“What do you want, Richard?”
Richard Fisk looked at his father: Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime. He looked nothing like the strong, giant man that he had known his whole life. Wilson was quite a bit thinner, in a wheelchair, and had oxygen tubes plugged into his nose. His breathing was labored and he just looked tired. A look of concern almost crossed Richard’s face, but he quickly reined it in. He knew his father would mistake his sympathy for weakness.
“I-I heard you had been injured, dad,” Richard began. “I came to see how badly. I had no idea…”
Wilson Fisk scowled, but even his scowl did not have the same feeling of menace it had in the past. “I am as…strong as I need…to be, boy,” he said, wheezing near the end.
“Dad…I didn’t just come here for my own sakes,” Richard said. “Mother also knows.”
At the mention of his much-beloved, but estranged, wife, Wilson’s eyes seem to light up, making him look a bit like the man he used to be. “Vanessa?”
Richard nodded. “Yes, and she wants you to give this up before it kills you, if it hasn’t already. She’s willing to meet you wherever you want, as long as it’s away from here. She still loves you, dad.”
A cloud seemed to form over the light in Wilson’s eyes. “I…can’t. Not now. My empire is under attack, and I must make sure it is safe before I can go.”
“What about your lieutenants?” Richard asked.
“Fools. The whole lot of them.”
Though Richard and his father had been at odds for a good deal of their lives, they both had one thing in common: the love for Vanessa Fisk. Richard was willing to do anything for her. Even dance with the devil, which he knew would happen when he asked, “Dad, is there anything I can do to help? Anything that will help this damn war of yours end?”
Wilson tried to chuckle, but it quickly turned into a series of coughs. When he regained himself, he opened a drawer on the side of the desk he was sitting at, and pulled out an item. It seemed to be a piece of purplish leather. He tossed it at Richard, who easily snatched it yet did not look at it.
“Do you really wish to help, Richard?” The Kingpin asked his son.
There was silence as Richard squeezed the piece of leather in his hand several times. Then, with the thoughts of his mother in his head and what it would take for her happiness, he unfolded the leather, revealing it to be a mask, with two eye-holes as the only distinct features. He slipped the mask over his head, feeling a sensation of claustrophobia and familiarity at the same time.
Richard then walked to a corner of the darkened office, where several roses sat in a vase on a small table. He snapped one flower off of its stem and placed it in the lapel of his suit jacket. He then turned back to Wilson.
“Very well, father. The Rose shall once again work for the Kingpin of Crime, and all your enemies shall fall!”
Wilson Fisk let a small smile of satisfaction cross his lips. “Good, good,” he said, “and I have your first assignment. An employee has proven unfaithful to me… he must be eliminated.”
# # # # #
In a dilapidated looking warehouse facing the Hudson River, the crimelord known as The Owl looked over a ledger laid out on his desk. He appeared quite pleased with the rather large number in the last entry. Times were good, he thought… and only going to get better.
He looked up as a skinny, wizened figure walked matter-of-factly into his office.
“Owlsley, we must talk,” the old man said through an omnipresent scowl.
“What is it, Adrian?”
Adrian Toomes, the Vulture, placed his knuckles on the desk. “You said we were doing all this in order to gain respect. But all we’ve, or more accurately, me, has done is steal money from the Kingpin’s coffers. Picking at him like a…”
“…Like a Vulture?” Owlsley interjected.
With a growl of anger, Toomes grabbed Owlsley by his lapels and picked him up over is desk. “Don’t MOCK me, Owl. I can make for a terrible enemy.”
Owlsley looked down at Toomes, apparently nonplused by his assault. “I know you can, Adrian. That’s why I wanted you on my side. But make no mistake. I may no longer be the genetic freak I once was, but still am I The Owl. And I also can make for a deadly enemy.” Owlsley’s eyes flickered down toward Adrian’s chest.
Adrian looked down and saw three metal claws extended out from Owlsley’s sleeve pressed lightly against Toomes’ chest. With a snarl, Toomes lowered Owlsley to the ground.
“Thank you, my friend,” Owlsley said as the claws retracted back into their housings inside his jacket. He straightened his coat then put his arm around Toomes. “And I must apologize for my remark. It was very rude of me. Also, you are correct. It is time we started making our bid for territory.”
Leland led Adrian to a map of New York City on the wall. “I think our first strike should be here,” and he pointed to the area known as Hell’s Kitchen.
Adrian looked surprised. “Hell’s Kitchen? But Daredevil protects that rathole.”
