Daredevil & Elektra - The End - (Completed!)

[B.M.F.]

Hey guys! A month or two ago I posted the first half of my Fanfic.

I just completed it. It is the best damn piece of literature I have ever written. If you're a Daredevil or Elektra fan, this you will enjoy this fic, I guarantee it.

If you want this in Microsoft Word - It's much easier to read, just Email me at [email protected] and I'll Email it to you.

The Kassad Case Conclusion


BenUrichArticles.com​

I, Ben Urich, 40-year reporter for the Daily Bugle, am writing this for my own website. ‘The Bugle’ would not even consider running this story. It’s too long, too detailed, and much more truth than their readers can handle.

Supposedly, it’s an attorney’s dream to be in a court case followed by national news coverage. Every news organization from Fox News to the Daily Bugle had been eagerly awaiting this case’s verdict for over a year. People had been crying for blood after a whole family had been hideously murdered in their own home, an Arab had been accused. The case immediately received national attention and media coverage. Rodall Kassad, a single 27-year old Arabic-American citizen had been judged guilty by the American public long before it went before a Grand Jury.
Kassad was a poor gas station attendant with no money to pay anyone to effectively defend him in court. Yet many attorneys volunteered their services for little money, but secretly only wanted national exposure to help their careers, not caring what the outcome of the court battle would be.
One lone attorney, on his own dime flew to Dallas, TX to ask Kassad a single question… ‘Did you kill that family?’ and the attorney liked his answer. For no money at all, he fought to have the trial moved to New York, under the premise a fair trial could not be conducted where the crime had been committed.
For over a year, Kassad had lived in a New York county jail, leaving only to see his court dates. Allegedly threatened, beaten, and raped by his cell-mates and guards. Mentally traumatized to the point he would need serious psychiatric help when he got out of jail, if, he gets an acquittal. If not…
Kassad, at best, looked like he recently got out of a Nazi concentration camp. The 85 pound man had not eaten for a month, saying the day he walks free, is the day he makes a breakfast buffet go out of business.

For Defense Attorney Matt Murdock, the seventy-two hours between the Jury Instruction and the Jury Verdict were the worst of the four month long trial. There was nothing more he could do to help his client. He did try. During the day, he was at the courthouse talking to reporters. In the evening, he was working on possible appeals at his office and being prepared for any possible scenario. And at night, all night, he was praying at his catholic church. Never stopping to eat, sleep, or relax.
When reporters talked to Murdock they usually comment on his commitment and passion in the courtroom, and ask repetitive questions that began with ‘Why do you care so much for…’ and the reporters usually filled in the rest with something obscene referring to his client, and then expected Matt to answer. But by reputation, Matt Murdock is not someone to let injustice walk infront of his blind eyes.

I was in the courtroom when the Jury came back with the verdict. Matt Murdock was sitting with his client, Rodall Kassad. Kassad still wearing the handcuffs and orange jumpsuit he was ordered by The Judge to wear in every courtroom appearance. The jumpsuit was five sizes too large for his eighty-pound frame.
The Jury came in and the verdict was read, ‘Guilty of five counts of first-degree murder.’ And Rodall Kassad let out a scream/moan/wail I did not think was possible from a man of his size and health to produce from his vocal-cords. I can only describe as sounding like a dying cow after being shot by a twelve-guage.
Murdock, for lack of a better term, snapped. He demanded a verdict reversal, The Judge denied it. Murdock yelled for an explanation, and continued to yell what an embarrassment to the court this verdict was, and how the Judge was an embarrassment for allowing this case to come to verdict when it shouldn’t have got past a Grand Jury.
A few hours after the jury’s verdict, this senior citizen reporter is sitting in his warm home, in a comfortable chair, typing on my computer as Matt Murdock sits in a cold county jail cell for contempt of court.

A long time ago, before I became a reporter. I became angry when a child rapist gets out of jail early for good behavior. I was disgusted when a known dirty cop becomes the chief of police. I threw up when evidence had been mishandled and it helped a serial killer being acquitted. I became enraged when Lady Justice herself being raped by those appointed and swore to protect and serve her.
But I don’t get enraged, disgusted, angry, or throw up anymore. I got used to it, accepted it, and went on with my life. I just said ‘That’s life, as disgusting as it is, I can’t do anything about it.’ I didn’t judge it, I just reported it, and have been reporting it for over forty years now.
I’ve taken the easy road. 99.9% of us take it all the time. But there has been one person I know of who has never taken that easy road. Not once.
Matt Murdock.
Every day of this man’s life has been on the hard road. Every single personal relationship he ever has is shattered, because of his loyalty to do what he believes to be right religiously, lawfully, and morally. He has seen many friends, two lovers, and his own father die in his own arms. I don’t believe anyone on this Earth has emotionally suffered more than Matt Murdock since Jesus Christ himself. In all of the pain of his life, I have never once seen him snap, until today.
And, Jesus Lord. I pray he doesn’t break down when he hears the news about Rodall Kassad being murdered in his cell.

