⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〝 As Daredevil，I get to save the world. As a lawyer . . . maybe I can fix it. ⠀ ⠀I need them both. ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ That's what I realized. The warrior and the lawyer. It doesn't work if I only have one. 〞 ⠀ ⠀ Matthew Michael Murdock. ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐃.𝐃

Requiem, 2017, by Ignacio Trelis

⠀ ♡ ❛ 𝓣he thing about the 𝓒at , ⠀⠀𝓢he never leaves empty - handed . ⠀⠀ —————— ˗ˋˏ 〝 FELICIA HARDY 〞 ˎˊ˗ ⠀ ⠀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵-𝟲𝟭𝟲 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗱 , 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 . ⠀

That’s the name. Sayin’ it for a reason, or am I wasting time better spent on the clock?

Been awhile, eh? Can’t say I recognize you. Then again, there’s plenty of folk who know me better than I know them and most don’t make pleasant company. What can I do for you?

A man gutted like a fish and left to rot. Face shredded to ribbons like he’d been set upon by a murder of crows with intent to match the name. Stench of death. Gashes; talons and teeth and gore. A vulture’s feast. I can’t ever forget it. You deserved better, Uncle Ben.

A hug... ? Straightening up, fixing his glasses: staring real intently. Nothing. He feels guilty for it. If I know you from somewhere, no point in not sayin’ so.

There’s a cat outside his office, pawing at the window from the fire escape... damned thing, on a night like this? Can’t just let it freeze.

/ sony tried to get him for kraven the hunter in like 2015 and he said no hskdbdk

His glasses got all foggy... damned sewer steam.

You swallowing matches and suddenly I’m yelling Strike me. Strike anywhere.

Can you see the plot like dotted lines across the room? Here is the sink to wash away the blood, here’s the whiskey, the ripped-up shirt, the tile of the bathroom floor, the disk of the drain

Cigarettes... bad habit.

Wouldn’t have lit the thing if he knew there was a lady about... Or maybe he would’ve. Not polite, maybe, but he’s been stubborn something fierce these days. “Can I help you?”

There’s certainly an air about her, like she comes from money. Any number of things better than him. “Can’t say I recognize you, doll; sorry to say. I’d remember a face like that.”

Tired...? Maybe he is. Tired of what he’s seen, the way it carries on; the die already cast, but they roll on and on toward the end. Hard not to get caught up in it, in a city like his. “Parker,” he exhales smoke. “Peter Parker. P.I.”

Mind in the gutter; damp-haired, drowning in it——— the blood and money and dirt, whispered atrocities in back alleys. It can be easy to forget that isn’t all there is. Brow quirk, “You recognize me, huh? Maybe my memory ain’t as good as I thought. We met before?”

Yeah, if he’s lucky. But ol’ Pete here’s awful at dying, fellas’ve been trying for years but he’s stuck around.

Far beyond him how she managed a thing like that; then again, plenty of things are beyond him. Worth observation, maybe. He doesn’t plan on making someone pick a funeral plot for him anytime soon, so she ain’t got much to worry about.