PREVIOUSLY IN DAREDEVIL: Three months ago, Matt Murdock regained control of his life by toppling the Kingpin. Allied with the formerly demonic Hellspawn, Matt has returned to his law practice. Hellspawn, bearing features closely resembling Matt's, has adopted the identity of Mike Murdock, his law partner and brother. After months of success, Matt's life was turned upside down by a phone call from his dead girlfriend, Karen Page. Now aware that Karen's last 'resurrection' was a stunt staged by the Kingpin and the mutant Vanessa Carlysle (aka Copycat), Matt has journeyed to San Francisco to find her. There, he discovered that she is being pursued by a new version of an old foe, the Death-Stalker. Meanwhile, Hellspawn has located the woman responsible for his own resurrection: the deadly Calypso!
Daredevil could sense only a disturbing calmness from the new Death-Stalker. The killer was floating through the darkened bedroom that belonged to Copycat, one hand outstretched. The power the villain wielded caused his hand to glow with a yellow fire and Daredevil's radar sense detected the subtle swiping motion that the Death-Stalker made in the air.
"Step aside," Death-Stalker said, his English heavily accented. "My problem lies with the woman behind you."
Daredevil heard a slight skip in the man's heartrate as he spoke and he recognized the reason: Death-Stalker was lying. He has some reason to hate me, Matt thought. Maybe he is in communication with the original?
"Don't throw your life away," Daredevil said, preparing himself for combat. "Your predecessor ended up dead because he thought his powers gave him the right to play executioner. I'd hate to see you make the same mistake."
"There's no mistake!" the villain screeched, his voice and mannerisms making Matt wonder about his sanity. "I was chosen from beyond! I am death incarnate! And the bitch must die!"
"Watch your mouth, freak!" Copycat reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. The bullet whistled past Matt's head, striking Death-Stalker in the left shoulder. The man staggered back, obviously not used to such pain.
Matt moved forward, driving a knee into the villain's midsection. "Vanessa! Go get some clothes on and get to safety!"
Copycat looked down at herself and shrugged. She didn't mind if Death-Stalker got some sort of thrill off her and Matt was blind so she looked the same to his radar sense dressed or naked, right? She wasn't positive about the latter but given the fact she'd slept with him for weeks while pretending to be Karen Page, there was no reason for modesty now. Instead, she shifted her form into something a bit more buff and joined Matt in pummeling Death-Stalker.
Nagaharu pulled away from Daredevil, snarling under his breath. It wasn't supposed to have gone like this. Sterling had made it seem like the Death-Stalker was an elemental force, something that men and women could never fully comprehend. But these two were treating him like an ordinary costumed criminal. Lunging for Daredevil, Nagaharu intended to make it clear that he was nothing to be trifled with. He caught hold of the Man Without Fear and unleashed the deadly 'murder touch' that he possessed.
Matt was unable to avoid crying out. He felt his skin constricting all over his body and his heightened senses seemed to go dark for a moment. Visions of the dead seemed to pass through his mind's eye, conjured up in a series of smells, touches and tastes: he remembered the first time he kissed Elektra, the last time he'd held Karen in his arms, the way he and Foggy had gone over the newspaper together at the start of every day. He remembered his father's sweat and the way the scent of it would cling to the man hours after showering.
Matt fell to his knees, gasping for air as the grip on his arm suddenly released. As his radar sense began to slowly return, he made out the forms of Copycat and Death-Stalker, locked in a deadly embrace. The sounds of Vanessa howling like a hellcat made Matt regain his strength faster than he would have otherwise. He gripped his billy club and threw it with unerring accuracy. The hard tip of the club slammed into the side of Death-Stalker's head.
"You'll pay for this," Death-Stalker hissed. Before the still weakened Daredevil could react, the man grabbed Copycat by the throat and squeezed. Just as Daredevil reached him with a mighty lunge, Death-Stalker faded away, returning to the void of limbo.
Matt cursed under his breath, his keen hearing leading him to the quiet form of Vanessa. She lay on her back, one arm thrown over her face. Her heartbeat was erratic and he could sense an elevated body temperature but she was still alive. "Vanessa?" he whispered, kneeling beside her so he could touch her face. She was emaciated, all the moisture having been drained from her.
Boom... boom... boom... went her heart, growing fainter by the second.
