|Daredevil: The Man without Fear
Author: Shenlong7 PM
How I believe Daredevil could be best adapted to a movie, could be considered Daredevil Year One, establishes relationship with Elektra though not focused on it, relationship with karen Page, first year as a lawyer. Rated t but may change to MRated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Crime - Chapters: 3 - Words: 12,354 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 11-18-10 - Published: 11-04-10 - id: 6451596
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter 1: Like Lady Justice
Disclaimer: All rights to Daredevil belong to Marvel and by default Disney...still funny as hell to think about. The following is a non-profit fan fiction based on a story that incorporates other stories put out by Marvel but adapted by the author for purely entertainment purposes. Please support the official release of Daredevil merchandise and products.
My heart was pounding in my chest along with the steady pace of my feet on the concrete and tiles of the rooftops of the city, my city, my domain. The rain was pouring down on the ground, the sound waves resulting from each individual drop gave me a picture of what my city looked like, just like every time I use to "look" at it as kid growing up without the ability to see. To save the life of one man I lost my sight in a resulting chemical spill, but for my good deeds, I was rewarded for my good deed with a new kind of sight, one that came from my other senses. Maybe it was the chemicals that took away my vision or maybe it was my body coping with the loss of sight, but all my other senses were increased exponentially. I could read a paper just by brushing my fingers over it, feeling the contrast of the ink and paper, I could hear everything within a 20 feet radius, I could smell the individual odors of people, and my sense of taste was great enough for me to be able to recall every ingredient in everything I ate. Though it was hard to cope with these changes, I was helped by another man who suffered from the same problem, one who taught me how to master it and soon I began to see these gifts as rewards for my selfless act.
My father had always said that this was how the world worked, the good were rewarded and the bad were punished for their sins. Though his profession was beating in the faces of other men he was a strong Catholic and he raised me to believe that food would always triumph in the end. When I gained my new senses I felt like I had been blessed by God with the ability to tell when people were lying so that I would always know the truth. I became obsessed with the law and everything that it stood for, the guiding light to help humanity find it's way in the darkness of corrupting greed and violence. Never did my belief in justice falter until the moment when it failed to shine light on my father's killer. I could remember the trial, I was standing in one corner with Mr. Fixer, a crooked boxing promoter, in the other and even though I could testify that I heard Fixer threaten my father, no one would listen to a blind man. In their belief my father had been mugged by somebody and Fixer was going to walk because someone to shield him from the light of justice. I had just graduated college, I would have prosecuted the man myself, but instead they let some incompetent idiot let Mr. Fixer walk out of the courtroom, never letting me even get a chance to testify.
I could smell the dirty money on the table, but I knew Fixer wasn't that powerful, despite the fact that he was the biggest dirty boxing promoter he didn't have the money or the influence to walk away from this. The gun had belonged to him and his cigar smoke was all over the body as well as a bit my father's blood on one of his shoes, but the judge had thrown that out because of a clear "mistake" made by prosecution. All of these sounds and smells from the courtroom played through my head, along with the painful memory of my father's dying breath. It was raining that night as well, God had granted me one thing, a chance to see my father one last time as the rain helped me to see him smile as he told me he was proud of me. I love you dad and I promise you, Fixer will not escape justice. He can hide from the light, but I became the sword of justice and I was going to cut him.
My mentor, Stick, had taught me not only taught me how to cope with my heightened senses, but he also taught me how to use them to fight and to balance myself. Stick was a mysterious man, sometimes people mistook him for a janitor because of how they say he was dressed. I don't know what he looks like exactly, he's the only person I know that I haven't seen. I met him a few days after I had become blind and he took notice of my abilities. A year later he was teaching me ninjutsu, how to keep myself balanced on tight ropes, and how to defend myself. As I thought back to his training, I began to feel like I had been preparing for this moment my whole life, like this was what I had spent all that time training for. And then I began to think about how I had treated her.
