The subway jolted and rattled. I felt every vibration through the soles of my shoes. Every smell in the car was assaulting me—fast food grease, someone's cheap cologne, old beer sweat, and the distinct funk of wet socks.
Super-smell. What a superpower, huh?
I leaned back and stared at the ad above the door. It used to be for toothpaste, I think—some lady with a perfect smile, like she'd never known a bad day in her life. Now it was half-ripped, stained with god-knows-what, and someone had scribbled over her eyes with a red sharpie. And wrote a message over her pearly whites. "Bite back."
Yeah. We'll see.
Maybe Matt will help me.
Maybe he'll just punch me through a wall for knowing too much.
My palms were sweaty. Classic sign of a great idea in the making.
The train slowed. My stop was next.
I took a deep breath through my nose. Coffee. Ink. Paper. Citrus. And—
Blood.
Not fresh. Just old violence carved into the bones of the city. Most of these people stopped noticing it. I hadn't figured out how.
I stood up, my legs tense, my chest tight.
Showtime.
---
Is it weird to bring donuts?
Am i just imitating Dexter?
They're not cops, they're lawyers. But still. I don't know—felt like the thing to do. Like showing up to a job interview with a firm handshake.
I kept staring at the box like it might tell me if I was being an idiot.
What if they think I'm trying to bribe them? Or poison them? Or worse—what if they're on a diet?
God, this is so stupid.
I should've just brought coffee. No one questions coffee.
But it's too late now. The box is warm in my hands and smells like a looming diabetes. I've already committed to this idiocy.
So here we go.
Let's meet the Devil—and Foggy.
---
I hear voices behind the door—banter. Casual. Friendly.
They're laughing about something.
Great. I'm about to crash a sitcom with a box of donuts and existential dread.
I shift the box to one hand, wipe my palm on my jeans, and take a breath that doesn't help.
Huff.
My knuckles hover for a second too long before I finally knock.
Knock knock.
Too soft?
I knock again—firmer this time.
Showtime. Again.
"hEllo?—" cough "Hello, can I come in?"
Great. Voice crack on the first word. Real smooth, Wade. Nailed it.
There was a pause. Then a voice answered
"...Yeah, come in."
It sounded… friendly. A little surprised, maybe. And—God, I hate myself for thinking this—but maybe a bit round? That's gotta be Foggy, right?
Huff.
I grab the doorknob, spin it, and step in—heart doing its best hummingbird impression.
There they are.
One guy, mid-twenties, long brown hair brushing his ears, built like he knows his way around a breakfast buffet but not in a bad way—warm face, casual clothes. Friendly, maybe even harmless. Definitely Foggy Nelson, if the universe isn't feeling like a dick today.
Next to him, another man. Also mid-twenties. Shaggy orange hair and a little stub—seriously, what is it with important people and orange hair? Lean, sharp, like he does calisthenics for fun. Red-tinted glasses perched on his nose, and a walking stick resting against the desk beside him. Matt Murdock if my previous guess is correct. Definitely not harmless.
My brain was screaming. My hand was still halfway out, not sure where it belonged. My mouth did its thing anyway.
"Mr. Murdock, it's a pleasure to meet you" I said.
Naturally, it was the Foggy who took my hand first. His grip was friendly, his smirk even more so.
"Close enough" he said. "Franklin Nelson. Foggy, please. And that over there is the actual Mr. Murdock." He was holding back a chuckle at that last part.
I turned quickly—too quickly—and Matt gave a small nod.
"Matthew Murdock. A pleasure" he said, voice calm and even. Like he already knew everything about me just from hearing me breathe.
Great way to start. Embarrassing myself.
For them I was just a kid standing in the middle of their office holding a box like it might explode.
Foggy smiled faintly. "We don't usually get surprise visits with pastries."
I looked down at the box in my hands. "uh...Yeah! Yeah yeah, Donuts. I thought... It would be a good idea. Everyone likes donuts... unless..." I gave Foggy an nervous expectancy look.
Foggy arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh.
"Unless we're secretly diabetic?" he said, taking the box from my hands before I could dig myself any deeper. "Relax, kid. You're good."
Matt, still seated behind the desk, tilted his head slightly. Taking a donut from the box right after Foggy. "So. What brings you here… aside from the pastries?"
And just like that, the room got a little heavier.
My throat felt dry. My heart was suddenly doing backflips.
Right. That part.
Now I had to actually say it.
"Uh… okay, so… I don't wanna sound like a narcissist or anything, but… did you guys see the news the other day? There was this fire in Queens, and the headline was something like… 'Boy Wonder Save Civilians' or—whatever. That was me."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "And I was just… wondering. Is that illegal?"