"Don't die on me," he whispered, surprised at how strongly he felt about saving her. He told himself that it had nothing to do with the time they'd spent together, during her deceptive period as Karen Page... but the truth of the matter was, that did play a part. He'd shared his life with this woman and while he would have tried his best to save the life of anyone, even a stranger, the effort took on extra importance because of his feelings for Vanessa. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Then he picked up the phone from the nightstand and began to dial a number that was unlisted but that was in Matt's rolodex back at the office.
After a moment, the man known as Hawkeye answered. "Avengers West Compound. What can I do for you?"
Daredevil took a deep, steadying breath. "Clint. I need help."
# # # # #
Hell's Kitchen, McDuffin's Tavern
Marcy Bradley felt very uncomfortable. She was an attractive young woman with red hair and freckles to die for, which meant that she stood out like a sore thumb in this seedy little dive. The only other women in the establishment were obviously prostitutes and several of the men eyed Marcy in the hopes that she, too, could be bought for a price. Her modest attire -- a dark sweater and jeans, with a jacket on over the top -- did little to stifle their hungry eyes.
In the two years since she'd joined the staff of the Daily Bugle, she'd been routinely beaten out for the best crime assignments by Ben Urich and other veterans like him. It had finally gotten to the point where she'd begun hanging out with some dangerous types in hopes of getting a lead. And, finally, it seemed to be paying off.
"Hey, little girl," a man rumbled, taking a seat across from her in the booth. He was huge, standing well over six feet tall, with a thick moustache and Hispanic features. He smelled like stale beer and piss. "Surprised you actually showed up. Figured you'd get one look at this joint and turn tail."
"I'm one tough cookie," she said, feeling anything but.
"Bet you are," he laughed. Pedro was a runner, formerly in the employ of Wilson Fisk. As of late, he'd been doing some work for the Rose but was mostly retired to help take care of his dying father. It was actually kind of touching, Marcy had thought.
"So... do you have something for me?" she asked, wincing inwardly at the question. She hoped he wouldn't make some sort of sexual response as she just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
To her relief, Pedro leaned forward and pushed a sheet of loose-leaf paper towards her. Marcy could see a photograph taped to the other side of the paper and she flipped it over, reading the words scrawled around the image. The photo showed a fit young woman with blue-tinted hair and a costume of black and white. "She's been hiring guys to serve as muscle for about a month now. She's gonna make her move soon."
Marcy smiled, remembering when she'd last seen this woman. It had been years ago, when the group known as the Spacemen had debuted to a ticker-tape parade. They'd claimed to be a group of ex-astronauts who had deliberately exposed themselves to an alien rock in order to gain superpowers. The girl had called herself Orbit, while her teammates had been Gantry, Satellite and Vacuum. Marcy had been in the crowd, cheering her head off. Something about the Spacemen had really turned her crank and she loved them. But when Spider-Man revealed the truth about them, she'd been crushed as only star struck teenaged girls could be: the Spacemen were really thieves and con artists. Lengthy prison sentences had ensued. "Orbit's really making a new go of it?"
"Yep. Vivian Mills is her real name. Says she's got a financial backer who's gonna help her become the biggest and most successful thief on the East Coast."
"You have any idea what she's going to target first?"
Pedro grinned, showing teeth yellowed from tobacco. "My friend, he works for her. He says she's going to steal something so powerful it'll make governments tremble."
"That's a little vague. Do you have a name for this thing?" she asked, wondering if he was fishing for more money.
"Si, senorita... but if I tell you its name, you'll think I am joking."
"Tell me," she urged.
"It is the Brass Frog of King Solomon."
Marcy blinked. "King Solomon's... Frog?" Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the table and stood up. "Thanks, Pedro. This has been.... really interesting. I really need to go."
"But, senorita--"
Marcy ignored him, hurrying outside. She felt foolish and angry, having wasted her time and money. She'd never be the equal of Ben Urich, she thought despairingly....
# # # # #
Hellspawn opened his eyes, experiencing a fresh wave of nausea-inducing pain. He was no longer in the occult nightclub where Calypso had ambushed him, having been transported to a dank subterranean lair where bugs and rats scurried about freely. His limbs were bound spread-eagled on the floor, a headless chicken lying across his chest. He was in full demonic form, all semblance of "Mike Murdock" having been ripped away. A thickly muscled tail flicked back and forth beneath him and his horns scraped against the floor as he writhed about.
The darkly beautiful voodoo priestess suddenly appeared in his line of vision, her lithe form covered only by a bloodied leopard skin top and loin cloth. She crouched over Hellspawn's chest, grinning. "You're woken up. Good!"
