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***

-This new teacher of yours is sometimes worse than the old one! -Mary Sullivan.

Mary Sullivan, on this beautiful sunny day, was swearing. Mum was making breakfast, covering the butter with garlic to mask the smell of alcohol and cigarettes she and Dad had been drinking last night while Murdoch was digging the bullet out of my shoulder.

I didn't keep it from my parents that I'd found a new mentor. No mention, of course, that he wears tight red trousers and gallops around the city at night looking like the devil. That's all my fanatical mum needed.

So last night, when I was able to come to my senses and waddle home, my drunken parents easily swallowed the explanation about my dislocated shoulder at practice. And anyway, they had such a cosy atmosphere here, it was luscious. No one wanted to break it and deal with my injuries, so with a commanding gesture from my father, I rushed to my room.

-Mum, the old teacher started drinking more than our dad...-I don't drink that much, it's ten o'clock in the morning, Simon Sullivan hides a bottle of beer from his wife under the table, sometimes I have a beer and that's it.

My mother and I gave him ironic looks that made my old man embarrassed, and he deftly got out of the table and ran shamefully into the living room.

-And still! I don't think it's normal. You come in with abrasions or bandages all the time. Fractures, ligaments, bones or whatever it is that gets knocked out?

-Bones.

-Now," Mum raised the cooking spatula threateningly and waved it in my face, "I don't like my kid being battered all the time.

-Well, that's the point. I get it in training and the Yankees get it from me.....

-Sean Sullivan!

-Come on, Mum, I've heard you call them that, too," the inner actor pushed the pedal to the max, "Mary, Mary, God sees everything. Every lie.

Waving my fork in the direction of a small picture of a cheerful Jesus, bought at last year's sale of a bankrupt bar, I achieved unhappily pressed lips and red cheeks from embarrassment.

-Easy win.

-I want to talk to this Matt Murdoch guy, ask him a few questions.

The potatoes were followed by a classic Irish breakfast, dense, hearty, and, I would even say, manly.

-I don't think that'll be a problem, but I'm warning you in advance, you'd better keep your guard down or you'll be surprised.

I didn't tell my parents Matt was blind. An Irish family from a poor neighbourhood in the mid-noughties certainly wouldn't have appreciated a blind martial arts coach.

Bacon, eggs, potatoes, sausages, toast, mushrooms. The only thing missing was the pudding, but to the surprise of the whole family, despite our great Celtic roots, we amicably declined the dish.

-Oh, we're going to eat now," we both winked at our father and stared expectantly at the lady of the house, "morning prayers?

-Yes, not without it.

Admittedly, I've never been particularly religious before, but new realities impose their own conditions. My mum was a true believer, she went to church, prayed in the morning and could just read the Bible at night.

But for all that, she never forced my father and I to follow her faith, although the male side of our family still prayed faithfully in the mornings with her and sometimes even devoted Sunday mornings to going to the sermon.

-... Bless us, O Lord, and these Your gifts, which in Your bounty we shall eat. Through Christ our Lord.

-Amen.

Together we finished the usual part of the breakfast. It's probably become a tradition in our family.

-Oh, it's so good. Father, give me a beer too, because such a good meal is lost without it.

-That's right," catching his wife's face slowly turning in his direction like a large-calibre gun, Simon perked up, putting the bottle of beer aside again, "I mean...? Are you out of your mind? When you can buy your own beer, then we'll talk! 

-So that's just the question? I hear you, thanks, Dad.

-Simon!

It's a typical morning at the Sullivan family home. Beautiful.

***

Life went on, and although I had to give up my hero work while my injury was treated, I was still studying, socialising and making plans for the rest of my life.

Murdoch had promised to contact his friend at the earliest opportunity, and I was eager to find out who it might be.

From comic book to comic book, Daredevil has interacted with a variety of people and many of them have been outstanding individuals. Just take Styx, Murdoch's teacher. I remember in one of the universes he was a shinobi god, eternal and some other superpowered dick. I could learn from him, he'd turn me into a killing machine.

But there's no point in guessing, because I have a feeling it's going to take a long time.

-What did you think of the film?

Pulling me out of the abyss of thought, Pete popped the rest of the popcorn into his mouth, crunching the uncooked corn.

-Epic, colourful and...

-Total crap?

-That's right," I glanced back at the film's flashy sign and waved a healthy hand at it, "I wish they'd kept making the series. 

-Yeah, Firefly was more interesting.

-I'll say.

Grumbling and cursing at the new film, we like a couple of real nerds who love sci-fi series, stomped down the street, enjoying the warming weather.

-What should we do next? I have the weekend completely free, and Uncle Ben went to pick up Auntie's sister....

-Brrrr," I shrugged at the memory, horrified, and moved away from Parker like a leper, "is she coming to your house again? I'm not coming to your house.

