If you stay in a place long enough, familiarity tends to breed to the point where you become attuned to it. No other person in the world understands that feeling quite like Matt Murdock. Even before he was rendered blind as a child, he navigated the streets of NYC like a pro. Now, as the devil of the Hell's Kitchen, he might as well be fused with the neighborhood itself.
When the city exhales, his nose absorbs a cornucopia of smells. Every outward cry tells him over a dozen stories. And every open wound has the lawyer by day drop his suit for a more unholy garb. It's been weeks since his battle at the Presidential Hotel, where he finally put his ruthless adversary, the Kingpin, behind bars.
Despite the painful sacrifices he and his allies had made to get there, he's somehow become stronger. Hence, instead of lying low to survey Nelson, Murdock, and Paige's fledging weeks, he decided to have a little midnight "fun." While Daredevil's reputation in New York has soured greatly, it didn't mean he couldn't make a difference.
As he smoothly maneuvered through the city rooftops, he felt nostalgic, remembering his early years patrolling with only his black suit and wooden sticks. But, of course, he must be extra careful as he pulls up on his latest target. Despite Wilson Fisk's hostile takeover, the Albanian syndicate's tendency for drug trafficking was still sticking. And it seems like Hell's Kitchen always has to suffer for it.
Twenty tensed-up Albanians toting semi-automatics in an after-hours loading bay was all the proof he needed. He immediately started scanning his own "world of fire" for potential exit points, ready to pounce before they knew what hit him, only for "something else" to strike before him.
At this point, Matt has heard the bullets scrap off the skin of an unbreakable man, sniffed a brewery's worth of alcohol from a superhuman P.I., and felt a dragon's fire condensed into a human hand. Yet none felt "quite" like what he was feeling now. They get cut through his being like a knife before vanishing in a hail of gunfire.
Broken bones, thumping chests, and terrified screams added to the combative opera before silencing all too soon by the time he actively touched down. When he did, he quickly realized the loading dock had transformed into a warzone, with bullet casings denting the nearby truck while shredding through several crates—leaving behind a new scent unfamiliar to him.
His years of training with Stick have usually made him capable of filtering through overwhelming or new sensations. However, he couldn't help but stumble back from perceiving the packs of orange liquid now exposed in the air, trapped only by cheap plastic. Fortunately for Matt, he'll never know the true horrors of what Gothamites have viewed as a daily epidemic for over thirty years.
For these weren't just any old drugs, these were Drops, a Gotham city-born drug known for inducing paranoia and hyperactivity. Once Daredevil adapted to the stench, he quickly moved forward, hoping to investigate the stimulant's origins before calling in the police. But, unfortunately, when he took a single step forward, he felt the room's entire atmosphere drop cold.
He instantly turned to its source, feelings the shadows converge toward a single entity. He suddenly felt one resound like a steel drum in a garden of lulled heartbeats. Through his touch, Daredevil sensed the wind collide with a mesh of metallic alloy and Nitol. Sweat-filled adrenaline tensed his nose, realizing whatever he was facing was angry.
Instantly he flared up his twin sticks, ready to face off against the rumored "Batman."
During Daredevil's careful scan, the world's greatest detective was doing his investigation. But, in his tireless search for vengeance, he's scared many a criminal, so much so that even the fabled crime boss Carmine Falcone grew somewhat weary. Enough to send a full shipment of Drops to Hell's Kitchen, hoping to keep it hidden while spreading his power outward.
It's taken him many days to track the shipment here, even risking the safety of Gotham for this expedition. He'll be damned if he lets a foreign police department, already corrupted by a single man, procure the Drops before him. Nothing will stand in his way. Using his fallen foes as a pyre, Batman kept his demands clear.
"Step away from the Drops and go home before you get hurt," he said in hushed aggression.
"And what makes you think I'll back off?"
Matt's defiant rebellion made Batman's anger rise, deciding he must make his reputation known in NYC.
"Because … I'm vengeance."
To the average person, that line would've been like a row of icy knives to the heart. However, it was nothing but a challenge to the man without fear. He scoffed at the word, remembering how it nearly consumed everything he stood for, "seeing" how far he's come since then. And how he won't ever go back to that point.
"Well, in that case, we should get along, after all. I am the devil."
His proclamation ironically fell on deaf ears, as now the detective saw the man who's killed his parents, shutting out any room for negotiation—leaving him to attack first, firing his left grapple gun straight at Matt's leg. Daredevil immediately reflected. Using his baton Murdock deflected the shot toward one of the crates behind.
Which only added to his problems as Bats pulled the crate towards him. Thick Muay Thai rope meets splintered wood as blocked from behind, leaving him wide open for a dangerous right hook. The trembling rage behind it almost overshadowed how powerful it was. In addition to the offensive, Batman lunged forward and grabbed Matt's collar to activate his built-in taser!
Nerves more delicate than any regular human's started to light up like the fourth of July before getting dangerously numb. But, through sheer will, Matt still powered on, aiming two meaty jabs at his gut. They carried plenty of force, but the armor ate most of the damage, giving the caped crusader time to catch the left elbow to his shoulder.
