Post by Uatu the Watcher on Oct 27, 2008 2:58:17 GMT -5
[Brubaker, Ed (w), Michael Lark & Stefano Guadiano (a), and Frank D’Armata (c)] “The Devil in Cell-Block D Part Three” Daredevil., v2, #84, (June, 2006), Marvel Entertainment: [4-5]
Adapted By: Uatu, The Watcher
The environment at Ryker’s Island continued to maintain a steady and continuous downward spiral of increasing turmoil and unrest. The illusion of control, which the guards and staff believed they had over prisoners they contained, began to slip from their grasp day by day. Violence increased. Riots became daily activities. More and more inmates arrived with fresh bruises, recent cuts, and broken bones daily, like clockwork, in the infirmary. The guards were overworked, underpaid, exhausted, and understaffed, each and every one of them wondering when they too would end up in the infirmary—or worse. But the fighting continued; all throughout the day, scattered through general population until lights-out at night. Everyone was on edge. Anticipating the fight to come. The skirmishes and brawls that took place were only appetites for the inevitable main event. All waiting for their one chance to take down the man without fear.
No matter how much Matt denied it, the word was still out that he was fair game. And no one would dispute that. He was a foreigner inside hostile territory. He could deny his dual identity all he wanted, but convicts didn’t care. To them, he was the Daredevil—the man responsible for putting the majority of the general population behind bars. Now, there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No way out. It was just him and them. And it never got easier. Everyday, the setting of Ryker’s would deteriorate further down to the natural state that would exist in an environment of lunatics and psychos—and Matt helped it along. Pushing it with broken bones and bloody knuckles. The fights came and went, and Matt was at the center of it all. The criminals believed they could tire him down. They knew that sooner or later, he would slip up; and then they would have their blood. But the fights continued, and Murdock kept walking away. The inmates would never learn, but slowly the guards were beginning to understand. Some even feared Matt. But they didn’t see it. When they were around, Murdock was the perfect picture of an innocent blind man; the most unlikely suspect in the recent wave of violence. Some would even try to befriend him, just in case the rumors were true.
Out in the recreation yard, Matt sat patiently outside on the entryway steps in the early morning sun. His fingers ran over the pages an old brail copy of the Dumas’ classic tale, The Count of Monte Cristo. His head kept an even elevation to his shoulders as his mildly scarred and sore hands did all the reading; his red glasses glimmering in the morning light. The rest of the prisoners, that mumbled socially and shuffled their boots across the asphalt in the yard, kept a distance from the blind man; just as if there was an invisible barrier surrounding him. The guards couldn’t prove that it was Murdock that was behind the skirmishes, but the convicts new better. Sooner or later, they’d get their chance but it wouldn’t be while the guards were watching.
“Yo, Murdock… It’s--” A voice called out from the yard, approaching Matt—only to be interrupted before it could identify itself.
“C.O Salazar.” Matt finished the correctional officer’s sentence as the guard walked towards him. Salazar kept a peculiar and nervous demeanor as he hunched his shoulders and kept his hands inside of his pockets; his attitude became even more agitated as the blind man was able to recognize him without any sort of proper introduction. “I recognize your cologne.” Matt spoke.
“Um, yeah, sure… So, that guy, McHenry? Who got his head busted that day Hammerhead went after you?” Salazar rubbed the back of his head, looking over his shoulder, as he informed Matt about the shady previous event of earlier. There was a small tremble in Salazar’s voice, a sign of guilt and betrayal as he spoke of his fellow guards. “Thought you might wanna know he’s back on detail today.” McHenry had escorted Murdock into an ambush not too long ago, nearly ending Murdock’s term at Ryker’s fatally early.
Matt was unsure on exactly how involved McHenry was with Hammerhead, but he knew that the guard was involved just enough to hand deliver himself right to den of five armed and very aggressive prisoners. Murdock had some questions of his own to ask McHenry, especially if he knew anything more about who was behind Foggy Nelson’s death. But as far as C.O. Salazar would know, despite how helpful he was, Matthew Murdock would have nothing to do with any sort of retaliation. “Now, why would I want to know about that, C.O. Salazar?”
“I just… uh… Thought you might…” Salazar began to shuffle away, unsure on how to respond to the blind man’s reaction. On the outside, Matt seemed normal enough. But Salazar couldn’t shake the thoughts and stories in his head of the masked hero for which the blind man was accused of being. “My mistake, I guess.” Salazar walked off, keeping his head low to his chest as he left Matt in peace. Murdock turned his face away from the New York City skyline before him and surveyed Salazar as he left the vicinity. Though he could not see, he knew Salazar could feel his gaze upon him—and could hear his heart race and beat faster through all the fear that overwhelmed him. And though normally this might upset Matt, today he allowed it.
