The Purple Man
Daredevil and related characters belong to Marvel Comics.
Other Marvel Re-Imagined titles can be found here.
Rating: M (some violent scenes; covering my bases)
“Why couldn’t you come later, when I was actually threatening this city?” he whispered, his voice blurring in Matt’s mind with that of Karen’s. “I was going to, you know, but I just can’t work unless I have some flesh first.”
Killgrave’s fingers were crushing into Matt’s throat. It was getting harder to breathe, but despite the burning in his neck Matt could still think. He’d kept Urich close and he’d only need that for a subtle takeover of New york. Why he would even need to take it subtly was a mystery to Matt; Killgrave could walk down 52nd and find himself adored like a god. That thought sent Matt hurtling back through the years, before Nelson and Murdock and before he even met Foggy. Sitting before him was a man with a grizzly but warm voice, the man who with an outstretched hand would guide him through the darkness of the world.
“There are times, Matt, when everything seems lost,” he said, kneeling down and placing his firm hands on Matt’s young shoulders. “Nothing’s ever lost, remember that. Say a prayer in your heart, pour everything you’re feeling into that one thought for just a moment, and it won’t make anything better Matt.”
He remembered the conversation clearly. He could smell burning candles and hear the richness of the organ, both overwhelming and loud but so insignificant next to his father’s words. The paradox he had put towards him seemed so great, so meaningless; he was caught off-guard as his father finished his lesson.
“Wounds don’t heal if you kiss them once though, you need to keep at it and tend to them and then they’ll mend in time. Don’t give up Matt. Never think a prayer is futile.”
“Urich, he’s not going to last much longer,” Killgrave said, his voice so close Matt could tell he was the one kneeling down beside him. “You best start writing an article on this.”
There was a laugh, a short and rough laugh, and someone walked out of the room. That would probably be Urich, off to start writing the article about how Daredevil was killed by the mind-controlling Russian. Matt could taste the blood in his mouth and regretted having his face so covered. It was hard to spit inside a mask. Killgrave’s fingers crushed down on his neck. Matt wasn’t sure he was even breathing anymore. Sounds began to fade. He was surprised he even had the strength left for one last punch to Killgrave’s gut.
Killgrave’s grip became looser and Matt winced; his chest had been like a wall. Whatever Killgrave was or had been, he was built. He allowed himself a smile beneath his mask, however. Killgrave had let his guard down. The one opening was all he needed. Battered and cut he may have been, but Matt could hear his father’s words ringing in his ears, louder than any profanity of Killgrave’s or the crunching of glass. Slowly standing, breathing in deeply, Daredevil gripped his billy club. No more restraints.
He leapt forward, bringing the club down with the full force of his arm. He could feel that he’d hit bone; probably shoulder. Swinging lower, he winced as he hit bone again. Killgrave thudded to the ground. Daredevil stood over where the body had hit the ground and weighed the billy club in his hand. Three deep breaths and he stood there waiting. Then he struck the Russian over the back. There was a final groan, then silence. Daredevil struggled to find his breath. It was over.
The End of 'The Purple Man'. Next time: 'Drink with the Devil (Part One)'