A Summer in Hell's Kitchen:

Hell's Kitchen, New York, 12th August 2001,

Summertime in the Manhattan neighbourhood of Hell's Kitchen. The days are bright, hot and full of mischief. The nights are cool and restless, with the hum of the city calling below to this boy.

Matt Murdock.

Soon mom and dad will call for him and Matt will toss under the covers and stare at the night sky. And wait for dawn.

For more mischief.

"C'mon Matt, hurry up! " exclaimed an excited 12-year-old boy. "Hey Mark, wait up!" cried out Matt, as he ran through the streets of Hell's Kitchen.

Matt is a 7-year old boy. He has a head of red hair like his father and his mother's deep blue eyes. He was short for a boy his age and was skinny to boot.

It's summer in the Kitchen and like every year, the kids in the neighbourhood cause havoc in the streets. Everyone is running around organizing baseball card tournaments, playing soccer, riding bikes in other people's properties and pranking the local cops. "Dude, this was like your idea. Don't make me come over there and carry you to Mr. Cranshaw's place!" cried out Mark, grinning.

"Yeah, yeah I know," Matt said, rolling his eyes.

Matt then took a sharp left and vaulted over some fences blocking the path.

"Show off," Mark said under his breath.

It took Mark another 10 minutes to reach their agreed rendezvous point, (whatever that meant) and Matt was already there, sticking his tongue out at the older boy.

"How can you be so old and so slow at the same time?" Matt asked facetiously.

"Oh shut up, I'm here, aren't I?" Mark said in response.

Mark was a 12-year-old boy with dark, caramel-brown skin, a head of black and curly hair and was well built for a boy his age. "Anyway, what's this big plan of yours anyhow? I have boxing lesson at 6." He asked impatiently.

"Alright, I go inside and act all adorable. You get the PlayStation from that display case thingy and we sell it for loads of cash!" Matt said with great enthusiasm.

"That's it?" asked Mark incredulously.

"Um, yeah?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?", Mark asked Matt as he playfully rustled his hoodie's pocket. "Oh yeah, forgot about that," Matt said taking the item in question from Mark's hand, causing the older boy to roll his eyes. "Wish me luck", Matt said with a gleeful smile.

"Yeah, give me the signal and I'll get out of there," Mark said not realizing that Matt had already gone. "We are going to be in so much trouble", Mark said under his breath. He started looking around to make sure no one was looking. When he felt the coast was clear he started pacing slowly towards Matt. Matt knew the shop owner, Mr. Cranshaw since he was little. OK, littler. He was a cranky old man with a gimpy leg. His dad told him it was because he fought in some war and he stepped on an old landmine and we should be nice to him because of it.

Matt never really understood how fighting in a war makes it alright to be mean to your customers and swindle their cash. After his service ended the only work Mr. Cranshaw could get was as an electrician, but he apparently saw the potential in selling old games and consoles to kids and decided to pursue that instead. 'We'll pay him the money for the PlayStation eventually,' thought Matt as he entered the store. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap cologne greeted his nostrils the moment the door swung open.

'Alright Matty, show time.'

Matt saw that Mr. Cranshaw was sleeping at the register and took out the precious cargo he got from Mark. A whole slice of garlic and a red paintball! Rubbing garlic in your hands covers them in garlic juices and garlic juice rubbed in your eyes equals super realistic tears. Matt then slammed the paintball against his cheek, making the paint trickle down his face.

'Ok, breath in and out, in and out, in and out,' Matt chanted in his head as he scrunched up his face as much as possible. He slowly walks towards the old veteran and starts screaming. "MR. CRANSHAW, MR. CRANSHAW!" The old man gasped in shock and looks around the shop until he spotted Matt.

"Good God, boy, what the devil happened to your face?" he demanded as the shock in his eyes turned into concern.

"Those boys out there were throwing stones at your shop," Matt said sobbing as he pointed to a group of teenagers on the other side of the street. "I told them to stop but they... but they..." Matt stuttered rubbing his eyes even more with the garlic juice, causing him to tear up more.

"Alright, alright. Stop your sniveling boy." the old man says, reaching for his prosthetic limb. "Are you gonna talk to them?" Matt asks impatiently. "Yeah, give me a minute kid," he said struggling to put the artificial limb on.

By the time he put the thing on the boys outside started to shift. "Oh no you don't," Cranshaw said, increasing his pace as he followed the boys. "Finally," Mark says as he enters the shop looking for the display case at the front of the store. "Remind me why you can't take the stupid thing yourself?"

"It's on the top shelf," Matt says, still teary-eyed from the garlic.

"I hate you sometimes man." He says as he takes the display off the shelf.

"Yeah whatever, can we leave now?" Matt asks as he wipes his hands on his shirt.

