP! I WILL KILL THIS WOMAN! I SWEAR TO GOD-"
The laughing stopped in an instant, he flicked his arm up, letting go of the baton, which smashed directly into The Clown's face, spraying blood from his nose, onto his hostage. He dropped the gun, and collapsed to the ground, twitching, trying to spit his own teeth out of his mouth. Matt approached the man and shook his head.
"No you wouldn't of. I should have noticed a long time ago this was all for show."
The police pulled up not seconds after, crawling out of their squad cars. Murdock looked over his shoulders as the younger parter of an older cop screamed 'freeze', obviously directed towards him. The elder cop shook his head.
"Put down the gun kid, it's no use. He's one a' the good guys after all. Thank ya Mr. Daredevil sir."
The man called out, tipping his hat. Matt nodded.
"No thanks is needed, but, if you'll excuse me, my lunch break is about to end."
With a quick sprint, the man known as Daredevil leaped onto a nearby fire escape, climbed up and disappeared into the light of day.
FaganMatt Murdock straightened his red tie as he took the elevator up to his floor. He fixed his dishevelled, red hair and cleared his throat, his briefcase in one hand and his cane in the other. The door 'dinged', and as usual, he was greeted by Foggy, his best friend and fellow lawyer, who instantly started to ramble about a case the two of them were working on. They were a true dynamic duo, the two of them. Worked pretty much every case together. The two of them had plans to open their own firm, but for the time being, were stuck under the rule of their two a$$ hole's of bosses: Larry Cranston and Alan Fagan. Two rich guys with a lot less legal skill than they'd like you to believe.
"Seriously Matt, this is important, are you listening?!"
Foggy barked, walking along with the blind man as he neared his office. He knew this building like the back of his hand, much like he knew this city. Murdock nodded, as the wonderful, wonderful scent of his secretary's philosophy perfume.
"Of course, Foggy, I'm always listening to what you're saying."
He replied, stopping right outside his office, and coming face-to-face with his secretary, Karen. He managed a smile. Everything about her always brought a smile to her face, to tell you the truth, she did what most didn't. Got his heart pumping, and he could tell, he did the same for her.
"Miss Page. You're looking lovely this morning."
"Oh, you're just saying that."
She retorted. Her heart sped up, and he hoped she was blushing.
"You're right, I'm blind."
Silence settled over the room for a moment. An awkward silence. Before Karen and Matt both burst out into a fit of laughter. Foggy groaned and entered Matt's office.
"All joking aside, Karen, did I get any calls?"
The woman nodded.
"Yes, two. One from Mr. Melvin Potter, wanted to confirm your appointment to have a new suit tailored on Wednesday, so two days from now. And....Mrs. Hargreaves called, the witness from Leland Owlsley case. She's having second thoughts."
Matt nodded, pursing his lips.
"They always do."
He stated. Then, the man without fear gathered up a bit of courage.
"Say, Karen, would you like to go out to dinner with me? Friday night?"
The woman giggled.
"Oh Mr. Murdock, you know dating amongst co workers isn't allowed."
"So, I'll pick you up at seven then?"
He countered quickly. She took a few moments.
"Yes, that sound's wonderful."
She finally said, Matt could hear the smile on her face as she spoke. He nodded before entering into his office, closing the door behind him.
"Now that you're done flirting, could we get down to business?"
Foggy asked. Matt set down his briefcase on his desk and sat down in his seat, he smiled in Foggy's direction. The one man who knew everything about him, except the most important piece of who he really was. He felt the need to tell his best friend. But that day for that, was not today. One day, he hoped.
"There's nothing I'd rather do my friend...."