Daredevil's incredibly sharp hearing enables him to measure distances, identify directions, and even form vague images using only sound.
Now, Alex's task is to uncover the mechanism and principles behind how a certain chemical substance affected Daredevil.
After a thorough examination of Daredevil, Alex gained a deep understanding of his physiology.
Once Alex finished reviewing all the data, Daredevil slowly regained consciousness.
As the anesthesia wore off, waves of pain surged through his body—most intensely in his head. It felt as if a hammer was pounding his brain, while his ears burned like they were being sliced open.
The pain was excruciating—even Daredevil struggled to endure it.
He took a deep breath, veins bulging on his forehead as beads of cold sweat dripped down.
Alex's voice rang in his ears, "How are you holding up? Can you handle the pain?"
Daredevil forced a smile. "It's... manageable. Still within my threshold."
As a tough guy, he couldn't admit defeat. He could only say it was bearable.
Yet the tremor in his voice betrayed the pain searing through him.
"But... this experiment... it's definitely not easy. The difficulty is pretty intense."
"Is that so?" Alex immediately responded. "By the way, do you remember anything about the radioactive chemical that damaged your eyes?"
Daredevil shook his head. "No idea. I was just trying to save an old man from getting hit by a truck. Ended up getting splashed with radioactive chemicals from the truck's cargo. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. I never learned what the substance was."
Alex frowned. "You never investigated how that accident gave you these abilities? Don't you want to understand the science behind what made you who you are now?"
Daredevil scratched his head. "Honestly, I've been studying law all my life. I don't have the background for that kind of research... even if I wanted to."
Alex nodded, though his brows furrowed slightly.
Without knowing the exact substance involved, he couldn't make precise calculations. Reverse-engineering Daredevil's condition would be near impossible.
He thought for a moment.
"Do you remember anything else about that truck? The company it belonged to? Why it was transporting radioactive chemicals?"
Daredevil shook his head again. "It's been so long. My memory's fuzzy."
But then he added, "There should be police records from that year. It was a traffic accident—photos were taken, evidence collected. Both the driver and I gave statements. The police would have the case file somewhere."
Alex's eyes lit up. That was a solid lead. If those records still existed, they might reveal the identity of the chemical substance—or at least lead him to the driver, who could provide more information.
"Perfect," Alex said.
He rushed to a nearby computer, sat down, and started typing rapidly.
Lines of code streamed across the screen.
Soon, he had hacked into the local police database.
"Which police station handled your statement back then?" he asked.
"The one in Hell's Kitchen," Daredevil replied.
Alex nodded and accessed the records for that precinct.
He searched for "Matthew Murdock," filtering by age and time of the incident.
But nothing came up.
"I can't find your statement," Alex said, frowning.
Daredevil stood, puzzled. "That can't be. I remember clearly—the police questioned us both. They took photos, recorded evidence, the whole procedure."
"Could the data have been deleted?" Alex muttered.
Suddenly, Daredevil's face lit up. "Wait! It's probably because of the time period."
"When I was a kid, everything was on paper. Computers weren't common yet. Those records are probably stored in physical files at the station."
Alex exited the database. "So I'll need to go to the station myself."
He turned to Daredevil. "Let's call it a night. You go home and rest—we'll pick up tomorrow."
Daredevil stiffened slightly.
"Tomorrow?" he echoed, with a weak smile.
Alex nodded. "Of course."
Feeling the pain still coursing through him, Daredevil's smile grew even more forced.
Alex left the lab with him, hailed a cab, and saw him off.
Matthew Murdock wasn't some fragile civilian. He didn't need an escort.
Once Daredevil was gone, Alex made his way toward the Hell's Kitchen district police station.
The building was lit up brightly despite the late hour. Officers bustled in and out, occasionally escorting handcuffed criminals.
It was unusually active for this time of night.
Then again, this was Marvel's New York. This was Hell's Kitchen—crime central.
Standing on the rooftop across the street, Alex rubbed his temples. "So many people, even now?"
"The criminals in this place really don't sleep."
"This'll make infiltration a lot harder."
He pulled out his phone and checked the building's blueprint—sent to him moments ago by Kurt.
He studied the layout carefully, then pocketed the device.
The archives were located on the north side of the fifth floor, right at the front of the building—no exterior windows.
He'd have to enter from the back and navigate the hallways.
To make things worse, the archives were next to a detective team's office. He'd need to be especially cautious.
Alex darted into a small grove beside the station and activated his sound-suppression technique before scaling the wall to the fifth floor.
He slipped in silently through a restroom window—only to hear the toilet flush.
Instantly, Alex sprang to the ceiling and pressed himself flat.
A police officer emerged, washed up, and left.
Moments later, two more officers entered.
"Any leads on the harbor case?" the younger one asked.
"Not really," said the older one. "The victims were gang members. As for the ninjas—nothing. They're probably illegal immigrants from Japan."
Then his phone rang. "Hello, sweetheart? I'm still at work. Just pick up anything to eat. Drive safe."
The younger cop chuckled. "Wish my kid was like that. Mine gives me headaches."
"They grow out of it," said the older officer, laughing.
After some casual chatting, they exited.
Alex exhaled silently.
He needed to get to the archives. But the corridor outside was bustling—far more active than expected.
He peeked out and spotted the archive room—but also many officers moving about.
Direct approach was out of the question.
He quickly recalled the blueprint.
Then an idea struck him.
He darted to the opposite side of the floor and found the main power switch.
With one swift move, he flipped it off.
The entire fifth floor plunged into darkness.
Chaos erupted.
"What's going on?!"
"Did the power go out?"
"Only our floor's out—what the hell?"
"Hey! Stop running!"
"Thank God for the emergency lights, or we'd have lost that thief!"
Using the commotion, Alex moved across the ceiling and slipped into the archives room.
A flashlight beam lit up inside, nearly catching him.
He froze, every muscle ready to react.
It was just the archive officer, cursing under his breath.
"Damn it, I lost everything I was typing!"
He locked the door behind him and stormed off to investigate.
As soon as the coast was clear, Alex dropped into the archive room.
He scanned rapidly through the shelves, eyes flicking over labels.
Finally—he found it.
Matthew Murdock.
His eyes lit up.
He yanked the file and flipped through its pages like a scanner.
There it was:
Cargo: Number 7 Artificial Radioactive Chemical Substance.
Alex's brow twitched.
Number 7? What was that?
He skimmed further and jotted down the driver's information.
The details were still unclear—but it seemed this specific artificial substance had triggered the super-evolution in Daredevil's auditory system.
Was it a company experiment? A military secret?
Alex didn't know.
But the truck driver might.
Time to find him.
He exited the archives room.
The hallway was still dim, emergency lights glowing.
Officers milled around, trying to fix the power.
Blending in with the crowd, Alex slipped back toward the restroom.
Just as he stepped inside—
Click!
The lights came back on.
A police officer was standing right in front of him.
They locked eyes.
Silence.
Then the officer narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Alex answered calmly, "Looking for something."
The officer blinked. "You want help... or should I let you handle it?"
"I'm leaving," Alex said, turning.
The officer stared at him. "You're the cockiest guy I've seen here."
He reached for his handcuffs.
Alex struck instantly—chopping the officer at the neck.
He collapsed without a sound.
Alex stashed him inside a stall and darted out.
Just as he stepped into the hallway—
Spider Sense!
The air tore open with a whoosh.
A sharp voice shouted—
"Who are you?! Why did you break into the police station?!"