Post by HoM on May 11, 2019 17:31:27 GMT -5
Attorney-at-law Matt Murdock is blind, but his four remaining senses have been heightened and function with superhuman sharpness. Possessing a built-in “radar sense” and incredible fighting skills, Matt protects Hell’s Kitchen as the crimson clad hero known as Daredevil!
Matt Murdock and his law partner Foggy Nelson have hired Karen Page, a beautiful new receptionist, to take care of their law offices. Foggy is obviously attracted to Karen, much to the amusement of Matt.
Reporter Ben Urich goes to investigate a mysterious “devil-man” that had been appearing in Hell’s Kitchen and fighting crime on the streets. Urich encounters the costumed vigilante, who calls himself Daredevil, and makes a loose verbal pact to exchange information with the scarlet crimebuster. Urich has his story, and the residents of Hell’s Kitchen learn they have their own nighttime protector…
Daredevil, The Man Without Fear!
Issue 2: "The Russian Connection, Part 1"
Written by Aaron Martel
Cover by Trevor Yarmovich
Edited by Viktor
My name is Matthew Murdock, and I’m also Daredevil, a superhero dressed in a red devil costume.
Why adopt the image of the devil?
In my everyday life I’m a lawyer, so you could say with relative certainty that I love the law. And I do, I really do. I hold the laws of the land in the utmost esteem and I believe that the system of justice in the United States works fairly well most of the time. Most, but not all, of the time. In my line of work I’ve also “seen” far too many cases of injustice served on the unforgiving streets with no one standing up for the innocents crushed under the heels of oppression and intimidation.
True justice is blind, so I decided to do something about it.
In some belief systems, the wicked and corrupt meet their terrible fates in hell in the hands of the devil. I determined that I would play upon this instinctive, primal fear of facing eternal punishment for sinful deeds. I would take one of the most recognized symbols of evil and turn it around in the face of evil itself. Besides, I always thought the devil was frightening to begin with, but that might be due to my Catholic upbringing…
Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson sat at a large table across from their client, who was nervously smoking a cigarette and glancing around the sterile, gray-painted room. The client’s name was Vadim Gorsky, and he had been arrested for the murder of one Bela Osipov, a fellow Russian who had lived in a small apartment down in Hell’s Kitchen.
“So,” Matt began, lacing his fingers and getting down to business, “Did you murder Mr. Osipov?”
“Nyet,” Gorsky said, glancing around, his cigarette shaking. “I did kill him, but is not murder.”
“Would you please explain?” Foggy asked sympathetically, his brow furrowed.
“I go to his place, he…owe me money. He let me in, and I wait for him to bring my money. He say he no have it, and I tell him he need to pay, then he show me gun.”
Matt said, “There was a struggle?”
Gorsky nodded. “And gun goes off. Bela fall. Then police come. They arrest me. I don’t know how they get there so fast.”
Both Matt and Foggy knew Osipov’s nosy neighbor had called in the disturbance, and an NYPD unit was near the scene at the time. “So you’re saying it was an act of self-defense?” Matt probed.
“Yes! Yes! Self-defense! He try to kill me!” Gorsky exclaimed, having found the right words.
Matt had been listening to the Russian man’s words intently, reaching out with his incredible senses, paying attention to Gorsky’s heartbeat and pulse rate. He also sensed Foggy’s uncomfortable shift in the seat next to his; Matt’s partner was having his doubts with Gorsky’s story. But Matt had all he needed.
“Mr. Gorsky, I believe you,” Matt said. “Mr. Nelson and I will see that you receive the best possible defense, and we’ll do our best to bring you the justice you deserve.”
“Matt, are you sure about this?” Foggy asked dubiously.
The two lawyers were walking down the precinct steps, Matt’s red walking cane tapping out in front of him. It was a typical bustling New York City day, and no one paid much attention to the portly man with the comical bow tie standing next to the blind man with the red-tinted shades.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” Matt said.
“You do know Gorsky is reputed to have ties to the Russian mob,” Foggy said. “What if it was a drug deal gone bad?”
“What if it was?” Matt replied. “That doesn’t make him a murderer. Just because he’s probably a gangster doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be defended.”
“I know, but…this is our first murder case. There might even be some media attention with this one.”
“Attention we can certainly use,” Matt said. “Trust me, we can win this. Why don’t you head back to the office and you and Karen get started on research while I do a little investigating on my own?” Matt knew this would hook him; Foggy had a serious crush on Karen Page, their new secretary.
