The Man With No Fear

Chapter Three: Origins

Once Matt manages to drag himself out of the pouring rain and back to his simple apartment he's dead tired. Opening the door he stumbles in, nearly toppling over from exhaustion. But there's unfinished business for him to attend to.

Like the gash in his arm. He peels off his damp mask and shirt, tossing both to the ground. Reaching up his hand he runs it over cut to assess the damage. It's not deep so he figures wrapping gauze around it should do just fine.

As he slowly walks to his bathroom his mind wanders over to what just happened in the alleyway. Bitterness fills his throat at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn't came around. Expertly reaching for the rubbing alcohol as he's done for the past three weeks, he pours a bit onto the cut, clenching his jaw as the sting sets in. Grabbing the gauze he starts wrapping his arm.

Matt smiles slightly, deciding to look on the bright side. At least he didn't get any cuts or bruises that would be visible. Last week a drug dealer gave him a nasty cut across the cheek courtesy of a broken bottle. He'd had a hard time explaining that to Foggy, blaming it on being clumsy and falling.

Once he's all patched up he puts away the alcohol and gauze, stumbling out the bathroom. The apartment is silent save for the hum of the fridge and the constant drip of a leaky faucet. He longs for his bed and as soon as he reaches it he drops.

He lays there, arms beneath his head, not even bothering to change. Times like these are the worst. Times where he's left alone with his thoughts. They usually take him into dark rooms that he's tried to keep locked, but somehow his thoughts always have an extra set of keys.

The dark room of choice for tonight is the day he was blinded. Matt buries his head into his arms at the memory, willing it to go back to where it came from, but it persists.

There he is as a kid walking with his dad down the busy street. Taking in everything the way kids tend to do. Then there's the sound of screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber as a truck full of chemicals tries to garner control.

Him and his father turn in the direction of the commotion as people are screaming. His father grabs him by the arm to pull him out the way. The truck slams into a pole. The chemicals are unleashed in a wave, like a tsunami. Matt hears a woman shout and sees her standing right in the path of the oncoming chemicals. He breaks away from his father and rushes towards her, pushing her out of the way. She's spared but he isn't. As he lands on the hard concrete ground the chemicals overtake him. They burn so badly and he screams over and over. He scrambles to his feet, covering his burning eyes. He hears his father calling out to him. When he opens his eyes he expects to see his concerned and scared father.

Instead he sees nothing.

Matt wakes up in a cold sweat. His midnight musings had followed him into his sleep it seems. He holds his pounding head and eases himself up into a sitting position.

It's morning time. An important day actually, seeing as it's his and Foggy's first full day as lawyers at their new office.

Matt gets out of bed and peels off the rest of his vigilante get up. Trudging to the bathroom he steps into the shower, turning the water to its hottest setting. The steamy water eases the aches he feels from his past days of crime fighting. Leaning his head against the shower wall he frowns. His thoughts go back to his dream from last night. Or, to be more accurate, his nightmare.

Once he gets out the shower he dries off, brushes his teeth, and gets dressed for the day. Although he can make out shapes well enough to form a murky picture of the world he still can't decipher colors. So he can't be sure whether his suit and tie for the day go well together but he figures he can't look too bad. Grabbing his cane and briefcase he leaves his apartment, locking the door behind him.

Matt's phone rings and he answers it as he makes his way to the elevator.

"Hey Matt!" exclaims Foggy on the other end of the phone.

"How can you possibly be this chipper in the morning?" Matt asks groggily as the elevator descends down to the first floor.

"You know I'm usually not, but this morning is monumental man!" Foggy says excitedly.

Matt chuckles as he leaves the elevator, walking out the front door of the apartment building.

"Yeah, I guess it is buddy," Matt says thoughtfully with a wide grin. Even though it's the early morning the streets are crowded with people. He moves his cane before him, walking down the sidewalk with the throngs of people. He stops at the corner to hail a cab.

"And I put an ad in the newspaper for a secretary!" Foggy adds.

"Wait what?" Matt says, caught off guard. "Foggy we haven't even gotten a case yet. Can we even afford a secretary?"

"To make money you have to spend money Matt. That's basic business 101," Foggy replies exasperatedly.

"Didn't you get a D in Business 101?" Matt replies sardonically.

"Details, details. And that professor had it out for me, you know this," he replies. Matt laughs again. A cab pulls up and he gets in.

"42 Mill St please," he tells the cabbie. The car pulls off and he leans back into the padded seat.

"So you put out an ad?" Matt asks.

"Yep! Already got three calls today about it! Setting up interviews too for this afternoon. We're gonna be pretty busy," Foggy says, his voice full of anticipation.

Once Matt finally gets off the phone with his law partner/best friend the cab pulls up to Nelson and Murdock. After paying the cabbie Matt gets out and goes into the building.

He steps into the elevator and it brings him to the right floor. As he steps of he can already hear the sound of coffee being poured. The scent of it gets stronger as he walks down the hall. Once he reaches the door to the office he opens it and the scent hits him head on.

"Hey mi amigo!" Foggy exclaims. Matt nods with a smile, walking into the office.
"Do you want a cup?" Foggy continues as he pours himself a mug.

"Um, no, I'll pass," Matt says with a raised eyebrow. The coffee might smell good but he knows from experience that it'll taste like crap.

"Whatever, your loss bro," his friend replies.

Matt walks past him, through the waiting room towards the back where their personal offices are. He drops his briefcase onto his bare desk. He hasn't bothered to decorate it yet, meanwhile Foggy's desk is full of framed photos and knick knacks. Foggy strides into the room and whistles.

"Geez Matt, are you gonna add some things to this room?" Foggy asks, sipping some of his coffee.

Matt shrugs nonchalantly. "I don't really know what to add," he admits, gesturing at his eyes. "Not like I need anything to look at."

"Still," Foggy says. "A little bit of personalization goes a long way."

Matt stops listening when he hears the sound of heels clicking down the hall. The woman wearing them is in a rush and her heart's hammering with nervous energy.

She stops at their door and knocks.

"I wonder who that could be," Foggy muses aloud. "The interviews aren't till later and we can't possibly have gotten a client yet."

Foggy leaves out of Matt's office to see who's at the door. Matt listens with interest as the door opens. The scent of pumpkins and apples that begin to intermingle with the lingering scent of coffee is unmistakable.

"Hello," says a breathless female's voice. "I'm Karen Page."