Leland smiled. “And that means the Kingpin’s influence is weakest there. I know that Fisk has a crack house in a building on the corner of Wood and Stanley Street. It’s kept fairly small so as not to attract the attention of the Kitchen’s crimson-clad protector. It shouldn’t take more than a half-dozen men, as well as yourself, to ‘persuade’ the Kingpin’s men to vacate and give the area and its contents over to us.”
“And if Daredevil should show?” Adrian asked.
“I have full confidence that either you can destroy him, or perhaps convince the Kingpin’s men to join yours in perforating him. You know, ‘the enemy of my enemy’ and all that,” stated Owlsley, waving his hand about.
Adrian’s scowl turned into a smile, making him look all the more sinister. “Have our men attack in two hours. I’ll be nearby in case they need help.”
Without another word, Toomes turned and left the office.
# # # # #
Daredevil stood on the roof of a brownstone in Hell’s Kitchen. He was turned toward the late summer, late afternoon sun, his mask in his hand. He enjoyed the warm feeling of the sun’s rays on his face, and a wind coming from the east brought the salty scent of the ocean to his nostrils. He smiled contentedly. He thought that these were the sensations he had wanted so desperately to feel... the ones he was unable to before he was exposed to the---
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
The sound of gunfire shattered Daredevil’s reverie, and he immediately began running across the rooftops toward the sound, quickly donning his mask. The gunshots continued, making it easy to hone in on the disturbance. He covered the distance in a matter of moments. He leaned over the edge of the roof and let his senses open up, painting him a picture of the scene.
Bullets firing from at least a dozen weapons.The way they echoed off the buildings in the area told him they were being fired from the street at the building directly across the street in front of him and vice versa. Voices yelling various orders, threats, and obscenities confirmed both the number of and location of the participants involved. His radar sense showed him that those firing from the street were doing so from behind several cars.
None of the cars had the distinctive shape of a NYPD police cruiser, so Daredevil assumed that all the combatants were probably local thugs. DD quickly decided that the greater danger to civilians came from those firing from the building. He pulled his trusty billy club/grappling line from out of its holster, launched it at a stable point across the street, and leapt off the rooftop.
# # # # #
The Vulture was perched on a rooftop, still as death. He watched with an evil grin on his face as his (well, his and The Owl’s) men riddled his foe’s building with gunfire. Like his scavenging namesake, he waited for the battle to finish, then would swoop down to pick up the spoils. For now, he would just enjoy the carnage that unfolded below him.
Imagine his surprise when, from an adjacent rooftop, he saw a small line attach itself to the besieged building. Toomes followed the line back to its origin just in time to see Daredevil, who was clutching the other end, swing through the air into an open window of the Kingpin’s illegal casino. The gunfire continued from inside the building, but no bullets came out. The Vulture’s men looked about confusedly, but The Vulture understood what was going on. Daredevil was fighting the Kingpin’s men inside the building. Quickly formulating a plan, Toomes unclipped a small walkie-talkie from his belt.
“Rodney, this is The Vulture,” Toomes said into the two-way radio.
“Yeah?” came the voice of the men leading the raid on the street.
“When you see Daredevil, have your men point their guns at him, but do not fire,” Toomes said.
“Huh?” Rodney replied, obviously confused. “We ain’t even gonna try to take him down? And how do you know he won’t get hit by those goombahs inside?”
The Vulture's grin turned into a scowl. This is why he preferred to work alone. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. “The answer to both questions is the same, you imbecile. Because his ilk never fall to those of your ilk.”
After a couple seconds of silence on the radio, Rodney’s voice piped up again. “Uh...what’s an ilk?”
“Never mind! I just want Daredevil’s attention focused on you!” and Toomes shut his radio off.
# # # # #
Daredevil stood amidst a slew of demolished furniture, broken roulette tables, and a dozen unconscious men.
“The Kingpin’s really hiring such an inferior class of lowlife these days,” Daredevil quipped. “You guys barely made me break a sweat. What say we see if your playmates outside are any more of a challenge?”
Daredevil approached the nearest window facing the street and used his radar sense to get an image of the combatant’s outside. The image showed the outlines of six men, all pointing their weapons at him. With a smile of confidence on his face, he leaped out the second story window, ready to take the men down. In midair, he felt the sudden rush of air from above, and realized he had been caught in a trap.
