Chapter Nine: Matt Murdock.
Daniel woke from sleep on a quiet, beautiful morning.
He was watching TV while eating his breakfast, because Fisk was due to appear at a conference this afternoon.
Right now, a newscaster was talking about the seriousness of the police and their constant work, saying they had managed yesterday to arrest the gang The Rhodes, and praising Fisk and his allies.
The morning in his apartment was calm in a way that suggested the city outside his window operated under a different rhythm: the distant hum of engines, the traffic weaving between streets.
Daniel sat by the window watching all of this, the smell of coffee still lingering on the table.
For a moment, he put the spoon aside and let his breath flatten, as if measuring the price of the quiet before the noise returned.
Inside him, the contrast between the morning's calm and his annoyance at the news felt strange.
Daniel had expected this, after all — he was human too — how could he not be bothered to see someone stealing his work?
Daniel changed the subject inwardly.
( Luna, I want to ask you something about Guardian Angel: did I actually die from everything I felt when I used Exhaust?
It was pain that then started increasing crazily, but suddenly the pain began to stop.
I mean, was I conscious that whole time? )
Luna's voice, which had grown a little serious, answered.
[....., honestly I can't bring someone back to life like in a game; that's impossible.
But Guardian Angel's function is when the host's death chance is 100%, and when you are in your last moments it triggers an urgent, very rapid healing to save you.]
Daniel thought as if he had been conned.
(So it's not a resurrection, but a rapid healing.)
Luna's quick reply clarified for him.
[No, not a resurrection, but neither is it merely a quick heal; nothing or no one can influence it.
If healing could be influenced then this process could be affected — even if Nasus were to snap his fingers and you were the one to disappear.
If you wear it you will not vanish, and it will be destroyed.]
Daniel relaxed a little at the news: if the immortal stones do not affect it, then what is there to fear?
Then he said:
(Okay, I understand. But this isn't like the game at all, and I also don't see a reason to destroy Guardian Angel completely after a single use.
I won't ask you to change this bug to be like the game, but at least remove the lock from the Veigar template as compensation for this bug.)
A face wearing glasses appeared on a screen before Daniel, adjusting his spectacles with his hand.
She said: [I can't; laws are laws, they don't change.]
Daniel got worked up: this was one of the phrases he hated most when a character said it.
(Really? You're doing this? I think you can unlock the Aurelion Sol template for me now, but you're not doing it.)
A long and pointless discussion began again between Daniel and Luna.
-________
At midday, somewhere else in New York:
Somewhere else the rumble of cars never left the sidewalks, people carrying their workboxes, billboards gleaming on the buildings.
The flow of pedestrians in front of the law office formed waves of faces, each bearing a small story, yet all sharing the same intricate time of the city.
Matt Murdock sat in his law office with his assistants and friends Foggy Nelson — an old college friend who had opened the firm with him — and Karen Page, who had originally worked as their office receptionist and later became a journalist.
They already knew that Matt Murdock was Daredevil; they had known for some time, and they were now discussing Kingpin {Wilson Fisk} and how to deal with him.
Inside the office, the air smelled of paper and cold coffee.
Shelves filled with files stood like silent sentinels, and a desk lamp glowed faintly above the work table.
But Matt was distracted most of the time because of his fight yesterday with the man wearing metal gloves, especially since he had become weak all of a sudden and kept thinking about a possible reason for that.
(Could this have happened from some gas the man secretly released?
No, it wouldn't be that; all of this man's movements were in front of me.
He didn't open anything or do any strange gesture.)
The details of the fight played in his mind like a fragmented film: the sound of the gloves and the energy that sometimes emanated from them, then that sudden weakness that entered his body — something he could not explain with legal words or logic, making him stare at his hand and touch the skin again as if reviewing an old testimony.
(I could say he put some chemical on his weapon and attacked me with it, but all my injuries now are simple bruises; nothing pierced my body.)
Foggy put his hand on Matt's shoulder and said, "Did you hear what we were saying a little while ago? Why are you so distracted?"
Foggy's simple gesture was an attempt to reconnect Matt with reality, but the eyes that met him carried internal distances.
Matt offered a brief smile that held no real comfort, and his reply was almost automatic: a deep apology with a gentle smile.
"Sorry, it's exhaustion."
Karen said, "You should cut back on your nighttime work if it affects you this much."