Foggy immediately brightened. “Yeah! Karen can definitely assist me with this. You’re right, buddy. You’re better at reading people than me. Let’s get ‘em!”
Matt thought: if you only knew how good I am at reading people, as Foggy quickly stepped down the street, whistling to himself. Matt smiled inwardly at his friend’s goofy mannerisms, and then turned to walk off in the opposite direction, a plan of action forming in his mind.
Ben Urich, investigative reporter for the Daily Bugle, took a final drag on a cigarette and shuffled his feet impatiently while checking his watch. He had been waiting for his contact roughly thirty minutes, and he was ready to give up and go home for the night. He tossed his cigarette, pulled his overcoat closed and prepared to leave-
“You made it,” came the low, whispery growl.
Urich looked up and saw the crimson figure of Daredevil perched on the fire escape above the journalist’s head. Urich had to stop himself from shuddering, since the vigilante’s appearance had startled him and Urich wanted to maintain his reputation as a tough-as-nails reporter. With a graceful ease, Daredevil leaped from the fire escape, somersaulted once in the air and landed directly in front of the thin, slovenly Urich.
“You’re late,” Urich said.
Daredevil smirked. “What can you tell me about the Gorsky murder case?”
Urich paused. This was their second meeting, and Urich still couldn’t shake the feeling that the red garbed crimefighter wasn’t really making eye contact with him. “I looked into it. What, you gonna hit the Russian mob?”
“What do you know about them?”
“They’re a pretty small operation,” Urich said. “But they’re growing fast. They mostly deal in drugs and prostitution. So far they’ve been under the Kingpin’s radar, but someday soon that might change.”
“Gorsky a member of the mob?” Daredevil asked, referring to the man accused of killing Bela Osipov, and who was also Matt Murdock’s client.
Urich nodded. “Oh yeah. Low-level legbreaker. Don’t know what he was doing at Osipov’s apartment that night. Besides the fact that he was also Russian, the deceased wasn’t known to be connected to the mob.”
“What did he do?”
“Osipov? Computer programmer. Worked freelance out of his apartment. Been in the States four years, became a citizen, no criminal record,” Urich said.
“So it wasn’t a mob hit?” Daredevil asked.
“Sure seems like it was,” Urich replied. I can’t imagine it being anything else. No drugs were found in the apartment though, so it might be something the cops are missing.”
“Who runs the Russian mob?”
“Older guy they call ‘Big Leo’,” Urich said with a knowing smile. “Boss of the New York Russians. Operates over on 42nd out of a basement porno shop. Never met him, but I hear he watches The Godfather too much. Acts like Brando and everything.”
“Okay. Thanks, Urich.” Daredevil reached for his billy club and pointed it up.
“Hey man,” Urich yelled. “Watch out for these guys. They’re crude and they’re vicious.”
Without replying, Daredevil pressed a hidden button on his club and a cable shot out of the end, entangling in the fire escape two stories above him. With amazing strength and dexterity, the costumed man quickly pulled himself up the cable to the fire escape, and then swiftly swung on the escape’s iron bars up to the top of the building, as the billy club rapidly retracted the cable.
Goddamn, Urich thought. He then remembered something. “Hey! Did you like the article?” Urich had written the story revealing Daredevil’s presence in Hell’s Kitchen, along with the first interview they had done together. But DD was long gone by then.
@#$%, I forgot my camera again, Urich thought.
There was no sign indicating the pornography shop existed; in fact, the shop didn’t even have a name. It was located at the bottom of a flight of stairs and through an ordinary, unmarked door. Inside, a bored man of obvious Eastern European descent sat behind the counter while a few customers of various ages and genders milled about the shop, browsing at movies and various toys designed for sexual activity. When the door banged open, at first no one expressed any interest in the new arrival, but that quickly changed when the red garbed form of Daredevil passed through the doorway and into the shop.
DD stood still and reached out with his senses. He heard excited, fearful whispering and chattering among the customers, and he could smell the rising anxiety in the shop attendant’s sweat. There were also the strong odors of plastic and cardboard customary in an establishment of this sort, and before heading for the counter Daredevil overheard a young woman murmur to her male partner: hey, you think you could get a costume like that?
