CHAPTER 8: THE MAN IN THE MASK
The call came at eleven PM.
"Roy." Foggy's voice was shaking. "Karen was attacked. She's alive—she's at Metro-General—but someone tried to kill her."
I was moving before he finished speaking.
The taxi couldn't go fast enough. I threw bills at the driver and sprinted through Metro-General's emergency entrance, scanning the chaos for familiar faces.
Foggy was in the waiting area, pale and pacing. He grabbed my arm when he saw me.
"She's okay. Shaken up, some bruises, but okay." His grip was tight enough to hurt. "Someone saved her. A man in black—he came out of nowhere and just... destroyed them."
My stomach dropped. "A man in black?"
"Like, ninja stuff. Black clothes, black mask. Beat three guys unconscious in seconds." Foggy ran a hand through his hair. "Karen says he moved like nothing human. The cops think she's exaggerating, but Matt says..."
"Matt says what?"
"Matt says there's been reports. A vigilante in Hell's Kitchen. Someone cleaning up the streets."
I kept my face neutral. "Where's Karen now?"
"Room 312. The doctors are checking her over, but she wanted to see us."
We took the elevator. My reflection in the metal doors looked calm. Inside, my mind was racing.
The masked man. Daredevil. Matt.
I'd known, intellectually, that Matt was out there fighting. But knowing and seeing the aftermath were different things.
Karen's room was small and too bright. She sat on the hospital bed in a paper gown, arms wrapped around herself, a purple bruise blooming on her cheekbone. But her eyes—her eyes were burning.
"They sent three men," she said as we entered. "Three men to kill me in my own apartment. And they would have, if he hadn't been there."
I pulled up a chair. "Tell me what happened."
She told us.
The knock on her door. The men who'd forced their way in. The terror of knowing she was going to die. And then—
"He came through the window." Karen's voice dropped. "Like a shadow. I couldn't even see him move. One second they were grabbing me, the next they were on the ground and he was standing over them."
"Did you see his face?"
"He was wearing a mask. Black fabric, covered everything." She shook her head. "But his voice... he told me to stay down. To not look. Then he was gone."
Foggy was taking notes. "The police are calling it a mugging gone wrong. They don't believe there was a masked guy."
"They're wrong." Karen's jaw set. "He was real. He saved my life."
I reached into my pocket, pulled out a few bills, and headed for the door. "I'll get you something from the vending machine. You need to eat."
The hallway was quiet at this hour. I fed money into the machine, selected a candy bar, and thought about what I'd just heard.
Matt Murdock, blind lawyer by day. Something else entirely by night.
The masked vigilante who'd been making headlines. The devil of Hell's Kitchen, some were starting to call him. Not that anyone knew his name. Not that anyone knew the man behind the mask ran a struggling law firm with his best friend.
Except me.
I walked back to Karen's room with the candy bar. She took it automatically, then looked down at it and laughed—a wet, exhausted sound.
"It's stale," she said, after the first bite.
"Hospital food."
"No, I mean—" She laughed again, tears leaking down her cheeks. "I almost died tonight. And now I'm eating a stale Snickers in a hospital gown. It's absurd."
"Life usually is."
She wiped her eyes. "Thank you. For the candy. For everything. You don't even know me."
"I know you're brave. I know you're telling the truth. And I know Union Allied wants you dead." I pulled up my chair again. "That's enough."
The door opened. Foggy looked up, then frowned.
"Where's Matt?"
The question hung in the air. I checked my watch—almost midnight. Matt should have been here an hour ago.
"Tried calling," Foggy said. "Goes straight to voicemail."
Twenty minutes later, Matt walked in.
His clothes were rumpled. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered recently. And when he shook my hand, I felt the swelling on his knuckles that he was trying to hide.
"Traffic," he said. "Sorry."
Foggy accepted it. Karen was too exhausted to notice.
I didn't say a word.
But I watched Matt position himself near the window—always near the window—and listened to him ask Karen questions he probably already knew the answers to.
He was there. He fought them. And now he's here, pretending nothing happened.
I understood the necessity. Understood the secret. Understood why a man with his abilities would choose to operate in darkness.
That didn't make it any less strange, sitting across from a superhero in a wrinkled suit, watching him play lawyer while his bruised hands rested in his lap.
We stayed until dawn.
Karen finally slept around four, sedatives pulling her under. Foggy dozed in a chair. Matt stood vigil by the window, head tilted toward sounds the rest of us couldn't hear.
I stepped out for air.
The hospital parking lot was quiet. Gray light filtered through the clouds, turning everything flat and colorless. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.
I walked to the corner where Karen's building was visible across the street. Police tape still marked the alley where three men had been beaten unconscious by a man in black.
My phone buzzed. A text from the security firm: Team in place. Ms. Page will have 24/7 coverage starting tonight.
I typed back: Make it good. Someone wants her dead.
Behind me, footsteps. I turned to find Matt approaching, cane tapping against the concrete.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"Could ask you the same thing."
He stopped beside me, face turned toward the crime scene tape. "Karen's lucky. If that vigilante hadn't been there..."
"Yeah."
"You seem calm about this."
"About what?"
"A masked man fighting criminals in the streets." Matt's head tilted. "Most people would find that unsettling."
"Most people haven't spent time in Hell's Kitchen." I shoved my hands in my pockets. "The neighborhood needs help. If someone's providing it, I'm not going to complain about their methods."
Matt was quiet for a long moment.
"You're a strange man, Roy Smith."
"So I've been told."
I looked up at the rooftops. Somewhere up there, hidden in shadow, I knew he patrolled. Knew he watched. Knew he protected.
And I knew he had no idea that I knew.
"I should go," I said. "Long day tomorrow."
"Roy." Matt's voice stopped me. "Thank you. For Karen. For all of this."
"Don't thank me yet. This is just the beginning."
I walked away, feeling his unseeing eyes follow me until I rounded the corner and disappeared.
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