Washington, Stark Manor.
Tony had just been pulled away from a date with a model by Pepper. Now he sat by the window, listening with interest as JARVIS read out a report from the New York office.
"Wow. That's bold. A rundown church won't sell for five hundred thousand, but he's asking fifty million?" Tony casually poured his glass of Lafite into the sink, then said, "Get my private jet ready. I'm going to meet this guy in person. Let's see if he can still talk after that. And notify Pepper and Happy. They're coming with me."
JARVIS paused. "Sir, your jet requires preparation. Due to air traffic regulations, it may take approximately two hours."
Tony waved his hand impatiently. "It's my jet. I don't care what they need to do. I want to take off in one hour."
Only JARVIS and Pepper could tolerate that kind of attitude. Happy definitely couldn't.
…
Inside the church, Anqiluo Rocks pointed at a bench and motioned for Matt Murdock to sit. "Go ahead. Around here, confession is self-service."
Matt tilted his head slightly in confusion. This wasn't how churches usually worked. Normally, a priest would sit in a confessional booth and listen.
What he didn't know was that the booth had already been turned into a kitchen.
Anqiluo recognized him as Daredevil. Back in his previous life, there had been movies and shows about him. A man in black, patrolling New York's streets, fighting criminals and protecting the innocent.
At the end of the day, though, he was still just a man with some unusual abilities. A street-level hero.
A tragic one, too. As a child, he'd been blinded by industrial chemicals while saving someone, gaining heightened senses in return. Everything except sight was amplified to an extreme level. It helped him function, but it also tormented him constantly.
By day, he worked as a lawyer defending the poor. By night, he acted as a vigilante, believing violence could stop violence.
He was convinced that if the gangs disappeared, Hell's Kitchen would change. It wouldn't.
A stubborn idealist. Tough as hell, too. That was Anqiluo's impression.
Of course, that wasn't the most important part.
The most important part was that this blind guy somehow had insane romantic success. Almost every woman he met ended up in his bed.
No idea how he pulled that off.
"I'm not here to confess my sins," Matt said, pulling his mask down over his face again. "I'm here to ask for forgiveness for what I'm about to do."
Anqiluo didn't share Matt's mindset, but he respected him. He could never live like that, risking everything for some abstract idea of justice.
After a moment, Anqiluo got up, grabbed two beers from the kitchen, and handed one over.
Matt took a sip, then turned slightly toward him. "You seem to know what I'm planning."
It sounded like a question, but the certainty in his tone gave him away.
His enhanced senses made it easy to read people.
"Of course." Anqiluo raised his bottle. "I know you, Matt."
"Good. Then I'll be direct." Matt smiled. "I want you to join me, Father."
That was why he came.
With his hearing, he had basically followed everything Anqiluo did since the previous night, including shaking down the gangs for "confession fees." He might as well have been there in person.
He wanted Anqiluo's help to wipe out the gangs.
But Anqiluo's next words stopped him cold.
"Sorry. I'm not interested."
Matt froze, then snapped. "Why? You're strong enough. If we work together, we can wipe out every gang in Hell's Kitchen tonight. We could even go after Kingpin directly!"
Anqiluo sighed. Just like in the shows. No change at all. Maybe even more stubborn now, fresh out of college and full of fire.
"I said no, Mr. Murdock."
He waved a hand toward the door, signaling the clay golems. "Throw him out."
Talking to someone this fixated was a waste of time.
Matt sensed movement from the statues near the entrance. He was surprised, but not shocked.
He didn't attack people who weren't criminals. Instead, he shouted, "You're a man of the cloth, aren't you? Why won't you stand for justice? Won't God judge you for this?"
Anqiluo had been ready to end the conversation, but that made him pause.
He waved the golems back and sat up straighter.
"First, I don't believe in God. Second, let's say you kill every gang. Then what? New ones will pop up. Is that what you want? Or do you just want to kill people? Because the civilians you're trying to protect will end up suffering even more."
Matt's expression faltered. "Then what am I supposed to do?" he muttered. "Sometimes I hate my abilities. I can hear people crying for help miles away… and I can't save them all…"
Anqiluo cut him off. "Not just you. Even God couldn't save this place. Neither can I. The church calls it a place even God avoids. Do you know why?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
"Darkness doesn't disappear. Poverty breeds crime. You can't save everyone. Wipe out all the gangs? Sure, I could do it. But that would turn Hell's Kitchen into something worse. And somewhere else, another Hell's Kitchen would take its place."
"Then kill Kingpin!" Matt's voice carried clear intent. "He's the one holding the underworld together!"
"And if he dies, someone else takes his place. Maybe worse. At least he keeps some kind of order."
Matt latched onto the idea like a drowning man grabbing a rope. "Then you take his place! You proved you can!"
Anqiluo laughed and patted his shoulder. "And how do you know I wouldn't be worse? No one could stop me."
That snapped Matt back to reality.
"What should I do, then?" he asked, pulling off his mask and running his hands through his hair.
Anqiluo shrugged. "Fixing this place won't come from some guy in a costume or a so-called hero. It takes systems, environment, balance. You might think I'm joking, but a gang boss once told me his dream was just to eat a full meal. No politician cares about this place. No campaign money, no votes."
In the distance, Matt heard gunshots, sirens, cries for help. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned pale.
"What else can I do?" he said. "This is all I have."
"I don't have an answer," Anqiluo said. "So I won't stop you. Do what you want. But if you're serious, go read up on strategy. You'll find something useful in Chinatown."
"I won't give up," Matt said firmly. "I'll keep going until I find a real solution."
Anqiluo watched him leave in silence, then shook his head.
Those so-called heroes… they lived harder lives than ordinary people. They carried too much.
He'd rather be the villain than the hero. Heroes were defined by sacrifice.
And honestly? He only bothered talking this long because Matt wasn't better-looking than him. Trying to drag him into all that? Not happening.
He just wanted to enjoy life.