Author's Note: Thanks to Esther-Channah for Beta reading this chapter!

Summary: Matt doesn't need the psychopaths he takes down to remind him time and again that he's no different than them; he's nothing like them. He has a code, a moral compass guiding him; religious convictions keeping him on the right path; a father who raised him right and whose memory he will always respect; and a city to protect. So when a new vigilante enters the picture—one who has no qualms using lethal force to clean up the city and put criminals away for good—Matt's convictions are tested.

Chapter 1: Punishment

Matt's entire body tensed in preparation for another blow. He could withstand the punishment, heal, regroup, maybe even return stronger and more focused for a rematch, but today he was at the mercy of his assailant. His body protested his every attempt to move, to get up and rejoin the fight, and with at least a couple of broken bones and a terrible concussion, Matt couldn't quite override his body's demands.

Lying down in a dank alleyway, Matt's face was flush against the asphalt. A warm sticky substance—his blood, he realized—was flowing from his nose, the coppery scent mixing with the stale urine from drunks relieving themselves and rotting, days-old Chinese food from the dumpster to overwhelm his sense of smell.

Ears still ringing in the aftermath of the explosion, the world around him flitted in and out of existence, clarity increasing with each passing moment. The fractured outline of the alley that his damaged radar sense currently afforded him alerted him to the presence of a man standing over him.

Matt tried to speak, but only managed a hiss of pain.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, strong and sure, and Matt found himself over onto his back.

A grunt of relief, then a gruff voice cut through Matt's hazy senses. "Good. You're still alive. I didn't want to kill you, you know. I respect you for taking down Fisk, I really do. It's nothing personal; just needed to incapacitate you and finish out my work. But know this—if you ever interfere again, I'll put you down."

Karen was waiting in the office when Foggy arrived. He'd had a shitty morning. The hot water was down in his apartment building, the bakery at the corner was out of his favorite muffin, and some asshole on the street had knocked him over, spilling hot coffee all over Foggy's suit. So he wasn't very surprised when Karen gave him news that fit in perfectly with the rest of his morning.

"Matt's called in sick. Says he has flu. He sounded pretty bad, so I told him to take the rest of the week off and rest up."

Foggy sighed and sank into the nearest seat. "We have an actual client coming in for a meeting today, and he chooses now to get sick?" Foggy had half a mind to allot a restricted number of Daredevil days to his law partner, enacting strict penalties for going over.

Karen rolled her eyes, as Foggy headed into his office to grab a clean shirt. When he returned, Karen was ushering a woman through the door. Slender, well dressed, her red hair styled in waves, the woman was strikingly beautiful, yet something about her unsettled Foggy.

"Shit."

"Foggy!" Karen reprimanded her boss, and then turned toward their guest to apologize.

"Karen, that's Natasha Romanov, the fucking Black Widow! You're telling me that our prospective client is the fucking Black Widow and you didn't even notice?"

"Shit," Karen swore, backing away from the auburn-haired woman until Foggy stood between her and the other woman. She glanced over at Foggy. "In my defense, I've been a bit preoccupied with everything that's happened."

Natasha raised a slender red eyebrow and then plastered a polite smile on her face, extending her hand toward the lawyer.

Shocked out of his stupor, Foggy returned the handshake after a moment's hesitation. "Sorry about that. It's not every day an Avenger walks into our law practice. I'm Foggy Nelson. Foggy. Matt Murdock, my partner, is out sick. And this wonderful lady is our secretary or something, Karen." Giving his most charming smile, he led the two women into the conference room.

Since Natasha hadn't hightailed it out of there yet, Foggy decided not to push his luck any further, asking politely, "So, what brings you to the offices of Nelson and Murdock?"

"As you may have seen on the news recently, I have exposed myself to public scrutiny. With S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsing, I currently lack the support of the government. I'm exploring my legal options as a precautionary method, in case it comes to that. A friend advised me to shop my case around to different law firms to find the best fit."

"That's great advice!" Foggy opined, "I'm glad you've included us on your list. Here at Nelson and Murdock, we—"

Natasha stood up from her seat at the conference table, cutting Foggy short. "I don't want to take up any more of your time—or mine. I've been underwhelmed so far and nothing you say will dig you out of that hole. I'll come back when your partner returns."

Disappearing gracefully from the office, Natasha left Foggy and Karen alone in the conference room.

"She's not coming back, is she?" Foggy asked, shaking his head over losing his shot at winning the fucking Black Widow as a client. "Although, I guess it's an honor she even showed up here. I mean, how'd she even hear about us?"

"She probably has friends in high places. Maybe she heard about how we were so instrumental in taking down Fisk, or there are satellites spying on us, or something."

"You had the fucking Black Widow in our office, sitting in a chair at our conference table, and you couldn't even behave long enough to give her our pitch?"

"Don't make me regret coming over here and spilling the beans! I could've sent Karen. How many times do you think you can get beaten to a bloody pulp before she gets suspicious?"

"I have the flu!" Matt grinned cheekily, a valiant accomplishment due to the pain that racked his body every time he so much as breathed.

"By the way, did you hear the news?" Foggy unfolded the newspaper and waved it in the air. "You're no longer the front-page vigilante, buddy. You have some competition in the department of most fucked up wannabe hero in town. They call the dude 'The Punisher'. I'm kind of feeling that name more than Daredevil, but I guess you own it in your own way. Anyway, they say he must have some special forces training or something, the way he's brutal yet efficient, but his identity is still unknown."

Matt tensed and, hoping that Foggy would write the sudden movement off as discomfort due to pain, replied, "Oh, yeah. I've heard of the guy."

Foggy stood up and began pacing the room. "I think I'm coming to accept that my best friend, who I've thought all these years to be blind, actually has a fucking radar sense and fights crime in a red and black devil costume, but this guy… You can't just go around killing every criminal in city! He killed a fucking purse snatcher!" By this point, he was waving his arms emphatically, his face reddening. Inwardly, he was thinking of his best friend, the optimistic kid from the first day of law school. Was Matt just one bad day—one shitty circumstance—from going all Punisher?

Sensing that his friend's distress wasn't close to abating, Matt cut in, "Don't worry, I'll stop him…" Next time, he thought.