Daredevil stepped soundlessly in the garage, diving into the mixture of leather and iron scents. He moved like a shadow, the deep light barely lightening his tracks. Matt's senses were sharp: he could feel the ground vibrating under his feet, hearing the familiar sounds from the garage's owner. He managed to feel the world around him, exceeding his blindness.

"I need you to repair it," Daredevil's voice was low and serious, his typical intimidating tone. He put a black bag on the metallic table. "Make it more resistant. Some spots are still too weak to bullets and blades."

He wore a makeshift black costume—a simple black suit plus a black cloth to cover his face—while the original one remained inside the bag. The red fabric and the mask's horns appeared as he opened it to show the extent of the damage.

"I hope you can manage to repair it in one night. I really can't wait long," Daredevil sighed. He knew that it took time to make a good suit, but he couldn't wait too long, either. Duty called. Vigilantes never rested, especially not the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

A few weeks ago, when Matt had just started his hero's activities, he found someone doing a suspicious business. It happened that the dealer was skilled at making efficient costumes, making them resistant, while building interesting weapons. So, to give the person a second chance, Matt made a deal: he got help with his costume, and the ex-criminal could stay out of jail.

Daredevil crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He kept his senses focused on the lookout, just in case. His sharp hearing allowed him to listen to the ex-criminal's breathing, the bones moving, the cars passing a few streets away. Matt could feel the wind shifting on his skin—he made sure no one followed him there. He was able to smell the faint scent of gas and rust that lingered in the garage, with the smell of the diverse fabrics.