# # # # #
The Vulture leaned forward on his perch, his body waiting for the moment to strike. The gunfire had stopped from inside the building and he knew his moment was coming. His eyes, aged though they might be, were still razor sharp, one of the benefits of the electromagnetic power pack which powered his winged costume. He saw Daredevil pass in front of one of the windows. The Vulture leaned forward just a bit more, and launched himself off the ledge when he saw the crimson-garbed crusader leap out of the building. He folded his wings to his side, and power-dived toward Daredevil at blinding speed, meaning to snap the accursed do-gooder’s back like so much balsa wood.
Even though Vulture attacked from above, where he knew Daredevil would be unable to see him, the masked man twisted in mid-air just before the villainous octogenarian could impact with him, and absorbed some of The Vulture’s blow. What should have been a killing blow merely bruised a couple of Daredevil’s ribs. The Vulture, with Daredevil slung on his shoulder, unfurled his wings and began to gain altitude, intending to finish DD off.
# # # # #
Daredevil tried to regain his breath as he felt the wind against his back and the obvious sensation of rising into the air. Unfortunately, each attempted breath was met with agonizing pain from his right side. His heightened senses could feel and hear the broken ribs grinding against each other, and he was in no position to use his training to focus past the pain just now. Through the pain, Daredevil used his senses to identify his attacker: The Vulture. He knew he had to do something quick, before the old buzzard dropped him from so high that he’d never be able to save himself.
Our hero wrapped his arms around The Vulture’s waist and, with a new bolt of pain shooting through his side, wrapped his legs around Toomes’ head in a leg lock. Daredevil gripped tight, choking off the villain’s air supply. Blinded and unable to breathe, Vulture twisted and turned in the air, trying in vain to dislodge the interloper on his back.
After a minute or so of struggling, The Vulture suddenly went limp and the two men began to plummet back toward the New York street. Daredevil hadn’t expected Vulture to pass out so quickly, and thought he’d be able to steer him to the ground, or at least close enough to save himself. Trying to think of a way to save them both, and red-hot needles of pain constantly shooting through his side, Daredevil briefly relaxed his grip on Vulture. In that moment, the Vulture (who had been playing possum) stopped short in mid-air, bucking Daredevil off of him unexpectedly.
Daredevil went flying through the air, but had descended enough that he knew he could probably save himself now. His radar sense picked up a trusty New York City flagpole jutting out from the side of a building. If he stretched himself enough, which his ribs violently protested, he just might catch it...
# # # # #
Vulture knew that sanctimonious do-gooder would try to save them if he feigned unconsciousness, and his plan had worked. He hovered while he watched Daredevil go soaring away from him. Vulture hoped that Daredevil would collide with a building, or something equally deadly, but cursed to himself when the man without fear barely reached one of those infernal flagpoles and stopped his plummet.
Without giving Daredevil a moment to rest, The Vulture tried once again dive-bombed the blind hero, who hung with his back toward The Vulture.
“You won’t stop us!” screeched Vulture. “We’ll take this town over!”
Just before Vulture impacted with the hanging Daredevil, the crimefighter let go of the flagpole, and grabbed the bottom of the flag attached to it. The Vulture impacted with the flag, ripping it from its pole, and getting all tangled in it. Daredevil, still gripping the ends of the cloth, flipped into a sitting position on the winged menace’s back, and further wrapped the flag around Vulture’s eyes. He yanked the flag to the left, causing Toomes’ to turn that way.
Unfortunately for The Vulture, to the left was a rather unyielding brownstone. Vulture and Daredevil collided with the building, though Daredevil used his foe to cushion his impact. Stunned, Vulture did a slow spiral toward the ground. He hit the ground none too gently, while Daredevil leapt off his back, rolling on the ground to absorb the momentum.
# # # # #
Daredevil rolled to a standing position, grimacing and holding his injured side. He limped toward the half-unconscious Vulture. As he heard police sirens in the distance approaching, DD grabbed Vulture and began to shake him back to consciousness.
“This attack on the Kingpin’s place isn’t your style, Vulture! And you said ‘I won’t stop us’,” stated Daredevil. “Who are you working with? And what are you planning?”
The dazed Vulture didn’t answer, and before DD could ask again, two police cruisers raced onto the scene. DD dropped Toomes back onto the street, and limped toward the cops exiting their vehicles.
“Hey, guys,” Daredevil waved weakly. “Any chance either of you has a hospital in your pocket?” and promptly collapsed.
# # # # #
Matthew Murdock was more confused than ever. In recent times he had seen his best friend killed, himself put on trial for insurance fraud, and been hallucinating. Because of the former, the judge presiding over his case had sent him to a psychiatrist to determine whether or not he was competent to stand trial. Murdock was astonished to discover that the judge, who was in Wilson Fisk's pocket, had sent him to the villainous Doctor Faustus!