Karen uttered those words with a sincere tone, a flicker of concern in her eyes.
She knew him well: the man who gives everything to his work even if it costs him something of his body.
The response came a little sharp but laced with a faint sarcasm:
"I can't do that; my day off would be an opportunity for the criminal to do as he pleases."
Suddenly the three heard a knock at the door: knock, knock, knock.
The ordinary sound of the knock returned the office to its usual rhythm.
Its timing was fitting, breaking the monotony of conversation and bringing a touch of mystery.
Foggy went to receive the visitor saying, "So, Matt, get ready; it looks like a new job awaits us."
Matt, who had just come out of his distraction, tried to sense who was outside with his heightened senses.
He found him: the man he had fought by touch.
At that moment, the feeling in Matt remained tense: something about this man's presence brought memories of the fight back.
The warning he had whispered hung in the air like a thin strand of patience.
He quickly and cautiously warned Foggy not to open the door, his inward anxiety large:
(It seems this man knows my truth, but at least Foggy and Karen mustn't see him.)
But Matt was already too late; Foggy opened the door, looking at Matt in shock, then at the man before him with fear, despite Matt's earlier warning.
They found a man in his twenties, dressed plainly.
The ordinary physicality of this young man revealed nothing in his appearance, but a slight farewell look or repressed resolve hinted that behind this ordinary form there was a story or a decision.
Sometimes the eyes say more than the lips.
Daniel heard Matt's warning from outside and smiled, quickly raising his hands:
"I came here in peace; I have never killed a man or woman in my life, so don't be afraid."
His words were measured, the calm in his voice carrying that peculiar mix of innocence and experience.
Matt's internal commentary — the kind that reads a pulse before words — sensed the truth in the quiet cadence of Daniel's speech.
Matt, who can tell if words are true or false by the beat of a heart, knew Daniel was telling the truth.
That knowledge eased much of Matt's alarm, and he asked him, "So what do you want?"
A short stillness fell after the question — the certainty that every meeting has a reason, and every reason carries consequences.
Then Daniel inadvertently touched the television with a finger, indicating the timing of the upcoming speech:
Daniel simply pointed to the TV that was on now, where Wilson Fisk was about to deliver his speech:
"I just want you to cooperate with me in dealing with this man."
Matt understood what he was pointing at and fell silent, then said,
"No... I will not help you."
Foggy and Karen looked from the TV to Daniel to Matt.
Foggy said, "Hey, Matt, can you tell us who this man is?"
Matt sighed and looked at Daniel; he thought Daniel, like him, wanted to hide his other identity, especially since Matt himself had hidden his being Daredevil from them for a long time — and the two of them were supposed to be the closest to him.
Daniel noticed Matt's look, and after Foggy's question he said to Matt:
"You can tell them; it isn't a problem for me."
The words were spoken lightly, but he said them as if making a statement that bound them without the need to voice greater secrets.
Neither of them asked anything excessive, only a kind of cooperation that could arise from a meeting of minds.
After ten minutes Foggy and Karen listened in astonishment as Matt spoke about Daniel, especially since Matt also said he had been defeated by him.
But Matt, wanting to satisfy his curiosity, took the opportunity to ask Daniel:
"So what did you do to me? I felt extremely weak all of a sudden; how did you do that?"
Daniel smiled and said, "It's magic."
The word "magic" snapped the air for a moment; the word carried with it something of fear and astonishment, as if an invisible law had been expressed in an instant across the room.
Foggy intervened: "Magic? Really? What, do you take us for children?"
Matt, astonished, interrupted Foggy to say:"Foggy, he's telling the truth."
Now Karen and Foggy were even more stunned.
Daniel quickly added:
"Don't imagine too much; I still can't use magic.
And also, Matt, you saw what happened to me when I used it; I almost died for real."
Here Matt, who felt the shock, said to him:
"So why did you fight me if this was such a danger to you?"
Daniel smiled involuntarily and said:
"Because it's fun."
That smile did not indicate only enjoyment, but something like curiosity that drives him to test his limits and others'.
Inside Daniel it was indeed an unbalanced impulse that had happened — I mean, the scuffle with Daredevil and beating him; who wouldn't want that.
Once Matt confirmed the truth he said to him:
"You're insane."
The four of them heard Wilson Fisk's voice, the man known as Kingpin among criminals, on the television, and this signaled the start of his conference.