-Aunt May's already invited your family over, so I won't be the only one suffering.

-She's stuffing the bird with fish! Last time I did that, it took me a week to get off the crank!

-Blah, blah, blah, blah, I can't hear you.

-You're such an arsehole. -You're such an arsehole.

-Oh, it's the main couple of our school! -Oh, it's the main couple of our school!

The familiar voice of the red-haired stalker didn't sound as surprised as it had the first time we'd stumbled upon MJ, supposedly by accident. In recent months, the more confident Peter had become, the more often the girl had appeared on the horizon.

Well, at least Peter thinks so, but in reality, I've been doing my best to leak all the names and passwords. Giving MJ our plans and itineraries so the redhead would finally talk my friend into a relationship.

-That's a surprise, MJ," I put my arm around my classmate and winked conspiratorially at her while Parker was shamelessly eyeing a woman in a light dress, "Ah, I'm sorry to leave such company, but I just remembered that I have some urgent business to attend to. Bye, bye.

Parker was tempted to stop me, even held out his hand in the hope that I would stay and help him, but-

"Sorry Pete, I've already got a deal with the redheaded devil, so you're on your own now." 

Smiling contentedly at the prank I had done, in my heart I hoped that today was the day things would finally change for this couple.

I was on my own for the rest of the day, but that was okay, I'd figure it out somehow. In my pocket I had half a packet of cigarettes, five quid and change. With that kind of wealth, I'm gonna have fun all weekend.

***

-A super-sized portion of Pho-Bo and extra spicy.

The five and a half iron fell on the table, pushed towards the satisfied Vietnamese. A small eatery in the annex to the house and convenience store that was run by the parents of one of our classmates. A great place where you can easily buy anything you want, as long as you have money. The local owners were too indiscriminate about their customers.

But I wasn't interested in shitty alcohol or smuggled delicacies, which are supposed to be turned around at the border. Right now I wanted to sweat it out, gorging myself on a two kilo portion of soup, local buns and dumplings.

Matt had instructed me to eat more while gaining weight, for it was worth it to him to make a deal with his mate, I'd need a lot of body building material.

-Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo, this is the food of the gods!

There wasn't much room in the small café, and only by chance did I manage to get a small table in the corner. It was the weekend lunch, so many poor people came here to eat large and hearty portions for a small price. I was the only one who was constantly different, spending money on a huge spicy portion. 

Throwing in all the extra spices, sauces and other crap from the table, I was already anticipating how I was going to suffer when a polite cough sounded nearby.

Disgruntled, I took my eyes off the boiling concoction, which was a chaos of ingredients, and stared at a man in a simple suit with nuances.

"Most likely an office worker or maybe the owner of his own business."

He looked colourful. A cream-coloured knitted jumper peeked out from under a good cut brown jacket. Neat, simple cufflinks adorned the sleeves, and a good old watch peeked out from his hand. Most likely an army watch, the same one my old man's friend had, given to him for his service in Vietnam.

"Ironic."

He looked about forty, but if you think about it that way, he must be in his late fifties. Blond hair with some greying, fine wrinkles here and there.... So far it all fit together, but more information was needed.

-Shall I sit down? All the seats are taken.

It's true. In the last couple of minutes, while I was working on my elixir of chaos, the crowd was more than enough, and now there was only a free seat in front of me.

-Sure," I said, pointing across the table and putting my trademark American smile on my face.

Humming inexplicably, the man lowered himself on a chair, putting in front of me a classic business lunch with Vietnamese flavour. My gaze flickered back to the watch peeking out from under his sleeve. I wanted to take a closer look, I wondered if he was really in Vietnam, in the war.... Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

Too accurately deciphering my gaze, the stranger pulled his clothes up to his elbow, showing me the watch.

- "Made it" to the last carriage, in seventy-three, if I may say so.

-I see...

-Is that a problem?

-Well, I'm just afraid that you'll turn out to be one of those guys who, in the twilight of his life, decided to continue what he started, -I nodded my head at the hump of his jacket, where a holster with a pistol might be, and I began to prepare for the worst case scenario, -Now you're going to pull out a gun and start shooting in all directions, shouting about "gooks and charlies in trees". 

-Ha-ha-ha, what an attentive and clever young man," the cheerful smile did not turn into a grin, and there was no crazy light in his eyes. The man was still calmly preparing for dinner," but, thank God, I am not like that, quite the contrary.

-I'm not a Yankee, in case you were on the other side of the barricades.

-Young people watch too many films, my daughter's the same way," the man grumbled good-naturedly as he broke his chopsticks and began to devour his portion with gusto, "I'm just against the war, that's all. 

-All right, but you'd better not shine your watch in places like this.-I know the owner," he saluted the owner with his cup and received a similar gesture and a smile, "at least there was something good in that damn war.

