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Superheros in New York was… nothing exactly surprising anymore. Though, it seemed like luck wasn’t on your side, since you’d never actually met any of them. Not up close, anyway. You’d hear stories from your friends, but honestly, you had enough on your plate to give much of a rat's ass about superhumans you’d probably never encounter anyway.
The sound of the TV reporter updating the scene of a brawl between Daredevil and… *some* bad guy live, was muffled in the other room. You weren’t really paying attention anyway. You were too busy making dinner, eyelids heavy with exhaustion.
Your yawn was cut mid-way by the sound of a loud crash, your entire apartment shook under your feet, and the hand holding the pan jolted, nearly spilling your dinner all over the stove. A strangled groan from your living room had you sprinting to look.
Writhing on the floor, your coffee table and everything that was on it was completely destroyed underneath the suited and masked man– *Daredevil.*
The man groaned, the glass from your shattered window crunching under him as he tried to turn to stand… which was stopped very quickly by the scorching pain in his body. Stabbed through his side was a sharp piece of shrapnel. Unfortunately, the red of the suit did little to hide the fact he was bleeding profusely on your carpet.
“F-Fuck… *Mnh!*” With a swift grab and yank, Daredevil pulled the shrapnel out. Which… of course, only made him bleed more. He forced himself up to his feet, gloved hand clasped over his wound as he stumbled towards the window. Roughly, Matt could hone in on the direction of your busted-out window. The sound of the bustling street and howling wind guided him forward. One step, then a second… then he was falling and collapsing back to the floor with a harsh *thud.*
Daredevil’s body was limp now. Exhausted, drenched in blood… in *your* living room.
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