Part 1​

4:00 PM​

Cells were made eight by eleven feet of cold hard concrete in county jail. Matt sat on his bench with his elbows on his knees, hands over his ears, trying to concentrate, rather than hear anything going on within a thousand meter radius. A puddle of tiers was on the floor, now dried, and a second puddle next to it still damp.
The dry recycled air attacked Matt’s nasal passages, the concrete was rough to the touch. The water tasted as if it was taken directly from the gutter. In the six hours he was here it brought back bad memories from when he was at Rykers, he had almost allowed himself to forget those months. He understood how Kassad could slowly whither away after so many months in here, loose the will to live, loose the will to eat… but thankfully, Matt knew Kassad wouldn’t be in jail for a day longer.
“Matthew Murdock, you have a visitor,” the guard said “would you like so ‘see’ him?” Matt was in no mood to have any visitors, no reporters, no admirers, no Daredevil fans, and he was in no mood to give the guard’s horrible unoriginal joke a response.
“No,” Matt hissed “Visitors.”
Matt heard the approaching footsteps of someone… he knew? He wasn’t quite sure they were very familiar but a little off…
“He’ll ‘see’ you now,” the smiling guard said as he opened the cell door.
Matt let a small smile escape from the side of his face when he now realized who it was. “Make one more remark about my client’s handicap, Sergeant,” Foggy Nelson threatened “and I promise you’ll be working a school crosswalk in a week.”
Foggy took a seat on the bench directly across from Matt and smiled “it’s been a long time, old friend.”
“It has.”
“I wish I could ask if you’ve been doing well, but I already know the answer.”
Both men just sat for a long moment reminiscing to themselves, the history of nearly thirty years, from being roommates in law school, building a law practice, the court battles, the friendship, and the eventual breakup of the partnership after twenty-five years… both men thought to themselves while in each other’s presence.
“I’ve been following the court case closely, through Ben Urich’s articles on his website. I read his article about this morning, and CNN has been playing videotape of the verdict and your breakdown in open court. We need to talk.
“First, I want to know the reason you took this case all the way from Texas, to here. The real reason, not the ‘because he is innocent’ crap you tell the reporters when they ask. Yes, he is innocent, but there’s more to it.”
Matt could feel Foggy’s intensity as he spoke, and scanned the surrounding area with his ears for any recording equipment… there was none. Matt took a deep breath and said.
“It was a typical national news story about a killer who killed a whole family, according to every news reporter on Television, right? With each and every report I heard, I recognized the eagerness from the reporters to see this man fry… because he was the same country many terrorists are from.
“I wanted to know the truth, so I flew to Texas to ask him, and I took the case. And you know why I took the case, because he is innocent. But yeah, there is more to it.
“Whenever I wanted to talk about the case, the probable trial, the people’s case against him, or anything… he wanted to talk about his family and homeland. He was so vibrant when talking about Iran, his beautiful wife, and seven daughters, how he came to the States to go to college so he can provide and give what they need and deserve. He believed in the criminal justice system and he would be out in a matter of days, for the first month, and then three months, but after five months he began to change. That vibrancy had began to fade away the longer he was in jail. The less he talked, the less he ate, the less he cared about anything except that verdict. He knew it would be an acquittal.
I fought with everything I had to get him out. So he could go home to his wife and daughters, so he would get back that vibrancy he had in his voice. So he could walk free.”
“But no attorney would fight that hard for…” Foggy began.
“You should know me well enough that I am that attorney that fights that hard for his good innocent clients, even if they can’t pay him a dime.”
“Matt, there is something else…” Foggy started “about Kassad…”
“Shived four times in the lower back and fives times in the chest cavity. He was already dead when his roommate slit his throat.”
Foggy’s eyes were wide “The guard told me no one has given you the news.”
“It happened four floors above me, about seventy-five yards east, in an enclosed room. I could hear the shiv scrape against bone. What’s more interesting is how I heard the ‘thank you’ from Kassad before he was murdered.”
“A thank you?”
“Most murders are the result of hate. This one was of mercy.”
“What?”
“Even if he was sentenced to the needle, he would never make it close to it. His health was failing, even if they forced him to eat, it would have prolonged the inevitable. Kassad wanted to die, slowing dying would only prolong his suffering.”
“You sound like you support this murder.”
“I couldn’t have stabbed him, but it was the best thing that could have happened to him, besides an acquittal.”
“Matt, you think this is funny? Your client died!”
“When the Foreman announced his death sentence, I blew up. That sentence was taken out. Justice was served, right? Or should Daredevil have caused a jailbreak?”
The silence between the two was deafening, Matt could have heard a pin drop half a mile away.
Matt hadn’t seen Foggy for a while now, and he began to wonder what kind of conversation they would have if it wasn’t such tragic conditions… “When you were walking down the hall, I wasn’t sure if it was you or not, your footsteps are much lighter.”
Foggy hadn’t laughed so hard in a good long time. Not so much Matt made a joke about his weight-loss, but it was under such bizarre conditions, both of them sitting in a jail cell after having such a serious conversation.
“Forty pounds lighter,” Foggy said “and looking damn good if I say so myself, since my wife says so herself.”
“How’s your son?”
“He’s making me wonder if I was such a pain in the ass to my parents when I was in the third grade,” Foggy joked “How’s your daughter dealing with her father being a twenty-four hour a day lawyer?”
“She isn’t. She moved to San Diego two years ago with her mother, I write her once a month,” he sighed, for a moment, thinking of her. “Probably for the best.”
“You aren’t very good at lying to yourself, Matt, never have been.”
“Hey, I…”
“An impressionable six-year old girl with a single parent, living in California is for the best?
“She only had me here in New York,” Matt said “and my work…”
“Is your obsession,” Foggy said.
That comment stopped Matt dead in mid-speech. His lips couldn’t move as his mind soaked up Foggy’s words… as it soaked up the truth.
Foggy wasn’t done…
“The world is ugly, only once a single man has ever changed the world, and even then, he had disciples. You have no disciples. There is one thing I know you can change, for the better…
Your daughter.”
“She might be happy where he is, her and her mother…”
“You don’t know for sure.”
“I can’t quit being a lawyer…”
“Matt you were a born lawyer, and you should never stop doing what you were born to do. Just don’t be a lawyer twenty-four hours a day, be a lawyer eight hours a day on weekdays while your daughter is at school. Go home to be a father and when she goes to sleep… Don’t go out and be Daredevil.”
“Daredevil’s retired,” Matt said.
“He is?” Foggy asked “I thought he was in hibernation.”
“He got old, he can’t do any good if he broke a hip five times a night.”
“Maybe if he retired earlier, we’d still be partners.”
“You got married and had a kid, there wasn’t enough room in your life for Daredevil, and Matt Murdock is included in that package.”
This was reminding Foggy of all of days Matt and he spend in the office, waiting for clients, wait, no… innocent clients to walk in. Matt was usually healing from the night before, so they always had a lot of talk time.
“There might be room for an old friend interested in working a schedule consistent with public school hours.”
Matt raised his head and pointed his blind eyes straight at his friend in all seriousness. “You came down here to offer me a job? To be partners again?”
“Actually, I came to give you the news that Kassad was murdered. But the job offer? Completely spur of the moment… I can use your counsel.”
“Foggy, there are so many factors, I don’t know…”
“The offer’s always open.”
“I have to speak to my daughter, her mother…”
“No pressure. Oh, and The Judge did want me to bring you some other news.” Foggy knocked for the guard to open the door “you’re released.”
“Oh,” Matt said “now you tell me.”
“You didn’t enjoy catching up?”
“We could have caught up someplace else.”
“If we could get past the bloodsucking reporters. This place was quiet.”
“To you,” Matt smiled.
“Want to go have dinner? I know of this great…”
“Can’t. I’ve got to go home and write a seventy page letter to Kassad’s wife and seven daughters.” The mention of Kassad killed the happiness of the conversation, filling it with the memories of the court case and his death.
“Alright Matt, give me a call.”
“I’ll stop by.”

 

[B.M.F.]