"Yeah, sure," Mark said as he secures the gaming console in his backpack. As the two boys turn to leave they hear the sounds of police sirens. They run the opposite direction of the sirens but stopped as they saw the outline of an officer in the distance. "What the hell are you two boys doing?" the officer asks as he walks towards them.

"We just bought a play station!" Matt quickly responded.

"Yeah, we just wanted to go home and play it," Mark added.

"I think I'll take it from here officer Boles." a kind voice said from behind the boys. The officer in question looks at the boys and simply nods in confirmation and goes back to his squad car. "I think you boys owe Mr. Cranshaw an apology,"

"Yes, dad." Both boys replied in unison.

"Yes, sir, I understand," Jack Murdock replied with a strained voice over the phone. The two brothers waiting in the adjacent room in the corner.

The Murdock household was nothing to boast about. An apartment of three rooms (four if you counted the bathroom) with two bedrooms and a combined hall and kitchen. Jack and his wife Miranda shared the largest bedroom. Their walls were adorned with pictures of Jack in the heyday of his boxing career, back when he had the title of "Battlin' Jack Murdock", Miranda's Law degree and of course pictures of the children.

The boys both shared one room and were currently sleeping on a bunk-bed.

Matt and Mark always fought over who would get the top. Sometimes they'd bet on who'd win the next Jets game or play a game of rock, paper, scissors. Other times they'd wrestle for it, with Mark usually securing a win. Their mom would usually break up any fights that got out of hand and would dole out a random punishment. Sometimes they'd be forced to do a paper round at 5 in the morning, and one Halloween they were forced to give all their chocolate to the neighbor's stupid daughters. For a couple of kids, that's , however, both brothers couldn't care less who got the top bunk since it wasn't mom that was dishing out punishment. It was ''Battlin' Jack Murdock''.

"Thank you, sir," Jack said as he cut the call, wiping his brow and sighing quite audibly afterward.

Jack Murdock was a tall man, 6 foot 3 inches in height and quite fit his age.

Jack entered the bedroom with a stern expression on his face. "That was my Sargent on the phone," he told the boys with deep and booming voice. "I've managed to pull a few strings and offered Mr. Cranshaw a full reimbursement for any damages caused."

"We were gonna give it back," Matt said in a quiet tone.

"You're lucky that I convinced Mr. Cranshaw not to press any charges." Jack continued ignoring Matt. "Disappointment can't even begin to describe what I'm feeling right now." Jack spent a solid minute in silence before speaking again. "Tell me," Jack said in a softer tone, "Whose idea was it?"

Both boys were looking straight at the floor, not daring to look up. Jack paid attention to them both regardless. Men tend to be a lot less skilled at lying compared to women, little boys even more so. Both boys displayed the obvious signs, a refusal to look directly at someone, fidgeting, twitching faces. All normal considering the circumstances.

But what betrayed people usually were the eyes and Matt's were bolting around like The Flash.

Jack glared at Matt, "Matty." Matt clenched the sheets of his bed and refused to look up. "Look at me, Matty," he said, spacing his words out for dramatic effect. Matt slowly looked up at his father to see not a face of fear or of anger but something much worse; a face filled with disappointment. "Dad," Matt began but stopped before he could finish the sentence.

"I don't want to hear it," Jack said.

"And you should be the one setting the example Mark, not enabling him to steal of all things."

"I know dad," Mark replied not even bothering with an apology knowing it to be a futile gesture. "Well, I know that another speech isn't going to do any of us any good, and since I know for a fact your mother's punishments do nothing for your long-term behavior, I decided to dole out the punishment myself." "Mark, you're banned from boxing lessons for the entire summer."

"What? DAD!"

"And Matt, I've asked Mrs. Decker to give you piano lessons again."

"No way dad, I hate playing that stupid thing."

"I'm not done yet. The both of you are going back to Sunday school. At least the Church oughta knock some sense into you two."

"DAD!" Both boys cried out in unison.

"AND, the two of you will work at Mr. Cranshaws three days a week."

Both boys looked at their father in horror.

"For the rest of the summer."

"No way dad!" Mark replied. "That is so not fair!" Matt added.

"FOR. THE. REST. OF. THE. SUMMER." Jack said, pausing between every word so that the message would sink in. "The two of you start tomorrow."

Jack left their room and entered his own. He laid down on his bed and looked at his clock. '7:30,' it said. His wife was on a company retreat, she was always much better at making the kids listen to reason. She was a lawyer, after all, she's good with words.

The boys were laying in bed, Matt had climbed to the top as soon as their father left.

"I hate you so much right now," Mark said. Matt simply laid in silence. Trying to ignore the events of the day and get to sleep. He'd find a way out of this. He always did.

