Azirale had heard the stories. Every demon in New York had.

A man dressed in red, with horns, parading around Hell's Kitchen calling himself the Devil.

It was ridiculous. It was disrespectful. It was hilarious.

Some demons were indignant about it. Azirale knew one dude who had actually chased the guy down and subsequently had his ass handed to him. Apparently fighting common low-level demons wasn't too much of a hassle for the Daredevil. Other demons weren't too bothered by it. It didn't actually have anything to do with them, after all. He was just a human, caught up in human affairs. Azirale suspected he might be a little more than human, but they kept that thought to themselves.

The world hadn't gotten stranger these past few years, humans were just finally becoming aware of how the strange the world had always been. To a century old demon like themself, however, gods and aliens and super-powered humans weren't all that surprising. They didn't particularly care about any of it.

That's what they told themselves, but as they sat in the bar watching the latest news footage of Daredevil's tail end of a fight with some gang, they found their teeth grating.

They couldn't blame the guy for a name the press had given him, but he had really embraced the whole Devil persona.

Seriously, come on, horns.

As if that's what demons really looked like.

Calling him devil because - what, he broke a few arms? Put a couple people in comas?

As if that's the worst demons could do.

They slammed their glass back down on the counter and got up, leaving the bar without paying. The bartender glanced their way, then averted his eyes and continued his business. Smart guy. Some humans could tell when to back down. Some, on the other hand… Sometimes Az had to flash their eyes in warning. And if that didn't work, they weren't afraid to get violent. They enjoyed it as much as the next demon, they supposed, but most of the time it seemed like too much effort. Torment had gotten old.

Luckily, they didn't have to follow that line of thought to wherever the fuck it was headed, because the bartender hadn't challenged them, and now they needed to think about what to do next. They were standing on the dark street, lamplight and neon reflecting jagged and broken in puddles of rainwater on the sidewalk. The wind was cold, whipping around their legs and snaking up their back, but of course they didn't mind. They couldn't really feel the cold, not the way they knew humans could. All they could feel right now was immensely bored.

Bored and pissed off.

Pissed off that some human in a fancy suit with some fancy moves thought he could call himself a devil without knowing what it meant to be a devil. What you had to go through. What a terrible thing it was to exist.

Az shook their head - there they went again, falling down that rabbit hole.

They needed a distraction.

They glanced back at the bar, still dimly able to hear the television from where they were standing.

They thought he had something in mind.

It didn't take them long to track the Daredevil down.

Demons always knew where trouble was brewing. And Hell's Kitchen wasn't that large a place.

Things had been getting weird in Hell's Kitchen.

And for Matt, that was saying a lot.

He could handle aliens falling from the sky, shadowy organizations, ninjas, crime lords, superheroes - he could handle just about anything. But a cloud of unease had fallen across the city these past few weeks. Something was coming. He could feel it in the air, crackling like electricity, humming through the street, waiting. Watching. It prickled across his skin, stung his nose.

And then the freaks starting showing up.

The first Matt encountered seemed like fairly normal human. He had been following Matt through the dark alleyway for some time, and no matter how Matt ducked and dodged and scaled buildings or leaped across the rooftops, that steady heartbeat was always right behind him, strangely calm and steady. He knew the guy had to be booking it to keep up with Matt, but his heartbeat remained even the entire time. That's when Matt first knew something was off.

He knew Foggy would shout at him for this later, but he took a stand on a rooftop and waited for his pursuer to catch up.

The dark didn't seem to be a hindrance to the guy, who clambered up on the rooftop without a problem - Matt thought he might have enhanced strength. Nothing like Captain America or the Hulk, but it was something. He readjusted his stance, on guard.

"Why are you following me? Who are you?"

"I'm here to teach you a lesson," the man growled, surging forward.

He didn't put up much of fight. Like Matt had suspected, he had some measure of super strength, but didn't know how to properly use it. He swung wildly and left himself wide open - Matt got a few good hits in, and the guy stumbled.