Part 2​

7:12 PM​

Matt was beginning to fall asleep in between paragraphs of his letter. He was determined to get it finished in the next few hours. One moment he was typing, trying to plan his next paragraph, and trying to think of another dozen ways to explain and apologize to a wife how he could not save her husband.
He felt a loving body walk up behind his chair and his face was cupped by the warm hands of the woman he has loved all his life. Her blonde hair hung and tickled Matt’s neck and shoulders.
“The boys are spending the night over at a friend’s house, Matt, the girls are over at my mom’s, can’t you just step away from that keyboard just one night and spend some time with me, baby?”
“Karen, just two more hours… this whole letter will be over, it will be done. We can start spending more time together, and with the kids.”
“Until you find another defendant…” Karen said “that’ll be in a week.”
“No. I’m seriously thinking about spending more quality time with you guys, and working fewer hours.”
“Promises. More promises, just what I want to hear. More promises I know are going to be broken.”
“I’m serious this time,” Matt insisted.
“Then finish the letter in the morning, Red. How about we go your favorite restaurant? I can get reservations so they’ll have a table ready in an hour, let’s get all dressed up and go out… it’s been a year.”
“Karen, no, not now.”
Karen’s hands undid his shirt and slowly caressed his chest and abs “And when we get back, we can make love all night long… please Matt.”
“Karen, stop. Mrs. Kassad is now a widow, thanks to me. I promised her I would send her husband back to her. I failed. Just another broken promise? Not to me. I want to get this in the mail to comfort her as soon as possible, she deserves so much more, but this is what I can send her now. Karen, tomorrow, we’ll go out and have the whole night. I promise.”
Matt continued typing as he could hear Karen’s breathing… she was getting upset, they hadn’t spent any time together in the last year. None. Maybe a kiss here and a short conversation there, but now he has time to spend with her and he has to type to a foreign woman, an extremely long letter.
Karen bent over and looked at the computer screen “forty-three pages,” she said.
Matt could feel her heartbeat rise, the grinding of her teeth, sweat running down her neck. She was enraged with hate, suddenly and completely. Matt was only more surprised by the blade of a sai appearing at his neck, held by the love of his life.
“A letter for the death of your client is forty-three pages long,” she said as she slit her husband’s throat, ear to ear “and at my funeral you couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“Karen!” Matt yelled as he woke up at his desk. There was no one around to hear his cry… Thank God. Matt was soaked in his own sweat, with organized red marks across his face from his face being on his keyboard for the past hour. Matt wiped the sweat off his face and tried to compose himself.
Karen. Karen. Karen…. How she inspired Matt’s dreams and haunted his nightmares. How Matt’s insecure thoughts allow him to imagine how happy his life would have been if she was still alive. Or possibly she would be an unsatisfied wife. Or worse, if she became his wife and had his children and learned to hate Matt for being Daredevil and a lawyer. No, that would not be worse, anything would be better than she being dead… she would have left him and found somebody better than him.
Or…
just maybe…
The death of Karen Page was the death of his only chance ever to be happy.

Shut up. Matt just needed some sleep. Working on eighty-five hours now, with the exception of the hour nap he just unwillingly granted himself. This amount of sleep deprivation was extremely unhealthy for both the body and mind. His heightened senses were dulled down to the sharpness of a drunk man. His body was screaming for rest. Hell, until tonight, he’d never accidentally dozed off in his life.
Matt stood up from his desk. He had to get this letter done now, but he couldn’t deny himself a break to compose himself, if only to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep again. He popped pain and herbal energy pills followed by a three-course meal to sit in his stomach when he slept. Matt walked back to his desk, wondering if he could concentrate on the second half of the letter, but he wouldn’t sit down.
He couldn’t continue. He had to get something out of his head. Matt had to see Karen.
The desk drawer unlocked and Matt held a large piece of hardened clay. Matt held it in his left hand as his right fingers caressed the molded face of the love of his life. The mold was a birthday present from Karen nearly twenty years ago, so Matt could touch her even if she was gone. But she was gone, she was dead, and Matt couldn’t begin to calculate the hundreds of nights he held her face mold and walked around the office they worked in, or at home in the bed they shared. It was honestly the most sentimental possession Matt owned, more valuable to him than his father’s boxing gloves, his daughter’s baby finger paintings, or the long hair clippings of an ex-girlfriend named…

“My apologies for sneaking in, Mr. Murdock.”
The shock of being caught off guard… the mold fell to the ground… shattering into a couple hundred pieces. It was the first time Matt was ever taken so completely surprised when his senses were so dulled. Not being to hear someone creeping up on him.
He just broke his only face mold of Karen. He just broke Karen’s face. He just broke Karen. The son of a ***** that surprised him just broke Karen. That son of a *****. Matt’s fists were clutched so tight his fingernails almost broke the skin.
“Who in the fu..!!!” Matt yelled.
“…Mr. Murdock, my name is Anthony Markowitz, and I couldn’t wait for your normal business hours, my friend, time is of the essence.”
Matt fought with all of his self-control to keep himself from grabbing his billy club from his desk and beating the man’s head in until Matt would need a lawyer. Matt wanted to do it, only his little bit of rational thought was saying that this fool had to be desperate to attempt sneaking up on Daredevil.
“You have ten seconds to spit out what the hell you want!” Murdock shouted.
The man was dressed in a 1890s three-piece suit and top hat with the Irish accent to match. He held a cane and walked toward Matt with a slight limp.
“Ironic, someone who used to jump around in a devil costume saying ‘The Hell.” Matt grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the wall, lifting him a couple inches in the air, choking him.
“You trespassed on my property in the middle of the night so if I kill you right here I’ll be completely justified! I’m a lawyer, I know!” Matt yelled in his face.
“I am being hunted, Matthew Murdock, Daredevil, Man without fear,” Anthony chocked out. Matt let go and he fell to the ground.
“For I am a man with fear of someone you were once close to,” Anthony continued as he was catching his breath.
Matt knew who Anthony was referring to, it didn’t lessen his rage but Matt did compose himself to appear more professional. Matt took a seat at his desk as Anthony regained his breath.
“Well then, sir, as a lawyer I would be happy to help you write a will, maybe recommend a funeral home, and a priest to hear your sins.”
“Mr. Murdock, I don’t think you understand, I need you to protect me, or talk to her.”
“That would not help you, believe me.”
“I am begging you, Mr. Murdock, I have my beloved wife, three boys, and I have flown from Ireland just to meet you, but she has followed me here…”
“I understand we have a few hours,” Matt interrupted.
“No! No Matthew Murdock! We have minutes! We need to…”
“I have my priest on speed-dial, confessions over the phone are just as holy in the eyes of God.”
“More than just your eyes are blind if you don’t realize what I am begging you to do. Please, my three boys. I too was a boy who grew up without a father…”
“You’re lying,” Matt said. It was when Anthony first rose his voice the first time, Matt recognized a familiar growl in his voice, and sound waves bounced off his face differently. To anyone with sight, Anthony was wearing a very deceptive disguise.
“Excuse me?” Anthony was shocked. He just poured his heart out infront of this former superhero, and saying his life was on the line. The superhero not only says no, but calls him a liar to his face?
“You’re lying,” Matt said coldly “So get the hell out of my building.”
“Well then sir, I bid you a good night,” Anthony said as he turned to leave through the front door.
“I will… Lester.”