The clerk stood up as DD approached the counter, and with a great air of unease the man said, “C-can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Big Leo,” Daredevil said. “I’m told he can be found here.”
“N-no, I don’t know that person,” the clerk stammered, and his head swiveled toward the back of the shop.
DD silently extended out with his radar to the far end of the store and sensed a rear hallway leading to a closed door, and judging from the excited pulse rate of the clerk, the crimson crimefighter knew he had struck a nerve.
Ignoring the fevered objections of the clerk, Daredevil strode to the back hallway.
Leonid Vostok sat in a large room, flanked by three of his personal bodyguards, watching a high definition television set mounted on the wall and lazily smoking a large cigar. Known as “Big Leo” in most criminal circles, he was the overlord of the New York Russian mob, an organization renowned for its brutal, cruel tactics. Big Leo was short, squat and wide, with thin, graying, greased-back hair and a black, pencil-thin mustache. He wore expensive suits to signify his importance, but he didn’t care much about his appearance and seemed rather disheveled most of the time.
Big Leo and his flunkies were watching a rerun of the situation comedy Seinfeld, and though none of them truly understood the show’s humor, they laughed with the laugh track nonetheless. The old boss learned much of what he knew about American culture through TV, and it was important to him to stay up to date with American trends and tastes. He had to, so he could be certain he was providing the right services to the complacent American fools who so greedily consumed the products Big Leo sold to them- mostly drugs and women. It was astounding how much easy money there was to made in this bloated, self-important monstrosity of a country.
Big Leo was startled from his sitcom by loud, sharp pounding on the door leading to the porn shop, causing him to drop his cigar and nearly jump out of his seat. Frowning, the mob boss pointed to the door, and one of his goons wordlessly moved to answer it. The thug opened the door-
And a red-gloved fist flashed through the opening, flattening the surprised goon with tremendous force. The two remaining bodyguards quickly drew their pistols as Daredevil boldly sauntered through the door, moving across the room to stand in front of Big Leo’s desk. DD crossed his arms as Big Leo looked up at him incredulously, the guards aiming their weapons but not firing at the clearly unarmed man.
“What is meaning of this?” Big Leo asked, his face twisting into a disbelieving frown.
“I want information from you,” Daredevil said in his menacing growl.
“You are the ‘devil-man’ from the paper, no?” Big Leo said.
“I’m Daredevil.”
Big Leo settled back in his chair, making a show of trying to relax, resting his chin on the palm of one hand as his fingers rested on his cheek. He puffed his cheeks out and said, ”You come to me for information, yet you show such disrespect to me in front of my men. Why should I not say to shoot you?”
DD didn’t even acknowledge the goons, who were itching to fire on him. “Because you don’t know who knows I’m here, and you don’t want to try to beat a murder rap in this town, in this country.”
The old mob leader was acting calm, but Daredevil could hear his racing pulse and smell the white hot anxiety in his sweat. There was no way the old man could know if DD was working with the police, or worse, the press.
“My men search you,” Big Leo said.
Daredevil raised his arms as the two thugs approached him, and he let one of them pat him down while the other kept his gun trained on the red vigilante. When the goon doing the search reached DD’s billy club holster, with lightning speed Daredevil tightly grabbed the goon’s wrist. The goon tried to pull away but couldn’t, and he looked to Big Leo, who nodded at Daredevil. DD released his grip and the goon walked away, rubbing his sore wrist.
“What do you want?” Big Leo asked, satisfied the scarlet superhero wasn’t wearing a wire.
“Vadim Gorsky killed Bela Osipov,” Daredevil said. “I want to know if it was a Russian mob hit.”
Big Leo chortled. “Russian mob hit? I do not know what you mean.”
“Gorsky is a well known member of your group. I don’t think you ordered Osipov killed, but maybe you have some idea why he was killed,” DD said.
Big Leo stared hard at the crimson figure, trying to size him up and decide exactly what to say. After a tension filled moment, the mob boss said, ”Osipov. Who is Osipov? He is nothing to me. Vadim maybe have his own deal with Osipov, I cannot say. I have no knowledge of this killing. I am businessman. I have no business with Osipov. Vadim make big mistake- he is on his own.”
As big Leo spoke Daredevil listened carefully to the old man’s heartbeat, attempting to detect any slight fluctuations that would indicate the mob boss was lying. When Big Leo finished talking, DD couldn’t suppress a grimace; the old man hadn’t lied about having any knowledge of Bela Osipov’s death.