Once again, no measurable reaction - no spike in heartbeat, he didn't even seem to be out of breath.

The man came again, faster this time - it almost caught Matt by surprise but he ducked under the attack and caught the man in the ribs again, striking him in the same spot. This time he definitely heard the bones crack.

But again - no reaction.

Matt frowned. Super strength and...something else? Healing?

He cocked his head and listened, dodging another clumsy attack - no, the ribs were still scraping and jostling against each other. No healing factor.

Could he just not register pain, then?

Matt would just have to incapacitate him then.

His moment of distraction cost him - the man barreled into his side, tossing him across the roof. Matt managed to land in a roll and stumble to his feet. His breath had been knocked out of him, and it took him a moment to orient himself. The man was coming again.

Yeah, didn't want to take another hit from that guy.

Matt focused all his senses and energy, and when the man came into range, he lunged. He used the man's momentum against him, flipping him face-first onto the roof. Before he had a chance to get up, Matt grabbed his leg and lifted it up, twisting, then brought his other foot down on the man's knee.

He heard the bone snap.

No palpable reaction from the man except a frustrated curse.

For good measure, Matt broke his other leg, then bailed and left the man shouting curses at him from the roof.

His heartbeat was still slow and steady as ever; Matt's, on the other hand, was racing.

After that he had run into a few others like the man. Always the steady heartbeats, calm, even breaths, the stink of sulfur and blood strong on their bodies. Strong, and fast. Unhindered by the darkness. He thought they might prefer it, actually. Once, two had cornered him an empty street - two streetlights were buzzing overhead. One of them snapped their fingers, and the buzzing stopped. He assumed the light went out, and they were trying to scare him, or use the dark to their advantage. He had managed to get away without having to fight them.

Okay, so at least one of them had some sort of power over electricity.

He really needed to do some serious investigation into these freaks.

Great. It wasn't like he already had enough on his plate.

Some new big name had sprung up in Hell's Kitchen, dipping their hands into all sorts of criminal pools. People were being snatched off the street. Rates of missing people were rising at alarming rates. It wasn't human trafficking, which just made Matt think whatever they were doing with these kidnapped people might be even worse.

Together, he and Foggy and Karen had managed to find a name with a loose connection to the recent spree of organized crime cutting through the city - Bouvois. A private entrepreneur with a hand in a number of shady businesses with even shadier books.

Matt was on his way to investigate one of the warehouses bought by Bouvois, when he ran into another one.

Well, first he ran into a group of men that caught him by surprise. They didn't seem connected - one was a security guard, still in uniform, another was a plumber, another a businessman of some sort. But they were all tall and muscular, dowsed in sweat, insane amounts of adrenaline pumping through their systems, hearts racing towards cardiac arrest. They came loping down the street like a pack of dogs, surrounding him and - yeah, some of them were actually growling.

"Hello, boys," Matt said uneasily, letting his radar sense wash over them in all directions. Something was definitely wrong here - he had the impression these men weren't exactly in control, and he didn't want to hurt them - but he didn't think he would have much of a choice.

In the brief seconds before the first man lunged, Matt heard another heartbeat enter the scene. Perched on the fire escape, swinging her legs, smelling of sulfur. One of them.

"Did you do this?" Matt demanded, facing the freak.

"Me? Ha - no. But someone definitely has it out for you," they answered.

Matt didn't have any more time to chat - the first man was attacking, and then they all came.

The fight lasted longer than he wanted. It probably would have gone on a lot longer, except the attackers started dropping all by themselves. Heart attacks.

Through his own racing heart and ragged breaths, Matt heard the freak in the fire escape let out a low whistle.

"Whoo, whoever sent those chumps underestimated you! Poor bastards - probably don't even know what happened."

Matt leaned against a wall, the rough brick gritty beneath his torn sleeve. Just like he thought - it had been mind control, or something. He had heard about the case with the PI and the mind controller, Kilgrave. But he had died. Could there be someone else like him?

He didn't have time to think about that - all the men had fallen, their hearts giving out within seconds of each other. Matt fished his phone out and dialed the cops. If he left them here like this, they would die.