Anthony stopped dead in his tracks, nonverbally admitted what Matt already knew. It was as if the room seemed to get colder, the deception was stripped away, Lester’s lies laid bare.
“Don’t remember your own name, Lester?” Murdock mocked “For the last ten years you’ve been wearing someone else’s face, talking with someone else’s voice… since your plastic surgery, have you ever taken a sharpie to your forehead and drew a Bullseye?”
Lester reached for his neck and peeled of his second skin, and tossed his plastic face to the ground, he re-adjusted his throat so it would talk with his normal voice. His shaved head looked as if it hadn’t seen he light of day in a decade, but ten years couldn’t cover up his branded forehead. Lester turned back around facing his archenemy for the first time in years. He breathed slowly and heavily… oh how he dreamed of this moment.
“Tonight, I am going to die by my terms, either by your hand, or by hers after I kill you.” Lester hissed with his real voice “So, devil, one last round? But this time, the knockout is going to be a killer.” Murdock pulled out his billyclub and tapped it on the top of his desk, nonverbally accepting challenge.
“But, please, put on the costume? Devil?”
Murdock shook his head “You’ll be seeing the Devil soon enough.”
“Fine then! I can’t wait!” Lester threw a bladed playing card at Matt’s neck. Without flinching, Murdock caught the card mid-air.
“Same old tricks. Got anything new?” Matt taunted.
“Nope!” Lester threw three more bladed cards at Murdock. Matt dodged two of them, but was directly hit in the shoulder… Lester hadn’t slowed down in the last fifteen years.
Murdock blocked and dodged Lester’s projectiles, basically anything Lester could get his hands on in the office he threw, trying to keep Murdock at a distance and wearing him down with occasional hits. Adrenaline was keeping Matt’s pain from slowing his speed, but he was bleeding bad, he had to end this fast or the blood loss would be fatal.
“Gotta admit, I missed tangling with ya from time to time, horn-boy. But, you’re no longer a boy are you?” Lester yelled as he threw a crystal vase like a baseball. “Far from it. You’re old, far past you’re prime!”
Murdock wasn’t as fast or flexible as he once was, but neither was Lester when he received a direct hit to the chin from Matt’s billyclub. Lester was dazed long enough for Murdock to rush up and utilize his Tai kickboxing to Lester’s abdomen, trying to kick the air out of him, and beat his head until he could think no more.
Lester’s lights were lit up and were about to be beaten until they broke, but he was able to execute a cheap kick to Matt’s crotch. Matt tried to back away before Lester could capitalize and was too slow. Lester hit him with an attack Matt had not ever been hit with in his life, Lester cupped his hands and boxed Matt’s ears. Matt’s head rang like he was just hit with a sledgehammer and senses were completely disoriented. He was defenseless, he couldn’t tell where he was in his office, if he was crawling toward or away from Lester… his crotch throbbed like it was just stomped on by soccer cleats.
Matt crawled as fast as he could, until he was in a corner. He couldn’t sense it, but he knew Lester was walking toward him, with something very big in his hands. The pain wasn’t going away, he still couldn’t get up, and he… was good as dead.
Blood was pouring out of his mouth and nose as Lester grabbed the three-foot long crucifix hanging over on the wall. He looked at Matt just sitting in the corner. He smiled.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the death of Daredevil,” Lester stalked Matt “No style, no begging, no jokes, no comebacks.” Lester rose the crucifix over his head to beat Matt’s head like a watermelon “Just ****ing die.”

Suddenly the room became pitch black, Lester couldn’t see anything. The glass roof of his office shattered and a figure came down as the hundreds of square feet of glass rained down into the office.
Matt was uninjured by the raining glass, but he heard Lester’s screams of pain. He couldn’t tell if the screams were from the dozens of bits landing in his back or bare head, or from being unmerciful attack by the figure.
Lester was screeching out cries starting out as ‘No! Not you!’ ‘Get away!’ and ended with screams of pain as he was cut and stabbed in superficial areas. Matt heard another large plate of glass shatter as Lester was hurled out into the street infront of his office building, breaking acouple ribs. Amazingly, Lester was able to rise and do the only thing he could to defend himself… run.

Matt was pulling on pieces of furniture to stand up, and his radar was slowly coming back to him. He could feel Lester’s attacker standing by the broken front window across the room, she was looking at him. She took a moment to stop her attack to just observe Matt, to silently acknowledge they were in the same room. Matt didn’t say a word, and neither did she. As fast as she appeared, she was gone. Matt couldn’t tell if it was his dulled senses or one of her tricks, but she just disappeared.

“The ****ing *****!” Lester kept saying to himself as he sprinted down the street in New York City. He horrified tourists with his bloody face, they would have been even more horrified if they knew it was Bullseye, the number one most wanted man on the FBI watch list. Lester began running through alleys to avoid the public’s screams. He slit a homeless man throat, switched clothes, and stuffed his corpse into a trash can. Lester hoped it would make him harder to track… his old clothes were soaked with blood from his face, his scalp cut dozens of times, his mouth pouring out blood from his internal injuries, and his back still had large pieces of glass sticking out of it.
He didn’t think his lame disguise could trick her for long, if it tricked her at all. He needed a car, now. A carjacking would be like firing a gun in the air and yelling ‘Here I am, *****!’ He needed to steal a parked car, and what a better place to find a parked car than a massive parking garage. There was one acouple blocks away, so he covered up his head with a trashed cowboy hat, and limped down the alley.
For a fifty dollar a night auto garage, it was easy as hell to sneak into. The whole damn place was packed with sport and luxury cars, the Eagles must have been playing tonight. He could steal anyone of them, a Benz, Audi, Lexus, hell, even acouple Aston Martin within eyesight. Then drive out into the endlessly jammed traffic of New York’s streets and disappear into anywhere in North America. It’s has acouple more hiding places than Ireland. The ***** will never be able to find him again.
He walked over to an Ashton Martin and the door was unlocked! Who in the hell leaves their three hundred thousand… he heard singing.

“My fear comes alive, in this place where I once died…”

Lester’s eyes widened. It was her, the *****. Her voice was echoing, he couldn’t pinpoint where the ***** was at. She was ****ing with him, singing lyrics from a metal band, his favorite metal band at that. He needed to get out of here, now. He couldn’t take another attack.

“…Demons dreaming, knowing I’m…”

Run. Run, Run, Mother****er run. He didn’t have time to hotwire the car, he took off down the middle of the parking garage road. He needed a crowd to disappear into, she wouldn’t attack him in public. He just needed to get out of here. Where the hell is she?

“…I just needed to Re-align.” Lester turned a corner towards the exit. She was standing infront of him, smiling.

​

 

[B.M.F.]

8:30 P.M.

“My God!” Dr. Tru Faith said when she saw Matt step from the elevator “Matt you should be in the hospital section, not down here in the morgue!”
Matt was still fighting a massive headache. He limped through the halls, behind Dr. Faith, and past dozens of bare examination tables. Apparently, it had been the slowest night in years for the NYC morgue.
“When he came in, I knew immediately it was him though I had never met him. Therefore, I need another eyewitness to identify him. I immediately thought of you,” Dr. Faith explained.
“Eyewitness?” Matt asked.
“I mean, I thought you would like to confirm his death, for your own satisfaction,” Dr. Faith replied.
“Tru, if you think the reason I came was to relish his death, you didn’t know me as well as you thought you did.”
“No. Actually Matt, that’s not the whole reason I asked you to come.”
They both walked through the final door and the body was lying on an examination table, the body bag zipped down to his waist, exposing the naked chest and arms. Matt could smell the dried exposed flesh.
“Sixteen lacerations on his upper back region, five lacerations on lower back, eight on each shoulder, and ten on his skull and face, all estimated causes were from falling glass. Six broken ribs, broken nose, cracked jaw…” Dr. Faith started.
“All of that would slow him down, Tru,” Matt interrupted “what killed him?”
“Probably the forty-two deep lacerations all over his body, by some kind of knife,” Dr. Faith said “I don’t know if the two sai through his skull, or his heart being cut out killed him first.”
“Say that again?” Matt asked.
“You heard me,” she replied “He was found in the 5th Avenue garage complex, hanging by the ceiling by a sai.”
“That’s the same garage…”
“What was that?”
“Nothing Tru,” Matt apologized “continue, please.”
“One was embedded vertically from the bottom of his jaw to the top of his skull, and the other was stabbed straight through his forehead, through his ‘bulls-eye’ brand to the back of his skull. Interesting how they were aligned at a perfect ninety degree angle. I believe those were the killing blows. The cutting of his heart out of the chest cavity was supposed to be a message, to you.”
“To me?”
“I’m no detective, Matt, but when we were together. You mentioned the only jewelry you’d ever given to a woman was me and one ex-girlfriend. You described that piece of jewelry to me, remember?”
“Yes,” Matt replied.
“This was found in his chest cavity,” Tru handed something to Matt.
Matt hung the necklace from his hand, just hearing the sound of the tin links chiming together, with the heavy jewel at the bottom, it was the first time in twenty-five years he had heard it’s sound. He never expected to hear it again.
It was his engagement necklace to Elektra.