"I'm going to kill you," Hellspawn hissed, snapping at the air with his teeth.
"So you keep saying," she responded, caressing his red-tinted flesh. "I'm impressed you were able to break free from my spell... to a point. But now's the time to admit that you're not the weapon I thought you'd be. Now's the time to shake up the plan."
Hellspawn narrowed his eyes as Calypso reached into a pouch lying on the floor and retrieved a small worm of some sort, fat-bodied and milky white. It wiggled wetly in her grasp. "What are you doing?" he asked, fear racing through him. He had grown to treasure the life he'd built as Mike Murdock... it was the unreasoning fear of losing it that had driven him to pursue Calypso. He'd wanted to make sure she could never pull the rug out from under him.
Calypso pried Hellspawn's lips open, holding his head still by locking her knees around his jaws. "Just making sure that when the time comes, I can truly count on you."
The worm pushed down past the demon's tongue, wiggling its way down his throat. Hellspawn retched but found himself unable to push the beast back out.
Calypso leaned close, breathing out a small mixture of drugs from under her tongue. "Breathe deep, my little toy. Breathe deep.... and dream."
# # # # #
"So, seriously... have you ever considered joining up?" Hawkeye stood outside Hank Pym's lab at the Avengers' compound, sharing a cup of coffee with the Man Without Fear. Clint knew Matt well enough to know that the red-garbed vigilante was unusually tense -- even for him -- and had decided to try and lighten the tension a bit.
Daredevil barely heard the question, focusing on the actions going on in the next room. Hank Pym was studying Vanessa's condition, the man's heart rate indicating that he didn't really like what he was finding.
"Earth to Hornhead," Clint said with a laugh.
"Sorry. My mind was wandering," Matt said, turning to face the archer. "What were you saying?"
"I was just offering you a space on the team if you're ever in the mood. You're moving back to San Fran, right?"
Matt smiled a bit, sensing what Hawkeye was up to. The two men had not always seen eye-to-eye, given their shared pasts with the Black Widow, but he knew that Clint was a good man at heart. The question itself surprised Matt, though... not in the context of joining the Avengers, which had been broached before, but in terms of leaving Hell's Kitchen behind and returning to a place that had once been home. "You know," he admitted, "if you had asked me about returning here a year or two ago, I might have said no right away. But now... things are being taken care of back in Hell's Kitchen by a friend of mine. And I might need to start fresh."
"In other words, you haven't decided yet."
Daredevil nodded, looking back towards the door as Hank Pym stepped through. The Avenger wore a long white lab coat, his blond hair looking tousled. "She's got a really interesting physiology, DD."
"Is she going to live?" Matt asked, cutting to the chase.
"Yes, but I'm not sure what kind of condition she's going to be in for awhile. Death-Stalker's touch aged her internal organs considerably. She's breathing on a respirator right now... and I'm going to have to call in some medical expertise here."
Matt clinched a fist, straining to hear her breathing. It was regular in a way that only a mechanized manner could be. "Damn him," he whispered.
"She's a good friend of yours?" Clint asked.
"No," Matt said, feeling confused again. "Not... really. It's complicated." Daredevil set down his coffee. "Death-Stalker's powers were given to him by a machine called a time displacer ray. I'm pretty sure the Avengers have details on it in their files. The energy signatures given off by the machine have to be pretty unique. Do you think you could--?"
"Already on it," Iron Man answered, stepping around the corner. The armored Avenger cast a glance at the laboratory before speaking. "Hank called me and filled me on the details."
"I kind of figured you'd want to find this guy," Hank admitted.
A soft pinging from Iron Man's helmet led Tony Stark to put a finger to the side of his head. "Thanks, Jocasta," he said, referring to the robotic 'helper' who assisted him on missions. "I've got a lock. You want some back-up on this? We can mobilize the team and--"
"Thanks, but no. Can Vanessa stay here until I come back?"
"Of course," Hawkeye answered. "And take this... just in case."
Daredevil accepted a hand-held Avengers communicator. Maybe, he thought to himself, there would be some benefits to joining a team. Being a solo player hasn't gotten me very far, really... and I need some friends right now.
Badly.
# # # # #
Mike Murdock sat up in his own bed, head pounding as if from a night's overindulgence. He saw a pretty little blonde was asleep beside him and he smiled as memories began to come into focus: he'd gone in pursuit of Calypso but had found evidence of her death. Satisfied that the danger was past, he'd gone out to celebrate... and run into the saucy little number now in his bed.
