Look 'bad luck' up in the dictionary. Go on. We'll wait. See there? That picture of an awkward college student tripping over his own feet? That's Peter Parker. He's majoring in chemical engineering, and by some stroke of (you guessed it) bad luck, t...
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Hell's Kitchen was just like Peter had remembered - tall buildings in an exact grid pattern. Ubiquitous skyscrapers were smudged by the smog-filled sky, no sunlight, no birds. Cars raced between red traffic lights, stubbornly flickering in the grey.
There was misery within those streets. It had soaked into the sidewalk cracks and into the graffitied walls. It was in the stores that were once loaded with designer goods and now housed everything for a dollar. It was in the back alleys where the few restaurants who persisted in trading had their garbage searched several times a day - and not just by the cats. It was etched in every gaunt and dejected face that had given up on life getting any better than mean survival on mean streets. It was places like this that made Peter think that, just maybe, his life wasn't so bad after all...but he hadn't come here to sightsee. He was here to visit someone. A lawyer, to be more specific.
There were very few penthouse apartments in Hell's Kitchen. Primarily because there was practically no market for it. Most people who lived there were too poor to move anywhere else, and anyone that could afford to move and chose to stay...well, let's just say they were close to insane. Speaking of which, Peter had finally found the penthouse that he was searching for. It was on the top floor of the tallest building in the street, and the hallway leading to the door was almost completely bereft of light.
Peter knocked on the chestnut-coloured door and the sound echoed through his empty surroundings. One second passed...then two...the three...until finally the door creaked open to reveal a man of rather average height - wearing a pair of dark glasses.
"Parker?" Matt Murdock spoke before Peter even had a chance to open his mouth. Somehow, despite being practically blind from a very young age, Matt always knew exactly who he was talking to and where they were in the room.
It was always an incredible thing to behold, especially for someone like Peter who was intrigued by the entire situation. Despite his lack of vision, Matt's other four senses functioned with superhuman accuracy and sensitivity, giving him abilities far beyond the limits of a sighted person. He also developed a kind of radar sense, similar to echolocation.
"Hey, Matt." Peter replied, trying to hide the pain in his voice, from both the emotional strain and numerous injuries from the previous fight. He'd been crying for almost an hour, and not even Matt's impressive talents could cheer him up. "Can...uh...I come in?"
The dark haired man quickly scooted over, allowing just enough room for Peter shuffle inside. He did so carefully, as if the sharpest movement might bring him unbearable pain...it probably would. He had popped his shoulder back into place not long ago and his back felt like it was one more bad fall away from snapping.
Once he had finally made his way in, he saw that the penthouse was massive, and almost empty apart from the furniture that was scattered across the room. It looked like Matt was barely ever home because everything was practically spotless as well.