“All right,” Daredevil said. “I believe you.”
The scarlet clad man turned to leave the back room, heading for the door to the porn shop, stepping over the goon he had knocked out when he first entered the room. Big Leo stood up from behind the desk and called out to him.
“Daredevil!”
DD slowly, confidently, turned back to face the old man.
“Next time, you will not have so easy a time with us, eh? You should, what do you say- watch your back?” Big Leo threatened.
“Yes,” Daredevil hissed, his lips forming a tight grin. “And you should watch yours.”
The apartment was a one room studio, with a tiny connecting bathroom and no kitchen space. There was a full size bed in one corner and a large sofa in the middle of the place, with a metal desk containing an elaborate computer setup in another corner. The apartment was sealed, and had been processed as a crime scene, so no one had entered it for an entire day. Yet the computer tower was turned on and blinking, as a beautiful, lithe woman was hastily typing on the keyboard and gazing absorbedly at the monitor screen.
The woman was of lean yet muscular build, with short, black hair and emerald green eyes that were capable of laser-like focus. She wore a skin-tight, black leather jumpsuit that covered most of her body but did plunge a ways down her chest, with black leather gloves and boots as well. She sported a modified utility belt and thick, lined bracelets on both her wrists that served a multifunction of clandestine purposes. She had broken into the apartment unobserved through the lone window and quickly took to her task, placing a blank compact disc in the computer tray and waiting patiently as the information she had retrieved from the hard drive burned onto the cd.
Ten minutes later her mission was completed and the woman took the disc from the tray, placing it in a case and hiding it in her belt. She quickly shut down the computer and turned to head to the window-
To find Daredevil standing in front of the pane with his arms folded and his jaw set.
“Who are you?” DD asked.
The woman didn’t hesitate, raising her arm and firing a concussive blast from her bracelet, narrowly missing the scarlet superhero and blasting into the window behind him. Amazed that anyone could move so fast, the woman gaped at the hole in the wall as Daredevil rolled forward and attempted a leg sweep. But the black clad female recovered swiftly, leaping over the leg sweep and kicking DD in the face, knocking him back. The woman sought to press her advantage, launching into a series of advanced kung fu strikes, but DD was able to block each one in quick succession. Daredevil followed the last block with a solid right hook to the stomach, and the woman, caught off guard, dropped to the floor.
Daredevil straddled the woman and pinned her arms with his knees, immobilizing her. It was then that her scent wafted up to his hypersensitive nose: a tantalizing mixture of sweat, endorphins, and pheromones. She was obviously excited by their fight, nearly aroused, and DD found that intensely alluring. And the feel of her body under him was provoking as well; she wasn’t even remotely winded, and she was obviously in world class athlete shape. She was also clearly one tough customer: she had taken one of his better punches and showed no after effects at all.
Daredevil shook his head to regain his focus and addressed the woman again. “Now, let’s go back to where we were. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
The woman, who had not been resisting DD’s hold, clenched her teeth in anger.
“You…idiot! You have no idea what you’re doing!” she spat in fluent English, but Daredevil detected a trace of a Russian accent in her dialect.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” DD said. “Now-“
The woman, sensing that Daredevil had relaxed just a bit, pushed up with all her might, and was able to free one of her arms. She bent her elbow and fired her bracelet blaster again, and this time DD had to roll off her to avoid being hit by the discharge. The woman sprang to her feet and threw a sharp, whip-like kick that tagged the crimson crimefighter under the chin, and his knees buckled. She then fired her blaster once more, and this time it struck Daredevil in the chest, knocking him back onto his ass.
Daredevil, his head swimming, tried to get his bearings as best he could. The blast that hit him wasn’t as powerful as the ones she’d fired before- did she purposely take it easy on him? Reaching out with his radar, he could make out her silhouette and it appeared that she was checking something on her belt-
Daredevil’s radar suddenly sensed something coming towards them from behind where he was lying. It was a projectile, no doubt, and it was lobbing perfectly for the hole in the wall where the window once was. No time to lose. DD lurched to his feet and ran straight at the shocked woman, bear hugging her and lifting her off her feet. Before the woman could protest, Daredevil dove with her behind the sofa as the mini bomb landed and exploded, devastating most of the apartment into smoking piles of debris.
Previously, in DAREDEVIL...
