Chapter 12 – Did Someone in Your Family Die?

"You can't take that money. That's taxpayer money…"

"You can't beat me."

...

"If you take it, how are you any different from them?"

"Because you still can't beat me."

...

Daredevil fell silent.

He couldn't respond. Because it was true.

He couldn't beat him.

The power radiating from Aron made Matt Murdock not even think of fighting.

He could only watch as this guy coldly lifted two large boxes full of dollars and kept them for himself.

"Estimate… a million, maybe more," said Aron, lifting one suitcase and weighing it.

"Almost a million and a half. Two together," Daredevil replied calmly.

After all those years in the hell of Hell's Kitchen, he knew exactly how much fit into a case like that.

"Well informed, Mr. Lawyer."

Aron smiled even wider.

Two suitcases. Over a million. Off the street. As if the universe left them just for him.

"Lawyer? Wait… you know who I am?"

Matt flinched. His face immediately turned serious.

"You figured it out?"

Aron looked at him with the same expression that said: "Don't do anything stupid."

"Don't forget, you can't beat me."

Matt's expression froze. And just when he thought things would escalate, police sirens were heard in the distance.

Saved at the last moment.

"I have to go," he said quickly. He had no desire to extend this conversation.

This man wasn't normal. Neither a hero nor a villain. Something in between. And too dangerous to ponder.

"I'm leaving too."

Aron looked after him.

"By the way… you know a good place?"

Matt paused. Of course, he didn't want to take him anywhere. But that voice… that damn voice that echoes:

You can't beat me... you can't beat me...

With a deep sigh, Matt quietly said:

"Follow me. I have a safe house nearby."

—

Not long after.

The two arrived at a secluded, rundown apartment in the backstreets of Hell's Kitchen.

Halfway there, Matt had already changed clothes. Dark glasses, cane, civilian mode, back in the role of blind lawyer Matt Murdock.

"This place is safe. No one comes here."

He unlocked the door.

The smell of chemicals and a faint trace of dried blood immediately hit his face.

"Did someone die here?"

Matt choked.

"No. Just… sometimes I patch myself up here."

Aron pulled the curtains apart and opened the window.

Fresh air. Finally.

"Alright, tell me. What do you want from me?" Matt closed the door behind him. His tone was serious.

"I know you didn't follow me without a reason. But just so you know, I don't do anything illegal. Not under threat. Not under a gun. Not even if you kill me."

That wasn't a phrase. That was a rule. Buried in the foundation of his soul.

In Daredevil's opinion, if Aron asked for something dirty or morally questionable, he would refuse without hesitation.

He'd rather fight to the death than betray his principles.

"Uh…"

Looking at Matt's serious, righteous expression, Aron hesitated. He wasn't exactly comfortable breaking that "heroic" atmosphere.

But in the end, he still said what he had to.

"Actually, I just need someone who can get me a legal identity. Money's not a problem."

Matt froze.

That's it?

You just want… papers?

He'd given his all to deliver a heroic speech, and this guy just wanted an ID?

"I know people who do that," he muttered, trying not to sound disappointed.

"You don't need money. I'll handle it."

"You're a strange guy, you know that?" Aron laughed sincerely.

But of course, he couldn't resist poking him one more time.

"Lawyer, do you consider this a criminal act in America?"

Matt blushed.

"You said that on purpose."

Of course he did. Matt had sworn earlier that he would never assist in anything illegal, and now he was forging documents.

"Hehe… what if I really am Batman? Maybe I came from the DC universe and have no idea about your laws?"

"No. No way."

—

With Matt's help, or more precisely, thanks to his contacts, in two days Aron had a complete set of identification.

Driver's license, passport, social security number, everything.

Along with that, a SIM card. All in one place.

"If you ever need help, go to 177A Bleecker Street. Just mention my name."

Aron didn't even look. He was playing something on a laptop as he took the documents.

He'd been camping in Matt's apartment for two days, surfing the net, digging through every corner of the Marvel universe.

And he'd found some interesting things.

This world wasn't a pure MCU timeline.

There were traces of Daredevil, the Punisher, even stories about vampires, werewolves, as if someone had mixed everything from movies, series, and legends into one universe.

The only thing missing mutants.

Nothing about the X-Men. No Charles, no Magneto. Empty.

"Bleecker 177A?" Matt repeated. "Alright. I'll remember."

Actually, he didn't care.

He thought it was just another empty promise, just to sound cool.

But he was wrong.

Because 177A Bleecker Street was the real Sanctum Sanctorum. Even though Matt didn't know it at the time.

"I rented you an apartment in Queens. You can move there," he said, handing him the keys.

He couldn't stand the presence of this… unnatural guest any longer.

For the past 48 hours, he'd been listening to Aron constantly talk about dimensional demons, sacrifices, summoning…

At one point, he was convinced he was living with the leader of some occult cult.

"By the way, lawyer… do you know anyone at the blood bank? I need a couple hundred kilos of human blood."

Matt just gaped.

Pause.

Total shock.

And silence.

Author POV.

From now on, I will publish 2 chapters per day.