Faustus had tried to kill him and a half-dozen other superheroes during his time. If that wasn't enough to make one feel insane, it now seemed that Faustus had been trying to reform, but Fisk was using blackmail to make Faustus do his bidding.
Faustus had slipped Matt a note at their last meeting, asking him for his help. Or rather, for Daredevil’s help. Matt assumed Kingpin had told Faustus his secret identity, but Murdock had decided to not do any activity as his alter-ego until after his trial, since he was under so much media scrutiny. Matt Murdock was still a hero, in costume or no, and had decided to try and help Faustus any way he could. If Faustus knew any of Fisk’s secrets, it might even help Murdock in his trial.
Matthew’s cab pulled up in front of the brownstone office of Doctor Faustus. He paid the cabbie and stepped out of the cab. He felt his Braille wristwatch. He was about twenty minutes late, and took a step toward the front stoop of Faustus’ offices when the strong odor of natural gas assailed his sensitive nostrils. It seemed to be coming from Faustus’. Murdock tensed to run toward the building, when a shockwave from the building exploding knocked him back into the street, and debris rained down around him.
# # # # #
Daredevil sat in the back of the ambulance that had been called for him and The Vulture. The paramedics had already determined The Vulture was okay, and he had been ushered into the back of one of the cruisers to be taken to the nearest police station. DD winced as the paramedics finished taping up his hurt ribs.
“You really should go to the hospital, pal,” the medic stated.
“Thanks, but this’ll do me for now. Didn’t you know us super-heroes are allergic to hospitals?” Daredevil said as he hopped out of the back of the vehicle, testing his ribs. He walked over to one of the officers filling out a report. “Did someone check out the address I gave you?”
The cop looked up from his form. “Yeah, and we found the guys and illegal gambling equipment inside. But the guys outside high-tailed it when they heard our guys comin’. You said they were working for this guy?” He pointed his pen at the scowling, unsuited Vulture in the back of the cruiser.
Daredevil scratched the top of his head. “I think so. Or he’s working with someone else, and they were working for that guy. I guess I’ll find out soon en---”
Daredevil was interrupted by an explosion a half-dozen blocks away. The small crowd of emergency responders and onlookers looked in the direction of the sound. DD turned toward the cop.
“Go ahead,” the cop said, jumping into the second cruiser. “Climb on board.”
Daredevil hopped on the roof of the cruiser as it took off toward the explosion. He didn’t care for police cars, or more precisely, their sirens all that much. They gave him a headache and made it hard to focus his senses, but since he hadn’t had a chance to reclaim his grappling line, this would be the fastest way to find out what had happened.
The cruiser covered the distance in just a couple of minutes, and came to a stop a couple hundred feet from where a building had obviously been. Daredevil could feel the heat and hear the crackling of the remains of the burning building. It interfered with him being able to hear if there were any heartbeats coming from inside, but he did pick up a heartbeat on the street in front of the building.
The hero jumped off the cruiser, ignoring the quick jab of pain from his ribs. He ran to the person on the street to see if they were all right. “Hey, are you all right?” he asked as he pulled the man to his feet.
# # # # #
Matthew Murdock rose unsteadily to his feet. His ears rang from the explosion, and he was a bit bruised and battered from the debris, but he felt that he was basically all right. By habit, his senses reached out to paint a picture of the person helping him, and he was astonished by what he saw.
“Wh...What the--?!”
TO BE CONTINUED
NEXT ISSUE: Matt Murdock... face-to-face with Daredevil?! Is Faustus dead? Is The Rose really working for The Kingpin? How will The Owl handle The Vulture’s failure? These questions and more will be revealed in the next issue of Daredevil!
DEVILISH THOUGHTS
No, your eyes are not deceiving you. This really is a new issue of Daredevil. The first in a really, really, REALLY long time. My last issue of this title was even before the Great Crash of DigitallyMystic.
But thanks to the (and who would have thought this phrase could exist several years ago) great patience of our current EiC, Cory Wiegel, I’ve been allowed to continue the story I began a long time ago in a web domain far, far away.
Now, the reasons why I haven’t written in so long are varied, and frankly, unimportant. What is important is that I think I have “found the muse” again we’ll all be seeing much more productivity from me (heh, we couldn’t see much less, no?).
I know this issue may seem a bit rough, but it’s been a long time since I did any writing. Not to mention various parts have been written at different points in the past year or so (or has it been two?). But stick with me and I’ll try to entertain you, and to do it in a timely manner, too.
See you soon (I promise!)...
