When Joren arrived, Daredevil was already perched atop the water tower.
"I heard you," Matt said. "There was a lot of commotion on your end."
His voice carried the weight of exhaustion.
"Let's go," Joren replied. "Don't let her drag any more innocent people into this."
Matt nodded.
Without another word, they moved—one after the other—across the rooftop like shadows. The wind of Hell's Kitchen howled past their ears.
"Her real name is Mary Walker," Matt said, his voice cutting cleanly through the night air as they ran. "This… is my responsibility."
Joren said nothing. He only listened, his mind fixed on one thing: finding her weakness—and ending this.
"She was born in New Mexico," Matt continued. "As far back as she can remember, her parents were always fighting. Violence. Verbal abuse. That was the soundtrack of her childhood."
"One night, her father came home drunk… and put his hands on her bed."
Matt's breath hitched—whether from exertion or memory, it was hard to tell.
"She was terrified. Something inside her snapped. Survival instinct took over."
"She turned on him—manic, furious. Attacked him so badly he never touched her again."
"But instead of protecting her, they sent her to a psychiatric hospital."
Another life shattered before it even began.
"In the hospital, they diagnosed her with dissociative identity disorder. Four distinct identities share her mind."
Matt's pace didn't slow, but his voice grew heavier.
"First—Mary Walker. The host. Sweet, gentle. The girl next door."
"Then there's Mary—not the same. Timid. Quiet. Fragile. She retreats when things get loud."
"Typhoid—that's the one you met. Aggressive. Violent. Cruel. Unpredictable."
"And the last…"
His voice dropped, strained almost to breaking.
"'Bloody Mary.' Savage. Bloodthirsty. Hates everyone—including herself."
Joren's brow furrowed.
Four personalities?
This was worse than he'd thought.
"I first met her as Daredevil," Matt went on, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "She was a hired assassin—mob contract to take me out."
"We fought. But during the fight, my senses picked up something… off. Her heartbeat, her breathing—contradictory. Like multiple people trapped in one body. I knew she wasn't just evil."
"There was a lull. For a moment, the primary personality surfaced. She saw I wouldn't kill her… and she trusted me. Just a little."
"So I didn't arrest her. I saw the pain beneath the violence."
They leapt across a wide street, landing soundlessly on the opposite rooftop.
"And then?" Joren pressed. He needed the rest—the part that mattered.
"Afterward… I helped her find a therapist. Tried to give her a shot at a normal life. Kept the mob off her back."
"For a while, we…"
He trailed off.
Joren didn't need him to finish.
"Mary—the main personality—became dependent on me," Matt admitted quietly. "She fell in love with me. We had… a brief time together."
"I saw myself in her. My radar sense—it's not a gift. It's a flood of noise, pain, corruption. I understand what it's like to be haunted by something you can't shut off."
"But the peace didn't last."
His jaw tightened.
"The gang kidnapped her psychiatrist—to force her back into service."
"Typhoid seized control. Shut out everyone else. Refused my help. Even fought me to prove she didn't need saving."
"And in the chaos… she vanished. All four selves at war inside her."
Matt stopped.
They stood at the western edge of Hell's Kitchen, where skeletal factories and hollowed-out apartment buildings loomed like forgotten tombstones.
"My first attempt to save her… failed."
His voice was raw—quiet, but heavy with helplessness.
"I know," Joren said. "Saving someone isn't something you can force. She has to want it too."
"She does," Matt replied, almost to himself. "Her primary self… she wants to be saved by me. But her other side—the darker one—refuses to be seen as weak. As someone who needs protection." He exhaled sharply. "And I'm torn. I can't bring myself to kill her—that would betray everything I stand for. But I can't trust her either. Not when that other personality could turn on us at any moment."
"So you broke up," Joren said.
Matt nodded. "She vanished from Hell's Kitchen after that. Disappeared completely."
Joren pieced it together quickly.
An unstable woman with formidable psychic resilience. After her disappearance… Kingpin must have taken her in.
Now, loyal to Fisk, Typhoid Mary had set her sights on him.
"I came here to help you track Wesley," Matt continued, pulling Joren back to the present. "But I found traces of her instead. When you mentioned a mind-controlling woman attacking you… it all clicked."
"She's back."
Matt took a slow, steadying breath.
"Up there."
Joren followed his gaze to the tallest derelict building in the distance. Atop its crumbling roof sat a figure in a sleek black bodysuit—fiery red hair stark against ghostly white makeup. She lounged in a rusted chair, one leg draped over the armrest, her expression twisted into something between ecstasy and malice.
Daredevil didn't hesitate. This was his reckoning.
They moved as one—scaling fire escapes, leaping across gaps, silent and swift—until they reached the rooftop door.
Bang!
Matt kicked it open.
The woman rose slowly, deliberately. She didn't look at him. Her eyes locked onto Joren.
A smile curled her lips—sinister, electric, alive with cruel amusement.
"You've finally arrived, Joren Joestar."
Her voice was unmistakable: the same razor-edged, neurotic whisper that had slithered through the mouths of her puppets.
"I thought those little toys might keep you busy a while longer."
Matt stepped between them, arms slightly raised. "Mary—stop! This isn't his fight. This is between us!"
"Us?" She threw her head back and laughed—a shrill, theatrical sound that echoed off the empty rooftops. Then she wagged a finger, mockingly gentle. "No, no, Daredevil. There is no 'us' anymore."
She advanced, each step deliberate, predatory.
"You betrayed me. You betrayed everything we were."
Her voice dropped, venom threading through every syllable.
"He gave me purpose. Gave me order in the chaos. And you—both of you—destroyed him."
Her eyes flared with fury.
"So now… I'll destroy you."
She pointed at Matt, then at Joren.
"Your precious no-kill rule? Today, I'll make you watch this man die—helpless, just like always. And you won't be able to do a damn thing about it!"
Joren watched the scene unfold, arms crossed, ex
pression unreadable.
Great, he thought. A tragic ex-lovers' showdown with extra theatrics.
He sighed inwardly.
Just what I needed tonight.
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