Chapter 9: Crime Fighters

Right now, I’m walking through pitch darkness, relying only on my white cane.

But that’s not quite true.

Outside, it should still be bright. It’s probably around evening, with the sun still glowing red in the sky.
I’m not in darkness because it’s night—nothing is visible because I can’t see.

And it’s not just the cane I’m relying on.

My senses of smell, hearing, and touch are highly developed... I can sense the position of objects clearly through the reflection of sound, almost like a bat.

My name is Matt.
Matthew Michael Murdock.

I’m a lawyer in Hell’s Kitchen.

I wear sunglasses over my eyes—but it’s not to hide the fact that I’m blind. It’s to keep others from feeling uncomfortable when they talk to me.
So even if I can’t see, these sunglasses aren’t meaningless.

I open the door and step into my law office.

This is “Nelson & Murdock.”

A joint practice I run with my best friend and partner, Foggy Nelson.

It’s also my workplace.

I walk smoothly to my seat, as if I could see, and sit down.

...Here, there’s no need to pretend for anyone else.

Truthfully, with my radar sense alone, I don’t even need the white cane.
Like this—I may not be able to see, but I can perceive more than most ever will.

...Someone’s here.

In the next room.
No, not hiding—just standing there, completely unguarded.

But it’s not Foggy. And it definitely isn’t Karen.
If it were either of them, they would’ve greeted me the moment I walked in.

Besides, today’s a holiday.
I only came here on a personal whim.

Which means...

“Who’s there?”

I call out.

My hand moves to the cane.

This cane isn’t just a prop to play the part of the blind man.

It can be a weapon.

I sensed the figure shift in response to my voice.

“Yo.”

A man’s voice.

And one I recognized.
Someone who shouldn’t be here.

“Frank?”

“Call me Punisher.”

He chuckled softly as he stepped in front of me.

Frank Castle.
Better known as the Punisher.

A man who went on a killing spree of criminals and was supposed to have been arrested.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I figured I’d share a little info with you. You should be thanking me.”

“Info? What could a criminal possibly have to offer a lawyer?”

I was familiar with this man.

We’d even fought side-by-side a few times.

But not as Matt.

I was...

“This is for Daredevil.”

“I see.”

He tossed a stack of papers in front of me.

“...Ah, right. Forgot—you can’t see. I’ll read it for you.”

Was that sarcasm?
Mockery? A jab?

Or maybe he just genuinely forgot I was blind.

“Ever heard of someone called ‘Redcap’?”

“Yeah... I’ve fought him more than once.”

Redcap.

My nemesis... one of Fisk’s men.

A soldier in a black suit and a red mask.

He’s the one who’s repeatedly eliminated the members I tracked down—the ones who held crucial leads to Fisk’s corruption.

We’ve fought multiple times... and every single time, I lost.

“He’s the one whose house I blew up.”

“…What?”

I couldn’t help but let out a stunned voice—but you can’t blame me for that.

Blew it up?

Wait, did he know where Redcap lived? Did he know his identity?

“To be precise, it was a base. His hideout in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Wait... are you saying that explosion the other day—that was you?”

“Yeah.”

He confirmed it without a hint of remorse.

Is he insane?

The words almost slipped from my mouth.

“Then... did you find out who he is?”

“No. Only bits and pieces. I broke in while he was out, but… I never saw his face. Not under the suit.”

“…Then why the hell did you blow it up before finding out?”

“Doesn’t matter who he is. Once he’s dead, he’s dead. Who cares about the name on the corpse?”

I frowned.

“But still—”

“Yeah, I didn’t kill him. That’s on me. Call it negligence, if you want. But I didn’t think he’d survive a close-range blast of C-4. I’ve never met a freak who could.”

I nodded.

Redcap was definitely beyond human.

I’ve seen it—kicking off walls to fly through the air, throwing dumpsters that must weigh hundreds of kilos. I’ve fought that.

If even military-grade plastic explosives couldn’t kill him, I had nothing to say.

“So? You said you had a lead on his identity?”

“Yeah. This kind of thing’s more your style. I’m good at tracking and killing, but digging and guessing? Not my thing. I got Redcap’s base info by torturing one of Fisk’s guys.”

Frank held up a photo.

“There were women’s clothes in the room. Not some cross-dressing kink or anything—unless it was, the bastard’s a woman. And height…”

“Around 160 centimeters…”

“Exactly. You’d know just from fighting, right?”

And then it hit me.

“…A kid? A girl?”

“Yep. A young one. The kind of underwear in that room? No old hag would wear that—it was all trendy teen girl stuff.”

“That’s insane!”

I slammed the desk.

Redcap—someone I’d fought over and over.
And every single time, witnesses had been killed.

And now you’re telling me… Redcap is a girl? A young girl?

“That's absurd.”

“But it's the truth.”

Frank picked up something that looked like a thick notebook.

“…What’s that?”

“A fanbook.”

“A fanbook?”

“Homemade. I’m guessing Redcap put it together.”

I could hear the sound of pages being flipped.

“It’s a scrapbook—clippings about certain incidents, magazine articles, all tied to one particular guy. Looks like Redcap’s got a thing for him.”

“…What’s the guy’s name?”

With a thunk, Frank closed the notebook.

“…Spider-Man.”

I swallowed hard.

I knew about Spider-Man.

He’s a hero like me, patrolling the streets outside the law.

But he’s in a different league—he’s fought aliens, mysterious robot armies… more of a full-blown superhero.

“Why would Redcap have a whole book collecting info on Spider-Man? Don’t tell me—”

“That’s right.”

Before I could even say it aloud, Frank confirmed what I was thinking.

“She’s going to try and kill him. That’s why she’s collecting intel.”

At Frank’s words, I nodded.

---

“Achoo.”

I sneezed—probably because this room is so dusty.

It’s been about two weeks since I found out who blew up my hideout in Hell’s Kitchen.

Go to school every day, grab dinner with Peter a few times a week, hit the café with Gwen… and when I ate two slices of cake, she looked at me like I was a monster.

Life was good. Full, even… but.

Right now, in front of me was a full-face red mask.
And a black power suit.

Yes—just like Tinkerer promised, the suit fitting was complete.
My suit was finally back. Stronger. Newer.

This place is underground, in Queens, New York.
It’s my base for work—separate from home.

I hung up the clothes I was wearing and slipped into the black suit.

Pulled on the red mask and ran a few function tests.

The suit’s armor deployed section by section, glowing softly.
A navigation voice chimed through the mask’s system, and it powered on.

“Hm.”

I confirmed that the voice modulation was working—just like with the previous suit.

A mechanical tone, stripped of emotion.
Impossible to tell if it belonged to a man or a woman.

I clenched my hands a few times, checking the suit’s responsiveness.

It was surprisingly light.
No restrictions on my movement whatsoever.

Like going through the motions of a warm-up routine, I tested my body’s range—then left the base.

…The mission starts in an hour.

…But this is more like a test run.
The targets are just a gang—nothing special.

A gang that refused to submit to Fisk’s organization.
This is a message. I’m to wipe them out—completely.

Same as always.

Still, maybe it’s because it’s been a while… but I feel uneasy.

Peter. Gwen. Ned.
Their faces flashed through my mind.

What am I even doing?

I placed a hand over my left breast.

The bomb implanted by the organization…
From above the suit, there’s no way to tell it’s even there.

I stepped into the tunnel that stretched deeper underground.

Following the faint lights, I simply… walked forward.