-How's that.

It would be interesting to hear the man's story. He fought in the war, but he's friends with a Vietnamese guy. Maybe they hid in a hole together from shells or some story about humanity and the sorrows of war. Probably something fascinating, but it would be embarrassing to ask about it out loud.

-You have a good eye for detail," the stranger continued again, "have you ever thought of using that talent?

Now I'm sure it smells hot. Either this guy is from the mafia, though I doubt it, they don't lure people to them in such a clumsy way. It's probably the other way round, which means there's a cop or something more serious sitting across from me.

-Are you a cop?

In that case, it's better to be direct. Cops are usually not shy about their position and reveal their cards right away, so it's easy to dismiss one of the options.

-Right.

"Too easy!" 

-The former detective.

-I see, and he's not that high up. In New York, it's the same rank as police officer, so it's the youngest in the force. -Retired?

-Ha-ha-ha, not quite," he picked up some noodles from the bowl and popped them into his mouth, mumbling, "as good as ever. The food here is excellent!

-That's true.

The conversation died down for a while as we both paid homage to the local chef's efforts. I even stopped looking for answers in the appearance of my random interlocutor, completely immersed in the abyss of spice, heat and pain.

-You're not overdoing it, are you? -Oh!

-Great! Just right.

With a thumbs-up, I wipe my forehead with a tissue. My mouth, my lips, even my cheeks where a couple of drops of soup had dripped. But, God, it felt so good.

-My daughter likes spicy food, too, I wish I could've gone in today...

-My old people are more into Irish food. -I understand.

-I see," the stranger smiled warmly and put aside his chopsticks, picking up empty plates from the table, "it was nice chatting with you.... Ah, we're not introduced. This is awkward.

-Sean Sullivan, sir.

-George Stacey, -shaking my hand, the man said goodbye to the owner of the place, clearing the table while I leaked, trying not to show my emotions, -you're a good guy, Sean, and you've got brains. Don't waste it on some bullshit.

-Of course, sir. I'm already planning on becoming an engineer or a physicist.

-Yeah? -I'm sorry. I was hoping you'd follow in the footsteps of Jimi Malone. But science is an important field, so good luck with that, Shawn.

-Thank you, sir, and take care. 

-If you change your mind about joining the police force, I'll put in a good word for you. -I'll put in a good word for you.

Leaving the last word behind him, which meant nothing, but was just a common tribute to American politeness, George Stacy went about his business, waving his hand.

After saying goodbye to Stacy, I leaned back in my chair, digesting what had happened. It's at times like this that you start to believe that the Marvel universe pushes heroes to meet each other. What are the odds of meeting one of the comic book characters in a small diner on the edge of the neighbourhood?

Here's the answer. Maximum!

Even my mouth went dry, I was so stunned to see such an encounter. What could happen tomorrow? Will the Punisher bring me the mail or maybe Moon Knight will go to walk the neighbour's dogs?

"What is this nonsense? It's just a coincidence." 

After calming myself with that thought, I went back to eating the spicy soup, but unfortunately for me, all the brightness of flavour was gone, leaving me with a cold plate of swollen noodles and chunks of meat.

***

Leaving the establishment, George Stacy, a newly promoted lieutenant in the New York Police Department, pulled a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

The surprise and slight displeasure at his sudden appointment was washed away by the pleasant atmosphere at an old friend's establishment, where he had the pleasure of socialising with a member of the younger generation during lunch.

Ogling the roof of the rarity car, the man sat behind the wheel, lighting up and savouring the fleeting moment.

The 1950 Mercury Monterey, a real treasure from his father, a cop who'd spent his life fighting crime, rumbled contentedly as he lit the engine.

An old Bob Barnard cassette tape played a pleasant jazz tune while the smoke from expensive cigarettes wafted through the cabin.

The man ran the conversation with the guy he'd met by chance through his mind again, noting the sharp wit. Despite the silly jokes, probably only because of individuals like Sean and his little Gwen, he still believed in the future of the country.

-Although... It's just one conversation. Even the sickest maniacs can easily pretend to be normal people.

There was something about this guy that didn't feel right. That's why my mind kept asking more and more questions. The manner, speech, and movements....

"Exactly. Movements! Hand pressed against his body, breathing slowly and measuredly, trying not to move much. Was he in a fight? Or maybe something worse?".Shaking the ash off his cigarette, George put the cigarette butt out against the car ashtray, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

-No... I'm getting myself worked up. It's just a bloke from the diner who's come to suffer the spicy stuff. Maybe Gwen's right, I'm working too hard...

The car slowed to a stop, pulling out of the cubbyhole. The shiny body blinked one last time, reflecting the sunlight, and then the newly minted police lieutenant disappeared into the streets of the city.

*** 

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