The Devil's Widow (Matt Murdock x reader)

1 - The Masked Man

You were on the run. Well, kind of. You'd escaped from the Red Room a few years ago whilst on a mission, you'd been saved by a stranger. Saved from all the horrors that your old life would inflict every single day and now you were running, running far away so that you couldn't be found. You were like a ghost, disappearing without a trace, the way it had to be if you wanted to survive. Since escaping you left for New York, more specifically, Hell's Kitchen. It was a run-down town full of crime, perfect. It was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was help the girls that would fall victim to the Red Room escape the life you had been through. If you could save even just one girl from falling victim to what you did then you'd be happy, no one deserved the life you had.

You would often sit and wonder if your past would catch up to you. If there were Widows trying to track you down right now yet you were yet to see or hear from anyone. The most you ever heard of your old life was Natasha Romanoff. Natasha was an Avenger and she wasn't hard to find. You tracked her down and told her everything you knew. She told you she would do something but you were still waiting. Perhaps she was too busy with Avenger things. Maybe she'd put that life behind her, you only wished you had someone to help you find Dreykov. You were good friends with her sister Yelena but you hadn't seen or heard about her for years, you only hoped you could find a way to break her out of the cycle much as you had. She and you had always spoken about moving into a big house, in the countryside where it was peaceful with tons of dogs, you imagined that's what heaven was like.

You owned a large studio apartment, thankfully you'd had connections who'd hire you to take out a few people for rather a lot of money, no questions asked, they repaired your suits when you needed and decent pay, why wouldn't you take it? Might as well use up the skills in which you were made to learn and when you weren't out doing others dirty work you were hunting down criminals you believed deserved as much pain as you could deliver. You mainly hunted down sex traffickers, knowing that the majority of girls would end up going to Dreykov you would try and capture rather than kill those who were kidnapping and transporting them and question them about his whereabouts and where the Red Room was located and when you had your information then you'd kill them. Anyone who was willing to traffic anyone deserved as much hell as you could give them and if that meant death then you'd happily aid them with that.

You didn't have much in the way of family or friends in that matter but you did have one woman who was like family as well as a friend to you and that was Karen Page. You and Karen had met when you were walking home one night. You didn't feel like cooking so you had decided to head down to the local Thai restaurant to pick up a takeaway you could eat in your apartment. Whilst you were walking home you heard a group of male voices then a worried woman's tone. Without thinking you ran to her aid and that woman's aid was Karen. The pair of you ended up having dinner together at your apartment as she was too scared to go home and the rest is history. She became someone to rely on, someone that part of you wish you didn't have. She was now forever in danger if anyone you were hunting down found your real identity but you were smarter than that, you hoped you were anyway.

"So what are your plans for tonight?" You were sat in Karen's front room, she'd come home from work early and invited you over to help pick an outfit, for what you were yet to find out.

"I'm heading out." She smiled at you. "This dress or the red one?" she held up a black dress with small white dots hovering over the black and a red silk dress in the other hand.

"The black one." You replied, taking a sip of water from the glass before you. "You don't want to go too over the top." Smiling back at you she gave you a nod before running off to change. "So who are you going out with?" Your voice grew louder so she could hear you from the room next door.

"Oh, just a work friend."

"A male work friend?"

"Yes, but he's married."