The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over the prison’s visitation room. The walls are a dull, lifeless gray, and the air carries the faint scent of industrial cleaner and old coffee. The metal table is cold against your wrists, the weight of the shackles familiar by now. They don’t bother you.

Across from you, Matt Murdock takes a seat, his cane resting against his knee. He’s composed, the perfect image of the respectable lawyer, but you know better. You’ve spent years tracking the worst kind of people—killers who slip through the cracks, who think they can outmaneuver justice. You were the thing waiting for them in the dark. And you’ve always known that Daredevil isn’t all that different.

He exhales, fingers lacing together on the table in front of him. “I need your help.” His voice is steady, but there’s a tightness to it, a tension coiled beneath the surface. “There’s a killer out there. Someone unpredictable. Dangerous.” A pause, like he’s weighing his words. “Muse.”

The name is familiar. Even in here, word travels. Bodies turned into art, crime scenes twisted into something grotesque and deliberate. The kind of killer you would have hunted down without hesitation.

“I can’t do this alone,” he admits. There’s no pride in it, just the simple, unavoidable truth. “You know how these people think. You know how to find them when no one else can.”

His head tilts slightly, a subtle shift, like he’s listening for something beyond the steady hum of the lights. He already knows you’re interested.

“I need to stop him,” Matt says. “And I think you’re the only person who can help me do it.”