Jason Eberly
May 24, 2006
Richard Fisk looked at his father: Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime. He looked nothing like the strong, giant man that he had known his whole life. Wilson was quite a bit thinner, in a wheelchair, and had oxygen tubes plugged into his nose. His breathing was labored and he just looked tired. A look of concern almost crossed Richard’s face, but he quickly reined it in. He knew his father would mistake his sympathy for weakness.
“I-I heard you had been injured, dad,” Richard began. “I came to see how badly. I had no idea…”
Wilson Fisk scowled, but even his scowl did not have the same feeling of menace it had in the past. “I am as…strong as I need…to be, boy,” he said, wheezing near the end.
“Dad…I didn’t just come here for my own sakes,” Richard said. “Mother also knows.”
At the mention of his much-beloved, but estranged, wife, Wilson’s eyes seem to light up, making him look a bit like the man he used to be. “Vanessa?”
Richard nodded. “Yes, and she wants you to give this up before it kills you, if it hasn’t already. She’s willing to meet you wherever you want, as long as it’s away from here. She still loves you, dad.”
A cloud seemed to form over the light in Wilson’s eyes. “I…can’t. Not now. My empire is under attack, and I must make sure it is safe before I can go.”
“What about your lieutenants?” Richard asked.
“Fools. The whole lot of them.”
Though Richard and his father had been at odds for a good deal of their lives, they both had one thing in common: the love for Vanessa Fisk. Richard was willing to do anything for her. Even dance with the devil, which he knew would happen when he asked, “Dad, is there anything I can do to help? Anything that will help this damn war of yours end?”
Wilson tried to chuckle, but it quickly turned into a series of coughs. When he regained himself, he opened a drawer on the side of the desk he was sitting at, and pulled out an item. It seemed to be a piece of purplish leather. He tossed it at Richard, who easily snatched it yet did not look at it.
“Do you really wish to help, Richard?” The Kingpin asked his son.
There was silence as Richard squeezed the piece of leather in his hand several times. Then, with the thoughts of his mother in his head and what it would take for her happiness, he unfolded the leather, revealing it to be a mask, with two eye-holes as the only distinct features. He slipped the mask over his head, feeling a sensation of claustrophobia and familiarity at the same time.
Richard then walked to a corner of the darkened office, where several roses sat in a vase on a small table. He snapped one flower off of its stem and placed it in the lapel of his suit jacket. He then turned back to Wilson.
“Very well, father. The Rose shall once again work for the Kingpin of Crime, and all your enemies shall fall!”
Wilson Fisk let a small smile of satisfaction cross his lips. “Good, good,” he said, “and I have your first assignment. An employee has proven unfaithful to me… he must be eliminated.”
# # # # #
In a dilapidated looking warehouse facing the Hudson River, the crimelord known as The Owl looked over a ledger laid out on his desk. He appeared quite pleased with the rather large number in the last entry. Times were good, he thought… and only going to get better.
He looked up as a skinny, wizened figure walked matter-of-factly into his office.
“Owlsley, we must talk,” the old man said through an omnipresent scowl.
“What is it, Adrian?”
Adrian Toomes, the Vulture, placed his knuckles on the desk. “You said we were doing all this in order to gain respect. But all we’ve, or more accurately, me, has done is steal money from the Kingpin’s coffers. Picking at him like a…”
“…Like a Vulture?” Owlsley interjected.
With a growl of anger, Toomes grabbed Owlsley by his lapels and picked him up over is desk. “Don’t MOCK me, Owl. I can make for a terrible enemy.”
Owlsley looked down at Toomes, apparently nonplused by his assault. “I know you can, Adrian. That’s why I wanted you on my side. But make no mistake. I may no longer be the genetic freak I once was, but still am I The Owl. And I also can make for a deadly enemy.” Owlsley’s eyes flickered down toward Adrian’s chest.
Adrian looked down and saw three metal claws extended out from Owlsley’s sleeve pressed lightly against Toomes’ chest. With a snarl, Toomes lowered Owlsley to the ground.
“Thank you, my friend,” Owlsley said as the claws retracted back into their housings inside his jacket. He straightened his coat then put his arm around Toomes. “And I must apologize for my remark. It was very rude of me. Also, you are correct. It is time we started making our bid for territory.”
Leland led Adrian to a map of New York City on the wall. “I think our first strike should be here,” and he pointed to the area known as Hell’s Kitchen.
Adrian looked surprised. “Hell’s Kitchen? But Daredevil protects that rathole.”