"Well don't stop now, put your backs into it, that floor ain't gonna sweep itself." Mr. Cranshaw instructed the boys as he laid back in his chair, puffing on his fifth cigarette of the morning.

"But we've been at this all day!" Mark whined as he whipped the sweat off his brow for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Yeah, and we aren't even getting paid for this!" Matt added.

"Well a little manual labor never hurt anyone," Mr. Cranshaw stated gleefully as he started to read his newspaper, which Matt had to ride a block away in order to buy since the one delivered to Cranshaw's place, "didn't have any crosswords in it," apparently.

Matt started to smile.

"What is it boy?"

"Actually, you're sort of wrong there," Matt said with a smug grin."What in God's name are you talking about?" Mr. Cranshaw inquired.

"Well, according to child labor laws in the state of New York, you're only permitted to allow minors to work 8 hours per day, assuming are over 14. And well we aren't exactly 14 yet."

"Now, wait a minute", Mr. Cranshaw started.

"Also, since we aren't getting paid or working for a family business and you've been smoking right next to a couple of kids you could get into loads of trouble if we complained to the proper authorities." Matt said, his grin never faltering the whole time, with Mark struggling to hold in a laugh.

"You've got some nerve kid.", Mr. Cranshaw said with a stern look on his face. "I can't deal with this right now. I need a drink.", Cranshaw got up to leave and put on his leg, he started to cross the road when both boys started to laugh.

"Oh my God dude. where did you learn that stuff?" Mark asked with great surprise. "I snuck into Mom and Dad's room when you all fell asleep and borrowed some of mom's old law books. I didn't understand half of it but I learned a lot about labor laws and stuff." Matt said still grinning the whole time.

"You read all of that in one night?", Mark asked.

"Yeah, why'd you think I fell asleep on Cranshaw's door after washing it?"

"Man, if I had half your brains I'd get like straight A's in school." "Aren't you like the teacher's pet anyway?" Matt asked.

"Hey, I'm not... Wait, look over there", Mark said pointing towards the middle of the road.

Matt's eyes followed his finger and saw what he was pointing to. It was Mr. Cranshaw, limping in the middle of the street. "Why's he walking like that?" Matt asked. "Not sure. Wait look, his fake leg. It's coming off".Mr. Cranshaw's brace that kept his prosthetic attached to his stump was loose and he was struggling to keep upright, let alone walk. "Should we help him?" Matt asked.

"Remember when you tried helping him this morning putting the stupid thing on?"

"Yeah."

"Remember what he said?"

"If I can pilot a helicopter I can put on a damned leg," Matt repeated with a raspy voice, trying to mock the old veteran. Mark then pointed out that after that stint with the labor laws, which may or may not even be valid in this scenario, Matt'd be the last person Cranshaw would want help from. Matt told his step-brother he'd wait at the sidewalk in case he fell.

"Whatever man," was all Mark said in response as he entered the shop again.

Matt was about to shout out to Cranshaw when he saw something enter the corner of his eye.

A truck, heading straight for Mr. Cranshaw.

"MR. CRANSHAW!" Matt screamed as he ran across the road to reach the old man.

Without thinking, Matt pushed Mr. Cranshaw away from the middle of the road. As this happened the truck driver, noticing what was happening started turning the large vehicle towards the right, away from both Matt and Mr. Cranshaw, crashing into a nearby lamppost.

As he crashed the back doors of the van broke wide open and the contents of the truck, barrels rolled straight towards Matt. The young boy crouched down in fear as the contents of the barrel leaked out as the barrels rolled near him. As they came towards him one of their lids came off.

Matt looked towards the direction of the now open barrel to see if it was safe to stand.

It was the last thing he ever saw.

The chemicals in the barrel sprayed over Matt's face.

"AARGGGHHH!", Matt let out a loud scream and reflexively put his hands over his eyes.

Matt was writhing on the floor, still screaming.

"Matt? MATT?" Mark cried out, leaving the shop to see what the commotion is about.

"Oh no." Mark said as he ran towards his foster brother, who was still helplessly squirming on the road in agony.

"Mark? MARK?"

"Yeah, I'm here dude!"

"I can't see, Mark... Mark, I can't see! Mark!"

Mark looked around to see the barrels. They had a radioactivity symbol plastered on them. "It's alright, keep your eyes shut Matt. Someone call 911!" Mark cried, holding his brother in his arms.

Matt couldn't hear any of it. He began to feel light headed.

Soon, he couldn't feel anything at all.

So, this is my first attempt at fanfiction. I've laid out a story for the year prior to Matt meeting the team. I decided that since Matt was born in the DC universe this time around, I would make some changes to the origin story. Just so that I wouldn't be too limited by the source material.

Any feedback would be appreciated. Thanks