Matt Murdock and his law partner Foggy Nelson have hired Karen Page, a beautiful new receptionist, to take care of their law offices. Foggy is obviously attracted to Karen, much to the amusement of Matt.
Reporter Ben Urich goes to investigate a mysterious “devil-man” that had been appearing in Hell’s Kitchen and fighting crime on the streets. Urich encounters the costumed vigilante, who calls himself Daredevil, and makes a loose verbal pact to exchange information with the scarlet crimebuster. Urich has his story, and the residents of Hell’s Kitchen learn they have their own nighttime protector…
Daredevil, The Man Without Fear!
Issue 2: "The Russian Connection, Part 1"
Written by Aaron Martel
Cover by Trevor Yarmovich
Edited by Viktor
My name is Matthew Murdock, and I’m also Daredevil, a superhero dressed in a red devil costume.
Why adopt the image of the devil?
In my everyday life I’m a lawyer, so you could say with relative certainty that I love the law. And I do, I really do. I hold the laws of the land in the utmost esteem and I believe that the system of justice in the United States works fairly well most of the time. Most, but not all, of the time. In my line of work I’ve also “seen” far too many cases of injustice served on the unforgiving streets with no one standing up for the innocents crushed under the heels of oppression and intimidation.
True justice is blind, so I decided to do something about it.
In some belief systems, the wicked and corrupt meet their terrible fates in hell in the hands of the devil. I determined that I would play upon this instinctive, primal fear of facing eternal punishment for sinful deeds. I would take one of the most recognized symbols of evil and turn it around in the face of evil itself. Besides, I always thought the devil was frightening to begin with, but that might be due to my Catholic upbringing…
NYPD MIDTOWN SOUTH PRECINCT, PRIVATE ROOM:
Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson sat at a large table across from their client, who was nervously smoking a cigarette and glancing around the sterile, gray-painted room. The client’s name was Vadim Gorsky, and he had been arrested for the murder of one Bela Osipov, a fellow Russian who had lived in a small apartment down in Hell’s Kitchen.
“So,” Matt began, lacing his fingers and getting down to business, “Did you murder Mr. Osipov?”
“Nyet,” Gorsky said, glancing around, his cigarette shaking. “I did kill him, but is not murder.”
“Would you please explain?” Foggy asked sympathetically, his brow furrowed.
“I go to his place, he…owe me money. He let me in, and I wait for him to bring my money. He say he no have it, and I tell him he need to pay, then he show me gun.”
Matt said, “There was a struggle?”
Gorsky nodded. “And gun goes off. Bela fall. Then police come. They arrest me. I don’t know how they get there so fast.”
Both Matt and Foggy knew Osipov’s nosy neighbor had called in the disturbance, and an NYPD unit was near the scene at the time. “So you’re saying it was an act of self-defense?” Matt probed.
“Yes! Yes! Self-defense! He try to kill me!” Gorsky exclaimed, having found the right words.
Matt had been listening to the Russian man’s words intently, reaching out with his incredible senses, paying attention to Gorsky’s heartbeat and pulse rate. He also sensed Foggy’s uncomfortable shift in the seat next to his; Matt’s partner was having his doubts with Gorsky’s story. But Matt had all he needed.
“Mr. Gorsky, I believe you,” Matt said. “Mr. Nelson and I will see that you receive the best possible defense, and we’ll do our best to bring you the justice you deserve.”
OUTSIDE:
“Matt, are you sure about this?” Foggy asked dubiously.
The two lawyers were walking down the precinct steps, Matt’s red walking cane tapping out in front of him. It was a typical bustling New York City day, and no one paid much attention to the portly man with the comical bow tie standing next to the blind man with the red-tinted shades.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” Matt said.
“You do know Gorsky is reputed to have ties to the Russian mob,” Foggy said. “What if it was a drug deal gone bad?”
“What if it was?” Matt replied. “That doesn’t make him a murderer. Just because he’s probably a gangster doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be defended.”
“I know, but…this is our first murder case. There might even be some media attention with this one.”
“Attention we can certainly use,” Matt said. “Trust me, we can win this. Why don’t you head back to the office and you and Karen get started on research while I do a little investigating on my own?” Matt knew this would hook him; Foggy had a serious crush on Karen Page, their new secretary.
Foggy immediately brightened. “Yeah! Karen can definitely assist me with this. You’re right, buddy. You’re better at reading people than me. Let’s get ‘em!”
