[ EU ] Matt Murdock aka Daredevil is being chased by a professional assassin , known as Agent 47 .

Forty-seven knew better than to relax. Although his target was blind, he'd heard the rumors of a vigilante with a facemask that had pulverized groups of armed thugs and even some professional bodyguards. It was n't hard to put two and two together. And although his target was blind, he instinctively raised his hand to cover part of his face as he passed by the offices of Nelson and Murdock. 
 
 Unimpressive building. It would be beyond trivial to infiltrate. 
 
 He would return later at night and have a look around. He already had a plan. 
 
 -- 
 
 Murdock detected footsteps on the sidewalk outside his office, but only just barely. That was his clue to listen more closely. These were the nearly-silent footsteps of someone trained to remain unnoticed. This person still could n't escape Murdock's superhuman hearing, but there was hardly any more information for him to detect. No memorable scent on the stalker's clothing. No notable physical behaviors, although the other people on the sidewalk were emitting some nervous pheromones. 
 
 Except, wait a minute - though muffled by cloth and rubber, that was unmistakably a *gun*. Or two guns. With silencers. This was an assassin. 
 
 Murdock decided he was working late tonight. 
 
 -- 
 
 Utilizing the elite stealth technique of covering part of his face with his hand, Agent 47 had approached Murdock's office in the dead of night with the assurance that no one had seen him. Ever the professional, he'd even wiped his shoes on the doormat. 
 
 Agent 47 rifled through the filing cabinets before checking Murdock's desk. That's where he found the file he was looking for. 
 
 Murdock's voice came from nowhere: `` You should put that back.'' 
 
 Forty-seven reflexively whipped out his silenced Silverballers and scanned the moonlit room for movement. Cautiously prowling around the desk, he trained his weapons on the only door in the room. 
 
 `` Nope, I'm not there, pal,'' whispered Murdock as he dropped from the ceiling and kicked one of 47's guns to the floor. Forty-seven staggered but almost immediately let his momentum complete his spin and fired at the shadowy figure behind him, but the figure did some kind of midair somersault and every bullet just somehow magically missed him. 
 
 Murdock kicked the dropped pistol at his desk and caught it on the ricochet. He pointed it as best he could at the assassin and tensed up in anticipation of a split-second movement. 
 
 And there it was: 47's finger was already audibly closing on the trigger. But Murdock was faster and fired one shot into 47's gun, destroying it and breaking a finger. 
 
 Forty-seven had been in rough situations before, but this was n't good. He'd lost both his guns in a matter of seconds, one destroyed, one confiscated and aimed at his forehead. He prepared to disarm Murdock when the latter spoke. 
 
 `` I do n't want to pull this trigger. But I also wo n't tell you to run. I smell the dirt you left on the doormat. You walked past four storm drains and through the park on your way here. You've got a little base of operations near an oily, busy auto repair shop. Do n't you?'' 
 
 Forty-seven's silence was as good as an affirmation. 
 
 Murdock continued, `` Now I do n't think you were just here to kill me, or you would n't have been going through my files. What were you looking for?'' 
 
 Forty-seven started to realize this was a better opportunity than he could have prayed for. `` A file on one of your clients.'' 
 
 `` No shit. I have a lot of clients,'' lied Murdock, despite witnessing how hilariously quickly the assassin had searched the entirety of his meager collection of files. `` But what stake could you possibly have? I'm a defense attorney. I help innocent people. Which client?'' 
 
 `` A client who can afford a professional assassin.'' 
 
 Murdock was starting to get the message. `` Which client?'' he repeated. Was one of his clients not so innocent after all, if they were capable of hiring this guy? 
 
 `` The file on your desk.'' 
 
 Murdock kept the Silverballer trained on 47 as he scanned the Braille title of the file. 
 
 `` Her?'' asked Murdock in disbelief, not expecting an answer. 
 
 `` Diana Burnwood. Correct. My handler,'' replied 47. `` We go back.'' 
 
 Murdock tried to process this revelation as 47 said, `` If you do n't hold the gun out like that, I ca n't disarm you.'' 
 
 Murdock lowered the weapon. `` Your'handler,' what is that, like your boss?'' 
 
 `` If you want to oversimplify it. Yes.'' 
 
 `` So you were here to take this file - why?'' 
 
 `` To keep you from representing her in court... one way or another. The file disappears. She disappears. I disappear. We were never here. All evidence gone.'' 
 
 `` If she did n't want me to represent her in court, she should n't have - `` 
 
 `` And this is how we rectify that situation,'' interrupted 47. `` The file disappears. She disappears. I disappear. No public trial. Just ghosts vanishing. They do n't even exist, after all.'' 
 
 `` Let's get back to that part where you just assume this will all'disappear,''' said Murdock, tightening his hand on the gun again. `` You admitted you're an assassin, and I'm guessing she's guilty of way worse things than what she's on trial for here...'' 
 
 `` She's guilty of that, too,'' said 47, gesturing at the file on the desk. Murdock's expression was blank. 
 
 `` She's guilty,'' admitted 47 again. `` You'll lose this case. And if you try to interfere with this process any further, well, Diana has no shortage of assassins to send.'' 
 
 Murdock carefully planned his next move. `` If I let you go, and that's a huge'if,' you'd really better disappear.'' 
 
 `` That was the plan the whole time. All evidence disappears. We never set foot in this city again and you do n't do any more business with a network of assassins.'' 
 
 Murdock pulled the gun back and held it close to his heart, seemingly lost in thought. He was actually taking in as much of the customized weapon's scent as possible. `` You're gone by this time tomorrow, or else I go public with this.'' 
 
 `` We'll be gone by sunrise,'' said 47. He held out his hand. `` I'll take my weapon back.'' 
 
 Murdock waited a beat before returning 47's pistol. Forty-seven scooped the damaged one off the ground and stuffed the file inside his jacket, taking extra care to hide the *other* file he'd stowed away before Murdock had dropped on him. 
 
 `` Now get out of my city,'' growled Murdock, confident he could remember the scent of the assassin's unique guns. 
 
 `` I'd like nothing better,'' replied 47, confident that the other file he'd snuck into his jacket would give him an edge if their paths would ever cross again.
