Luck was an abstract concept that intertwined itself into the fabric of normalcy, its silky threads woven by the intricate hand of a renowned seamstress. For some, it came and went, like an ebbing tide singing beneath the sultry gaze of moonlight. For others, it was more prominent, a beacon that sparkled to hone in good fortune.
Elizabeth Ryan had forgotten how sweet the elixir of luck truly was. Her 'luck' constantly flared its temperamental nature, mourning the remnants of her bright past and stirring the waters of her bleak future. She was the embodiment of misfortune. She knew she would be better off without meddling with it and she knew that relying on a power above her would only prove to be her downfall.
What she didn't know, however, was that her luck was about to go from bad to worse in a matter of seconds.
But all she needed was her little bit of bad luck to realign everything in her life.
***
As soon as the safety of the firearm clicked and the sound of the gun being fired sounded, Elizabeth realised that if she valued her life then she would have to move herself out of harm's way.
Scrambling to her feet, she made a mad dash to the closest unlocked office. She didn't dare close the door, as it was her only form of escape that didn't involve jumping out of a ten-storey building, so instead crouched onto the floor in an attempt to hide herself from view. Her back slid against the wall until it was pressed firmly against the perpendicular angle at which the polished tiles met with brick. She tucked her legs into her body and sent a silent prayer to God that she wouldn't die at the youthful age of twenty-five.
The combination of gun shots, shouts and screams of pain hung in the air like fog; obstructing her ability to think. The smell of smoke was strong, invading her senses like an army.
Glass shattered and was spewed in multiple directions, clinking against the cool tiles.
She peered out the crack between the door cautiously, minding the broken glass shards that littered at her sides. Several men loitered the floor, groaning and clutching their injuries. Others, though evidently quite panicked, remained fighting and Elizabeth craned her neck further to get a glimpse at who they were up against-
Instantly, she whipped her head back in when a knife had been blindly pelted in her direction. She ducked, her arms flying from her sides and up to her head, protectively.
Her breathing came laboured, due to the adrenaline and intense fear that had now built up like bricks. Loose strands of her dirty blonde hair fell out of her bun and she shakily tucked them behind her ear.
Working under pressure was never her strong suit. It seemed as though, tonight, the strategic part of her mind had taken a vacation when she needed it the most.
Her eyes skipped across the room, searching for anything that may be of use - preferably some sort of weapon that could help her self-defence. She didn't find anything.
When the commotion outside began to die out in the slightest, she attempted to get a better view again. The sight that greeted her was one that she should've been expecting.
A figure - clad in black - swiftly knocking out men unconscious in the dark.
The man in the mask.
Daredevil.
He appeared to be in his element - disguised in the shadows; his moves so graceful and well thought out it was almost hypnotising.
She silently cursed in her head. This man was known for his ruthless ways, brutality and showing no mercy.
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Unknowing - Matthew Murdock
Fanfic"She was freezing, dying from the cold, She needed to be thawed By burning a little from the heat of Hell's fire, Alongside the Devil himself. " Elizabeth Ryan and Matthew Murdock were both thrown into the same punishing equation. They were both...
