Chapter Ten: The Beginning of a Team.
A grand rally in the town square — spotlights flashed, and a giant screen behind the platform displayed a white emblem on a black background: FISK FOR A NEW ORDER. The crowd was packed — men and women, reporters with their cameras, photographers milling at the edges. Above all this press of bodies stood Wilson Fisk, tall and silent for a moment, as if the silence itself lent him extra weight before he spoke.
His voice came out calm, measured with the craft of a politician who knows the language of crowds: "Citizens, I promised you I would return to our neighborhoods a safety that knows no fear. Yesterday, the NYPD arrested the gang The Rhodes — one step among many. We have long suffered from gangs that exploited the weakness of our laws and emptied our streets of their lives."
Cameras caught every expression on his face, every word falling as if it had been scripted in advance: thanks for police action, praise for the philanthropists who donated to his social projects, a simplified account of successes that the press had splashed across bold headlines. But Fisk, as if reading from a different page, left no opportunity to present himself only as a hero — he wanted to appear savior, patron and judge all at once.
"But" — he raised a finger slowly, like a teacher — "no society can stand without knowing the truth. There are those who wear masks and come in the name of justice, who write ethics for themselves while killing the very rules we try to uphold. These masked men — impostors of our consciences — are criminals as well."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Cameras zoomed on varied faces: some shocked, others smiling bitterly. Fisk did not stop there. An aide standing beside him pressed a button, and on the huge screen carefully edited footage began to play: fragmented scenes, deceptive camera angles, tears and screams, bloodied masks. In successive cuts, the "masked warrior" — a figure uncannily like Daredevil — attacked people in dark corners, extinguishing citizens' breaths, then vanished. The accompanying narration played on a recorded voice: "See how the 'defenders' turn into executioners."
The hall fell silent, and what lingered in the air was a bitter taste of suspicion. Fisk looked with a gaze not devoid of coldness and spoke as if he were about to sever the thread of truth in two: "I will not stand idly by while those who deprive people of their safety justify their crimes with slogans. I have set a decisive plan to clean our streets." Then he pointed to the rear door of the stage.
The curtains opened slowly, as though the whole scene had been staged to cradle a prearranged moment. First to appear from behind the drapery was a line of police officers — their uniforms gleaming under the lights, their badges bright, faces marked by both fatigue and pride. A tall officer advanced carrying a commemorative plaque; Fisk took it with both hands, placed it on the platform and smiled a smile that looked sincere to the camera lenses.
"These are the true shields of our city," Fisk announced, and the cameras celebrated him. "Yesterday they did not only arrest The Rhodes, they returned to our city a part of its stolen breath." Sharp applause rose from the audience, and some journalists began to record the officers' names one by one while Fisk extended his hand in thanks and shook them.
But the next moment was set to change the tone entirely. While the TV cameras still captured the officers' faces, the curtains drew back again to reveal another side of the platform, and the lights exposed a different formation: armors of an international design never seen before, intricate masks hiding the faces of some, others unmasked but wearing a uniform that suggested they were part of a single system. They stood as an organized mass, hard-featured, as if stepped out of a futuristic military tableau.
Fisk's smile deepened, and addressing the crowd and the lenses he said, "Here too — a team of the finest professionals to confront those who wear masks in the name of justice but abuse it. Ladies and gentlemen, meet The Thunderbolts."
Fisk continued, his voice swelling with pride that nearly smothered reverence: "We will give these people the powers they need to act, and we will support them with everything necessary to restore order. We will not allow someone hiding behind a mask to decide the fate of another human being."
Fisk finished the conference and left amid the people's cheers and applause.
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In the offices of Nelson & Murdock, silence spoke first. The dim lights reflected off the glass of the television that had just shown the conference, and the four faces froze as if trapped inside that single image.
Karen was the first to speak, her voice choked with a mixture of anger and disbelief: "Did you see that?! He distorted everything! This video… it's clearly fake! Daredevil has never hurt anyone before—even criminals! How could they publish such a video? Everyone will know it's fake."