Smiling, he put an arm around her and nestled closer, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her.
The horrors of the past were gone. A new day had dawned for the demon formerly known as Hellspawn.
He was Mike Murdock and he was free.
# # # # #
Daredevil crept along the building's ledge like a trained tightrope walker, his incredible grace belying the power of his limbs. Nagaharu was inside the apartment, pacing back and forth, making furtive whispers. He was alone and Matt's keen sense of hearing could make out the words of a madman:
"Philip! Talk to me! I'm the hand of Death! You told me so! Why wasn't I able to kill them? I'm Death incarnate! Chooser of the Slain! I matter to the world!"
Matt stopped next to the closed window, raising his billy club in one hand. He brought it down hard, smashing through the glass and launching himself inside. He landed in a rolling tumble, springing up to face the heir to Death-Stalker name.
Nagaharu spun about, shock registering on his face. He wore his Death-Stalker clothing but had set aside his hat. "How did you--?"
"It helps to have friends," Daredevil answered, throwing his club. It bounced off Nagaharu's skull, sending a spray of blood into the air. Daredevil caught the weapon on its ricochet and pressed the attack, boxing Death-Stalker's ears and then head-butting him in the nose, shattering it.
The Man Without Fear stood over the fallen villain, blood dripping from the club he held in his right hand. "You're wrong about one thing, Nagaharu," he said, using the man's given name. He had researched his foe on the way over, finding that the new Death-Stalker was a man who had drifted through life as a sadistic wanderer, always looking for something that would fill a void within him. "You're not important. You never will be. Men like you are worth less than the dirt on the bottom of my shoe."
Death-Stalker raised a hand, glowing with power. "You can't do this. I'm the living incarnation of Death!"
"You're a sad, pathetic loser." Daredevil hurled the club again, shattering the man's jaw. He reached down and grabbed hold of Death-Stalker's hair, kneeling so that his knee was on the man's chest. He pushed a small square-like device onto the side of Nagaharu's head. "Try and phase away from me now."
Death-Stalker tried to activate his powers but he screamed as a neural-synaptic attack cut through his brain.
"Courtesy of Iron Man," Daredevil murmured. Matt opened up his club and wrapped Nagaharu in his wire rope. "If you really want to know how to become something important... start by looking in the mirror and asking for forgiveness."
Death-Stalker looked away, his eyes growing mad with rage. "You can't do this," he repeated again and again. "I'm Death. Death incarnate....."
# # # # #
Vivian Mills wore the bottom portion of her Orbit costume but her top half was bare as she lounged in bed. Though not as young as she had been when her career as Orbit had first started, she was still remarkably fit and attractive. A computer print out was in her hands now and she read through them with a growing smile. "Nice. I can't believe you got me the full layout for the Goettler Foundation."
The man who lay beside her was much older and far less attractive but he was powerful... and that was more than enough for Orbit. His hair swept upwards from his face, giving him a unique look. As the Owl, he had tormented numerous heroes over the years -- most recently abandoning an attempt to overthrow the Kingpin in favor of a more stealthy approach. "The Foundation is remarkably open about their work," he said. "I put the blame on the good professor. The man's nearly a hundred, I think, and devoted to carrying on the work of his father."
"I never heard of him," Orbit laughed.
"The original Professor Goettler created a heroic android called Dynamic Man in the 1940s. It fought crime here and there for years afterwards."
"You're joking!"
"I'm quite serious*," he replied, taking an opportunity to caress her breasts. She playfully batted his hand away once but allowed him to take liberties when he persisted.
(*He is, indeed, serious! Dynamic Man debuted in Mystic Comics # 1, 1940.)
"And they have the Frogs? You're certain?"
"Positive. My source tells me they're located in the R&D lab, third floor."
"I can't wait," she whispered. "I can be a Queen. Have my own country to play with."
"We'll be able to do far more than that," the Owl said, sitting up in bed. His injured legs were encased in their metal braces and they clanked together when he moved. "We'll be able to have the entire world to play with."
TO BE CONTINUED
NEXT ISSUE: "The Devil's Playground" continues! Daredevil ponders his future while Mike Murdock takes on the case of a lifetime: the Red Skull vs. the U.S. government! Plus: Orbit and the Owl make their play for King Solomon's Frogs.
Author's Notes
The letters and message boards are buzzing: will DD stay on the West Coast? Should he? How essential is Hell's Kitchen to the modern version of Daredevil?
