Devil's Redemption

Murdock

22nd March

He could see again.

He was in one of his most favourite places. Fogwell's gym.

There was the boxing ring and several punching bags.

Matt walked up to the ring and sat on the apron. The entire place was calm and there was something eerie about the calmness. To be honest, Matt Murdock rarely had a 'calm' day. There were all sorts of sounds in his ears all the time. He had always heard vehicles on the road and the inhabitants of the nearby houses watch Television or argue with each other.

Today was different. It was calm.

Everything felt normal.

The gym smelled of sweat and canvas. Matt Murdock took a pair of gloves from the shelf and began to put them on. Strapping the gloves tightly, he walked towards one of the punching bags. It was a big black one with the word "Fogwell" written on it in emboldened letters. He gently grabbed it with both the hands and felt it move slightly.

Matt swung at the bag and punched it hard.

The gentle sound of glove hitting the bag was loud enough to echo across the gym. Matt licked his lips absently and punched it again, this time with the other hand. The bag moved a little from the impact of his punches. But it was strong enough for him. It was stiff enough to give him the satisfaction.

Matt punched the bag again and again, feeling his heartbeat and breathing rate intensify with each of his move.

He heard a voice that made him stop. "You need to work on your delivery, Matt."

It was very familiar. He hadn't heard the voice in several years, almost a decade and half. But it was still fresh in his memory. Matt wondered if he would ever forget the voice in his life. A voice that he cherished beyond himself.

Matt looked around the gym. "Dad?"

But the gym was completely deserted. Even the dust that had settled on the weights remained without moving. There was no one else in the gym with Matt.

He heard the voice again. "You gotta punch like a Murdock, not like a rookie, son!" A faint laugh.

"Dad?"

"Yes, it's me." The voice sounded happy and contented. "Go on, keep practicing."

Matt looked around the room once more and checked every corner, to find out where his dad was. But for some reason, he couldn't see him. Then again, it was a miracle that he could see anything at all.

He turned around and punched the bag again. If his dad was watching, he would have to make him proud. He jabbed the bag a multiple times and hit a straight uppercut. If this had been a real fight, the opponent would have gotten knocked out, he was sure. Feeling the sweat glide off his brow, Matt increased his speed slightly, punching the bag with a resolve.

"You know, you really shouldn't have done that, Matt." Jack Murdock's voice echoed.

Matt stopped punching.

He turned and glanced around the gym again. "Done what, dad?"

"There are people depending on you, back in Hell's kitchen, Matt." His father's voice seemed to boom out of every corner in the gym, so it was hard for Matt to locate the source. "There are people you could have helped and lives you could have uplifted. Instead, you chose this.