Seagate Prison, Visiting Area
8:00 a.m.

"Well, Mr. Lucas--or do you prefer Cage?"

"Luke Cage."

"Right. Luckily, most of the work is done, thanks to your friend Bobby Fish. You've done a little paperwork on your own, but the prison is still pushing your case to trial."

Luke nodded.

"They are holding you for escaping prison, the destruction of federal property during your escape, as well as the murder of Albert Rackham," Matt said.

"I didn't kill him; the blast did."

Matt nodded. "Exactly. If they can't prove that you killed him, which you didn't, then they will be forced to drop it."

"And the escape? The destruction of property? Someone really wants to keep me in here."

"Yes, they do. They are most likely linked to your half-brother, Willis Stryker. He is doing everything he can to keep you in here. Luckily, most judges do not want to fool with charges such as this, so, once the murder is dropped, you should hopefully be free."

"'Hopefully,'" Luke scoffed. "Stryker is comatose, strapped down to a hospital bed. Anything that is happening now had to have been planned before I was extradited. Or, it could be..." He gave an irritated chuckle.

"Who?"

"Shades. Mariah. They hate me only half as much as Stryker, but that's more than enough. And there is no evidence to use against them. Which means that they are free to go wherever they want." Luke looked down at his hands, which were clutched into fists on the table.

Matt nodded, sharing Luke's distaste.

Luke looked up at Matt. "If there are people on the outside trying to keep me in, there could be people on the inside too. There would have to be. Which means--"

"Jury tampering, most likely."

"Sweet Christmas." Luke shook his head.

"Which means that we have to be prepared for anything."

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Nelson and Murdock
11:00 a.m.

"You think David Campbell is a suspect?" Danny asked.

"You don't?" Foggy replied.

"No, no...I do think he's a possibility. It's just...he could just be a pìyǎn."

"A what?"

"Oh, it means...well, he could just be a rude guy who got lucky."

"Ah." Foggy nodded. "Possibly."

"After all, he was dead. You can't raise people from the dead if you're dead, too."

"So, an accomplice? Maybe an old friend, coworker, family member..."

"David Campbell was a scientist. What did he work on?"

Foggy performed a Google search. "Biochemistry, a little biomedicine, genetics...basically a ton of biology."

"So if this is a coworker..."

"Then the resurrections could be completely scientific. But how is that possible? Science has created a shit ton of fancy stuff, but a way to resurrect someone? It's gotta be something mystical, too." Foggy shook his head, thinking about the Hand. "I hate mystical."

They both agreed that it was time for a lunch break, so they headed to a burger joint a block away.

"So, how do you know Claire?" Danny asked.

"She was a friend of a friend. Matt's actually. They crossed paths a couple of years ago."

Danny nodded. "And Matt is on a...business trip?"

"Yeah, he owed Claire a favor, so he's helping her friend get out of legal trouble."

"Right." Danny took a large bite of his burger, then continued to speak, with his mouth full. "We didn't have beef back in K'un-Lun. It was pretty high up on the list of things I missed while I was away." He swallowed the majority of his bite.

"And where exactly is that?"

"Do you want the long answer or the short one?" Danny grinned, his food poking through the side of his cheek, and then he swallowed the rest of the bite.

Foggy chuckled. "Why not the long answer? I've got time."

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Savannah, Georgia
Two Days Later

Chains clanked loudly as Luke was led into the courtroom. He stood beside Matt. They remained on their feet until the judge entered.

"We can sit," Luke whispered to Matt, letting him know that the judge had taken his seat. Matt sat down.

And then it was the prosecution's turn. The District Attorney, Maggie Heap, began her opening statement, and then it was Matt's turn. He unfolded his cane and slowly made his way to the front of the courtroom. As he was walking, he listened for heartbeats. He counted three nervous heartbeats out of the twelve. Which means that he had at least a 25% chance of failure.

Matt cleared his throat.

"On May 4, 2012, aliens rained down from the sky, and it was at that very moment that we knew our world would never be the same. But what also emerged on that day was a team of heroes, which, along with two government agents, consisted of a Super Soldier, an Asgardian, a man of iron, and a Hulk. It was the misfits--the ones with extraordinary skills and gifts, the so-called 'freaks'-- that saved New York, and, quite frankly, our planet.

"I'm not saying this to force you to pick a side in the matter. A lot has happened since that day. But that event has resulted in the emergence of many more people with these gifts: And, the majority of them have faced serious trauma throughout the duration of their lives as a result of their abilities. Some of them have proved themselves to be good people, and others haven't.

"Now, once again, I'm not asking you to pick a side. I just want you to imagine yourself in their shoes. Things happen, completely out of your control, and you are who you are. It is something you have to live with, even if some people don't want to live with you.

"As much as I'd like to keep this case strictly about justice for the wronged, there was a group of very bad people at Seagate that stole that from us, from Mr. Lucas. After being framed and thrown into jail, stripped of his dignity, then being forced to participate in illegal fights to survive his imprisonment, he was left to die in the infirmary. But instead, he had a terrifying procedure performed on him, one that transformed his body into what it is today.

