The Owl of Wall Street
Daredevil and related characters belong to Marvel Comics.
Other Marvel Re-Imagined titles can be found here.
Rating: T (just covering my bases)
“You think you can run now, Murdock?” said a voice from everywhere. Matt stopped. Nobody could be everywhere, he knew that, but he hadn’t heard any footsteps. He’d heard nothing. There had to be speakers around the room; it was the only thing that made sense. It was disorienting, though. “There’s no need to speak up, I can see you just fine.”
Matt walked up to a wall, stretching out his hand. He could feel it even through his glove. Yes it was simplistic, but if Owlsley could see him he needed to be sure. Tear the camera from the wall and maybe he’d blind the owl.
“You can’t see so you feel your way along the wall?” Owlsley said, laughing merrily. Matt almost found himself stopping his search. There was something wrong about that laugh. It didn’t have that harsh texture that he’d expected. Owlsley wasn’t gloating, he was laughing as if to a good joke.
“What do you want Owlsley?” he asked, walking around the centre of what he could only assume was a corridor. There was another clicking sound, but this time it wasn’t a gun. It was a door that creaked open slowly, followed by footsteps moving ever closer. Matt could hear something else though. Someone was being dragged.
“What I want, Murdock, is that folder on the ground and both you and your partner here off the premises.”
Matt stopped, stepping away from the wall and turning to where the footsteps had stopped. Whoever it was couldn’t be Owlsley. The voice was still speaking from everywhere. He wasn’t in the corridor. This was someone else, someone chuckling as Matt stood facing them as well as any blind man could face someone.
“Who are you?”
“That’s not really a concern, is it?” the figure asked, their voice an accented drawl. Scottish or Irish; Matt wasn’t sure. It was possibly even some hybrid of both. “A word to the not-so-wise, horn head. Don’t become a target of mine, just don’t.”
“Now, the folder,” Owlsley said, his voice sounding slightly more threatening. Then the gun clicked. Matt reacted instantly. He felt his fingers growing looser as the folder fell to the ground. He could hear as the man walked forward, probably aiming his gun at Foggy, to collect it. He heard the gruff words of thanks from the man and listened closely as his footsteps trailed off. The man was gone. Kneeling, or lying, on the ground would be Foggy. Matt could hear the sobs.
Matt walked over carefully, kneeling down next to the figure of his friend. He felt Foggy’s hand grab his arm. They both stood up tall. Foggy would no doubt be thrilled that Owlsley had let him go. Matt wasn’t sure what he felt. There was definitely something good, perhaps relief that Foggy was somewhat alright. He’d only been the distraction after all. He wasn’t supposed to have been caught up in the fighting. Whatever relief Matt felt about Foggy’s safety did nothing to dispel the failure he knew the entire operation had been. The evidence was gone, back in Owlsley’s talons. There would be a time later, perhaps, when he’d face Owlsley again and he’d come out on top. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind; Owlsley was a dirty bird regardless of how clean his fingers may appear to the world. Someday, Matt knew he’d gut the licking bird’s reputation as it should be. That day was far off and this was the present. As the lawyers hobbled onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, Matt thought that the rain could never fall harder.
The End of 'The Owl of Wall Street'. Next: 'The Purple Man (Part One)'.