Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 9: Room 101

“One, two, three, four . . . .”

The door was at the end of the hall. The walls were charred, covered in black. The wallpaper

was peeling, and the floorboards were half-rotted. The air was stifled with ash. The door had cracks and

scratches all over the wood, but it was not broken. The golden knob was dirty, but relatively intact. The

only thing that was clean was the number plate.

“Never open up the door . . . .”

The plate identified it as room 101.

“Five, six, seven, eight . . . .”

He stared at the door, knowing what was on the other side.

“Never ever be afraid . . . .”

* * * *

Karen groaned to herself as she scraped her fingernails across her scalp. She had only gotten out

of a life or death situation a few minutes ago, and her thoughts were scattered all over the place. She

was stunned that she had seen Daredevil in person. She was relieved that she thought to start carrying a

knife in her purse.

She was agitated that she didn't get what she needed from Blackie.

Breathing in and out several times, Karen quickly found that she could not calm herself down.

Her skin felt like it was peeling itself off, and her throat felt like it was being melted by scalding liquid.

She grasped at her head and squeezed on her skull with both hands, but she already knew that nothing

she could do would relieve the pressure.

“Goddammit.”

Karen stopped and pressed her body against the nearby wall, which was part of a condemned

building. She suddenly and violently started puking, throwing up her dinner all over the sidewalk.

Coughing as she gargled on what remained of her own bile, she then spit out all of the liquid left in her

mouth.

“Ugh . . . .”

She closed her eyes and took a couple minutes to try and focus on recovering. All of her senses

felt like they were overloading. By drowning out her thoughts and keeping her mind on her breathing,

she was finally able to feel some relief from all of the pain. Her stomach was still churning and she still

felt a burning in her throat, but at least it was progress.

Clutching her abdomen, Karen then continued walking down the sidewalk. As she passed the

building's entrance, the figure leaped out from the shadows and seized her around the throat.

* * * *

“Kate?”

Blood ran down the steps.

“Where are you?”

He knew where she was. He just didn't want to believe it. He stepped in her blood, heading up

the stairs that led to the hallway. The entire floor was covered in blood, high enough that it almost

reached his ankles. He waded through the red fluid, going for the door. He knew he wasn't supposed to

open it, but he had to know.

“Kate?”

He reached for the doorknob.

* * * *

“Ergh . . . .”

Karen coughed as she trudged back into consciousness. She exhaled and slowly let her eyes

open. A lone, dim light bulb hung above her, providing so little illumination that she could barely see

the edges of the room. The room's windows were boarded up. Blinking a couple times and swallowing

some saliva to try and massage her dry throat, she then realized something perturbing.

She was strapped to a chair.

Karen tried to move her arms, but they were fastened by a thick cable, which wrapped around

both arms several times. Another cable tied her feet to the chair's front legs. She yelled as she struggled

to move all of her limbs at once. After a minute, she understood that she was not going anywhere

without help.

Then, she heard a voice coming from inside the room.

“Karen.”

The voice was deep and modulated.

“Who's there?”

The figure stepped out of the corner and into the light. He was wearing a grey cloak over a

black bodysuit, with a metal mask over his face that resembled a skull. His right hand was placed inside

of a gauntlet that had a scythe blade. He stared at her in silence for several seconds, and she scowled

back at him.

“How'd you know my name?”

The figure glanced to the side for a moment.

“I looked through your purse.”

Silence.

“Just gonna stand there and stare?”

“Forgive me. I forgot myself. You look so much like her.”

“Like who?”

Karen then shook her head.

“Forget it, I don't wanna know. You're that freak, aren't you? The one who really killed that

nurse. What the hell do you want with me? Why'd you tie me to this fucking chair?!”

Silence.

“You sick bastard! Let me go!”

“Don't be afraid,” he said. “Besides, no one can hear you here. And anyone who could . . . .

doesn't care. You're not going anywhere. Not yet.”

Karen pursed her lips and looked at the ground.

“You killed the other girls. Cut both their throats open. Why not do the same to me? Why

kidnap me? Why keep me I alive?”

“Because I want him to see the importance of my work.”

“What?”

The figure stepped forward, reaching out with his left hand. He moved as if he was going to

touch Karen's face, but stopped himself only a few centimetres away. She cringed as she saw how close

his hand was to her skin. Holding his hand in place for a few seconds, he then pulled it back.