Leland smiled. “And that means the Kingpin’s influence is weakest there. I know that Fisk has a crack house in a building on the corner of Wood and Stanley Street. It’s kept fairly small so as not to attract the attention of the Kitchen’s crimson-clad protector. It shouldn’t take more than a half-dozen men, as well as yourself, to ‘persuade’ the Kingpin’s men to vacate and give the area and its contents over to us.”
“And if Daredevil should show?” Adrian asked.
“I have full confidence that either you can destroy him, or perhaps convince the Kingpin’s men to join yours in perforating him. You know, ‘the enemy of my enemy’ and all that,” stated Owlsley, waving his hand about.
Adrian’s scowl turned into a smile, making him look all the more sinister. “Have our men attack in two hours. I’ll be nearby in case they need help.”
Without another word, Toomes turned and left the office.
# # # # #
Daredevil stood on the roof of a brownstone in Hell’s Kitchen. He was turned toward the late summer, late afternoon sun, his mask in his hand. He enjoyed the warm feeling of the sun’s rays on his face, and a wind coming from the east brought the salty scent of the ocean to his nostrils. He smiled contentedly. He thought that these were the sensations he had wanted so desperately to feel... the ones he was unable to before he was exposed to the---
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
The sound of gunfire shattered Daredevil’s reverie, and he immediately began running across the rooftops toward the sound, quickly donning his mask. The gunshots continued, making it easy to hone in on the disturbance. He covered the distance in a matter of moments. He leaned over the edge of the roof and let his senses open up, painting him a picture of the scene.
Bullets firing from at least a dozen weapons.The way they echoed off the buildings in the area told him they were being fired from the street at the building directly across the street in front of him and vice versa. Voices yelling various orders, threats, and obscenities confirmed both the number of and location of the participants involved. His radar sense showed him that those firing from the street were doing so from behind several cars.
None of the cars had the distinctive shape of a NYPD police cruiser, so Daredevil assumed that all the combatants were probably local thugs. DD quickly decided that the greater danger to civilians came from those firing from the building. He pulled his trusty billy club/grappling line from out of its holster, launched it at a stable point across the street, and leapt off the rooftop.
# # # # #
The Vulture was perched on a rooftop, still as death. He watched with an evil grin on his face as his (well, his and The Owl’s) men riddled his foe’s building with gunfire. Like his scavenging namesake, he waited for the battle to finish, then would swoop down to pick up the spoils. For now, he would just enjoy the carnage that unfolded below him.
Imagine his surprise when, from an adjacent rooftop, he saw a small line attach itself to the besieged building. Toomes followed the line back to its origin just in time to see Daredevil, who was clutching the other end, swing through the air into an open window of the Kingpin’s illegal casino. The gunfire continued from inside the building, but no bullets came out. The Vulture’s men looked about confusedly, but The Vulture understood what was going on. Daredevil was fighting the Kingpin’s men inside the building. Quickly formulating a plan, Toomes unclipped a small walkie-talkie from his belt.
“Rodney, this is The Vulture,” Toomes said into the two-way radio.
“Yeah?” came the voice of the men leading the raid on the street.
“When you see Daredevil, have your men point their guns at him, but do not fire,” Toomes said.
“Huh?” Rodney replied, obviously confused. “We ain’t even gonna try to take him down? And how do you know he won’t get hit by those goombahs inside?”
The Vulture's grin turned into a scowl. This is why he preferred to work alone. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. “The answer to both questions is the same, you imbecile. Because his ilk never fall to those of your ilk.”
After a couple seconds of silence on the radio, Rodney’s voice piped up again. “Uh...what’s an ilk?”
“Never mind! I just want Daredevil’s attention focused on you!” and Toomes shut his radio off.
# # # # #
Daredevil stood amidst a slew of demolished furniture, broken roulette tables, and a dozen unconscious men.
“The Kingpin’s really hiring such an inferior class of lowlife these days,” Daredevil quipped. “You guys barely made me break a sweat. What say we see if your playmates outside are any more of a challenge?”
Daredevil approached the nearest window facing the street and used his radar sense to get an image of the combatant’s outside. The image showed the outlines of six men, all pointing their weapons at him. With a smile of confidence on his face, he leaped out the second story window, ready to take the men down. In midair, he felt the sudden rush of air from above, and realized he had been caught in a trap.
# # # # #
The Vulture leaned forward on his perch, his body waiting for the moment to strike. The gunfire had stopped from inside the building and he knew his moment was coming. His eyes, aged though they might be, were still razor sharp, one of the benefits of the electromagnetic power pack which powered his winged costume. He saw Daredevil pass in front of one of the windows. The Vulture leaned forward just a bit more, and launched himself off the ledge when he saw the crimson-garbed crusader leap out of the building. He folded his wings to his side, and power-dived toward Daredevil at blinding speed, meaning to snap the accursed do-gooder’s back like so much balsa wood.
