Here Comes Daredevil!: Part 1
New York City, Hell's Kitchen.
On a rooftop overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, the vigilante Daredevil stood in complete silence, scanning over the latest edition. of 'the Bronze' newspaper with his fingertips. The front page headline he made out was:
"Who is the new Daredevil?"
The vigilante couldn't help but smirk slightly, the headline wasn't what caused this expression, instead he smiled at the subtext by the side.
"Written by Abigail Leeds."
He heard a loud groan from behind and let the paper drift away in the wind before turning towards the man he'd tied up to a satellite dish on the edge of the roof.
"Good morning Darren." The Man Without Fear said as his captive awakened from his slumber, a large, purple bruise forming around his head.
"Jesus!" Darren yelled upon seeing the vigilante in his blood red, halloween costume. "What the Stark?!"
A feeling of satisfaction filled the Scarlet Swashbuckler as he heard Darren's heartbeat begin to pick up and beat quicker. It seemed his costume would work quite well when it came to terrifying criminals.
"We're going to have ourselves a little talk." Daredevil explained, stepping forward so that his figure filled Darren's vision. "You're going to answer all of my questions." He continued before gripping his billy club where he activated the blade function and placed it just under Darren's chin. "Are we on the same page?" The Devil asked.
Darren nodded carefully, the tip of the silver blade was balanced carefully on the edge of his adam's apple.
"Good." Daredevil reinserted the blade but kept his weapon by Darren's throat. "Who is the Fixer?"
__________________________________________
From the tallest penthouse in Hell's Kitchen sat a man in his late 30s, he was bald, with a thick, red scar running across the center of his face. The man was dressed in a grey, expensive suit with a red rose sticking out through the pocket, and his eyes were as black as the darkest night.
"Tell me, Jasper." The Fixer said from behind his desk in the deep, husky growl that was his normal voice. "Why haven't you got my money?" He asked, completely calm with no hint of threat in his tone.
"B... business has been slow." The snivelling owner of a local pharmacy stammered, he was seated on a brown armchair, however it was clear he would leave his seat the second he gained the chance. "People aren't really getting the chance to be sick when they're being killed by the Iron Army and the Aveng-"
BLAM!
Smoke drifted from the Fixer's gun, in the chair opposite him blood dripped from the wound in Jasper's skull, leaving behind a faint, red trail.
"Jasper had a family didn't he?" The Fixer asked his personal assistant who was stood right by him.
"Yes sir." The man confirmed. "A wife and two daughters."
The Fixer placed his pistol back on the desk and took a sip out of the strong whiskey he always kept nearby for entertainment purposes.
"Send someone to make an example out of them." He ordered just as his guards picked up the dead pharmacist's body and took it away to be disposed of. "In fact... send Mister Carlson." The Fixer decided, treating the entire matter like a simple business arrangement. "He's messy, that'll send all the other clients a message."
"Yes sir."
"Make sure it's slow."
The assistant smiled behind a pair of smart, thick rimmed glasses. He nodded his head while seeing to the arrangements on his electronic device.
"Yes sir."
___________________________________
Back on the rooftop in Hell's Kitchen, Daredevil was perched on a ledge overlooking the streets far below, he was listening carefully to his captive's ramblings and heartbeat, while also monitoring the city for anything that required his attention.
At the moment it seemed quiet.
"I have to admit..." The captive muttered. "You don't strike me as Daredevil material."
The vigilante turned his head slightly. "Why's that?" He asked, generally curious. Darren looked somewhat uncomfortable, from the beating of his heart, Daredevil could tell he was regretting what he'd said.
"Well... because you're... not... white?" He let out a small, nervous chuckle. "You've gotta understand." Darren said, changing the topic while still bound to the satellite dish. "I didn't wanna do it. Working for the Fixer is crazy! But if I'da said 'no' he woulda killed me, along with my family, friends and my neighbours!"
"I do understand." Daredevil assured him. "You're Darren Paul, single father of Sophie Paul. Your wife disappeared several years ago to go join SHIELD, and your shop was recently destroyed during a scuffle between Daniel Warstar and the Iron Army."
The vigilante got to his feet, balancing on the edge of the roof where he heard Darren's heartbeat begin to increase.
"Your daughter's the reason I'm giving you a chance, Darren." He explained. "Either you tell me what I need to know, and walk away. Or you refuse... and I hand you over to the psychopaths in the Iron Army."
"How do you know so much about me?" The former store clerk asked. Daredevil simply looked back at his captive, the bright light of the morning sun shining behind him.
"This place, Hell's Kitchen, is my home." He answered. "I know everything."
Suddenly the Devil's head snapped to the right as his enhanced hearing picked up a loud scream for help. The Scarlet Swashbuckler snapped into action, equipping his billy club and aiming it towards a nearby building.
"Stay here!" He ordered before zipping off into the sky.
"It's not like I'm going anywhere." Darren groaned.
Gunfire filled Daredevil's ears as he aimed his descent towards the window of a nearby apartment building. He grit his teeth and braced for impact, just seconds before crashing through the sharp glass and rolling into the apartment's kitchen. His senses picked up four different signatures, the two people right behind him had heartbeats similar in speed to squirrels and rabbits, two children, both terrified. The scent of tobacco and gunfire came from the tall man just before him, and by the apartment's entrance he could sense the foul stench of blood.
Someone had died.
"What the hell?!" The man wielding a sub machine gun yelled, surprised by the vigilante's sudden appearance.
"Close." Daredevil told him before leaping up and kicking his gun aside before he could fire, sending bullets into the nearby wall. Loud screams from the girls filled the Devil's ears and he reminded himself to avoid breaking the man's limbs in front of the two children.
The man with the gun let off a loud growl before pulling a large knife from his belt. The smell of dirt filled Daredevil's nostrils, he really needed to clean that weapon more often. He swiped the blade at the vigilante who easily caught him by the wrist and twisted it just enough that the hitman dropped the knife without breaking the bone.
That sort of pain could be saved for later.
Daredevil punched the man in the throat, sending him crashing to the ground and quickly placed his foot on his neck. The Man Without Fear focused his senses on the dead body by the entrance, then he focused on the two girls watching the whole scene in horror.
"Why?!" He demanded, applying weight to the man's neck. Daredevil heard a faint chuckle escape the villain's mouth.
"It's a job." The scum muttered.
KRACK!
With grim determination at the loss of life, the Man Without Fear turned towards the two girls hiding in the corner of the room, both had tears dripping down their cheeks.
"It's going to be okay." Daredevil told them while crouching down to their level.
He outstretched his arms and comforted the two parentless girls, letting them both release the tears in their eyes.
"I'm going to fix this." He promised.
Next Issue: Manhunt!
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