My personal take is that Hell's Kitchen setting was essential to the Frank Miller vision and there's been a lot of great stories set there... maybe too many. If we want to do something a bit different, maybe it's time for a change.
This story arc will spiral off in some odd directions before it concludes... when it's over, I hope I'll have done something interesting with the Matt/Vanessa "relationship", re-established the Owl as one of DD's premier villains and moved the Hellspawn storyline to its natural solution.
With me luck!
Daredevil could sense only a disturbing calmness from the new Death-Stalker. The killer was floating through the darkened bedroom that belonged to Copycat, one hand outstretched. The power the villain wielded caused his hand to glow with a yellow fire and Daredevil's radar sense detected the subtle swiping motion that the Death-Stalker made in the air.
"Step aside," Death-Stalker said, his English heavily accented. "My problem lies with the woman behind you."
Daredevil heard a slight skip in the man's heartrate as he spoke and he recognized the reason: Death-Stalker was lying. He has some reason to hate me, Matt thought. Maybe he is in communication with the original?
"Don't throw your life away," Daredevil said, preparing himself for combat. "Your predecessor ended up dead because he thought his powers gave him the right to play executioner. I'd hate to see you make the same mistake."
"There's no mistake!" the villain screeched, his voice and mannerisms making Matt wonder about his sanity. "I was chosen from beyond! I am death incarnate! And the bitch must die!"
"Watch your mouth, freak!" Copycat reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. The bullet whistled past Matt's head, striking Death-Stalker in the left shoulder. The man staggered back, obviously not used to such pain.
Matt moved forward, driving a knee into the villain's midsection. "Vanessa! Go get some clothes on and get to safety!"
Copycat looked down at herself and shrugged. She didn't mind if Death-Stalker got some sort of thrill off her and Matt was blind so she looked the same to his radar sense dressed or naked, right? She wasn't positive about the latter but given the fact she'd slept with him for weeks while pretending to be Karen Page, there was no reason for modesty now. Instead, she shifted her form into something a bit more buff and joined Matt in pummeling Death-Stalker.
Nagaharu pulled away from Daredevil, snarling under his breath. It wasn't supposed to have gone like this. Sterling had made it seem like the Death-Stalker was an elemental force, something that men and women could never fully comprehend. But these two were treating him like an ordinary costumed criminal. Lunging for Daredevil, Nagaharu intended to make it clear that he was nothing to be trifled with. He caught hold of the Man Without Fear and unleashed the deadly 'murder touch' that he possessed.
Matt was unable to avoid crying out. He felt his skin constricting all over his body and his heightened senses seemed to go dark for a moment. Visions of the dead seemed to pass through his mind's eye, conjured up in a series of smells, touches and tastes: he remembered the first time he kissed Elektra, the last time he'd held Karen in his arms, the way he and Foggy had gone over the newspaper together at the start of every day. He remembered his father's sweat and the way the scent of it would cling to the man hours after showering.
Matt fell to his knees, gasping for air as the grip on his arm suddenly released. As his radar sense began to slowly return, he made out the forms of Copycat and Death-Stalker, locked in a deadly embrace. The sounds of Vanessa howling like a hellcat made Matt regain his strength faster than he would have otherwise. He gripped his billy club and threw it with unerring accuracy. The hard tip of the club slammed into the side of Death-Stalker's head.
"You'll pay for this," Death-Stalker hissed. Before the still weakened Daredevil could react, the man grabbed Copycat by the throat and squeezed. Just as Daredevil reached him with a mighty lunge, Death-Stalker faded away, returning to the void of limbo.
Matt cursed under his breath, his keen hearing leading him to the quiet form of Vanessa. She lay on her back, one arm thrown over her face. Her heartbeat was erratic and he could sense an elevated body temperature but she was still alive. "Vanessa?" he whispered, kneeling beside her so he could touch her face. She was emaciated, all the moisture having been drained from her.
Boom... boom... boom... went her heart, growing fainter by the second.
"Don't die on me," he whispered, surprised at how strongly he felt about saving her. He told himself that it had nothing to do with the time they'd spent together, during her deceptive period as Karen Page... but the truth of the matter was, that did play a part. He'd shared his life with this woman and while he would have tried his best to save the life of anyone, even a stranger, the effort took on extra importance because of his feelings for Vanessa. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Then he picked up the phone from the nightstand and began to dial a number that was unlisted but that was in Matt's rolodex back at the office.
After a moment, the man known as Hawkeye answered. "Avengers West Compound. What can I do for you?"