Matt thought: if you only knew how good I am at reading people, as Foggy quickly stepped down the street, whistling to himself. Matt smiled inwardly at his friend’s goofy mannerisms, and then turned to walk off in the opposite direction, a plan of action forming in his mind.
THAT NIGHT, A HELL'S KITCHEN ALLEYWAY:
Ben Urich, investigative reporter for the Daily Bugle, took a final drag on a cigarette and shuffled his feet impatiently while checking his watch. He had been waiting for his contact roughly thirty minutes, and he was ready to give up and go home for the night. He tossed his cigarette, pulled his overcoat closed and prepared to leave-
“You made it,” came the low, whispery growl.
Urich looked up and saw the crimson figure of Daredevil perched on the fire escape above the journalist’s head. Urich had to stop himself from shuddering, since the vigilante’s appearance had startled him and Urich wanted to maintain his reputation as a tough-as-nails reporter. With a graceful ease, Daredevil leaped from the fire escape, somersaulted once in the air and landed directly in front of the thin, slovenly Urich.
“You’re late,” Urich said.
Daredevil smirked. “What can you tell me about the Gorsky murder case?”
Urich paused. This was their second meeting, and Urich still couldn’t shake the feeling that the red garbed crimefighter wasn’t really making eye contact with him. “I looked into it. What, you gonna hit the Russian mob?”
“What do you know about them?”
“They’re a pretty small operation,” Urich said. “But they’re growing fast. They mostly deal in drugs and prostitution. So far they’ve been under the Kingpin’s radar, but someday soon that might change.”
“Gorsky a member of the mob?” Daredevil asked, referring to the man accused of killing Bela Osipov, and who was also Matt Murdock’s client.
Urich nodded. “Oh yeah. Low-level legbreaker. Don’t know what he was doing at Osipov’s apartment that night. Besides the fact that he was also Russian, the deceased wasn’t known to be connected to the mob.”
“What did he do?”
“Osipov? Computer programmer. Worked freelance out of his apartment. Been in the States four years, became a citizen, no criminal record,” Urich said.
“So it wasn’t a mob hit?” Daredevil asked.
“Sure seems like it was,” Urich replied. I can’t imagine it being anything else. No drugs were found in the apartment though, so it might be something the cops are missing.”
“Who runs the Russian mob?”
“Older guy they call ‘Big Leo’,” Urich said with a knowing smile. “Boss of the New York Russians. Operates over on 42nd out of a basement porno shop. Never met him, but I hear he watches The Godfather too much. Acts like Brando and everything.”
“Okay. Thanks, Urich.” Daredevil reached for his billy club and pointed it up.
“Hey man,” Urich yelled. “Watch out for these guys. They’re crude and they’re vicious.”
Without replying, Daredevil pressed a hidden button on his club and a cable shot out of the end, entangling in the fire escape two stories above him. With amazing strength and dexterity, the costumed man quickly pulled himself up the cable to the fire escape, and then swiftly swung on the escape’s iron bars up to the top of the building, as the billy club rapidly retracted the cable.
Goddamn, Urich thought. He then remembered something. “Hey! Did you like the article?” Urich had written the story revealing Daredevil’s presence in Hell’s Kitchen, along with the first interview they had done together. But DD was long gone by then.
@#$%, I forgot my camera again, Urich thought.
42ND STREET:
There was no sign indicating the pornography shop existed; in fact, the shop didn’t even have a name. It was located at the bottom of a flight of stairs and through an ordinary, unmarked door. Inside, a bored man of obvious Eastern European descent sat behind the counter while a few customers of various ages and genders milled about the shop, browsing at movies and various toys designed for sexual activity. When the door banged open, at first no one expressed any interest in the new arrival, but that quickly changed when the red garbed form of Daredevil passed through the doorway and into the shop.
DD stood still and reached out with his senses. He heard excited, fearful whispering and chattering among the customers, and he could smell the rising anxiety in the shop attendant’s sweat. There were also the strong odors of plastic and cardboard customary in an establishment of this sort, and before heading for the counter Daredevil overheard a young woman murmur to her male partner: hey, you think you could get a costume like that?
The clerk stood up as DD approached the counter, and with a great air of unease the man said, “C-can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Big Leo,” Daredevil said. “I’m told he can be found here.”