Elektra Natchios, the daughter of a Greek diplomat, and the most beautiful girl I had…well I've never really laid eyes on her, but I have seen her, in my own way. I remember it was when we had finally finished our first year in college, both of us relieved from all the stress of the exams and so we decided to go out and get something to eat. When I had first met her she had seen right through my attempts to hide my senses and started a fight with me to force me to reveal my abilities. Being the daughter of an ambassador, she had learned how to protect herself with impressive grace and a ferocity that one would see in a tiger. It had been my idea to go up to the roof that night, right after we had finished eating, and listen to the sounds of the city. I could tell the rain was going to fall long before the first drop fell from the sky, I could smell it in the air. I told her that the only way I could see like a normal person could, that the rain made everything seem to come alive for me and I told her that there was no person I would rather see than her. She was like a goddess in the rain, her form bringing the grace of a jungle cat and her body was like a work of art, ancient Greek art that was made in sculptures, too beautiful to possibly be real.
As I thought about that night, I remembered how I had pushed her away from me, thinking back to the moment in which I saw her, actually made out what she looked like, I knew that I needed more than I ever had before. I felt lonely, terribly lonely, and more than ever I wanted to apologize for what I had said to her. I wanted to take it all back so that I could forget that smell, the smell of the tears that rolled down her cheek. The sound of her voice was different from how she usually sounded when she was angry, there was something more in her voice, something that penetrated the inner depths of my heart, hurt. Hatred rushed into my body as I thought more and more about the suffering the Fixer had caused, not just what my dad felt before he died, not just what I felt from his death or what I felt from making the woman I loved cry, but the pain that i had caused Elektra in my anger. I promised her and myself that I would never hurt her like that again. All that anger that I felt at that moment was going to leave my body just as soon as I let it loose on the man who had put there in the first place. Fixer was going to feel all the pain he had caused and he was going to finally feel the cold steel of the sword of justice, of that much i was certain.
Adrenaline pumped through my body, fueling the dark thoughts of revenge that flowed through my brains as I began to delude myself into believes of grandeur, that I was St. Michael coming to cast Satan into Hell. Truth was he already was in Hell and so was I, Hell's Kitchen, the place where old and new New York clashed. Police sirens can be heard constantly and the nights are when all the dregs and filth of Old New York come out to play. That night, I was playing with them and I was playing for keeps.
I prowled from rooftop to rooftop knowing exactly which way I was going, I knew my city like the back of my hand, even blind I knew how to get to which part of town and from there I would find my prey. He was at his usual strip joint, the one I first found him in when i had gone off on the run to see the police catch him, to watch smiling from the rooftops as I saw my father's killer taken into the certain hands of justice. Innocence was lost that day when I found out that evil had changed the game, they were making a mockery of justice and I could not be silent while they attempted to rape Lady Justice. I think i had her in mind when i thought of my disguise, the only bit that would stop anyone from recognizing me, a small black blindfold. It wasn't the best, but thankfully no one has ever linked the blindfolded vigilante of that night to the blind son of the late "Battlin" Jack Murdock. The rest were the black ninjutsu training clothes that Stick had given me, thankfully he had one because I didn't think i could make one. I've never heard of a blind seamstress or tailor. It's black or so he tells me, but I wish it were red, like my father's boxing robe, red and yellow. I remember seeing it as a child before I was blind, but that was his old robe, the new one, the one he died in, was fully red. Red was the only color I could remember as the world seemed to be red with anger and vengeance, the fury of justice. Lady justice had given me her sword and I was ready to strike.
I jumped on top of the roof, right where there was a small skylight for the strip joint, but god knows why, no person in there probably wanted to see the sun and no person on the outside wanted to see the filth on the inside through a window. If you wanted to see them at all, you walked in there and they welcomed you or stabbed you. I opened the skylight and jumped down to the catwalk over the strip joint, grasping the lights that weren't lit. When all the best looking ones got off stage for private parties the others stayed on stage to continue putting on a show for those who couldn't afford the private parties, normal clientele, not the mob affiliates. That sleazy b astard was doing shots out of the top of a petite young girl or at least she sounded like one, but voices can be deceiving when it comes to women who make money of a projected appearance. I don't fault them for their profession, some reluctantly choose it and the ones who do enjoy the freedom and power that comes from making men squirm in their seats. The only problem was that right now she was in the way of me and my prey and I didn't want to get her hurt, i'd already hurt a woman that day, one who was very dear to me. Elektra's face popped back into my mind, the memory of the visions of her given to me by the rain, and the anger rose inside of me, driving me to Hell.
"Fixer," I called, my voice coming out in an angry rasp that seemed like the devilish gargoyles depicted on top of the Cathedrals.