Daredevil took a deep, steadying breath. "Clint. I need help."
# # # # #
Hell's Kitchen, McDuffin's Tavern
Marcy Bradley felt very uncomfortable. She was an attractive young woman with red hair and freckles to die for, which meant that she stood out like a sore thumb in this seedy little dive. The only other women in the establishment were obviously prostitutes and several of the men eyed Marcy in the hopes that she, too, could be bought for a price. Her modest attire -- a dark sweater and jeans, with a jacket on over the top -- did little to stifle their hungry eyes.
In the two years since she'd joined the staff of the Daily Bugle, she'd been routinely beaten out for the best crime assignments by Ben Urich and other veterans like him. It had finally gotten to the point where she'd begun hanging out with some dangerous types in hopes of getting a lead. And, finally, it seemed to be paying off.
"Hey, little girl," a man rumbled, taking a seat across from her in the booth. He was huge, standing well over six feet tall, with a thick moustache and Hispanic features. He smelled like stale beer and piss. "Surprised you actually showed up. Figured you'd get one look at this joint and turn tail."
"I'm one tough cookie," she said, feeling anything but.
"Bet you are," he laughed. Pedro was a runner, formerly in the employ of Wilson Fisk. As of late, he'd been doing some work for the Rose but was mostly retired to help take care of his dying father. It was actually kind of touching, Marcy had thought.
"So... do you have something for me?" she asked, wincing inwardly at the question. She hoped he wouldn't make some sort of sexual response as she just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
To her relief, Pedro leaned forward and pushed a sheet of loose-leaf paper towards her. Marcy could see a photograph taped to the other side of the paper and she flipped it over, reading the words scrawled around the image. The photo showed a fit young woman with blue-tinted hair and a costume of black and white. "She's been hiring guys to serve as muscle for about a month now. She's gonna make her move soon."
Marcy smiled, remembering when she'd last seen this woman. It had been years ago, when the group known as the Spacemen had debuted to a ticker-tape parade. They'd claimed to be a group of ex-astronauts who had deliberately exposed themselves to an alien rock in order to gain superpowers. The girl had called herself Orbit, while her teammates had been Gantry, Satellite and Vacuum. Marcy had been in the crowd, cheering her head off. Something about the Spacemen had really turned her crank and she loved them. But when Spider-Man revealed the truth about them, she'd been crushed as only star struck teenaged girls could be: the Spacemen were really thieves and con artists. Lengthy prison sentences had ensued. "Orbit's really making a new go of it?"
"Yep. Vivian Mills is her real name. Says she's got a financial backer who's gonna help her become the biggest and most successful thief on the East Coast."
"You have any idea what she's going to target first?"
Pedro grinned, showing teeth yellowed from tobacco. "My friend, he works for her. He says she's going to steal something so powerful it'll make governments tremble."
"That's a little vague. Do you have a name for this thing?" she asked, wondering if he was fishing for more money.
"Si, senorita... but if I tell you its name, you'll think I am joking."
"Tell me," she urged.
"It is the Brass Frog of King Solomon."
Marcy blinked. "King Solomon's... Frog?" Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the table and stood up. "Thanks, Pedro. This has been.... really interesting. I really need to go."
"But, senorita--"
Marcy ignored him, hurrying outside. She felt foolish and angry, having wasted her time and money. She'd never be the equal of Ben Urich, she thought despairingly....
# # # # #
Hellspawn opened his eyes, experiencing a fresh wave of nausea-inducing pain. He was no longer in the occult nightclub where Calypso had ambushed him, having been transported to a dank subterranean lair where bugs and rats scurried about freely. His limbs were bound spread-eagled on the floor, a headless chicken lying across his chest. He was in full demonic form, all semblance of "Mike Murdock" having been ripped away. A thickly muscled tail flicked back and forth beneath him and his horns scraped against the floor as he writhed about.
The darkly beautiful voodoo priestess suddenly appeared in his line of vision, her lithe form covered only by a bloodied leopard skin top and loin cloth. She crouched over Hellspawn's chest, grinning. "You're woken up. Good!"
"I'm going to kill you," Hellspawn hissed, snapping at the air with his teeth.
"So you keep saying," she responded, caressing his red-tinted flesh. "I'm impressed you were able to break free from my spell... to a point. But now's the time to admit that you're not the weapon I thought you'd be. Now's the time to shake up the plan."