"So, looking through Mr. Lucas's perspective, what would you have done? In this moment, people are pursuing you, trying to kill you after you have been turned into something that leaves you horrified. Wouldn't you have run?

"We are now part of a new world. So if we take a moment to understand that, then this case becomes unbelievably clear. Thank you." Matt returned to his seat.

"Wow," Luke whispered. "You had a good connection there. It almost sounded like you were speaking from personal experience."

Matt chuckled. "Not too much, I hope."

"Nah. I can tell the difference." Matt smirked.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Nelson and Murdock

"I knew his name sounded familiar!" Danny exclaimed.

"Why?" asked Foggy.

"David Campbell used to work for Rand. Or, at least, a subsidiary."

"Which means you have records of him."

"Exactly."

They both ran, not stopping until they reached Danny's car. Foggy stood on the sidewalk, waiting for a taxi.

"Why do you need a taxi? Get in," Danny said, climbing into his car.

"Okay, but this ain't a joyride. There are still laws." Foggy attempted to cover up his excitement as he climbed in, although he thought Danny's car was 200% badass.

"Yeah, I know." Danny revved the engine, and they were off to Rand Enterprises.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment

Jack sat on Matt's couch, staring at the rusty double doors. When Matt was wandering during the night, he put something in there, and Jack was tired of being in the dark. He had to know what Matt was hiding.

Jack stood to his feet and walked to the doors, taking deep breath as he wrapped his fingers around the handles.

It felt wrong, going behind Matt's back like this. But after all these years, he needed Matt back in his life, and he needed the whole Matt, not a piece.

He opened the doors, and inside was a chest. Jack stood in front of it and lifted the top.

Jack gasped, collapsing to his knees.

The chest contained a red suit, equipped with a horned mask and a billy club.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Saint Agnes Orphanage
Years Ago

Matt was lying in his bed, back at the orphanage. He'd been there for years, after Stick had abandoned him. He had access to decent schooling, in which he excelled. He just didn't have a family.

Anyone who was interested in fostering or adopting a child living at the orphanage would always pick someone with no disabilities, or someone young enough to have their "good childhood years" ahead of them. If someone was able to pick which child they wanted to raise, why would they want the fifteen-year-old blind kid?

So here Matt was, lying on top of the sheets, tossing a tennis ball into the air, catching it, and tossing it again out of boredom. He missed Stick. He missed training. He missed the action, the adrenaline.

Of course, Stick had been an absolute dick to him, so he didn't miss him too much. But he preferred him to the orphanage, because Stick was the only person who ever understood him, and who didn't treat him like a sick puppy.

Saint Agnes was a place full of damaged people. The nuns tried their hardest to repair the children who came, but being an orphan always carried heavy weight. And also, this orphanage was unique, in that it housed orphans who were particularly damaged.

There was a girl who lived down the hall from Matt who had been born in a China. She had become obsessed with computers, often to the point of getting into trouble with hacking and the sorts. But at least she had a couple of homes from time to time.

But that day, Matt heard the door shut, and he heard voices. Curious, he listened in on the conversation.

There was a new orphan that had been brought to the shelter, Nathan. His parents had been recently killed in a car accident, and he was the only survivor, who had just been released from the hospital himself. He was only twelve years old.

Matt heard his screams, his sobs. And then he heard the nuns mention something else.

Nathan was autistic.

"You're okay with disabled children here, right? Do you have any experience with them at all? Surely you do..." a woman said. She was the one dropping Nathan off.

"We have a blind boy here," a nun, Sister Christine, said.

The woman nodded. "Well, this kid is a handful. Not exactly comparable to blindness, but we had to get him away from the hospital as soon as possible. Believe it or not, his mood was worse there than it is now."

Sister Christine smiled. "We will take good care of him." Matt could tell that she was worried. Autism was nothing like she had ever dealt with before.

A half an hour later, Matt heard them lead Nathan to his room, and he was still crying.

"I don't know what to do," Sister Christine told another nun.

"Didn't you have a cousin with Down syndrome?" the nun replied.

"Fifth cousin, Denise. I only saw him a couple of times during his lifetime. And autism is much different than Down syndrome." Sister Christine put her hand on her head, stressed.

"Give him some toys, sit with him for a little while. Maybe he will calm down," said Sister Denise. "If not, sometimes you have to just let them cry a little while. Because you know he won't talk to you."

"Denise, you can't mean that."

"Just try. We will figure it all out later."

Matt listened to crying for another half hour, and it didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. He was now under the covers, his head buried under his pillow. But that didn't quiet the sound at all, because it took much more than a pillow to silence his hearing.

Eventually, Sister Christine left the room, wiping away her own tears as she made her way down the hallway. It was time to prepare dinner.

Matt stayed still, lying in his bed for another few minutes, before he finally got up and opened his door, heading to Nathan's room. He left his door cracked.

Matt entered Nathan's room, and joined him at his bedside. Nathan was rocking frantically, his arms wrapped tightly around a teddy bear. He continued to cry, but when Matt entered the room, his attention was directed to him.

Sensing Nathan's eyes on him, he introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm Matthew." The boy just stared at him. "So, you're Nathan?"