Foggy, standing with his hands on his head, let out a short, nervous laugh: "Fake or not, people won't see the difference, Karen. Fisk knows how to move the media — and now he's made half the city hate Daredevil!"
But amid all those voices, Matt remained silent. He sat behind his desk, his head slightly bowed, his hands tense, fingers digging into the arms of the chair as if to break them. Every word of Fisk's speech still echoed in his ears. At last he spoke, his voice low but carrying a kindled fury: "He started it…"
Karen looked at him, fear rising: "Matt? What do you mean?"
He lifted his head; his eyes behind his dark glasses did not move, but the muscles of his face tightened. "Fisk isn't attacking just me. He's attacking the idea of justice itself — he wants to make people afraid of anyone who tries to save them. He wants to make hope a crime, all so he can be the sole ruler of New York, then do as he pleases once we're gone."
Foggy stepped toward him in quick strides, his voice strangled by worry: "Matt, if you go out now, they'll kill you in the streets. People have seen the video, and even the police might believe what he said. We need to calm down and think."
But Matt rose suddenly; his fist trembled and a vein throbbed at his jaw. "They used my image to kill the innocent in minds… I can't sit here and do nothing after knowing all this."
Karen slammed the TV off in anger and shouted, "And what will you do? Go out and fight them? That's exactly what Fisk wants — for you to look like another criminal in everyone's eyes!"
Silence fell again, but it was not the silence of hesitation; it was the silence before the storm. All that time since Fisk began speaking, Daniel had been submerged in thought, analyzing everything. At first, when the fake video appeared, Daniel had actually expected it — it had happened at the comic-con. But when he saw the team Fisk had assembled, he was stunned and knew that bringing Fisk down would be very difficult, perhaps even impossible.
Daniel recognized every member of that team at a glance: Crossbones, Taskmaster, Rhino, US Agent, Bullseye. These were foes Daniel could barely defeat even at their weakest now — Fisk must have bought them with his money. For that reason, Daniel was forced to alter parts of his plan. Yet inside him he knew the gravest problem of all: the early appearance of such characters in this time frame made Fisk's work far easier. The lack of the Avengers' presence, and the limited renown of other superheroes, drove more hearts to Fisk's side.
"Also," Daniel thought, "those are the members he showed — I don't know if he has other shadowy aides with him, like the Purple Man. If he does, that would be even more dangerous."
Daniel looked at Matt; when their conversation ended he said, "If you want to fight him alone now, I won't stop you, but you'll simply be crushed." He pointed to Foggy and Karen. "And those two will die because of you as well — you know him better than I do."
Matt replied in a desperate voice, "So what? I'd rather fight than surrender to him."
Daniel asked a question first: "Does he know that you are Daredevil or not?"
Matt, surprised by the question, said, "No — why are you asking that?"
Daniel thought inwardly: in his recollections, Fisk must have learned his identity during these events. Then Daniel told him, "Now Fisk has two powers: the media, and this team. Let me tell you, you alone can defeat one of them — that's the measure of their strength. So we must assemble a team capable of fighting that team. Second, we must search for solid evidence of his corruption and expose it."
After a moment's thought Matt said, "A team… I can think of some people."
Karen added, "I'll take on the task of finding evidence to bring him down — that's part of my work."
Daniel replied, "Good. I'm also thinking of asking for help from the famous school for mutants."
The three were stunned by Daniel's words, especially Matt, who accepted the truth of what Daniel said. Foggy objected, "Are you crazy? The mutants? We don't even know if they're originally human, and there's a lot of bad news about them."
Daniel laughed, a bitter sound, "Are you still going to trust the news after what it just saw?"
Then he added, "Fine — I'll go to them alone."
Suddenly Matt looked at him and asked, "Why are you doing all this?"
Daniel answered with surprise, "Hey, I'm human too — why ask that? And I don't like Fisk's actions."
Matt extended his hand. "My name is Matt, known as Daredevil."
Daniel shook his hand. "I'm Daniel Adam."