The Devil Met the Dragon

Chapter One

Sage hated only being able to see sky in divided sections, like a maze of clouds and powder blue. She felt like the sky scrapers were entrapping her, leaving her grounded - and not in the good way.

Houston was crowded and loud enough, but New York topped it with about four times as many people and skyscrapers. Manhattan, Brooklyn, NYC, Long Island, Hell's Kitchen...It all lumped together in a thoughtless maze of bodies and noise. The fumes of the passing taxis made her eyes burn and she reached under her glasses to rub at them. Her thoughts traveled to her fiance, Raul. Like her, he was a mutant. His senses were incredible: eagle-eye vision, the ability to hear a pin drop through layers of concrete, and to sniff out a three day-old trail after a rain. He suffered enough in the confines of Houston; New York City would be torture for him. Sage was glad she'd convinced him to stay home.

A shoulder slammed into hers. Sage turned with the jarring, glaring at the man's back as he hurried away. "Hey, asshole! An apology would sure be nice!" She became acutely aware - and for the first time, almost self-conscious - of her southern drawl. She was aware she already stood out in men's wranglers, a pair of cowboy boots that should have been thrown in the trash a decade ago, and a worn denim jacket.

A couple passerbys gave her dirty looks. She was standing in their way, on to their commute for wherever it was they were going in the late afternoon. Sage returned the looks right back before continuing on her path. Rude. She checked her inner jacket pocket for her wallet, where it still sat safely nestled. The last thing she needed to worry about was being successfully pick-pocketed.

Sage glanced down at her phone where the GPS was lit up. She was following the thin blue trail down the sidewalk until she reached the address she'd found online.

Nelson and Murdock - Attorneys at Law

Letting out a long breath, Sage quickened her pace, dodging away from bodies of hapless shapes. Drudges to a pace far too fast for her. She was trying to recite the words in her head, how it hopefully wouldn't come out so much as begging, but a simple ask for help. However, the way anyone looked at it, she was desperate. A twenty-six year old woman from small town Texas, ditching veterinary science classes, and taking the first flight she could to NYC once she'd heard of Matthew Murdock.

Her phone pinged in her hand, informing Sage she had arrived at her destination. She glanced up at the building, a ruddy looking piece that seemed to have seen better years. She glanced around her. The building she was about to enter was better off than a lot of them, some parts of the neighborhood were still scarred from "the incident" over a year prior. Sage often thought battling what she did in Houston was a struggle, but it was nothing compared to aliens raining out of the sky.

The stairs creaked under her feet as she climbed to the fourth floor. When she reached it, a hallway sprawled out before her, cracked plaster on the ceiling and broken tile on the floor. A door on the left side of the hallway opened. Sage's eyes caught the faded gold lettering of "...dock" before a man stepped out. Circular sunglasses sat upon a wide nose, a walking stick in his hand. A dead giveaway.

The man stopped in the process of locking the door and turned his head in Sage's direction. A moment of silence passed. Sage was about to open her mouth to speak when he said, "can I help you?"

Sage realized then that she was creepily standing at the top of the stairs. "Uh...I'm sorry. Are you Matthew Murdock?"

The man turned to her, one hand still on the doorknob. He cocked his head to one side. "I am. May I ask who's asking?"

Sage approached slowly, loose debris cracking under her boot sole. "My name's Sage Fowler. Skinny Bukowski gave me your name; he said you were...relatively generous in your services."