when the hero comes to the one who believes in him¹

CHAPTER THREE

<<You're late,>> the squeak, made the guy slow down a bit while flying over New York.  The current connection was just fine, allowing the network to catch coverage even at the 50th floor of Manhattan.  "Electra promised to shave you bald if you didn't arrive within half an hour."

<<I have good news about our poisonous friend,>> the reply SMS went off quickly, and the young man, having changed the angle of flight, began to cut the path of his route to Hell's Kitchen.  <<He stepped on a big corn-ass cyclops.>>

<<Are you sure?  It will be great, then the number of car thefts will decrease threefold,>> Murdoch immediately responded, as soon as the SMS received the status“ received ”.  - <<Shall I prepare the threads, Spidey?>>

<<Don't, El, I have a couple of bruises and that's it,>> smiling like an idiot Peter quickly typed in an answer, seeing in the distance the buildings of thirty-fourth street, which served as the border of Hell's Kitchen.  Despite the fact that this area was full of theaters, restaurants and expensive shops, few people were ready to walk around it after sunset - it was easy to run into bandits in the gateways here.  It was here that Matt Murdock, a famous blind lawyer, the husband of a beautiful Greek woman and the most implacable crime fighter, who imprisoned about five hundred people in New York for robbery, rape, drug trafficking and murder, lived.  And it was not only bandits from the streets - the owners of small restaurants, drunk drivers also fell under the Murdoch rink of justice.  The lawyer himself lived on the seventeenth floor of a house located in the center of Hell's Kitchen, at the intersection of Tenth and Forty-fifth Streets.  The apartment of a successful lawyer and family man was well furnished, a spacious living room with a comfortable sofa, a thirty-two-inch TV and a couple of armchairs near the shelves with books, made in the Greek style, a kitchen where you could cook whatever your heart desires, two rooms - a nursery and  a bedroom, as well as a neat balcony located on the dark side of the street and on which it was convenient to land.  In general, not an apartment, but a fairy tale, which was pleasant to visit, and, sometimes, even spend the night, especially after fights with Fisk's minions.

True, it was crowded here now - except for the Murdocks, there were also the Wilsons.  And if Deadpool was too annoying person, crawling into every crack with his long, disfigured nose, then Mrs. Wilson was the real soul of the company.  In consequence of what it was - work as a stripper, a doctor of sciences in psychology, or the ability to mimic the personality of any person, Peter did not know, but he was sincerely happy with the brown-haired woman, especially when she shut up her chatty husband, who talked a lot, a lot.

“You were late,” Elektra said, looking at the young man who entered the apartment through the balcony.  Dressed in a purple Woody Woodpecker T-shirt and sweatpants, the Greek woman, even in home clothes and no makeup, was one of the most beautiful women the young man had ever seen.  And given the fact that she perfectly controlled her body, skillfully fighting and training Spider in the fighting technique, then even as a friend for a superhero, she seemed ideal.   “If you do not come on time for any of my daughter's holidays again, you will be very sorry, mister!”

“Well, I'm sorry, I didn't want to be late.” Raising his hands in a protective gesture, Peter took off his mask and breathed deeply.  Despite the fact that the fungal colonies on the mask were a good idea, it was not an ideal solution - they were like a gas mask, and worked exactly like it, which ultimately resulted in difficulty breathing.  “ By the way, congratulations on the 7th birthday of your personal demoness, I hope she didn’t arrange anything at school this year?”

“Hope and believe, kid,” Wade laughed, looking at the guy.  “ This small turd poured glue on the teacher, then poured feathers!  And before that I gave him sleeping pills and laxatives.  Hey, this is a monster, not a child!”