Here Comes Daredevil!: Part 3
New York City
The soft click of a revolver, followed quickly by the scent of rusted metal. The stench of sweat dripping down the head of the overweight film critic currently staring at the standoff in front of him.
It was another day in Hell's Kitchen.
"What the Stark are you supposed to be?" The Fixer asked, weapon trained on the skull of the costumed idiot inches in front of him.
"Daredevil." The idiot answered, he slowed his breathing and scanned the room for any possible advantages he could fine. There were several guards, all aiming their assault rifles on the vigilante's body, all of them completely calm and clearly highly trained for situations just like this.
"More like Dumbdevil." One of the guards muttered, causing all his friends to start laughing loudly. Daredevil found his chance, he snapped out his billy club and prepared to attack the closest target available, only to be met by the cold steel of the back of the Fixer's weapon.
The Man Without Fear fell to the ground, unconscious and bleeding in the back of his skull. The Fixer and his men looked down at the nutbag they'd basically stumbled upon.
"Costumed lunatic." Their leader growled. He turned to leave, holstering his weapon in the back of his pants. Just before he reached the exit he was stopped by one of his guards.
"What should we do with him, sir?"
"Bring him with us." The Fixer instructed. "I'll decided what to do with him later." He pulled open his brother's apartment door and dreaded where he'd be going next.
"Where's our next stop, sir?" The guard asked as his boss stepped into the hallway.
"Somewhere I really don't wanna be." He answered.
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Daredevil felt cold. He woke up in what felt like a metal, lifeless tomb, cold steel was all around him and the whole area seemed to be shaking and vibrating, causing his teeth to vibrate.
He was chained to a metal crate inside the back of what he guessed was a hovervan. Flying vehicles like this were largely uncommon in Hell's Kitchen due to their expense, making motor vehicles the norm.
The Devil sensed something strange a second before the vehicle took off into the air, something... old. Something incredibly powerful. Daredevil pulled quickly on his chains in an attempt to break free, only to realize he was stuck.
"Damn it." He grumbled before rolling back his tongue and gagging up the lockpick he always kept around just in case. Green phlegm covered his otherwise red gloves as he gripped the lockpick and began working on the lock keeping him trapped.
Chains like this were no big issue. He was used to overcoming barriers.
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The Fixer let out a little sigh before stepping down from the hovervan to the roof of his penthouse. In the back of the van was the unconscious vigilante who'd been causing him trouble recently. It was nice how life sometimes brought these disturbances together.
"Good day, sir." Lakoff, the butler for one of the Fixer's associates, said as the crimelord stepped into his home. He was dressed in a cheap, rented tuxedo and despite his friendly personality his eyes were completely dead, like he was hollow on the inside. "Will you be requiring anything to eat or drink?"
The Fixer pulled off his coat and cast it aside without any care, he frowned upon seeing his colleagues seated around his dining table. He wasn't really in the mood for this type of meeting, but if he wanted to keep operating without hinderance he'd have to put up with it.
"I'm fine." He told the butler. "Make yourself scarce."
"Of course, sir!" Lakoff said cheerfully before disappearing in a puff of black, ashey smoke. Fixer sighed while stepping towards the table. He was dealing with the weirdos now.
"About time you got here." An old, heavily scarred man grumbled from his seat. "We've been waiting for thirty minutes!" The Fixer rolled his eyes at the old ganglord he was forced to work with.
"Sorry Melchett." He said while taking his seat at the table and pouring himself a glass of spring water. "I was... distratced."
The old mutant scoffed, the scar just above his eye seemed to crackle with energy before quickly fading.
A thin, pale woman with faint, golden eyes stared at the Fixer from across the table, with the exception of her head, her entire body was covered in a long, black cloak. There was something about her that terrified the ganglord, maybe it was because he'd seen how she punished her enemies... or maybe it was the simply fact that every time she looked at him she looked hungry. Either way he wasn't her biggest fan.
"Is it something we need to be concerned with?"She asked, her voice low and frail. Anyone else would take her as a weak, old woman. The Fixer knew better.