Even though Vulture attacked from above, where he knew Daredevil would be unable to see him, the masked man twisted in mid-air just before the villainous octogenarian could impact with him, and absorbed some of The Vulture’s blow. What should have been a killing blow merely bruised a couple of Daredevil’s ribs. The Vulture, with Daredevil slung on his shoulder, unfurled his wings and began to gain altitude, intending to finish DD off.
# # # # #
Daredevil tried to regain his breath as he felt the wind against his back and the obvious sensation of rising into the air. Unfortunately, each attempted breath was met with agonizing pain from his right side. His heightened senses could feel and hear the broken ribs grinding against each other, and he was in no position to use his training to focus past the pain just now. Through the pain, Daredevil used his senses to identify his attacker: The Vulture. He knew he had to do something quick, before the old buzzard dropped him from so high that he’d never be able to save himself.
Our hero wrapped his arms around The Vulture’s waist and, with a new bolt of pain shooting through his side, wrapped his legs around Toomes’ head in a leg lock. Daredevil gripped tight, choking off the villain’s air supply. Blinded and unable to breathe, Vulture twisted and turned in the air, trying in vain to dislodge the interloper on his back.
After a minute or so of struggling, The Vulture suddenly went limp and the two men began to plummet back toward the New York street. Daredevil hadn’t expected Vulture to pass out so quickly, and thought he’d be able to steer him to the ground, or at least close enough to save himself. Trying to think of a way to save them both, and red-hot needles of pain constantly shooting through his side, Daredevil briefly relaxed his grip on Vulture. In that moment, the Vulture (who had been playing possum) stopped short in mid-air, bucking Daredevil off of him unexpectedly.
Daredevil went flying through the air, but had descended enough that he knew he could probably save himself now. His radar sense picked up a trusty New York City flagpole jutting out from the side of a building. If he stretched himself enough, which his ribs violently protested, he just might catch it...
# # # # #
Vulture knew that sanctimonious do-gooder would try to save them if he feigned unconsciousness, and his plan had worked. He hovered while he watched Daredevil go soaring away from him. Vulture hoped that Daredevil would collide with a building, or something equally deadly, but cursed to himself when the man without fear barely reached one of those infernal flagpoles and stopped his plummet.
Without giving Daredevil a moment to rest, The Vulture tried once again dive-bombed the blind hero, who hung with his back toward The Vulture.
“You won’t stop us!” screeched Vulture. “We’ll take this town over!”
Just before Vulture impacted with the hanging Daredevil, the crimefighter let go of the flagpole, and grabbed the bottom of the flag attached to it. The Vulture impacted with the flag, ripping it from its pole, and getting all tangled in it. Daredevil, still gripping the ends of the cloth, flipped into a sitting position on the winged menace’s back, and further wrapped the flag around Vulture’s eyes. He yanked the flag to the left, causing Toomes’ to turn that way.
Unfortunately for The Vulture, to the left was a rather unyielding brownstone. Vulture and Daredevil collided with the building, though Daredevil used his foe to cushion his impact. Stunned, Vulture did a slow spiral toward the ground. He hit the ground none too gently, while Daredevil leapt off his back, rolling on the ground to absorb the momentum.
# # # # #
Daredevil rolled to a standing position, grimacing and holding his injured side. He limped toward the half-unconscious Vulture. As he heard police sirens in the distance approaching, DD grabbed Vulture and began to shake him back to consciousness.
“This attack on the Kingpin’s place isn’t your style, Vulture! And you said ‘I won’t stop us’,” stated Daredevil. “Who are you working with? And what are you planning?”
The dazed Vulture didn’t answer, and before DD could ask again, two police cruisers raced onto the scene. DD dropped Toomes back onto the street, and limped toward the cops exiting their vehicles.
“Hey, guys,” Daredevil waved weakly. “Any chance either of you has a hospital in your pocket?” and promptly collapsed.
# # # # #
Matthew Murdock was more confused than ever. In recent times he had seen his best friend killed, himself put on trial for insurance fraud, and been hallucinating. Because of the former, the judge presiding over his case had sent him to a psychiatrist to determine whether or not he was competent to stand trial. Murdock was astonished to discover that the judge, who was in Wilson Fisk's pocket, had sent him to the villainous Doctor Faustus!