Nathan's sobbing had become sniffles; perhaps he had quieted down to hear what Matt had to say.

"I know you probably don't want to talk right now, and that's fine. Sometimes it's better if you just listen. I know that whenever my dad died, people kept coming up to me asking me how I felt, trying to help me, trying to tell me that everything is going to be okay. The thing is, they don't know a damn thing. They just tell you what you want to hear," Matt said. "Ultimately, it wasn't the talking that helped me through it. No, it was the listening.

"My dad, he was a boxer. He wasn't a particularly great boxer, but he did what he had to do to survive. My mother, she ran away to become a nun. I don't really know all of the details; I was too young. She actually took me in for about a year after my dad died, but that didn't work out, and now I'm here. Even though I lived with her for awhile, I still don't know that much about her.

"Anyway, my dad never wanted me to be a fighter like him. He wanted me to do good in school. And when I lost my sight, I knew how...distraught he was. Eventually we became accustomed to it. I worked on Braille; he continued to fight. He thought I couldn't see him anymore, you know...that I couldn't tell how injured he was, just because I wasn't stitching him up anymore.

"I couldn't see his injuries, no. But I could feel them. I could hear them. I could hear the fractures as he breathed. I could sense each shuddering breath. Because that accident didn't just take my sight, it gave me senses so enhanced that I had a new, stronger awareness of the world."

Nathan was listening intently. He eventually became silent, so engulfed in Matt's story that he had temporarily forgotten what he had been crying about. This encouraged Matt to keep talking. Until Nathan mumbled something.

"Blind?" He cocked his head at Matt. "You're blind?"

"Yeah, I am."

Nathan stared at Matt for a minute. "I...don't believe you." Matt smiled.

Eventually, Sister Christine came back down the hallway to ask the children to come to dinner. When she found Matt's room empty, he could hear her heart rate speed up, and she shouted Matt's name.

"I'm in here!" Matt shouted back. Sister Christine ran into the doorway, shocked to see Matt with Nathan. "Why are you in here? Every child has the right to their own privacy!" She was standing in a shadow.

"It's okay, Sister Christine. We are friends now," Matt told her. "Right, Nathan?"

Nathan nodded.

Sister Christine stepped closer, into the light. When Nathan saw her, he recognized her to be the woman who had left him screaming.

Matt heard his heartbeat get faster. He was about to cry again.

"Hey, Nathan, it's okay," Matt said. "She's another friend." But Nathan had tuned him out.

Matt reached for Nathan's teddy bear, which was on the floor beside him. He handed it to Nathan. "Here, he's your friend too."

Nathan accepted the teddy bear, and he calmed down, rocking again.

"Matthew, feel free to come in here anytime you like. As long as it's okay with Nathan," Sister Christine said. Matt nodded. "Now, let's eat, shall we?"

Matt paused, taking a moment to inhale the air. He leaned over, whispering into Nathan's ear.

"It's meatloaf. It's pretty gross. But the mashed potatoes aren't half bad. Oh, and they made brownies tonight, sorry to spoil the surprise." Nathan grinned.

Sister Christine helped Matt to his feet, and he held a hand out to Nathan. Nathan took Matt's hand, and they followed Sister Christine down a couple of hallways and into the cafeteria.

Nathan refused to eat when he saw that his food was touching, so the nuns fixed another plate for him. He was focused intently on his meatloaf, poking it with his fork.

"Nathan, you have to eat," Sister Denise said. Nathan ignored her. She inhaled, and Matt knew she was about to raise her voice.

"Hey, Nathan," Matt said. "What's your favorite food?"

Nathan was quiet. He continued to poke the meatloaf.

After a minute, Nathan said, "Chicken is good."

"Yeah? How often do you eat chicken?"

"Almost...every day."

"That's pretty impressive. You know, I used to eat a lot of mashed potatoes. Like literally, with every meal."

Nathan giggled. "I like mashed potatoes, too." He began to eat them off of his plate. After realizing how hungry he was, he began to eat the meatloaf, too. "This is gross," he said.

"Yeah it is," Matt replied with a laugh. "It tastes like butt, right?"

"It tastes like garbage!"

"Gasoline!"

"The sewer!"

Nathan finished his whole plate, cackling between bites. The nuns just watched in shock, unsure if they should be proud that Nathan was eating or if they should chastise the two children for being so rude.  They decided to let them be, instead enjoying the conversation, eventually bursting in laughter.  It was a great day.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Savannah, Georgia
Present Day

It was one of Matt's favorite memories: bonding with another disabled child.  It was something he recounted as he sat in the courtroom, realizing that one of the tampered jurors was showing symptoms of autism. 

A man was rocking in his seat, constantly adjusting his shirt so it was perfectly flat on his stomach, not making eye contact with anyone, and plenty more.  He was sitting on the end of his row, and he shifted in his seat so he was as far away from the neighboring jurors as possible.  And while all of this was occurring, he still managed to pay perfect attention to the trial, proving his worth as a juror.

Matt knew he had to fix the tampering, and this juror required a more delicate approach.  He planned to visit him that night.