Let me out, he murmured from a dark corner of his mind. The monster, the murderer.

“No,” Melvin moaned. “Shut up.”

They threatened her Melvin. They took her away from us. We must kill them before they do anything to her.

“No,” Melvin cried, clutching his head. “She wouldn’t want that. I don’t…”

Want that? He said in a mocking tone. Look at your hands, Melvin.

Melvin didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see the blood on his hands but he was forced to bear witness to it like a passer-by witnessing a car accident. The blood of the men he fought, the man he killed.

“I did it to protect myself,” Melvin said. “I…”

You can’t run from me Melvin. You’re a warrior, a Gladiator. Our father made sure of that.

“My father made sure of you, not me,” Melvin said. “Not me, not me…”

Then why do you wear our armour? Bear our weapons.

Melvin could feel the weight of the yellow armour on his body. Stared at the gauntlets binding his hands with the sawblades magnetically attached.

“To protect ourselves.”

No, you want to let me out, he said. Let the monster out.

“Go away,” Melvin cried. His head searing in pain. “Go away!”

I can’t go away. After all I’m looking right at you.

Melvin opened his eyes to see the steel mask resting on the coffee table. Staring at with it’s emptied out eyes, almost mocking him. Melvin picked up the mask and threw it away, it buried itself in the plastered wall, causing cracks to break outwards like a spider’s web.

The safe house was claustrophobic. Old plastered walls, worn furniture and a faded wooden table. It was a small room that made him feel suffocated and trapped. Trapped with him. This was the safehouse where he buried him away but he released him again. The cracked concrete in the corner and the aged wooden box he all but ripped open. He felt itchy and uncomfortable, his body squirming like a fly in a spider’s web.

It was then he heard the door knocking.

“Potter, Potter,” said a heavy Russian accent that he recognised as Sergei’s. “You think we wouldn’t find you.”

Oh, no, no, no. They shouldn’t be here. He thought he’d be safe. That he could find Betsy and get out of here but they found him. Oh, God, they found him.

“Big man like you leave a hell of a trail behind.”

“Get out,” he shouted. “Get out!”

The door rattled. “You kill some of our boys…” the door shook. “And you sell to people we told you not to sell to. The Japanese, Melvin? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t… I was forced to,” Melvin said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you hear that, boys?” Sergei scoffed. “He’s sorry. Sorry won’t bring them back asshole.”

Let me out.

“No,” Melvin cried,

You have to. To protect yourself, to protect Betsy.

“Shut up!” Melvin cried. “Don’t say her name.”

“Now he’s telling us to shut up,” Sergei said. “The lip on this…”

“Not you,” Melvin said. “Not you. I’m sorry.”

Fight. Fight. Kill them.

“I DON’T WANT TO.”

You have to.

The sawblades whirred just as the door burst open.

“I’LL KILL YOU,” Gladiator roared, launching a sawblade that whizzed past the five men. “I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU!”

He tackled one of the men to the wall, landing hammer-like blows on his face till it was just a bloody pulp. Before he gouged out his eyes and tossed him aside like a ragdoll.

The five men readied their guns but before they could Gladiator pressed the magnet on his sawblade and it returned slicking through them, bouncing off some of their jackets and ripping through the throat of one. Blood spurted upwards and he collapsed on the ground. Gladiator sprinted towards the wounded men, punching them and tossing them aside. One tried to make a run for it before he grabbed him by the coat and tossed him backward, a satisfying crack silencing his scream of pain.

All that was left was Sergei, holding up his phone. Gladiator walked toward him when…

“What the…” she said. “Who the hell are you guys? What do you want with me?”

Gladiator stopped in his tracks, almost like he was frozen in place.

“I… swear,” she said. “I’ll call the cops.”

“Shut up whore.”

Gladiator couldn’t feel himself; his body felt like a vacuum. He stared blankly at Sergei. He was starting to lose all feeling in his fingers, his legs, his arms. He was starting to dissociate.

“Now you’re going to tell me where Melvin Potter is,” said the thug. “Otherwise, you won’t be using those nice little legs of yours tomorrow morning.”