"I've handled it, Baroness." He told her. "Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer if we get straight to business."
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In the back of the hovervan, the 'distraction' was busy freeing himself of the chains that had kept him captive. The last of his shackles fell to the ground around him and the incredibly irritated Daredevil got to his feet. Quickly he checked the room, his senses telling him that there were two other men in the van alongside him.
"What the Stark?!" The door to the van's cockpit whooshed open, revealing a man wielding what appeared to be a shotgun. Quickly Daredevil reached for his trademark weapon, only to realize it had been left behind in the film critic's apartment where he'd dropped it.
"Stark me." He grumbled a fraction of a second before the guard pulled the trigger to his gun. The vigilante flipped out of the way of the blast, careful to not keep his body in the shotgun's blast radius. He landed on the ground and rolled towards his attacker, gripping the edge of his gun, tearing it from his grasp and kicking him in the stomach with all his power.
"What's going on back there?!" The hovervan's pilot yelled, he was answered by his friend getting knocked back into the controls, sending the vehicle veering out of control and spinning violently across the New York sky. Daredevil grit his teeth as his senses went crazy, in desperation he opened the van's back door and almost hesitated before jumping.
Almost.
It was a stupid idea, the van was easily a mile in the air and he didn't have any way to prevent his fall. The idea of jumping was suicidal. You'd have to be completely insane to even consider it.
However Daredevil wasn't insane, he was fearless.
The bright sun warmed his back the second he began to fall through the air. In the background he heard the sounds of the hovervan crashing and exploding, he felt the heat from far away, but the sound of the fireball was quickly overtaken by the normal hustle and bustle of New York. The Man Without Fear felt a sudden calm flow over him as he began to get closer and closer to becoming a splatter on the ground. He wondered what the view was like from that height and felt sad upon realizing he wouldn't be able to appreciate it.
THWIPP!!
But apparently death was afraid of him. Daredevil felt a thick glob of strange, sticky material strike his back before hardening and halting his descent.
"What the hell?" He yelled, somewhat disappointed at his lack of a fitting end. Slowly he felt himself being reeled up the side of a nearby building, and as he grew closer to the roof he began to hear a young heartbeat just above him, the scent of deoderant filled his nostrils just as he was pulled onto one of the buildings near Central Park.
"Woah there, pal!" A chirpy voice said before tearing the material from Daredevil's back. "I know taxes can be a hassle." The young man turned the vigilante onto his front, giving the teenager a good look at the man in the blood red costume. "But they're really no reason to..." The young man in the skintight costume frowned beneath his mask, confused by what he saw. Daredevil couldn't help but notice the pure, raw power radiating from the boy's body. "Who are you supposed to be?" He asked.
The vigilante got up to his feet and focused on the superhero staring at him with complete confusion.
"I'm Daredevil." He answered, rubbing his back slightly. "And you must be..." The Devil accessed the information he'd stored in the back of his mind about the various superhumans of New York and came to the most logical conclusion on who he was dealing with.
"Spider-Man."
The two heroes seemed surprised by both each other's presence. They stood in silence for a moment, letting the sensation of meeting each other sink in, but after a moment it was Spider-Man who finally spoke.
"I have to admit." The superhero muttered. "You're not what I expected."
"Why's that?" The Devil asked, already knowing the answer from a similar conversation he'd recently had.
"You're out in the daytime!" Spider-Man said, catching the vigilante by surprise. "I thought you Daredevil guys only came out at night!"
Daredevil couldn't help but smile at the energy and enthusiasim the boy seemed to be filled with, it was incredibly refreshing from the usual doom and gloom that most teenagers seemed to be filled with nowadays.
"So..." The webhead said before perching up on the edge of the roof next to his ally. "What are you doing at the moment?" Daredevil stood next to him, the two heroes both keeping an eye on the streets far below. "Fighting crime? Fighting the Iron Army? Fighting your inner demons like so many people tend to do?"
Something registered in the back of the Devil's mind, he turned his head towards his young friend and clicked his fingers to get his attention.
"Actually kid." He said. "There is something you could help me with."
Next Issue: Daredevil/Spider-Man!
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