“N-no, I don’t know that person,” the clerk stammered, and his head swiveled toward the back of the shop.
DD silently extended out with his radar to the far end of the store and sensed a rear hallway leading to a closed door, and judging from the excited pulse rate of the clerk, the crimson crimefighter knew he had struck a nerve.
Ignoring the fevered objections of the clerk, Daredevil strode to the back hallway.
BEHIND THE REAR DOOR OF THE PORN SHOP:
Leonid Vostok sat in a large room, flanked by three of his personal bodyguards, watching a high definition television set mounted on the wall and lazily smoking a large cigar. Known as “Big Leo” in most criminal circles, he was the overlord of the New York Russian mob, an organization renowned for its brutal, cruel tactics. Big Leo was short, squat and wide, with thin, graying, greased-back hair and a black, pencil-thin mustache. He wore expensive suits to signify his importance, but he didn’t care much about his appearance and seemed rather disheveled most of the time.
Big Leo and his flunkies were watching a rerun of the situation comedy Seinfeld, and though none of them truly understood the show’s humor, they laughed with the laugh track nonetheless. The old boss learned much of what he knew about American culture through TV, and it was important to him to stay up to date with American trends and tastes. He had to, so he could be certain he was providing the right services to the complacent American fools who so greedily consumed the products Big Leo sold to them- mostly drugs and women. It was astounding how much easy money there was to made in this bloated, self-important monstrosity of a country.
Big Leo was startled from his sitcom by loud, sharp pounding on the door leading to the porn shop, causing him to drop his cigar and nearly jump out of his seat. Frowning, the mob boss pointed to the door, and one of his goons wordlessly moved to answer it. The thug opened the door-
And a red-gloved fist flashed through the opening, flattening the surprised goon with tremendous force. The two remaining bodyguards quickly drew their pistols as Daredevil boldly sauntered through the door, moving across the room to stand in front of Big Leo’s desk. DD crossed his arms as Big Leo looked up at him incredulously, the guards aiming their weapons but not firing at the clearly unarmed man.
“What is meaning of this?” Big Leo asked, his face twisting into a disbelieving frown.
“I want information from you,” Daredevil said in his menacing growl.
“You are the ‘devil-man’ from the paper, no?” Big Leo said.
“I’m Daredevil.”
Big Leo settled back in his chair, making a show of trying to relax, resting his chin on the palm of one hand as his fingers rested on his cheek. He puffed his cheeks out and said, ”You come to me for information, yet you show such disrespect to me in front of my men. Why should I not say to shoot you?”
DD didn’t even acknowledge the goons, who were itching to fire on him. “Because you don’t know who knows I’m here, and you don’t want to try to beat a murder rap in this town, in this country.”
The old mob leader was acting calm, but Daredevil could hear his racing pulse and smell the white hot anxiety in his sweat. There was no way the old man could know if DD was working with the police, or worse, the press.
“My men search you,” Big Leo said.
Daredevil raised his arms as the two thugs approached him, and he let one of them pat him down while the other kept his gun trained on the red vigilante. When the goon doing the search reached DD’s billy club holster, with lightning speed Daredevil tightly grabbed the goon’s wrist. The goon tried to pull away but couldn’t, and he looked to Big Leo, who nodded at Daredevil. DD released his grip and the goon walked away, rubbing his sore wrist.
“What do you want?” Big Leo asked, satisfied the scarlet superhero wasn’t wearing a wire.
“Vadim Gorsky killed Bela Osipov,” Daredevil said. “I want to know if it was a Russian mob hit.”
Big Leo chortled. “Russian mob hit? I do not know what you mean.”
“Gorsky is a well known member of your group. I don’t think you ordered Osipov killed, but maybe you have some idea why he was killed,” DD said.
Big Leo stared hard at the crimson figure, trying to size him up and decide exactly what to say. After a tension filled moment, the mob boss said, ”Osipov. Who is Osipov? He is nothing to me. Vadim maybe have his own deal with Osipov, I cannot say. I have no knowledge of this killing. I am businessman. I have no business with Osipov. Vadim make big mistake- he is on his own.”
As big Leo spoke Daredevil listened carefully to the old man’s heartbeat, attempting to detect any slight fluctuations that would indicate the mob boss was lying. When Big Leo finished talking, DD couldn’t suppress a grimace; the old man hadn’t lied about having any knowledge of Bela Osipov’s death.