Foggy leaned forward, eyes lighting up. "Ah, that's where I've seen you before. Nice work, kid. Seriously." He patted my shoulder with one hand, the other holding a half-eaten donut like it was part of the act. Was he trying to look cooler?
Matt tilted his head slightly, like he was picking up a new frequency. "Illegal how? You mean helping?"
"Okay, so…" I scratched my cheek. "I was kinda… wearing a suit? Like—a superhero suit. While I was doing it. So I just—wanted to know if that's illegal? Like… vigilante stuff?"
Foggy chuckled, shaking his head like he'd heard it all before. "Kid, look around. We're in a city full of... weirdos. But you're one of the few running around in a suit doing actual good. You're not gonna get in trouble for saving people, okay? I mean, the cops might not be thrilled, but they're not gonna throw you in a cell for it."
I glanced at Matt, hoping for some more concrete advice. He was quiet for a beat, his expression unreadable, and I had the feeling he was thinking about something a lot more complicated.
"Vigilantism is... a grey area" Matt said, his voice calm, like he was used to answering these questions. "It's not illegal per se, but it's not exactly legal either. If you're helping people, the law might let it slide—up to a point. But the moment you start taking things into your own hands too much? That's when it gets tricky."
I frowned, unsure. "So... I could get in trouble?"
Matt's lips twitched into... something. "Depends on how much trouble you want to find."
I took a breath—sharper than I meant to. "Right..."
Foggy chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not gonna make headlines every time, kid. But you did good. Just... keep it low, yeah? I know kids love the attention, but you shouldn't chase the spotlight every time."
I blinked. "I'm not—please stop calling me kid, thanks. And I did it because I like helping people. That's all."
Foggy's smile softened a little, like I caught him off guard.
Matt turned slightly toward me, head tilted. "That's a good reason. One of the best, actually."
Matt adjusted in his seat, folding his hands on the desk. "What you did, helping people... that's commendable. But the thing about stepping into danger, especially in a costume, is that it changes things. Changes how people see you. How the law sees you."
I shifted on my feet. "...Right. I get that, kinda what I was thriving for, though. But I get what you're saying, Mr. Murdock."
Matt gave a small nod. "Good, You should. Because once you start down that road—people start expecting things from you. Or blaming you. And the more you do, the harder it gets to separate the good you want to do… from the consequences it leaves behind."
Foggy looked between us, a donut halfway to his mouth, brow furrowed. "Well that got heavy."
Matt smirked faintly. "Just being honest."
He turned his attention back to me. "If you want to keep helping, do it. But protect yourself. Not just physically—legally. Emotionally. Know why you're doing it, and be ready for when the city decides it wants a scapegoat more than a hero."
I swallowed hard. "So… you're saying stop?"
Matt leaned back slightly. "I'm saying think. A lot of people rush into this kind of thing thinking they're invincible—or that the law doesn't matter if they're doing the right thing. But it matters. More than they realize. And some people pay a steep price for not knowing that."
Foggy raised an eyebrow. "Are we still talking about the kid here, or is this law school all over again?"
Matt gave a small shrug. "Little of both."
I glanced down at the floor, then back up. Nodding. "I just… I want to make things better."
"You will" Matt said, his tone firmer now. "You're already thinking more than most adults I know. That's a good start. Just… take your time."
That last line sat heavy between us.
Foggy broke the silence with a long exhale. "Okay, I'm cutting us all off from the serious chitchat. The next one to drop a philosophical bomb has to eat one of the plain donuts."
I raised a hand slightly, sheepish. "Uh… sorry about those. They ran out of the good ones."
Foggy held one up like I betrayed him. "This thing looks like sadness in donut form."
That earned a faint huff of amusement from Matt, which somehow made me feel like I'd passed a test I didn't know I was taking.
---
I thanked them both—again—and started heading for the door. Fingers on the handle. Clean exit. I've done it. I'd actually gotten through the whole thing without problem.
"...Daredevil."
I let the word slip out. Barely a whisper, almost like I was testing how it felt in the air.
Behind me, I heard it—the shift.
Subtle, but unmistakable.
Matt's hand came down on the desk. Not hard, not loud. Just firm. A sharp thunk that sliced through the air like a warning.
I didn't wait.
I slipped out, picked up the pace, hit the stairs, and power-walked my way to the street like my life depended on it.
Because, well… it might.
Okay. Bait's been set.
And caught.
Now I just have to hope Daredevil doesn't drop from a rooftop and beat the truth out of me.
_______________________________________
Word count: 1.801
Hey there dear readers.
Just a question.
What superhero name would you like Wade to have in the future. Keep in mind, I'll change in the future again if its seems to further the plot.
Comment it.