Adapted By: Uatu, The Watcher
The environment at Ryker’s Island continued to maintain a steady and continuous downward spiral of increasing turmoil and unrest. The illusion of control, which the guards and staff believed they had over prisoners they contained, began to slip from their grasp day by day. Violence increased. Riots became daily activities. More and more inmates arrived with fresh bruises, recent cuts, and broken bones daily, like clockwork, in the infirmary. The guards were overworked, underpaid, exhausted, and understaffed, each and every one of them wondering when they too would end up in the infirmary—or worse. But the fighting continued; all throughout the day, scattered through general population until lights-out at night. Everyone was on edge. Anticipating the fight to come. The skirmishes and brawls that took place were only appetites for the inevitable main event. All waiting for their one chance to take down the man without fear.
No matter how much Matt denied it, the word was still out that he was fair game. And no one would dispute that. He was a foreigner inside hostile territory. He could deny his dual identity all he wanted, but convicts didn’t care. To them, he was the Daredevil—the man responsible for putting the majority of the general population behind bars. Now, there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No way out. It was just him and them. And it never got easier. Everyday, the setting of Ryker’s would deteriorate further down to the natural state that would exist in an environment of lunatics and psychos—and Matt helped it along. Pushing it with broken bones and bloody knuckles. The fights came and went, and Matt was at the center of it all. The criminals believed they could tire him down. They knew that sooner or later, he would slip up; and then they would have their blood. But the fights continued, and Murdock kept walking away. The inmates would never learn, but slowly the guards were beginning to understand. Some even feared Matt. But they didn’t see it. When they were around, Murdock was the perfect picture of an innocent blind man; the most unlikely suspect in the recent wave of violence. Some would even try to befriend him, just in case the rumors were true.
Out in the recreation yard, Matt sat patiently outside on the entryway steps in the early morning sun. His fingers ran over the pages an old brail copy of the Dumas’ classic tale, The Count of Monte Cristo. His head kept an even elevation to his shoulders as his mildly scarred and sore hands did all the reading; his red glasses glimmering in the morning light. The rest of the prisoners, that mumbled socially and shuffled their boots across the asphalt in the yard, kept a distance from the blind man; just as if there was an invisible barrier surrounding him. The guards couldn’t prove that it was Murdock that was behind the skirmishes, but the convicts new better. Sooner or later, they’d get their chance but it wouldn’t be while the guards were watching.
“Yo, Murdock… It’s--” A voice called out from the yard, approaching Matt—only to be interrupted before it could identify itself.
“C.O Salazar.” Matt finished the correctional officer’s sentence as the guard walked towards him. Salazar kept a peculiar and nervous demeanor as he hunched his shoulders and kept his hands inside of his pockets; his attitude became even more agitated as the blind man was able to recognize him without any sort of proper introduction. “I recognize your cologne.” Matt spoke.
“Um, yeah, sure… So, that guy, McHenry? Who got his head busted that day Hammerhead went after you?” Salazar rubbed the back of his head, looking over his shoulder, as he informed Matt about the shady previous event of earlier. There was a small tremble in Salazar’s voice, a sign of guilt and betrayal as he spoke of his fellow guards. “Thought you might wanna know he’s back on detail today.” McHenry had escorted Murdock into an ambush not too long ago, nearly ending Murdock’s term at Ryker’s fatally early.
Matt was unsure on exactly how involved McHenry was with Hammerhead, but he knew that the guard was involved just enough to hand deliver himself right to den of five armed and very aggressive prisoners. Murdock had some questions of his own to ask McHenry, especially if he knew anything more about who was behind Foggy Nelson’s death. But as far as C.O. Salazar would know, despite how helpful he was, Matthew Murdock would have nothing to do with any sort of retaliation. “Now, why would I want to know about that, C.O. Salazar?”
“I just… uh… Thought you might…” Salazar began to shuffle away, unsure on how to respond to the blind man’s reaction. On the outside, Matt seemed normal enough. But Salazar couldn’t shake the thoughts and stories in his head of the masked hero for which the blind man was accused of being. “My mistake, I guess.” Salazar walked off, keeping his head low to his chest as he left Matt in peace. Murdock turned his face away from the New York City skyline before him and surveyed Salazar as he left the vicinity. Though he could not see, he knew Salazar could feel his gaze upon him—and could hear his heart race and beat faster through all the fear that overwhelmed him. And though normally this might upset Matt, today he allowed it.