Hellspawn narrowed his eyes as Calypso reached into a pouch lying on the floor and retrieved a small worm of some sort, fat-bodied and milky white. It wiggled wetly in her grasp. "What are you doing?" he asked, fear racing through him. He had grown to treasure the life he'd built as Mike Murdock... it was the unreasoning fear of losing it that had driven him to pursue Calypso. He'd wanted to make sure she could never pull the rug out from under him.
Calypso pried Hellspawn's lips open, holding his head still by locking her knees around his jaws. "Just making sure that when the time comes, I can truly count on you."
The worm pushed down past the demon's tongue, wiggling its way down his throat. Hellspawn retched but found himself unable to push the beast back out.
Calypso leaned close, breathing out a small mixture of drugs from under her tongue. "Breathe deep, my little toy. Breathe deep.... and dream."
# # # # #
"So, seriously... have you ever considered joining up?" Hawkeye stood outside Hank Pym's lab at the Avengers' compound, sharing a cup of coffee with the Man Without Fear. Clint knew Matt well enough to know that the red-garbed vigilante was unusually tense -- even for him -- and had decided to try and lighten the tension a bit.
Daredevil barely heard the question, focusing on the actions going on in the next room. Hank Pym was studying Vanessa's condition, the man's heart rate indicating that he didn't really like what he was finding.
"Earth to Hornhead," Clint said with a laugh.
"Sorry. My mind was wandering," Matt said, turning to face the archer. "What were you saying?"
"I was just offering you a space on the team if you're ever in the mood. You're moving back to San Fran, right?"
Matt smiled a bit, sensing what Hawkeye was up to. The two men had not always seen eye-to-eye, given their shared pasts with the Black Widow, but he knew that Clint was a good man at heart. The question itself surprised Matt, though... not in the context of joining the Avengers, which had been broached before, but in terms of leaving Hell's Kitchen behind and returning to a place that had once been home. "You know," he admitted, "if you had asked me about returning here a year or two ago, I might have said no right away. But now... things are being taken care of back in Hell's Kitchen by a friend of mine. And I might need to start fresh."
"In other words, you haven't decided yet."
Daredevil nodded, looking back towards the door as Hank Pym stepped through. The Avenger wore a long white lab coat, his blond hair looking tousled. "She's got a really interesting physiology, DD."
"Is she going to live?" Matt asked, cutting to the chase.
"Yes, but I'm not sure what kind of condition she's going to be in for awhile. Death-Stalker's touch aged her internal organs considerably. She's breathing on a respirator right now... and I'm going to have to call in some medical expertise here."
Matt clinched a fist, straining to hear her breathing. It was regular in a way that only a mechanized manner could be. "Damn him," he whispered.
"She's a good friend of yours?" Clint asked.
"No," Matt said, feeling confused again. "Not... really. It's complicated." Daredevil set down his coffee. "Death-Stalker's powers were given to him by a machine called a time displacer ray. I'm pretty sure the Avengers have details on it in their files. The energy signatures given off by the machine have to be pretty unique. Do you think you could--?"
"Already on it," Iron Man answered, stepping around the corner. The armored Avenger cast a glance at the laboratory before speaking. "Hank called me and filled me on the details."
"I kind of figured you'd want to find this guy," Hank admitted.
A soft pinging from Iron Man's helmet led Tony Stark to put a finger to the side of his head. "Thanks, Jocasta," he said, referring to the robotic 'helper' who assisted him on missions. "I've got a lock. You want some back-up on this? We can mobilize the team and--"
"Thanks, but no. Can Vanessa stay here until I come back?"
"Of course," Hawkeye answered. "And take this... just in case."
Daredevil accepted a hand-held Avengers communicator. Maybe, he thought to himself, there would be some benefits to joining a team. Being a solo player hasn't gotten me very far, really... and I need some friends right now.
Badly.
# # # # #
Mike Murdock sat up in his own bed, head pounding as if from a night's overindulgence. He saw a pretty little blonde was asleep beside him and he smiled as memories began to come into focus: he'd gone in pursuit of Calypso but had found evidence of her death. Satisfied that the danger was past, he'd gone out to celebrate... and run into the saucy little number now in his bed.
Smiling, he put an arm around her and nestled closer, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her.
The horrors of the past were gone. A new day had dawned for the demon formerly known as Hellspawn.
He was Mike Murdock and he was free.
