Hell | Matt Murdock

3

A few blocks away from the cursed apartment building, the bustling streets of Hell's Kitchen are alive with activity. The city awakens, its residents starting another day in the heart of New York. Among them, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson make their way to their newly rented office space, Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at Law.

The office is modest but functional, with a wooden desk and a few chairs. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm glow on the worn hardwood floors. Matt, his senses heightened, takes in the sounds of the city, the distant conversations of passersby, and the ever-present hum of life.

Foggy, in contrast, is all business. He's busy unpacking boxes, organizing files, and setting up their equipment, "Remind me why we didn't hire a secretary again?"

Matt, wearing his business attire, adjusts his red-tinted glasses and smiles, "Because we're a small, independent law firm. We need to be lean and mean."

Foggy chuckles as he continues to work.

"Lean and mean, huh? I guess that's us."

The Brooklyn park is a tranquil oasis amidst the urban hustle and bustle. Tall trees provide a canopy of shade, and the soft rustling of leaves blends with the distant hum of city life. Logan and her grandmother, Mai Hua, sit on a weathered bench, a serene pond shimmering nearby.

Mai, her silver hair neatly pulled back, is the picture of grace as she gazes at the pond. Logan, in her usual jeans and a plain t-shirt, fidgets beside her, a restless energy simmering just beneath the surface.

Logan's gift, the ability to glimpse the past through the five senses, is a unique inheritance from her grandmother. Mai is well-versed in the gift, having spent a lifetime mastering it. Logan, on the other hand, is still learning to harness its power.

Mai turns to Logan, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding, "It is a beautiful day. A day to connect with our gift, with each other."

Logan grunts in response, her gruff exterior firmly in place. She's never been one for sentimentality or idle conversation. Actions speak louder than words, or so she believes.

Mai places a gentle hand on Logan's arm, her touch a silent reassurance, "Patience is key, my dear. Let the gift come to you, like the ripples on this pond."

Logan's gaze flickers to the pond, her senses reaching out tentatively. She can hear the gentle lapping of water, the distant chirping of birds, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. But the visions elude her, slipping through her grasp like smoke. Frustration simmers within Logan, a feeling she's grown accustomed to when it comes to mastering her gift. She clenches her fists, her jaw tight, and her eyes narrow in concentration. Mai observes Logan's struggle with a knowing smile. She's been through this with her granddaughter before, watching her grapple with the same stubborn determination that Mai herself once possessed.

"You must quiet your mind," Mai advises, her voice soft but unwavering.

Logan's shoulders tense, her impatience getting the better of her, "I'm trying, Ba Ngoai. It's just... it's not as easy as you make it look."

Mai's laughter is like a gentle melody, a sound that has comforted Logan since childhood, "Ah, my fierce Logan. You are your own greatest obstacle. The gift flows with ease when you let it."

Logan sighs, relenting slightly. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to clear her mind. Her grandmother's wisdom has always held a special place in her heart, even when she's been too stubborn to admit it. As Logan's senses reach out once more, she begins to feel the shift in the air, the subtle change that signals the approach of a vision. It starts as a whisper, a fragment of memory carried on the wind. Mai watches Logan with pride, her own senses attuned to the moment. She knows that her granddaughter is on the brink of unlocking the gift's potential, a legacy passed down through generations.