“M-Melvin,” she said. “I don’t know anything about Melvin.”

The thug chuckled. “You know what I don’t like lady, liars.” The thug shuffled played a recording on his phone.

“B-Betsy it’s me…”

Gladiator’s eyes flickered. He stared at what was happening on the phone and slowly Melvin started to feel like himself again.

“Look whatever you do, leave him alone,” Betsy pleaded. “Please, he’s lost. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s… He’s…”

The thug punched her straight across the face causing droplets of blood to spill across the floor. The impact of the punch was like having ice cold water splashed all over Melvin’s face.

“LEAVE BETSY ALONE!” Melvin screamed, he charged towards Sergei clumsily. A charge, Sergei easily side-stepped away from.

“Now, Melvin,” Sergei said. “If you keep on acting out like your therapist’s brains will be splattered all over that room over there. Do you want that?”

Melvin sagged. He stared at Sergei with a pleading look. “You’ll leave her alone?” he asked, almost sobbing. “You won’t touch her,” he shouted.

“Yes, Melvin,” Sergei said. “We’ll leave her alone, provided you comply. We want answers Melv and you’re the one who’s going to give them to us.”

…

Elektra led him to an old warehouse on the outskirts of Crime Alley, next to the Narrows. Matt could smell the graffiti on the walls and the faded smell of excrement and run-down machines.

“Isn’t the fanciest of places but it’ll have to do,” she said.

“So, what’s this about the Gladiator?” Matt said. “What does some freak have to do with missing kids?”

“As you know, the Gladiator is one of those freaks the Batman had to deal with in his early days,” Elektra said. “But unlike the Riddler and Two-Face, he was the only one who managed to pull through with some semblance of sanity thanks in part to his therapist Betsy Beaty.”

“Okay,” Matt said. “What else?”

“As you know, amidst being a spectacular hand to hand combatant,” Elektra said. “Gladiator was also a famed costume maker. He single-handedly built his armour which could take impact from shotgun blasts and electricity and the higherups, people like Sweeney wouldn’t want talents like that to go to waste so…”

“They threatened him,” Matt said. “Reminded him of a life he wanted to leave behind.”

“Yes,” Elektra said. “Roscoe had a deal with the Cartel and the Russians to supply special bulletproof armour. They wanted to exclude possible wild cards like the Yakuza and Irish from the deal but unfortunately just a few days ago after the assassination of the Cartel’s right-hand man at the hands of a Japanese man they found the armour left behind. Armour that shouldn’t belong them.”

“That seems too deliberate,” Matt said. “Almost like someone wants a war to happen.”

“Maybe so,” Elektra said. “After that incident, Melvin went into hiding,”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Matt said. “What does this have to do with the missing kids and what does this have to do with your father?”

“My employer wants to stop this war from happening,” Elektra said. “And he’ll do so by any means necessary. As for those children, Melvin making the armour made him closely work with the shipment side of the Russian’s criminal enterprise. He may know something about the children. After we find him, Melvin will need legal protection. The Russians and Cartel will be after his head and we don’t know if the police can be trusted. That’s where Matt Murdock and his partner come in.”

Matt nodded. “It won’t be enough to save our reputation but it will put us in good graces.”

“What’s more, Melvin can testify against the Russians and Cartel,” Elektra said. “The factions that have the biggest hold over your home further improving your reputation. So, what do you say, Matthew? Do you want to work together?”

Matt sighed. His fingers twirled around his walking stick.

“If we’re going to work together,” Matt said. “First thing’s first is that you’re not going to kill. If you kill, this whole thing is off and you and your employer can find some other masked vigilante to help you out.”

“Fine,” Elektra said. “I’ll agree to your half-measures.”

“Second,” Matt said and then paused. He focused on her heartbeat. The calm, cool heartbeat like cold air through a mountain. When Elektra lied you had to pay attention really well otherwise, you’d miss the tell-tale skip of the heartbeat of that of a liar. “Did you kill Liam Grote? Your smell still lingered over the crime scene. If we’re going to be working together, I need to know whether or not I can trust you.”

“No,” Elektra said.

Her heart skipped a beat.