Part 3

Matt started to wonder if she was going to show up or not. He waited infront of the New York City University Library an eternity, but was only twenty minutes. He couldn’t help counting the clicks of the clock tower half a mile away and imagining all of the possibilities what could have gone wrong. He had to see her tonight. Maybe she accidentally fell asleep or couldn’t sneak out…
He heard someone running a quarter mile away in his direction. It’s her, it had to be her. As the runner came closer he could hear her breathing, the impact of her sneakers on the pavement and grass. It’s her.
‘Ok Matt, it’s her, she’s coming. She didn’t forget, now concentrate on what you’re going to say. Don’t concentrate too hard, it’s usually spur of the moment, right? You always come up with clever jokes and remarks whenever you’re around her, just like in your mock trials in Law class.’
As she came closer to him, he could read her vial signs. When she saw him, Elektra’s vital signs perked up when she recognized him.
“Matt, do you have any freakin’ idea how difficult to sneak past my bodyguards at this time of night is?”
“Elektra, you’re even more beautiful when you’re angry.”
“Shut up. Matt, I want to spend time with you, but not tonight. I have hundreds of things going on this next week.” She wasn’t lying, she never lied to Matt. Elektra wanted this to be a quick ‘Hi Matt, Bye Matt’ conversation, she felt guilty, she never has any spare time to be with him. Think Matt… what could get her to stay longer?
“Did you like the flowers?” Matt asked.
“You sent those?”
“Actually, this cute redhead that sits behind me in Spanish gave me them, and I can’t be going around carrying dozens and dozens…”
“Shut up!” Elektra smiled and lightly smacked Matt on his shoulder. It had been forever since they joked around.
“I don’t think teasing you will ever get old.”
“I could tell you all of my hundreds of classmates that have…”
“…You’re bodyguards drive a Mercedes Bens, right?” Matt interrupted.
“Yeah, are they?”
“That’s them,” Matt pointed at a pair of headlights heading towards them, well over the university speed limit.
“How the hell did they…” Elektra started.
Matt took her hand and sprinted in-between buildings and unlit parking lots for quite a distance. Elektra wanted to go home soon, but not in the custody of her ‘all brawn tux-and-bowtie’ bodyguards hearing endlessly how she’s going to get them fired. Matt and Elektra rested outside the university gym.
“I think we need to exercise here more often…” Matt joked, a little out of breath. Elektra was exhausted.
“…At the quarter-mile track,” Elektra smiled
“I thought the dosage of sleeping powder in the delivered pizza would have knocked all four of them out for hours,” Matt said.
“One of them wasn’t hungry, hard to imagine, and he kept waking the others up.”
“Next time I’ll…”
“Matt, why did you want to meet me tonight, at this time?” Elektra asked.
“We’ve been busy all week; we haven’t spent any quality time together.”
“But why today, Matt?”
“Because in twenty minutes, it’ll be tomorrow, and I wanted to be with you today.”
Elektra was becoming impatient “WHY – TO – DAY?”
“You know why,” Matt said smiling, he loved teasing her, building up anticipation.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Because today is our… time to run because your bodyguards are watching.”
The same headlights of the Mercedes Benz shined on them from down the street. Once again, it was Elektra’s pursuers. How they could find her twice now. They took off once again into the night. Matt ran to a late-night taxi, ripped Elektra’s headband out of her hair.
“Matt! That’s…” Elektra objected.
“It’s a tracking device,” Matt explained.
Matt threw it in the Taxi’s trunk and gave the driver a five dollar bill with a command to drive to downtown New York City.
Matt and Elektra jogged some more to the University’s gardens, the wonderful smells tantalized Matt’s nasal passages and there was enough moon light for Elektra to appreciate the beautiful plants.
“Now that we are finally completely alone,” Matt went in for a kiss, but Elektra’s face moved away.
“I am covered in sweat, it was exciting sneaking out of house and running away from my bodyguards across campus. But I’m meeting my father at the administration building first thing in the morning, so I need to get some sleep,” Elektra said as she walked away “I’ll give you a call in…”
“Two years,” Matt said.
All it took for Elektra to stop dead in her tracks were those two words, she looked back into his eyes, she was starting to believe he didn’t remember.
“That’s why I couldn’t wait,” Matt explained “I needed to see you on our two year anniversary.”
Elektra wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She hadn’t smiled like this since her father gave her a pony for her sixth birthday.
“We met tonight infront of the library, two years ago,” Matt hugged her around her waist. “We ran to the gymnasium where, one year ago, you told me you loved me, I said I loved you. Now… Elektra, I don’t know how to ask this.”
Right there, in New York City University Gardens, Matt Murdock kneeled down infront of Elektra Natchios. He took her hand and asked “Elektra, will you...”
Matt pulled a necklace from his pocket. It was made of tin, with a large jewel hanging from it. The center of the jewel was made of gold dust, in the shape of an ‘E.’
The necklace and jewel were displayed in Matt’s hand for Elektra to see as Matt said the words that made her shake “Elektra, will you marry me?”

Elektra’s hands were shaking, blood rushed to her head, and her heart thumped in her chest. Matt’s little confidence began to break when a long minute had passed and he was still on his knee, waiting for an answer to the most important question in his life.
Matt could feel the sound of Elektra’s eyes wetting and tiers were falling down her cheeks. She was crying because she was about to reject him.
“This isn’t, I know, the most romantic setting,” Matt started “it’s late and cold. This jewel all I could afford to be made… Elektra, I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” Matt put back the jewel into his pocket.

From her silence, Elektra finally whispered “I love you.”
“Wha…why… what was that?” Matt asked.
“I mean, Of course I’ll marry you!”
Elektra wrapped her arms around him and they kissed.
“Well, put it on, Matt,” Elektra smiled.
Matt held out each end of the necklace, and fastened it behind her neck. The beautiful jewel hung down to her heart.
“I’ll never take it off. I love you.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Matt,” she kissed him passionately, and they wished this one moment would last an eternity.

