It was a stormy night in New York City and in a church in Hell's Kitchen and a old man sweeping inside but the front door opens and a young man walks no older then 23 with red glasses and a walking cane and his suit is wet and he just says "Father I have a confession to make." The old man nods and they both walk into a confession booth and the young man says "My name is Matthew Murdock."
The old man eyes widen "Jack's kid." Matt smiles and says "It's good to see you Father Adrian."
Matt takes his glasses off and says
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." He gave a soft, humorless breath. "It's been… too long since my last confession. My dad, he used to come to this church back when I was a kid."
Matt takes a breath "He was a fighter, old school boxer. But he lost more then he won. 24-31 record before he.." Matt couldn't finish but he continues after taking a breath
"Uh but he could take a punch. Jesus, he could take a punch." Adrian interrupted "Language."
Matt apologized "Sorry Father. Guys used to say it was like hitting oak and when he was outmatched, my dad strategy was to let them hit him until they broke their hands." Matt chuckled and continued "He never got knocked out my dad. He got knocked down sure but always got back up."
Matt was silent seeing the memories in his head "He was always on his feet when he lost. Every now and then he'd get hit and something inside of him would snap."
Matt smiled and says "My grandmother, she was the real catholic. Fear god ran deep. You'd have liked her. She used to say "Be careful of the Murdock boys they got the Devil in them." "
"But you would see it sometimes in the ring. His eyes would go dead and he would start walking forward real slow hands at his side like he wasn't afraid of anything and the other guy he'd see that look and he'd try to get away from him. But my dad would catch him and trap him in the corner and let the devil out."
Matt wipes tears from his eyes "Now I didn't understand it you know. What he was feeling deep inside. Not back then."
Father Adrian asks "But you understand it now?" Matt is silent and he put his glasses back on and Adrian continues "Perhaps this would be easier if you told me what you have done?"
Matt takes a deep breath "I'm not seeking penance for what I've done but I'm asking forgiveness for what I'm about to do." Adrian says "That not how this works. What exactly are you about to do?" Matt doesn't answer he just opens the confession door and leaves the church.
Timeskip
The moon is shining on New York City but ontop of a building is Matt wearing all black and with a cloth mask and he is listening to the city and he hears a woman screaming as she is dragged into a van and Matt puts his mask on and he is now The Devil Of New York.
Matt follows the van to the docks and finds about 10 men with a shipping container of woman and he then throws his Billy club at a street lamp and lands in between the thugs.
The first thug lunged, swinging a pipe. Matt ducked low, drove an elbow into the man's gut, and spun to smash his heel across the side of his jaw. Another charged from behind; Matt whipped his club back, cracking bone, but too late to dodge the crowbar that slammed across his ribs.
The pain stole his breath. He staggered, teeth gritted. Inexperience left him open, too eager. The Devil coughed blood onto the floor and straightened, rage sharpening his movements.
He tore into them.
A knee shattered against a nose. A club cracked across a kneecap. He yanked one man's coat, slammed him into another, and sent them both sprawling. A blade flashed but Matt caught the wrist, twisted until it snapped, and buried his fist into the man's throat.
But each victory cost him. A bat connected with his shoulder, nearly dislocating it. A boot struck his back, sending him to his knees. For a heartbeat, the world drowned in noise with shouts, heartbeats, chains rattling in the container.
He forced himself up. His father's voice rang in his memory: Get back on your feet, Matty. Always back on your feet.
Matt roared and let the devil out.
He fought with brutality now less measured but more primal. He headbutted one man so hard the thug crumpled instantly. He drove another into the dockside crates and pummeled him until the wood cracked. Blood stained his gloves, his breath ragged, but he didn't stop until all ten lay broken in the dirt.
Silence returned to the docks. Only the lapping water and Matt's heavy breathing filled the air. He staggered, clutching his ribs, body screaming in pain.
But he walked to the container, ripped the lock loose with trembling hands, and opened the door.
The women inside shrank back at the sight of him, their eyes wide. To them, he wasn't a savior but the devil.
Matt stood with his mask hiding the bruise swelling on his jaw.
"Go," he rasped, voice low and hoarse. "You're safe now."
Matt hears the police sirens and hops onto the containers and runs off into the night.
A black muscle car parks at the docks and the door opens and a woman with a cigarette in her mouth wearing a suit with brown hair and green eyes and she takes the cigarette out and drops it and stomps it out and then walks to the police tape and shows a detective badge and walks under the crime scene tape and sees a older man in a suit and the woman says "Commissioner Stacy." Commissioner George Stacky turns around and says "Detective Elle Williams." He puts his hand out and says "Welcome to New York."
He then points at the beaten kidnappers "The girls said all they heard was fighting then the container opened and in their words the Devil saved us." Elle nods and says "Great so we have a Batman in New York now."
George shrugs and says "I don't know but this will be your first case in New York find me this devil and bring him in on the charges of vigilantism." Elle nods and George walks away.