"Oh, what a good Samaritan. Really, and you have the balls to call yourself the Devil."

Right. They were still here.

"Do you know who did this?" Matt said. It was the first time he had really spoken to one of them.

The freak jumped down from the fire escape, landing effortlessly like she had hopped down from a curb.

"No, not really. I mean, I have some ideas, but I don't really care. I'm here for you."

Matt sighed. Of course.

Hello? 911. A tinny voice echoed out of his phone.

He growled their location into the phone before snapping it shut and facing his new opponent.

"You want to go?" He held his fists up.

The freak barked a laugh, "You couldn't take me right now, and you know it."

"Let's see about that," Matt answered. He knew they were probably right, but he wasn't going to admit that. The other of their kind he had faced always seemed unbalanced, rash, all brute force and no finesse. This one, though, was different. She took her time picking its way towards Matt, easy, unbothered. Confident.

Yet the closer it got to Matt, the faster their heart beat. But not out of fear...it was angry.

"Why do you call yourself the Devil?"

"I didn't come up with it - it just kind of stuck."

"Yeah, but you really embraced it, didn't you? I mean, the horns and all."

"It helps to have an image."

"An image people fear?"

Matt nodded.

The freak laughed.

Suddenly their voice was right next to him, whispering in his ear, sending him stumbling back in surprise.

"Well, how does it feel? Are you afraid?"

Matt attacked, throwing out a flurry of punches and kicks before jumping on top of the dumpster and onto the fire escape. He knew his blows had connected, but the freak had acted like he was giving her a light pat on the back, not debilitating blows to vital points in their body.

In the next instant, she had leaped up onto the fire escape, hands wrapping around the rusty railing and leaning across to sneer, he assumed, in his face.

However, before any more words or blows could be exchanged, the fire escape jostled. It tilted. There was the sound of wrenching metal, then they were both falling.

Matt landed hard against the pavement, curling up into a ball and covering his head as metal crashed around him.

When everything quieted down, he assessed his surroundings. Part of the fire escape had come away when the freak jumped on it, the rusted railing unable to bear her weight. None of the unconscious men seemed to have been injured seriously.

The freak, though…

A piece of rusty metal was sticking through their chest, piercing their heart.

No beat, no breath. Dead.

He held his head, trying to regain control of his senses. He heard sirens in the distance - the police would be here soon. He needed to get away.

"The police are on their way, huh?"

He froze. The dead body of the freak was standing, moving, talking. There was still no heartbeat. Because the bar of metal was still sticking through their heart.

"I guess it's time we get out of here, huh?"

Matt was starting to think he had hit his head harder than he thought. His senses weren't working right. That body was definitely dead. He could smell it.

"How are you…"

He cut himself off as suddenly the freak's body collapsed, now well and truly dead.

Something cold and frightening washed over Matt, sending his hair on end. He could detect the faint sound of wind, the strong smell of sulfur and death, but nothing else. Whatever was happening - and he didn't doubt something was happening - was undetectable through his senses. But he could feel it in his bones, in his blood - and it was telling him to run.

He turned to flee, but in the next instant the smell of sulfur and death and the cold had overtaken him. It crashed into him, overwhelming his senses. Everything was at once muffled and clouded and blaring and flaming. Something was in his mouth, his nose, his throat, burning and suffocating him as it spread throughout his body, forcing him deeper and deeper into himself.

He was drowning in darkness. That wasn't right - he was always in darkness, but this was different. This was true, tangible darkness. It was palpable. Something he could taste, something that was pressing against him on all sides, wrapping him up, burying him.

He struggled against it, and suddenly the fire was there, burning at him. Laughing at him.

"This is what it is to be a devil, Daredevil. Welcome to hell."

The voice - which he realized with horror, was coming from his own head - started laughing maniacally. Then abruptly, the voice stopped laughing. There was a moment of quiet, and Matt was drowning and burning.

He heard the voice speak again, "What the actual fuck."