 

[B.M.F.]

Part 4

10:00 PM

“Do you remember why pictures were taken of your children playing at their school playground, in their backyard, and in their bedrooms? I showed you the photographs personally, do you remember? Yeah, that’s what I thought. You said you were capable of this job, you assured me it was going to be pulled off right. Now you’re telling me the conditions have changed? That you having second thoughts? I don’t care. Your window is almost closed. You’re going to do the job because I said you are. No failures. No excuses. Or your children will be…”
“Sir, we have a problem,” the heavily armed guard said as he walked into the vast presidential-like bedroom. His pistol was aimed wherever he looked, in a moment he was satisfied the room was clear and he put the gun away.
“Call me when the job is done…” the old man lying on the large bed ordered his phone to be turned off.
“Sir, we have a code yellow… ” said the guard, as he turned on the blinding lights.
“Don’t you interrupt me again, sergeant,” shouted the man on the bed “or you’ll be out of here in five minutes.”
“Two of our sentry men’s life readings just went dead twenty seconds ago. Your orders say to awake you and escort you to your nearest panic room, sir,” the guard said as he retrieved the electric wheel chair…
The guard slid the man on the bed onto the wheelchair and fastened the mouthpiece into the old man’s mouth. The only way the old man could control the wheelchair was with his tongue.
The guard’s ear radio beeped “Ravencraft, two more sentries have been taken out, we only have fifteen more Sergeant, I’m raising the mansion alert from blue to orange.”
“You idiot…” The wheel-chaired man coughed “To raise it to red, call in the special teams.”
“Deadman,” the Sergeant radioed in “Red alert. Get out the FAMAS and turn on the high-beams. This is not a drill, this is what we trained for. This is the worst case scenario.”
All three thousand high-voltage lights turned on and light up every square inch of the mansion. Who or how many infiltrators there were, they weren’t hiding in the shadows, for there was no place for them to hide. The fifteen guards left pulled out their FAMAS assault rifles and body armor, and marines here within ten minutes. The guards and tactical units were all former military, with the best training and combat experience on earth, and to aid them was the best security, laser, and surveillance systems money can buy. This mansion was as heavily fortified as the White House.
“This is worse than the worst-case scenario, Sergeant,” the old quadriplegic man croaked “it’s her.”

The Sergeant stuck his head out of the door, looked down one side of the hallway, and then the other “it’s clear,” he said. The wheelchair silently rolled out of the doorway and the Sergeant the way down the hallway’s wall.
“Ravencraft,” the radio said “We have an unknown heat signature two floors above you, across the mansion. Five sentries are setting up an ambush, and the infiltrator is about to walk into it right about... wait, my monitor just turned off.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
“Move! Move! Move!” The Sergeant rose his voice, as the adrenaline started to flow they raised speed to an almost jogging pace, the speedy wheelchair right behind him. The gunfire was hundreds of feet away, and probably on another floor, but the rush of fear and excitement… no matter how many times the sergeant felt it... they both stopped in the mansion’s theatre to assess the situation.
“Ravencraft,” the radio said “The five were killed in like – two seconds, we’ve got to have multiple infiltrators here.”
“You didn’t have video surveillance of the battle, Deadman?” The sergeant asked.
“It’s weird, one monitor is off, and another is going off, then the previous one is turned back on, it’s like they’re blocking our feed somehow, but that’s imposs…”
“Where is the location where the camera is off now?”
“Right above you and King – no, wait, it’s heading toward the staircase.”
“Let’s move!” The Sergeant yelled at the crippled man. He took off at a sprinting pace, and the wheelchair, moving at nine miles an hour was on his heels.
“Ravencraft,” the radio crackled back, “the remaining eight sentries have surrounded the infiltrators.”
More gunfire, sounded like multiple automatic rifles going off at the same time until the magazines were dry. They were not well-placed shots, in the Sergeant’s combat experience a man holding down the trigger until it can’t fire anymore, was a fatally wounded man, praying the gunfire will drown out the sound of his screams.
“Don’t use the goddamn radio, you idiot.” the quadriplegic whispered “it’s how she knows our location.”
The Sergeant waved a hand over his neck – a signal for him to shut up. That gunfire – that attack was extremely close, too close, maybe a hundred feet away. If they run out into the hallway… if they didn’t know he and King’s position already. It was like they were being chased.
“Deadman? Deadman? Are you there?”
“Ravencraft. Deadman is abandoning post, repeat, Deadman is abandoning post. The last camera that came back on and the ventilation duct was open, infiltrators are coming toward me.” Deadman was panting, he was sprinting as fast as he could to anywhere but there “They got this whole massive building scouted. Repeat. They have this whole building blueprinted out. We’ve got a leak, somewhere, someone sung everything they know.”
“It’s as you said, Deadman, that’s impossible. Where are you running to? I’ll be along in a second as soon as I secure King in the Panic Room.”
“I’m almost there…” Deadman panted “I’m… Ccccrrrrrrrtthhhhh!!!”
“Move!” the sergeant yelled at the quadriplegic. They were only halfway to the panic room. The infiltrators had access to the surveillance room, they could see where he and King were at, and home in from there… he would not be able to save his own life, for the Panic room was only large enough for King’s wheelchair to fit inside. It was his job, it was his duty, to save this poor man’s life.
“Faster! Faster! You old man! If you want to live out your days then move those damn two wheels as fast as you can!” The Sergeant almost yelled when he was sprinting so fast the wheelchair couldn’t keep up.
The last hundred yards seem to run in slow motion, the panic room’s doors seemed wide open. Both King and the Sergeant expected instant death to occur any second, they wouldn’t see it coming. The Sergeant pumped his lungs and King pushed his tongue as far as he can stick it out.
Going full speed, King’s wheelchair slammed into the Panic room, and vault-like doors sealed him in. There was no way the infiltrators could harm him now. The Sergeant collapsed on the ground, he had never ran so hard in his life… ever in his twenty years as being a soldier or the six as a mercenary. His job was done, his duty fulfilled, his principal was safe. When he stood up and opened his eyes, he was looking at death herself.
He stared in her eyes, expecting to die, so he might as well stare death in the face as she killed him. He didn’t even attempt to raise his pistol and try to get a shot off at point-blank range, he knew it would be pointless. A long lingering moment passed as neither of them blinked.
“He’s in the panic room,” he said “as we agreed.”
His heartbeat should have been lowering, but it wasn’t. He expected her to answer the question he had wanted answered for the last 48 hours. She wasn’t answering it, so he guessed he’d have to verbalize it.
“Where’s my wife?”
It had been a long time anyone had spoke to her in such a tone, this one had spirit. She almost allowed herself to smile.
“She’s now at your home, sedated, she’ll awake in the morning.”
“If she’s not I’ll…”
“Leave,” She ordered “or never leave here, it’s your choice.” He dropped his pistol and started to walk away.

