Religious Experience
Steve Rogers gently pushed open the rusty door into the church. He coughed as dust particles were thrown up in his face, and rubbed his eyes. The door creaked aside, and opened to reveal a church congregation seated along several narrow pews. They seemed not to notice Steve, their attention instead focused on Father Lantom as he read out an extract from the gospel of St Matthew.
Steve walked down the aisle looking for a seat. Most of the pews were full, but he found an empty space next to the aisle in the middle of the church. He sat down, and attempted to focus on the sermon. However, his mind was so scattered that he found it near impossible.
Steve was still disturbed by the Ultron incident 2 months prior, and he was well aware that it was affecting him greatly. He barely slept anymore, as every time he shut his eyes, he started hearing people screaming for their lives and the awful, mechanical whine that heralded the arrival of the monstrosity named-
'You come here often?'
Steve was startled by the voice, and yelped slightly louder than he should have. This earned him a disapproving look from an old woman sitting in front of him. He smiled weakly at her, and she turned around. He looked around for the source of the voice, and found it- a man sitting next to him, who he hadn't been focused enough to notice.
The man was tall, with well-kept auburn hair and circular red sunglasses covering his eyes. He was wearing a navy-coloured suit, with a red and white striped tie and a white shirt. He looked at Steve with a mixture of confusion and friendliness. Steve shook his head.
'Sorry about that,' he said. 'I didn't see you there.'
The man laughed. 'It's okay,' he said. 'I guarantee I didn't see you.'
Steve was confused by this. Then he noticed something- a cane was leaning next to the man against the wooden pew. He connected the dots in his brain- sunglasses, cane, he wouldn't have seen him…
'Are you-' he began.
'Blind?' the man said, cutting off Steve before he could finish. Steve was surprised by his admission. 'It's okay. You don't have to worry. I've gotten used to it.'
Steve looked away from the man and towards Father Lantom, who had moved on to the second Bible reading. Steve's jarred memory told him it was from Exodus.
'You never answered my question,' the man told Steve. Steve replied without turning around to face him.
'I try to,' he answered. 'But I've been busy lately.'
'I know the feeling,' the man replied. He turned around and extended his hand to Steve. 'The name's Matt Murdock.' Something sparked in Steve's brain. He recognised the name- Matt Murdock had been named in the New York Times as one of the people who had played an instrumental role in taking out the philanthropist turned crime lord Wilson Fisk. Having read about what Fisk had done, and the crimes he'd been charged with, he knew at once that this man was someone he could trust. He shook Matt's hand.
'Steve Rogers,' he told him. Matt was rather taken aback at this. He processed this for a few seconds, and then replied.
'I had no idea I was in the company of an Avenger,' he said. 'I'm honoured.'
Steve turned back to face Father Lantom. 'I hear there's a lot of people who would feel very differently. The Avengers haven't exactly been flavour of the month since the Ultron incident. We're still operating, but we've been forced to go mostly underground. I hear the government seized Avengers Tower. God knows what they're doing with it now.' Matt seemed surprised at Steve's words.
'You know, for a man who's supposed to embody American optimism, you do seem pretty upset,' Murdock commented.
Steve sighed heavily. 'You know, when they first made me- when I volunteered for a bunch of lab coats to jack me up on god-knows-what and zap me with vita rays- the world was at war. Countries were turning on each other. Every other day, I'd hear about a guy from the neighbourhood who went off to war and never came back. But even though the world was divided, I felt like there was- and excuse me if this sounds horribly cliché- a sense of unity. The country, and the people, we knew we had a common enemy. Despite the fact that good men were dying, we didn't give up or falter because we felt that we were doing the right thing- that all these fine young men hadn't died for nothing. The Nazis were evil, and everybody knew that. We knew who the enemy was, and because of that, we got behind each other like never before. We all knew that we had the same enemy, and wanted the same thing- to see Adolf Hitler rot in the deepest circle of hell.'
'Is there a point to you telling me all this, or are you just reminiscing?' Matt asked. Steve didn't seem offended by this.
'Yeah. When I woke up, 70 years later, they told me we won the war. They didn't tell me what we lost. We might have won the war, but we lost that sense of unity, that sense of a common enemy. Now, when I look around, sometimes I can't tell who's my friend or foe. I see Americans killing Americans, families turning on each other, communities split by religion or race or ideology, innocent people being scandalized and turned into scapegoats for the media. Sometimes I wish I was back fighting Nazis. At least back then I knew what I was fighting for.'
Matt thought this over for a few seconds, and then replied. 'I think I know what you're talking about. Sometimes you can't tell who or what you're fighting for?'
'Something like that,' Steve replied.
'I know the feeling,' Matt replied. 'I cottoned onto Fisk a while before anyone else did. It was hard enough fighting him when almost nobody knew he even existed, but once he came out of the shadows, it became almost impossible. He had so many people in his back pocket, half the time I couldn't even tell who was on my side. Even the people I trusted started turning on me. I almost gave up at one point. But I realised something.'
'What was that?' Steve asked.
'What I was fighting for. Truth. Fairness. Justice. Freedom. Things that everyone deserves, and things that people like Wilson Fisk wanted to take away from them. That's who the enemy is- the guy trying to take those things away from people who deserve them. And once I realised that, I knew that I had a responsibility to do whatever I could to stop him. Even if it killed me, I knew that I had to try. People like Wilson Fisk try and distort that- try and make us question ourselves- because they know that an uncertain enemy is easy to defeat. That's why you can't afford to be uncertain. If you can't figure out who the enemy is, then first try and figure out who, and what, you're trying to protect. And then do whatever you can to help them, and make the world a better place.'
Steve considered Matt's reply for a while. 'You know, I got a feeling that there's more to your fight against Wilson Fisk than you let on.'
Matt cryptically responded, 'I did everything I could.' Steve didn't have time to respond, as at that moment Father Lantom announced that they would be singing Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer. Matt and Steve grabbed hymn books and began to sing.
Outside the church, after the service, the pair shook hands as people poured out of the church into the sunny streets of New York City.
'Thanks for your advice, Mr Murdock,' Steve said. 'If I ever need a lawyer, I know who to call.'
'We've been pretty busy as of late, but I'll be sure to make some room if you ever need help,' Matt responded. 'It's the least I can do for you.'
Steve started to walk away, and turned around to say, 'Goodbye!' Matt waved, and Steve walked off, a newfound conviction surging within him.
Matt, standing underneath the shade of a tree, watched Steve walk off. Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrating, and a voice saying, 'Foggy. Foggy.' He pulled out his phone, slid a bar to start the phone call and placed it to his ear.
'Hey, it's Matt. What's going on?' he asked.
'We've got trouble. Big trouble,' Foggy replied over the phone.
'What kind of trouble?' Matt asked.
'Fisk trouble,' Foggy replied, his voice gravely serious. Matt hung up the call, hastily stuffed his phone back into his pocket and ran off, his coat trailing behind him.