"Who the hell said that," demanded Fixer as he looked over the club, his eyes glaring at the crowd. The man who finally pointed to where I was hanging from was big man, he wouldn't be easy to take down, but I wasn't going down, not now, even if it meant breaking my body. "What the hell do you want?"
"I want, what Jack Murdock wanted," I said, anger rising in me and booming out of my voice, even to this day I wondered how I looked and how I sounded when I growled, "justice!"
"Jesus, what is this world coming to when I'm threatened by some blindfolded ninja wannabe," sighed Fixer as he reached into his pocket for a gun, but before he could pull it out I threw the billy club that I had brought with me at his hand. I could hear his wrist crack under the force of the billy club and I reveled in the thought of pain, but I was only getting started."Kill the psycho, two grand for his head!"
Those words were a call to arms for all the thugs and filth in the place to be swayed in his control, but it would only go so far. I jumped down and landed right in the middle of the group, knowing that now I was about to use my radar sense to counterattack the massive wave of thugs. Their moves were uncoordinated and some were too drunk to come even close to aiming at me, instead hitting another man and starting a seperate brawl. I was swift and precise with each dodge and when I retaliated I was sure to deliver a precise punch. One came at me with a pipe, a pity I didn't have my billy club, but I could easily catch the weapon and wrench it out of his hands. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell I had surprised him because he didn't try to move back until it was too late and I had caught him in the jaw with the pipe. I don't know if he backed off or was knocked out because I had to focus on another attacker who had a chair in hand. I rolled right past the chair as he swung it down, hitting only the floor to his great surprise, and I kicked him right in the back of the knees to bring him down before hitting him in the back and then the front of his throat.
He went down, just like the one who followed him, and the one who followed that one. I was too much in my element, too fast and too powerful for any of them to take me down. Not a single one of them managed to get a hit on me as I easily danced around the final two men standing, neither of them the big man who had pointed me out to Fixer. I could tell they had broken beer bottles in their hand, I could smell the drops of beer that still clung to the bottle. The first one lunged at me, the bottle outstretched, but I could tell when it was getting close and smacked it right out of his hand and delivered a shot to the side of his head which knocked him out. The next one came just as soon as I made my move, hoping to get me while I was busy with the other man, but I knew he was coming and flipped right over him, drop kicking him in the back as I was coming down. This sent him right into the bar where some of the ladies were hiding and I soon as he hit the bar, one popped right up and hit him over the head with a beer bottle.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry," said the girl, the same one Fixer had been doing body shots off of, only now she sounded somewhat older, not like some little schoolgirl these sleazy types like to corrupt, a mature woman trapped in from all corners.
"Thanks," i replied giving her a reassuring smile while I looked for where my billy club was and I felt the big man walking towards me, i heard him coming towards me, and I sensed he had my weapon.
"Aw, lookin' for this ya horned freak," taunted the big man, he was easily seven inches taller than me and I could tell he had muscle to spare. "You know, I was the one who beat Murdock down and shot him. I was watching him from the other side of the street too as his poor little blind son cried over his body. Even got a picture of it, if you want to see it. Now after I've taken a picture of your beaten corpse for my scrap book, i'm gonna bang the living shit out of that girl's ass and then take pictures for a different scrap book. of course, i'm gonna kill her afterwards."
"You're going to rot in jail for what you did," I replied, the anger writhing inside of me, telling me to attack him, telling me to bash his head in until his brains poured out like a grey slushie. I almost let my anger do just that, but the girl was there and I thought she had seen enough.
"Like to see you try," said the man as he swung the billy club at me. he was fast, as I was thankful that I was faster and managed to dodge the blow before giving him a back kick to the jaw. He smirked as he just stroked his jaw, this guy was a lot tougher than the average thug. "I've got to say, that was somethin, but I'm not going down that easily."
He was right about that, he wasn't going to go down easily, but he was going down and then I was going after his employer. At that moment, I didn't know what I was going to do, but looking back, I might have crossed a line and beat both men to death with my bare fist had it not been for interventions by external forces. God had degreed that I was no killer and I've never gone over that edge, not completely, but I've blurred it. I ddi blur it that night.