“This world is one of emptiness and sorrow. No beauty. No art. There's so little in the world

that's actually worth saving. But, amidst the filth and decay, there are small glimmers of hope. Beacons

that show that there was beauty once. I want to give that back to the world. Daredevil, he . . . . he wants

to bring an end to all of that. He doesn't understand what I'm trying to do.”

“No one understands except for you, you goddamn psycho!”

The figure breathed heavier, but otherwise didn't respond to Karen's outburst. He just continued

to stare at her.

“Stop staring at me!”

“You really are just like her. I always searched for women who were like her, who resembled

her, but you? You could be her twin. And to think, that you were the one who Daredevil cares about, the

one he saved with such . . . . conviction. Even your name is close. Close enough.”

Karen licked her lips and furrowed her brow as she looked down. The figure then crouched so

that he was once again in her line of sight.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Karen. “I don't even know Daredevil! Just, just

let me go!”

“I can't do that. But, I want you to know that you will become the most beautiful art of all. The

one I've been building towards. The one I've wanted to make all this time. My final tribute to her, to

Kate. My masterpiece.”

“Kate? Who the hell is Kate?”

“Kate. She was . . . . she was everything to me. She showed me that there could be art in the

world. That there truly could be something beautiful. That we don't need to be drowned by nihilistic

understandings of humanity and culture. She showed me that there are some things in this world worth

cherishing.”

Karen blinked a couple times as she considered the figure's words.

“What do you mean?”

The figure let out a deep sigh.

“Let me tell you a story. It's about a little boy who never met his mother. Who lived with his

father for as long as he could remember, but dad never seemed to care for him all that much. They lived

not quite in poverty, but nowhere near anything glamourous. Dad ignored the boy, because he was too

busy with other things.”

Karen gulped as she listened to the figure's story.

“The boy would wonder . . . . whatever happened to his mother? Why was she never around? It

was a question that tore into his mind, and it never left. Since he knew that his father would never

answer that question, the boy spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like to actually have a

mother, the way the other children did.”

The figure lowered his gaze slightly, as he was drawn further into his own tale.

“Then something changed. Someone new entered his life. One day, dad came home, and he

brought a woman with him. A woman named Kate. And for the first time ever, the boy's question was

finally answered. Kate took an instant liking to him, and told him that even though she was only his

stepmother, that she wanted to be there for him. No matter what.”

Karen felt the tension in her muscles fade away.

“And for a short time, the boy was finally happy. He finally knew that everything was going to

be just fine. Even when dad would get into his moods, Kate would hold the boy close to her chest and

tell him not to be afraid, because she was there to take care of him. And then, one day . . . . he found her

in the room he had always been afraid of. The room that would change his view of the world forever.

He wanted to find his mother. Instead, he found her corpse.”

Karen felt her blood chill inside her veins.

“Her neck had been sliced. But that wasn't what caught his attention. Instead, he was drawn to

her eyes. Those cold, empty, dead eyes . . . . more beautiful than they had ever been. They were

bleeding. Her final tears were formed of her own blood.”

Karen's breathing started quickening as she thought about the images she had seen of the

corpses of Jennifer Leigh and Stacy Krisman.

“That was when I knew what true potential was. True beauty. Art the likes of which the world

had never seen. No longer was she part of this world, filled with nothing but misery and pain. She had

ascended from all of that, and had achieved her true potential. She deserved nothing less, and so do all

the other women I've released.”

The figure stood back up.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. But don't worry. This game will

come to a close soon enough.”

“Daredevil. You're gonna lure him here, aren't you?”

“Yes. He doesn't know. He hasn't seen . . . . what I've seen. But he will. He'll see the value of my

work, and maybe then, he'll understand what he is.”

Karen scoffed.

“And you know?”

“He's a man shrouded in darkness. Just like me.”

The figure turned away and walked towards the door. He pulled it open, and Karen could faintly

see a burned hallway through the doorway. The figure then looked over his shoulder at his captive.

“Welcome to Room 101. This was the room where I was born. The room where my beloved

Kate became my first piece of art.”

He then stepped out of the room and looked at her, with his hand still on the doorknob.

“Don't be afraid.”

* * * *

“Kate?”

She placed her hand on his head. She then started gently rubbing his back.

“It's okay, honey. I'm here.”

He sighed with relief as he pulled the knife out of his pocket.

“Don't be afraid.”