“All right,” Daredevil said. “I believe you.”
The scarlet clad man turned to leave the back room, heading for the door to the porn shop, stepping over the goon he had knocked out when he first entered the room. Big Leo stood up from behind the desk and called out to him.
“Daredevil!”
DD slowly, confidently, turned back to face the old man.
“Next time, you will not have so easy a time with us, eh? You should, what do you say- watch your back?” Big Leo threatened.
“Yes,” Daredevil hissed, his lips forming a tight grin. “And you should watch yours.”
LATER, AT THE FORMER APARTMENT OF BELA OSIPOV:
The apartment was a one room studio, with a tiny connecting bathroom and no kitchen space. There was a full size bed in one corner and a large sofa in the middle of the place, with a metal desk containing an elaborate computer setup in another corner. The apartment was sealed, and had been processed as a crime scene, so no one had entered it for an entire day. Yet the computer tower was turned on and blinking, as a beautiful, lithe woman was hastily typing on the keyboard and gazing absorbedly at the monitor screen.
The woman was of lean yet muscular build, with short, black hair and emerald green eyes that were capable of laser-like focus. She wore a skin-tight, black leather jumpsuit that covered most of her body but did plunge a ways down her chest, with black leather gloves and boots as well. She sported a modified utility belt and thick, lined bracelets on both her wrists that served a multifunction of clandestine purposes. She had broken into the apartment unobserved through the lone window and quickly took to her task, placing a blank compact disc in the computer tray and waiting patiently as the information she had retrieved from the hard drive burned onto the cd.
Ten minutes later her mission was completed and the woman took the disc from the tray, placing it in a case and hiding it in her belt. She quickly shut down the computer and turned to head to the window-
To find Daredevil standing in front of the pane with his arms folded and his jaw set.
“Who are you?” DD asked.
The woman didn’t hesitate, raising her arm and firing a concussive blast from her bracelet, narrowly missing the scarlet superhero and blasting into the window behind him. Amazed that anyone could move so fast, the woman gaped at the hole in the wall as Daredevil rolled forward and attempted a leg sweep. But the black clad female recovered swiftly, leaping over the leg sweep and kicking DD in the face, knocking him back. The woman sought to press her advantage, launching into a series of advanced kung fu strikes, but DD was able to block each one in quick succession. Daredevil followed the last block with a solid right hook to the stomach, and the woman, caught off guard, dropped to the floor.
Daredevil straddled the woman and pinned her arms with his knees, immobilizing her. It was then that her scent wafted up to his hypersensitive nose: a tantalizing mixture of sweat, endorphins, and pheromones. She was obviously excited by their fight, nearly aroused, and DD found that intensely alluring. And the feel of her body under him was provoking as well; she wasn’t even remotely winded, and she was obviously in world class athlete shape. She was also clearly one tough customer: she had taken one of his better punches and showed no after effects at all.
Daredevil shook his head to regain his focus and addressed the woman again. “Now, let’s go back to where we were. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
The woman, who had not been resisting DD’s hold, clenched her teeth in anger.
“You…idiot! You have no idea what you’re doing!” she spat in fluent English, but Daredevil detected a trace of a Russian accent in her dialect.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” DD said. “Now-“
The woman, sensing that Daredevil had relaxed just a bit, pushed up with all her might, and was able to free one of her arms. She bent her elbow and fired her bracelet blaster again, and this time DD had to roll off her to avoid being hit by the discharge. The woman sprang to her feet and threw a sharp, whip-like kick that tagged the crimson crimefighter under the chin, and his knees buckled. She then fired her blaster once more, and this time it struck Daredevil in the chest, knocking him back onto his ass.
Daredevil, his head swimming, tried to get his bearings as best he could. The blast that hit him wasn’t as powerful as the ones she’d fired before- did she purposely take it easy on him? Reaching out with his radar, he could make out her silhouette and it appeared that she was checking something on her belt-
Daredevil’s radar suddenly sensed something coming towards them from behind where he was lying. It was a projectile, no doubt, and it was lobbing perfectly for the hole in the wall where the window once was. No time to lose. DD lurched to his feet and ran straight at the shocked woman, bear hugging her and lifting her off her feet. Before the woman could protest, Daredevil dove with her behind the sofa as the mini bomb landed and exploded, devastating most of the apartment into smoking piles of debris.
TO BE CONTINUED
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