# # # # #
Daredevil crept along the building's ledge like a trained tightrope walker, his incredible grace belying the power of his limbs. Nagaharu was inside the apartment, pacing back and forth, making furtive whispers. He was alone and Matt's keen sense of hearing could make out the words of a madman:
"Philip! Talk to me! I'm the hand of Death! You told me so! Why wasn't I able to kill them? I'm Death incarnate! Chooser of the Slain! I matter to the world!"
Matt stopped next to the closed window, raising his billy club in one hand. He brought it down hard, smashing through the glass and launching himself inside. He landed in a rolling tumble, springing up to face the heir to Death-Stalker name.
Nagaharu spun about, shock registering on his face. He wore his Death-Stalker clothing but had set aside his hat. "How did you--?"
"It helps to have friends," Daredevil answered, throwing his club. It bounced off Nagaharu's skull, sending a spray of blood into the air. Daredevil caught the weapon on its ricochet and pressed the attack, boxing Death-Stalker's ears and then head-butting him in the nose, shattering it.
The Man Without Fear stood over the fallen villain, blood dripping from the club he held in his right hand. "You're wrong about one thing, Nagaharu," he said, using the man's given name. He had researched his foe on the way over, finding that the new Death-Stalker was a man who had drifted through life as a sadistic wanderer, always looking for something that would fill a void within him. "You're not important. You never will be. Men like you are worth less than the dirt on the bottom of my shoe."
Death-Stalker raised a hand, glowing with power. "You can't do this. I'm the living incarnation of Death!"
"You're a sad, pathetic loser." Daredevil hurled the club again, shattering the man's jaw. He reached down and grabbed hold of Death-Stalker's hair, kneeling so that his knee was on the man's chest. He pushed a small square-like device onto the side of Nagaharu's head. "Try and phase away from me now."
Death-Stalker tried to activate his powers but he screamed as a neural-synaptic attack cut through his brain.
"Courtesy of Iron Man," Daredevil murmured. Matt opened up his club and wrapped Nagaharu in his wire rope. "If you really want to know how to become something important... start by looking in the mirror and asking for forgiveness."
Death-Stalker looked away, his eyes growing mad with rage. "You can't do this," he repeated again and again. "I'm Death. Death incarnate....."
# # # # #
Vivian Mills wore the bottom portion of her Orbit costume but her top half was bare as she lounged in bed. Though not as young as she had been when her career as Orbit had first started, she was still remarkably fit and attractive. A computer print out was in her hands now and she read through them with a growing smile. "Nice. I can't believe you got me the full layout for the Goettler Foundation."
The man who lay beside her was much older and far less attractive but he was powerful... and that was more than enough for Orbit. His hair swept upwards from his face, giving him a unique look. As the Owl, he had tormented numerous heroes over the years -- most recently abandoning an attempt to overthrow the Kingpin in favor of a more stealthy approach. "The Foundation is remarkably open about their work," he said. "I put the blame on the good professor. The man's nearly a hundred, I think, and devoted to carrying on the work of his father."
"I never heard of him," Orbit laughed.
"The original Professor Goettler created a heroic android called Dynamic Man in the 1940s. It fought crime here and there for years afterwards."
"You're joking!"
"I'm quite serious*," he replied, taking an opportunity to caress her breasts. She playfully batted his hand away once but allowed him to take liberties when he persisted.
(*He is, indeed, serious! Dynamic Man debuted in Mystic Comics # 1, 1940.)
"And they have the Frogs? You're certain?"
"Positive. My source tells me they're located in the R&D lab, third floor."
"I can't wait," she whispered. "I can be a Queen. Have my own country to play with."
"We'll be able to do far more than that," the Owl said, sitting up in bed. His injured legs were encased in their metal braces and they clanked together when he moved. "We'll be able to have the entire world to play with."
TO BE CONTINUED
NEXT ISSUE: "The Devil's Playground" continues! Daredevil ponders his future while Mike Murdock takes on the case of a lifetime: the Red Skull vs. the U.S. government! Plus: Orbit and the Owl make their play for King Solomon's Frogs.
Author's Notes
The letters and message boards are buzzing: will DD stay on the West Coast? Should he? How essential is Hell's Kitchen to the modern version of Daredevil?
My personal take is that Hell's Kitchen setting was essential to the Frank Miller vision and there's been a lot of great stories set there... maybe too many. If we want to do something a bit different, maybe it's time for a change.
This story arc will spiral off in some odd directions before it concludes... when it's over, I hope I'll have done something interesting with the Matt/Vanessa "relationship", re-established the Owl as one of DD's premier villains and moved the Hellspawn storyline to its natural solution.
With me luck!