The Panic room was so small, the quadriplegic’s wheelchair couldn’t move inside it, but he did have acouple monitors and a microphone. Speakers set-up throughout the mansion squeaked as the intercom system was turned on from the panic room.
“Whoever you are, I congratulate you for penetrating the most unpenetratable security system in the Northern Hemisphere and massacring twenty of the most dangerous mercenaries I have ever met, all in four and a half minutes.” The quadriplegic’s tone was very respectful, as if he had just seen a good show.
“Although you have failed,” he continued “you must need a new employer. I have monitors in this panic room, just step infront of a surveillance camera so we may discuss your future.”
Red sashes blowing in the wind were shown on the panic room monitors. He instantly knew who it was, and he heard her voice too.
“It’s ironic, Wilson Fisk, you have brought so much death, yet you are afraid to die.”
“Miss Natchios, I applaud your performance,” The Kingpin said “how could I have signed your death warrant so long ago?” As if Elektra needed a reminder of their history. In her first life, she was Fisk’s number one assassin, and when she spares the life of Foggy Nelson, Fisk ordered her death.
“What kills me makes me stronger.”
The red sashes disappeared from Fisk’s monitor.
“Elektra?” he asked, “where have you gone? We have so much to talk about, like your price? Would you like me to pay you triple your rate? More jobs? Sorry, my dear, but that’s not going to happen. There’s a reason I had you killed, and your renewed employment would be bad business.”
Fisk could hear the scratching against the entrance of the panic room, and he almost laughed. “Do you think this is like an elevator? Try something clever, anything, please. The room’s walls, ceiling, and floor are armored steel three inches thick, even if you had ten pounds of C4, I would only feel a minor vibration. So please, try something cute, anything please.”
The scratching Fisk heard was an ‘X’ being marked outside. Elektra slowly walked backward, lining up her shot, checking the sharpness of her adamantium sai, planned step by step her speed, and her strength, and she began running.
THUNK
“No, no way in hell is that possible,” he said starring at the penetrated sai, through three inch thick armored steel. The sai was pulled from its indention, leaving an opening only a dozen straight hairs could fit through.
“Impressive… very impressive, hell, that is actually amazing. But do you plan on sticking your hand through that little hole and strangling me? Suck out my air, with your lips? As amazing as that was it accomplished noth…”
A small bit of liquid squirted through the hole, and Fisk screamed “Stop it! Stop! Please it burns!” And the liquid stopped squirting. Fisk’s back and arms burned of some kind of chemical substance that stopped burning as it severed the nerves on the skin.
He started to wimper. It was over, she wanted him only to suffer.
“You’re dead! You’re dead!” he screamed at her through the intercom “You hear me! You’re dead!”
“Yes I am,” Elektra replied “come join me” and she let the rest of the hydrochloric acid spray all over him.

 

[B.M.F.]

Part 5

11:30 PM

Matt was off-balance. He had a severe concussion and was working on almost ninety hours without sleep. He refused medical treatment at the hospital, but did take some painkillers and other medication. Disorientation plagued his senses and his head ached of the worst migraine no amount of Tylenol could cure.
His radar was inaccurate; he could only trust his senses to a hundred feet. Further than that, it was all static. But Matt thought he heard police radios over a quarter mile away order all available units to Wilson Fisk’s mansion, he didn’t second guess his senses. He knew Fisk was dead.
As the taxi parked outside his apartment building, Matt was tempted to tell the driver to keep driving, anywhere but here. His senses couldn’t tell what was in his apartment. There was nothing, no sounds of his clocks, not the humming of his refrigerator, not even the flow of water through the pipes. It was like his apartment had been perfectly soundproofed. This was not his diminished senses, Matt could not think of any possible explanation except her.
If she was there, there was no point running. So, Matt got out of the taxi, and walked up to his room.

Matt slowly opened the door, he felt the whole apartment on his radar once again, including her. She was weaponless, but never defenseless, her hair and silk blew in the wind. Her skin bathed very recently, and smelled of perfume? She leaned in the doorway of the balcony, standing in-between the warm air and the cold.
In the last twenty-five years, she never first to initiated verbal contact with Matt. But now, here she was, looking like she wanted a conversation, the same night she killed Lester and Fisk very sadistically and shoved her engagement necklace in Lester’s dead chest.
“Get out!” Matt nearly yelled “I have nothing to say to you.” Matt always attempted to hide his strong emotions the rare circumstances his and his ex-fiancé’s paths cross, but not tonight, he was too tired to play Elektra’s mental game.
“And if I have something to say to you?” her smooth calm voice knew he was going to talk to her.
“Like what? ‘You’re welcome?’ Go to hell, Elektra,” Matt ranted “I couldn’t care less about Lester, living or dead. I feel no pleasure when I heard of his death.”
“It needed to be done.”
“You’re a hypocrite! Lester murdered half the amount of people you have!” Matt spat.
“I kill people that need to be killed.”
“Deciding who lives and who dies has never been your job, Elektra.”
“Karen Page,” she said. Matt was silent, he couldn’t help but momentarily re-live when Lester through Matt’s own billyclub into Karen’s chest.
“and Jack Murdock,” Elektra continued “that name is why Fisk deserved his fate.”
Matt could still remember feeling his father’s face after it was destroyed by a 9mm. Momentarily distracted, he remembered who he was talking to.
“You killed them,” Matt spat “for me?” disgusted by the idea murder was done in his name.
“It needed to be done,” Elektra said once again “you wished they were still alive, why?”
That was a question Matt had battled with all his life, in his personal life, as a lawyer, as Daredevil, and in the church. “I believe, no matter how horrible anyone’s sin is, they should live as long as possible, so one day they might repent for it.” For a moment, there was utter silence between the two. Matt went from arguing as a lawyer to arguing as a catholic.
Elektra did not mock him when she asked “You believe Fisk, one day, could repent?”
“Yes.”
“And Lester?”
“Yes.”
He finally said it out loud. He wondered if it would sound like he believed it, he truly did. And Elektra could hear it in his voice that he believed it, and it fascinated her.
“Do you believe,” she asked “I can repent?”
“I have prayed everyday of the last twenty-seven years for you.”
Matt couldn’t believe he said it, infront of her. It was as unbelievable as Elektra’s breathing stopping a moment, she was showing emotion, ever so slightly and non-verbally.
“I need to leave,” she said turning away, ready to jump into the night.
“Elektra, wait. You didn’t come here to explain your actions tonight. Why are you here?”
Hesitating to say what she came to say, she turned around and took two slow steps toward him “I came here…” Two more steps, her hands were at her sides, palms open “to say goodbye.” Two more steps and she was within arms reach of her ex-fiancé, she couldn’t remember the last time they were this close and they weren’t fighting each other. Then it suddenly remembered, it was twenty-five years ago, right now.
“Tonight is the last night I’ll ever see you,” she said. She took one last step, she was directly infront of him. She, ever so slowly, raised her hand up Matt’s sunglasses and took them off to look deeply into his milky blue eyes. Her fingers ran along his face down to his chin.
“Goodbye, Matt.” She turned toward the balcony door, but Matt caught her hand.
------------------------------------
Matt held out each end of the necklace, and fastened it behind her neck. The beautiful jewel hung down to her heart.
“I’ll never take it off.”
------------------------------------

“Elektra,” Matt said “The necklace, the last twenty-five years you’ve kept it where? In a jewelry box?”
Her teeth grinded, she did not want to answer. This one question she truly wished he did not ask.
“I have worn it everyday of the last twenty-five years.” Finally admitting that, she turned to leave.