Faustus had tried to kill him and a half-dozen other superheroes during his time. If that wasn't enough to make one feel insane, it now seemed that Faustus had been trying to reform, but Fisk was using blackmail to make Faustus do his bidding.
Faustus had slipped Matt a note at their last meeting, asking him for his help. Or rather, for Daredevil’s help. Matt assumed Kingpin had told Faustus his secret identity, but Murdock had decided to not do any activity as his alter-ego until after his trial, since he was under so much media scrutiny. Matt Murdock was still a hero, in costume or no, and had decided to try and help Faustus any way he could. If Faustus knew any of Fisk’s secrets, it might even help Murdock in his trial.
Matthew’s cab pulled up in front of the brownstone office of Doctor Faustus. He paid the cabbie and stepped out of the cab. He felt his Braille wristwatch. He was about twenty minutes late, and took a step toward the front stoop of Faustus’ offices when the strong odor of natural gas assailed his sensitive nostrils. It seemed to be coming from Faustus’. Murdock tensed to run toward the building, when a shockwave from the building exploding knocked him back into the street, and debris rained down around him.
# # # # #
Daredevil sat in the back of the ambulance that had been called for him and The Vulture. The paramedics had already determined The Vulture was okay, and he had been ushered into the back of one of the cruisers to be taken to the nearest police station. DD winced as the paramedics finished taping up his hurt ribs.
“You really should go to the hospital, pal,” the medic stated.
“Thanks, but this’ll do me for now. Didn’t you know us super-heroes are allergic to hospitals?” Daredevil said as he hopped out of the back of the vehicle, testing his ribs. He walked over to one of the officers filling out a report. “Did someone check out the address I gave you?”
The cop looked up from his form. “Yeah, and we found the guys and illegal gambling equipment inside. But the guys outside high-tailed it when they heard our guys comin’. You said they were working for this guy?” He pointed his pen at the scowling, unsuited Vulture in the back of the cruiser.
Daredevil scratched the top of his head. “I think so. Or he’s working with someone else, and they were working for that guy. I guess I’ll find out soon en---”
Daredevil was interrupted by an explosion a half-dozen blocks away. The small crowd of emergency responders and onlookers looked in the direction of the sound. DD turned toward the cop.
“Go ahead,” the cop said, jumping into the second cruiser. “Climb on board.”
Daredevil hopped on the roof of the cruiser as it took off toward the explosion. He didn’t care for police cars, or more precisely, their sirens all that much. They gave him a headache and made it hard to focus his senses, but since he hadn’t had a chance to reclaim his grappling line, this would be the fastest way to find out what had happened.
The cruiser covered the distance in just a couple of minutes, and came to a stop a couple hundred feet from where a building had obviously been. Daredevil could feel the heat and hear the crackling of the remains of the burning building. It interfered with him being able to hear if there were any heartbeats coming from inside, but he did pick up a heartbeat on the street in front of the building.
The hero jumped off the cruiser, ignoring the quick jab of pain from his ribs. He ran to the person on the street to see if they were all right. “Hey, are you all right?” he asked as he pulled the man to his feet.
# # # # #
Matthew Murdock rose unsteadily to his feet. His ears rang from the explosion, and he was a bit bruised and battered from the debris, but he felt that he was basically all right. By habit, his senses reached out to paint a picture of the person helping him, and he was astonished by what he saw.
“Wh...What the--?!”
TO BE CONTINUED
NEXT ISSUE: Matt Murdock... face-to-face with Daredevil?! Is Faustus dead? Is The Rose really working for The Kingpin? How will The Owl handle The Vulture’s failure? These questions and more will be revealed in the next issue of Daredevil!
DEVILISH THOUGHTS
No, your eyes are not deceiving you. This really is a new issue of Daredevil. The first in a really, really, REALLY long time. My last issue of this title was even before the Great Crash of DigitallyMystic.
But thanks to the (and who would have thought this phrase could exist several years ago) great patience of our current EiC, Cory Wiegel, I’ve been allowed to continue the story I began a long time ago in a web domain far, far away.
Now, the reasons why I haven’t written in so long are varied, and frankly, unimportant. What is important is that I think I have “found the muse” again we’ll all be seeing much more productivity from me (heh, we couldn’t see much less, no?).
I know this issue may seem a bit rough, but it’s been a long time since I did any writing. Not to mention various parts have been written at different points in the past year or so (or has it been two?). But stick with me and I’ll try to entertain you, and to do it in a timely manner, too.
See you soon (I promise!)...
Jason Eberly
May 24, 2006