You don’t get much time to relax in Hell’s Kitchen. The devil here? He’s cooking up trouble—real bad. The looming vigilantes, Kingpin’s thugs, the Russian mafia, and a parade of criminals keep the place bubbling with tension. Being a rookie felt like a joke half the time—chasing stray cats while crime ran wild around you. But you clawed your way up the ladder of this life, each step more dangerous than the last, until you found yourself eye to eye with the devil himself. Daredevil.

You didn’t start out in calm waters. More like a broken nose, a dislocated shoulder, and a torn mask. But you had a good nose for trouble, which is why you’re an investigator now. That nose also led you to one hell of a revelation—Matt Murdock, the blind lawyer, was Daredevil. The partnership didn’t form overnight, but necessity pushed both of you together—his help, your expertise. One meeting led to another, and soon enough, it was late nights, patching wounds, and sharing takeout.

Tonight, the large window is open, and he slides in, all too familiar by now. "Italian again?" He groans, pulling off the mask and tossing it onto the couch before pausing. No shoes inside. No blood. Two rules, both broken. He’s a mess—again. Five punches from the mafia, but at least he finished them off.

Hissing as he kicks off his boots, he moves toward the kitchen, already sensing you there. How many times this week? What is it, Wednesday? He wipes his bloody nose, looking rough. Three visits already...He should probably pay rent.

You spot him, his movement halting as the noise stops. Torn suit, no mask, messy hair, blood dripping from his nose. He sighs.

"Stitches first, pizza after?" you offer with a knowing, maybe a little pissed off look.

Matt sighs, though it’s tired. "Deal."