---------------------------
Elektra wrapped her arms around him and they kissed.
“Well, put it on, Matt,” Elektra smiled.
Matt held out each end of the necklace, and fastened it behind her neck. The beautiful jewel hung down to her heart.
---------------------------
---------------------------
“I love you,” she said.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Matt,” she kissed him passionately, and they wished this one moment would last an eternity.
---------------------------
“Don’t go, Elektra,” Matt took their engagement necklace out from his pocket, it hung from his finger, the limited light still reflecting from the gold. “This is yours, I want you to keep it.”
She wasn’t sure if she was able to stand this, she couldn’t control her eyes… and she found herself turning back to him.
“Well, put it on,” she said.
“Say it again.”
“Put it on, Matt,” Matt held out each end of the necklace, and fastened it behind her neck. The beautiful jewel hung down to her heart.
But as he was fastening the necklace, he suddenly felt very weak. He was loosing consciousness. Elektra laid him down on the sofa, saying “Go to sleep, Matt. Go to sleep.”
The last thing Matt remembered Elektra said was “For twenty-five years, I’ve missed you.”

 

[B.M.F.]

Part 6

12:30 AM

She haunted his dreams. He saw her die in his arms when they were both in their first year of college, from what he didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. The pain of the vision of his young love’s lifeless face splattered with blood…
“Elektra!” Matt awoke almost yelling her name.
He stood up, his radar was still extremely weak “Elektra, are you here?” Of course she wasn’t, she knocked him out so she would be allowed to leave. She was far gone, could be anywhere in the city by now. Probably out of the city, never to return she said.
Matt wondered what she meant by ‘tonight is the last night I’ll ever see you.’ She was no longer working in America? She was under too much surveillance in this country? There wasn’t enough business here? She was retiring? Why would she retire? She was in perfect heath, she had the body of a twenty-five year old not aging a day since her resurrection. Her resting heart rate was forty-eight beats a minute, she breathed deeply like she was meditating. She…
Then it hit Matt, it hit him so hard it was like he was just hit by Lester again. He knew why she hunted and killed Fisk and Lester tonight, and why she came to Matt’s apartment and had the most bizarre conversation and physical contact he’s ever experienced, saying this was the last time she would see him. He knew what she planned to do, and he had to stop her.
Matt had gone without sleep for almost four days, deep cuts and bruises still fresh from his last fight, and his migraine beat his head like a hammer. His pains reminded him not to strap on his leather boots and mask, yet he tightened the straps and buckles. Every step he took in his boots reminded him of his previous hip surgeries. He was almost glad he couldn’t see himself in the mirror, he didn’t want to guess how grey he had become. None of that mattered, he had to find Elektra before she committed her worst atrocity of the night. So for the first time in years, he leapt out from his balcony in full uniform.
If she was going to do what he thought, there was only one place she would do it. That place wasn’t very far, but Daredevil was almost flying through the air to make it in record time. If she wasn’t there, then Matt would have to call in favors from heroes in New York to broaden the search, that is, if she was still in New York. Matt wanted this to stay on the down low, but he would blow it to astronomical proportions if he could find her in time. He just prayed he could find her before she did it.
As he got closer to his destination he cursed his senses, his radar was still acting faulty, his range was still about a hundred feet. As he was nearing the last two miles of his destination, still praying he wasn’t too late.
He landed in the graveyard, and he ran to the other far side where he thought she might be. And Elektra was there.

She was kneeling infront of her own tombstone with her sai in her right hand. She saw him, and said “Matt, you weren’t supposed to see this.”
“Don’t… let’s talk about this,” Matt said.
“No, leave,” Elektra commanded. She raised the sai to herself.
“Don’t!” Daredevil begged “Elektra, have you wondered if your father didn’t die…” He couldn’t believe he was putting these words into sentences. “…and you stayed with me…” He was desperate for words to distract her, and eventually persuade her. “What our lives would have become?”
Matt, in his mind, was begging for an answer. Any answer from her, any answer at all. “Yes,” she finally replied “I have often.”
Matt absorbed that. The idea that she had wondered as often as he did that their lives were not destined to that of pain, fighting, killing, and death. They could have been happy, once upon a time.
“Then come with me,” Matt asked “let’s be how we were twenty-five years ago, Elektra. Back when we were together.”
Much happened in the last quarter century. Her father died, she was trained to be a hand of death, she killed hundreds, she was murdered, she was brought back, and she since killed thousands. She was the complete opposite of who she was, she was the last person on this earth who deserved happiness.
“Elektra,” Matt outstretched his hand “Come with me.”
She looked at him. He had awoken from her trance, despite his physical age, wounds, and pain he put on his retired costume, rushed to save her, and offered to re-start the relationship they had a quarter century ago.

“I can’t,” she said. She plunged the blade into her stomach.
“No!” Matt screamed, and he caught her before she fell forward on her face.
Matt held Elektra in his arms, both her hands still on her sai. The tip stuck out her back, the two prongs stuck deep inside her as well. She bled on him, the blood matched both of their costumes, but Matt’s tiers did not.
“Why?” Matt cried “Why? Why Elektra, Why?”
Her breathing… and her heart rate… Elektra could only say “It needed to be done, Matt.”
Matt hugged her. He was loosing her for the third time, and he couldn’t stand it. Blood poured out from her, it was a steady flow, he only guess how many seconds she had left.
He could only plead to her one last time “Please, don’t go.”
Elektra was fading, she raised her hands and took off his mask. She felt his wet face as she gave him her final request. “Bury me,” she asked.

Her hands fell and went limp, eyes stayed open, her heartbeat stopped, and she died looking into his eyes. Elektra was dead.
Matt hung on to her, weeping, saying words he wish he said when she was alive to hear them. He rocked back and forth with her in his arms.
Rain began to pour, and with each raindrop Matt could ‘see’ everything around him, Elektra’s face, and a lone shovel leaning against a fence along the street.


Epilogue

10:00 AM

The eighty page letter fell into the mailbox. As he let go of the envelope, he couldn’t hold back the tiers. He added a whole ten pages to the letter, he knew a widow would most able to relate to his situation. Now his thoughts and feelings about his love would be known to one other person on this earth, and he knew his secrets would not be known to anyone else.
He would sleep all day today. What would he do tomorrow? Would he visit Foggy and talk business? Give Ben a call to let him know he did recover from his ‘mental breakdown?’ Talk to reporters about their questions about sightings of Daredevil? Visit Karen’s resting place?
Ah, Matt knew what he would do first, before going to sleep. He walked back into his apartment and picked up the phone, and dialed a number with a Californian area code.
“Hello?”
“Hi Sandra, do you have time to talk with your dad?”


End

 

[B.M.F.]

Come on guys, not even one response? I know there's acouple Daredevil fans here on this forum, where are you guys at?