The big man threw a punch with one of his long arms and I tried to block it, but the man was built like a tank, nearly knocked me over with that punch and the forearm that blocked it was definately going to be sore in the morning. I immediately struck back with a fist to his nose, breaking it, but he seemed to smirk at me again. I knew he was high on something, possibly PCP, wouldn't feel anything for hours. Without pausing I jumped back and picked up two pool cues, breaking them in half so that I was holding the bottom ends of the cues. The big man came at with the billy club, his behemoth arms causing small winds with each swing, almost as if he were a giant trying to blow me off the mountain, but I would stand strong. i rolled right under his attacks so that I was in close and then i pummeled his torso with the cues, making sure each hit would hurt him in a an area that would make it hard for him to move. Neutralizing his movement was the first step in taking him down, a trick that I had learned from Stick. With one good kick I sent him right onto his back and I pounced on him for the takedown.
Surprisingly, he was prepared for this and brought my billy club up to knock me over, my own weapon damging what felt like two of my ribs and sending me to the top of the bar. The girl gave a yelp of surprise as she saw me sprawled across the bar clutching my ribs as i struggled to get up, the attack had greatly winded me. She knew that my success in fighting this guy was the deciding factor whether or not she lived tonight and so she slipped a bottle into my hand, knowing I would get the hint of what to do next. The big man was too confident to think that I would strike him after such a powerful blow, but unfortunately for him, I was also tougher than your average fighter. Stick had beat that into me as well. The big man stood over me as he brought the billy club over his head ready to strike, but before he could bring it down i struck him in the face with the beer bottle so har it shattered over his face, sending him reeling back. I knew that a beer bottle carries a lot of blunt force on it's own, but when it shatters it can do some big damage and the man's skull was probably cracked a bit. He needed medical attention.
"Call a hospital and then the police, this man needs medical attention," I said to the girl and she nodded, finally gainging some calm after being shook up by my appearance, but I still had another score to settle. You're gonna get your's fixer, I thought as I ran off in the direction that he had run off in, stopping a moment to pick up the billy club that I almost left behind.
The trail was still warm and I could tell that he hadn't gotten far, he was tiring out early from the pain from his broken hand. I found him trying to enter the subway, his gun finally drawn while he used the same hand holding the gun to partially cluth his broken wrist. Adrenaline from fear was pumping through his body, keeping his nerves on edge so that he was waving his gun around nervously. Luckily the station was nearly abandoned except for some homeless people and other innocent bystanders who ran at the sight of him with his gun. If I didn't stop him at that moment he might have shot someone accidentally, an innocent casualty in my selfish quest for vengeance.
Luckily I could hide on the top of the pillars and cling to the supports of the ceiling, keeping myself shadowed while he looked around for me, expecting me to pop out to drag him to hell. He was smart enough to know exactly what I was going to do as soon as i caught him. When i was close enough I dropped down to the ground, dust scattering from under my feet as I landed in front of him. He turned around, gun drawn, ready to shoot at me, but I immediately knocked the gun out of his hand and hit him with the back of my fist sending him to the ground. He must have looked so pathetic at that moment, fear covering his entire face as he lay there helpless as a child, far from the imposing figure that had menaced my father. Such a man as this had used others to win his fights and he demanded that everyone pay dues to him even though he was worth none of it. When they didn't do what he said he killed them just as he killed my father, a good man, a fighting man, a man that this piece of shit could never even hope to take even then way past his prime. My father would have beat the life out of this man, I knew that for sure and because he didn't get to do it, I was going to be the good son and do my father proud.
"This one's for you dad," I whispered as I walked towards Fixer and then I stopped when i started to pay attention to his heartbeat. It was beating dangerously fast and it was becoming too overworked. I was about to tell him to calm down, that I would let him go if he confessed to everything and donated the rest of his money to the church, if he left town and never came back. I was going to show him mercy, but he was so afraid of me that his heart just simply stopped. "Fixer, hold on I'll get an ambulance just stay with me."
I was wasting my breath, but I couldn't stop, I couldn't let this man die matter how much he deserved it, no matter how much the world would be a better place without him. It would be somewhat better without him, but at the same time, Fixer was one man in a web that only he had information of. I needed to find out who bailed him out of jail, who was corrupting my system, the justice system that I had come to love. I wonder how Fixer would have felt if he realized that the son of the man he had killed was trying to save his life. Would he laugh at the irony or would he realize the error of his ways? He'll never get the chance because in the end, only one man really cared about him living and what is one grain of sand in a sandstorm?