He then cycled immediately towards judo, unleashing a mightly shoulder throw that sent Matt flying. Defying gravity, however, has never been something that's concerned the latter, though. In mid-air, Daredevil used the throw's power to flip himself upright acrobatically. Batman reactively tried reapplying pressure in response, switching towards taekwondo as he unleashed a spinning roundhouse kick.
These were one of the few martial arts the two shared, leaving the two to mirror one another in a series of high kicks. Upon the third strike, both opponents pushed each other back, allowing an unintentional reprieve. Batman kept his fists tight amidst Daredevil's boxing stance as they formulated new strategies.
"Boxing, Taekwondo, Muay Thai. I've never dealt with someone with this much combative skill before. But if I can throw him off balance for even a second, I can win this," Batman thought carefully.
"I need to get to higher ground. That armor of his is too tough, and this place is too limiting to get close and do any real damage. How I'm going to gain distance, though?"
His brain then remembered the entry and exit points he had echolocated from before till he found the right path. Again, the Bat lunged first, but Daredevil shot first, throwing his baton straight at his head. The telegraphed throw made the detective instinctively dodge while keeping his momentum, a fatal misstep. Just because he had gotten robbed of sight doesn't mean Matt he didn't have eagle eyes.
Unlike his other adversary Bullseye the projectile ricocheted off the walls to hit Batman in the back of the head. However, the momentary confusion gave Daredevil a chance to equip his escape plan, an AK-47 from a nearby fallen Albian. Despite rarely holding the item, his enhanced senses already made it so by the time he pulled the trigger. Moreover, he wielded it better than its previous holder ever could.
A full salvo of bullets hit the weakest points in Batman's armor, causing the dark room to illuminate off pure sparks alone. Inch by inch, though, he didn't dare stop. Then, as he kept powering through the welts and bruises, his body got caught instantly. Thus playing into Daredevil's clutches, killing was never his intention anyway, only stunning.
Once his clip immediately ran dry, Matt threw the rifle, giving him enough time to vault over Batman with another kick to his head. He then made a mad dash picking up his lost baton before disappearing into the shadows. For a brief second, even Batman got taken aback, realizing that he had never gotten one-upped in his disappearing act in his entire two years fighting crime.
Still, he wouldn't precisely be labeled as both the Prince of Gotham or the world's greatest detective if he didn't have a few extra tricks up his sleeve. As Daredevil acrobatically made his way up a nearby fire escape, bits of stamina and sense started to return. Enough to realize that the earlier electric shock had dulled his sense of touch, he assumed his body was still feeling the shock.
However, the static he felt now was a small tracking device placed during Batman's earlier judo throw. A second form of exhaustion formed in his mind as he heard a grapple gun shoot into the top of the building, knowing he can't escape. When he ascended fully Batman was there waiting for him, ominously staring the blind man down as he exhaled rapidly.
"Surrender now, and I'll make it painless you don't have to fight," he said in a more concerned tone.
Daredevil, however, didn't even hesitate on a possible surrender. Instead, raising his fist and readying himself for a final round.
"I can't even if I wanted to, I've been a fighter all my life, and I don't want to stop now or ever. Guess you could say it runs in the blood," Matt said thoughtfully.
The last claim struck somewhat of a chord with Batman, to the point where the feared vigilante temporarily faded, showing the angry child lying beneath Bruce Wayne. Whether Hell's Kitchen or Gotham city, it didn't matter. These men were proof suffering comes to men from all walks of life. One the son of a supposed savior descending from high society, the other the unholy brood of a nun and sinner rising from the bottom.
Both men turned their undeserved tragedy into a source of strength and purpose. But, unfortunately, one hasn't yet known the difference between vengeance and justice.
Shortly after Matt staked his claim, a subtle drizzle formed above, giving way to a torrential downpour as the two fighters decided to go in for the final clash.
Wayne and Murdock's fist met with enough power to rattle bones, their power not even attempting to get levied as they participated in the most heated CQC in their careers. Whether it be a Left knee, right elbow, or headbutt, they seemingly matched each other. Emphasis on seemingly as Bruce felt the most pressed, relying on his ace in the hole, his very emblem itself.
He slashed Daredevil's chest in one fluid motion, hoping to press on for a finishing blow. That dying hope exposed how much Bruce underestimated his opponent's determination. Through sheer will and adrenaline, Daredevil responded, cracking his stick against the bat's head so hard both splintered to pieces: the most brutal hit of his life.
Bruce tried to power on through, but the repeated blows to the head did their work. Finally, his eyes glazed over as his animalistic cowl broke over, revealing the man inside. The raindrops streaming down now barren face instantly gave Matt a clear facial image of his opponent. When it was completed, Daredevil finally saw the man behind the symbol.
He didn't know if it was because of his experience with the Defenders, Frank Castle, or his enhanced perceptions. But he felt a kindred soul within the man. Whatever his story, the man, without fear, decided to leave him. Praying that he could find the chance to be born again like him.