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[right][sub][b][color=ed1c24]Volume 1: Revelations[/color][/b][/sub][hr][sup][b]Chapter 5:[/b] [i]Contrition[/i][/sup][/right]
[indent][indent][color=gray]Matthew Murdock's feet collided with a thud on the wood flooring of the old church, pulling up his mask as he desperately sought to catch his breath. Police sirens wailed at the other end of the block, red and blue lights filtering in through stained glass windows. It was hard to tell what was sweat and what were tears on his face as he slowly walked down the main aisle. He could smell the faintest whiff of candle smoke and old wood. His hands brushed along each pew as he approached the altar, his head turned up towards the domed ceiling above the tabernacle. He stopped before the steps up to the Sanctuary, making a sign of the cross as he lowered one knee to the ground. A second knee followed, as he lowered his head. The sound of his grating teeth rattled around in his head as he suppressed a primal scream.

The Punisher had won. Most of the Saints he tried to save were dead. The psychopath was in the wind. He had saved one, but it didn't feel like enough.

Matt ran his hand over his face before closing his eyes and lowering his upper body to the ground. He prostrated himself, listening to the echoing sounds of his city.

[color=ed1c24]"My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart... In failing to do good, I have sinned against you."[/color]

[center][color=white]♦♦♦[/color][/center]

A man in a cowboy hat sat in the middle of Central Park, overlooking the lake as the Cherry Hill fountain gurgled not far from his position. He spent his time reading the newspaper, flipping through the pages. It was a quick skim, but enough to confirm what he already knew. Desmond's man had taken care of the evidence, and no one was the wiser. He didn't look up from his paper as a familiar, lithe man approached. [color=7bcdc8]"Sit down, Marston."[/color]

Sylvester "Snake" Marston took a seat next to the man, dressed in a simple hoodie and sweat pants. He always preferred loose and casual in environments like this. He eyed a few children tossing bits of bread into the lake, his foot tapping incessantly as his words nearly caught in his throat. [color=00a651]"What are we doing here, Montana? Feeding the ducks?"[/color]

[color=7bcdc8]"I wanted to talk about last night without making you feel like I was going to double cross ya."[/color] Montana's drawl was comforting and inviting as he closed the newspaper, setting it to the side as he looked out towards the lake. [color=7bcdc8]"I know you're newer to the crew. Dan vouched for ya when he was in Rikers. But I've got a real simple rule you have to follow."[/color]

Montana looked to Sylvester, his eyes locked on his subordinate. The warmth in his voice had dissipated into grave sobriety. [color=7bcdc8]"No secrets."[/color]

Sylvester nodded dumbly, the fear evident on his face. Montana smiled softly, lifting an arm up to wrap around the Snake's shoulders, looking back out the lake and using his free hand to emphasize his points. [color=7bcdc8]"If ya do something wrong, ya tell me. If a complication arises, ya tell me."[/color] He paused, turning his sharp gaze back to Sylvester. His breath reeked of tobacco and whiskey.

[color=7bcdc8]"If the Devil shows up and sees what y'all are up to, ya tell me. Cause this is your warning, Marston. You, Ox, or even Danny boy keep something like this hidden from me again, there won't be a next time."[/color]

Sylvester nodded. [color=00a651]"It won't happen again, Mr. Brice."[/color]

[color=7bcdc8]"I know. But just to be safe, Dan is coming with ya on the next one."[/color]

[center][color=white]♦♦♦[/color][/center]

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in the old office chair. The soft footfalls on the old carpet were like war drums in his head: confident, short stride, lead foot... Foggy. As the door opened, Matt was already closing the laptop lid and removing his earbuds.

[color=fdc68a]"Just got off the phone with Detective North about ... the good old boys in Blue are calling it a wash. No DNA or fingerprints, No CCTV in the area, no witnesses coming forward. They've got nothing."[/color]

Matt tilted his head slightly. No DNA evidence... he was certain he had left blood at the scene. He was bleeding on his way out. The NYPD was known to cut corners on investigations, but there was no way they would have missed something that obvious.

This was bigger than he first thought.

[color=ed1c24]"They're sweeping this under the rug again, and insurance is going to fight tooth and nail to claim it's fraud without a conviction."[/color] Matt spun the chair around, removing his red-tinted glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, a wave of anger boiling in his chest. [color=ed1c24]"This is the third apartment this has happened in three weeks, how is this not a priority?"[/color] 

[color=fdc68a]"NYPD is too busy looking out for the guy who shot up the Stardust. Or whatever maniacs were involved in a car chase and gun fight in Manhattan."[/color] Foggy shook his head in disgust, his cheap windbreaker rubbing against itself from his movements. Matt always hated that jacket. He spun around in his chair, raising an eyebrow. [color=fdc68a]"Hey, you don't get to complain. You called out yesterday, so I had to do boring paperwork all day while hoping a client would come waltzing in so we could pay for the office rent this month."[/color] Matt simply held up his hands in defeat, and Foggy shook his head.  [color=fdc68a]"So yes, I'm calling it a night. It's 6, my dad just got back from the hospital so my ma is having us all over for dinner. She specifically asked me to invite you, in case you-"[/color]

[color=ed1c24]"Thank you, but not tonight, Foggy."[/color] Matt gave a weak smile, his expression darkening as he felt that well of anger rising like bile in his throat. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep it in. [color=ed1c24]"It just doesn't feel like enough."[/color]

Foggy froze, his mouth agape as the wheels turned in his head. [color=fdc68a]"We just have to wait and see... maybe hire a private investigator to keep an eye out, try and get some pictures... so long as they take seven bucks and a Bodega punch card as a down payment."[/color] Foggy smiled awkwardly, waiting for some kind of amused reaction from his friend. It never came. [color=fdc68a]"Right... look, Matt... you should get some sleep. We'll regroup in the morning, see if we can work out a game plan."[/color]

Foggy gave Matt a soft smile before leaving the office, with Matt waiting until he could hear the front door to their shared office space close. Matt nimbly slid open his desk drawer, removing the set of blood stained clothes and bandana.

He wouldn't fail this time.
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