Marvel Imagines

029 - Matt Murdock - PI with a problem

Imagine : you are a character very similar to Jessica Jones. You're on a mission to find a client who stole from you when you end up helping Daredevil (first person).

"Easy they said," I muttered to myself, scaling a verticle brick wall to get to the rooftop. "Set up a firm and solve people's problems they said. It's practically free money. Ha."

My hands grasped the ledge at the top of the wall and, delicately, I kicked my feet away from the brick and swung my body to the left, clearing the ledge and landing on the flat roof. Concrete dust covered the knees of my jeans and, at some point below, my vest had snagged on a nail - ripping it across my right side. It didn't bother me much - I'd lived through much worse. 

I dusted myself down; I could change at the end of the night once I had my money back. 

Stupid client - what made them think they could take my money and simply sail off into the sunset? Finding people was my job and I would sure as hell find them.

With years of hard work and practice, I took off along the roof of the apartment complex and sprinted to the edge. At the last minute, I lifted my legs and jumped across the gap to the neighbouring roof, proceeding to repeat this four times until I reached the end of the block. 

It was all simple; the feeling of the wind rushing through my hair made me feel so alive that nothing else could compare - not even my work as a private investigator in the streets of Hell's Kitchen. There was never any shortage of clientele needing assistance in my neighbourhood. 

Just as I moved to jump down into a fire escape, a leather-clad hand reached forwards from behind me and gripped a fistful of my hoodie. I hovered - leaning over the edge and facing the dark street below - suspended by the black cloth of my hood and fought the urge to get violent. 

After a moment, the hand pulled me back and I fell onto the concrete with a thud, staring up at the stupidest person in Hell's Kitchen. It was Daredevil. Oh, joy.

"I wasn't going to jump," I stated, deadpan, to the unseeing red eyes of the mask.

"I know."

"Then why'd you yank me back, jackass?"

Daredevil coughed then took a seat on the floor beside me, his eyes glinting in the distant moonlight. "I need your help. I was told by a friend that you're one of the best private eye's in Hell's Kitchen - is that right?"

I scoffed as I sat up too. "Well I don't know about that but, yeah, I'm a PI. Why would a guy like you be looking for someone like me? And - before you start - I am cleared with all the relevant authorities to practice..."

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it like."

I focussed on the horns that protruded from the mask, taking in every detail of the odd get-up. It was my first time looking at him up close and I wanted to remember everything.

He sighed deeply. "I need you to listen to me. I need your help finding someone - um, she was a friend of mine who went missing a while ago. I'm worried. Her name's Elektra." 

I felt sorry for the guy; he sounded genuinely broken. It wasn't often I did something for others, but I couldn't help but want to make the Devil of Hell's Kitchen happy again. We needed someone to look out for the city. "Okay. I'll help you find her."

"Do you have a fee?"

"Sure I do, Daredevil, I'm not a charity. My price if fifty-eight dollars and a bottle of Jack. Deal?"

The mask lifted slightly and I could tell that under the leather he was grinning. He extended a hand to me which I shuffled forwards and shook. "Deal."