Long ago, just as humanity learned to use tools, they also learned to domesticate animals.
Since the advent of agriculture and pastoralism, cattle, horses, sheep, and dogs have become indispensable parts of human production and life. They replaced the blood and meat gained through hunting and provided humans with a stable source of animal protein, plant by-products, tools, and even materials for war. But there was one creature whose purpose was never quite clear—one that was never fully domesticated. It neither provided enough protein nor showed much enthusiasm for its supposed job of exterminating small rodents. But when this warm, furry little thing curled up in your arms and purred, all your anger would dissipate.
The round, chubby Cheshire Cat rolled over, belly up, trying to draw its master's attention back to it.
Hey, look at me! Not that thing! Pfft!
Let me eat your hair!
"Sorry, dear Dana. Could you help clean the cat's litter box? And the... stuff outside of it?" Solomon asked the android maid, glancing helplessly at the plump gray short-haired cat that was squirming in his lap. They were in the apartment next door to the witches' flat—a house Solomon had bought to serve as Dana's dormitory. She lived there with a few other androids responsible for security, though at the moment they were off at training (or more accurately, evening prayer), so Solomon was using the place as a temporary parlor to receive a visitor.
Rather than a reception, it was more of a... summons.
"I think we've met before." Matt Murdock was trying hard to stay calm, but the bruises and cuts on his face said otherwise. It hadn't been a gentle invitation. Without the intervention of androids in power armor, the blind lawyer never would have agreed to such a strange meeting. He'd made a lot of enemies recently—people who wanted him dead.
He was breathing heavily. His once-neat suit had been ripped open, revealing a muscular body riddled with scars—some old and some fresh. Solomon couldn't help but be curious: what exactly kept this man going day after day?
Whatever it was, it didn't include the person now sitting before him.
Even without sight, Matt could tell the person in front of him meant no harm.
"Sorry for the way you were brought here. Usually it's S.H.I.E.L.D. saying stuff like this—never thought I'd be the one someday. I hope you're not allergic to cat hair," Solomon said with a chuckle. He petted the fat cat a few times, then placed the warm little thing on the table. He noticed the blind man's head instinctively turned toward the purring feline. "Yes, we've met before—a few years ago. Back when you were just starting that law firm with your friend, Mr. Murdock."
Matt Murdock paused, searching his memory—then it clicked.
He remembered that boy in the alley.
To him, every person's heartbeat was unique. Some stood out more than others. This one—strong and powerful, like the rhythmic pulse of Iron Man's arc reactor as he flew overhead—had stuck with him. It had been just before Christmas a few years back, a time of heightened crime.
Fresh out of law school, Matt had been patrolling the alleys alone, trying to help the innocent caught in the clutches of local gangs. That night, he'd seen a teenage boy being harassed by some armed punks. He was about to intervene when, to his astonishment, the boy took them down barehanded—and walked away with the drugs they were carrying.
"Ha! It was you!" Murdock said. "What, do you need legal representation?"
"More than that, I think I need your abilities."
"You mean my legal expertise?" Murdock smiled. Maybe it was because Solomon hadn't killed those thugs that night—or maybe it was his refined scent, the expensive cologne, the whispering sound of a tailored suit—whatever it was, Matt relaxed a little. They circled each other like a bull and matador in the ring, each waiting to see who would move first. But Matt knew—there was no blade behind that red cloth.
Still, he was ready to strike at any moment.
"Are you Catholic, Mr. Murdock?" Solomon changed the subject.
"Call me Matt. Yes, I'm Catholic."
"I was born in the parking lot of a Catholic church in New York. Might've even been your church. Not that it matters—I'm not Catholic. My poor mother was an undocumented immigrant. She practiced Judaism and gave birth to me in poverty and illness. Funny thing, though—some deranged monks saw it as a sign of the Messiah's arrival. And not just once," Solomon said, watching Matt's reaction. "Each of us carries responsibility—whether born with it or given to us later. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes. I would," the lawyer nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's nothing. I know where her grave is. I visit when I can." Solomon took a deep breath. "Back to the point, Matt. Do you believe you have a responsibility toward what your abilities allow you to touch?"
Murdock's body tensed. He instinctively reached for his cane—but stopped.
He knew. This was a trap.
"I have a responsibility to the people who need legal help. Nelson & Murdock offers services to all who need aid in Hell's Kitchen. We fight to defend their legal rights."
"You're a good lawyer. But not a very good vigilante," Solomon said with a wry smile. Murdock's muscles tightened further, but Dana—scooping cat litter behind them—didn't react. "I heard about the recent news from Hell's Kitchen. Cop killers. Russian gangsters bombed." Solomon continued, "I know you didn't do it—but that won't stop the media from pinning it on you."
Matt's hairs stood on end. He reached for his cane—but suddenly he couldn't move.
Solomon raised a hand. The fridge door popped open. Two bottles of Westvleteren 12 Trappist beer floated out and landed gently on the table before them. Synthetic bodies like Dana's couldn't get drunk, but that didn't stop them from loving alcohol. To keep them happy, Solomon had set up a standing order with a boutique supplier—barrels of the finest monk-brewed beer.
"I know something's lurking in Hell's Kitchen. Something not human. It's from the Shadow Realm. Technically speaking, a creature of the Shadow Plane. You did the right thing stopping your master from killing that boy. If the boy had died, the shadow being—known as the Black Sky—would've found a new host. It's incredibly hard to kill. It's been dormant for centuries—until now."
"Who are you?" Murdock growled, teeth clenched. He didn't know how Solomon had learned what had happened the night before—or what this "Black Sky" was—but the information and abilities he had were enough to make any sane person wary.
"I'm a professional magician. I work with an organization that deals with things like Black Sky," Solomon said as he opened the beer and gently released the spell paralyzing Matt. "Try it. This craft beer's a lot better than the mass-produced stuff you've been drinking."
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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