Creating Oasis:Mutant Dawn

Hell's Kitchen.

The name alone evokes images of chaos. A notorious black mark in the heart of the gleaming metropolis of Twist, Hell's Kitchen has long been known for its poor living standards, rampant crime, and deep-rooted racial tensions. Every street seems to belong to one gang or another—some streets even claim three. Crime here isn't just a problem—it's a way of life.

For the residents of this troubled district—more than twenty blocks of desperate souls—life is like that of sewer rats: scurrying in shadows, never seeing the light, never knowing hope.

And yet, where darkness festers, light often finds a way to grow.

In this neighborhood, that light is Daredevil.

By day, he's Matt Murdock, a blind attorney struggling to keep a small law firm afloat. By night, he becomes a masked vigilante, fighting crime with unmatched ferocity and unyielding courage. Deprived of sight since childhood, Matt's other senses have sharpened to incredible levels, giving him an almost supernatural awareness of the world around him.

He's no stranger to broken ribs or bloodied fists. Justice is his mission, and pain is the price he's long since accepted.

But justice doesn't pay the rent.

His law firm—honest and diligent though it is—constantly teeters on the edge of bankruptcy. Clients are few. Payments, even fewer. Most days, Matt and his partner Foggy Nelson consider it a miracle if they can afford both lunch and electricity.

Today, however, was different.

A visitor had just walked through the door.

"Welcome, Mr. Joseph," Matt said politely, sitting behind a cluttered desk in the dimly lit office. His tone was measured and friendly, though his face remained impassive behind dark sunglasses. "What can I do for you? Are you here for legal consultation?"

Joseph took a seat across from him, eyes scanning the modest surroundings. "I'm not here to file a lawsuit or seek counsel, Mr. Murdock," he said smoothly. "I'm here to offer you a job."

Matt's expression didn't change, but his posture did. A subtle shift. His hand tightened around the white cane resting beside him.

"I already have a job," he replied evenly. "Two, actually."

Joseph nodded as if expecting the response. "Yes, you're a lawyer. And a very good one. But you're also Daredevil, the vigilante guardian of Hell's Kitchen."

The temperature in the room dropped.

Matt didn't deny it.

His radar sense—his near-360-degree perception—told him this man meant no harm. Still, he was on edge. "Not many people say that out loud," he muttered. "You've done your homework."

"I needed to," Joseph said, calm and composed. "Because I don't want you to stop what you're doing—I want to support it."

Matt tilted his head slightly. "Support how?"

"By giving you a part-time job," Joseph said. "One that pays well. One that won't interfere with your vigilante work or your law firm. A job that gives you purpose and impact—perhaps even more than your nightly crusades."

Matt frowned. "I don't teach."

"You don't have to," Joseph said, gesturing around the cramped office. "But wouldn't it be nice to work somewhere that can actually afford lightbulbs?"

Matt hesitated. Despite himself, he was curious. "Where exactly is this part-time gig?"

Joseph smiled. "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

The name struck a chord.

Of course Matt had heard of it. The school's recent announcement of public enrollment had spread like wildfire, stirring up debate in every corner of the country. Even his assistant Karen Page and his partner Foggy had discussed it over coffee more than once.

But it never occurred to Matt that someone from there might come knocking on his door.

"I'm not a Mutant," Matt said cautiously.

"And yet," Joseph replied, "you possess enhanced senses, a unique skillset, and a fierce sense of justice. You're a perfect candidate to inspire others."

Matt sat back, processing. "The teachers there are supposed to be Mutant elites. I don't belong."

Joseph waved his hand. "That was the old model. Things are changing. We're no longer limiting ourselves to Mutants alone. Xavier's School now welcomes specialists who can teach real-world knowledge. And who better to teach the law than a lawyer who understands both justice... and the streets?"

Matt hesitated, his fingers brushing the desk.

"You want your students to learn about the law?"

Joseph leaned forward. "If these gifted kids are going to integrate into society, they need more than powers. They need to understand the system they live in—and how to protect themselves within it. That's why I want you."

There was a pause.

"...You're blunt, Mr. Joseph," Matt said with a wry smile.

Joseph shrugged. "You're a lawyer. I figured you'd appreciate the honesty."

Matt chuckled softly but shook his head. "It's flattering, but I really don't think I have the time for this."

Joseph was ready.

Before Matt could finish, he snapped his fingers.

A check appeared on the desk.

Matt flinched—he hadn't heard it pulled from a pocket, hadn't heard a briefcase open. It was just... there.

He reached out, fingers running across the surface of the paper. The texture told him everything.

It was real.

And the amount—

His fingers paused. His lips parted.

This was more than generous. This was extravagant. More than most Ivy League professors earned in a month. For one week of part-time teaching?

Joseph smiled at his reaction. "We value good faculty."

Matt sat in stunned silence.

With this money, he could pay off the firm's debts. Fix the plumbing. Get proper heating. Maybe even hire an intern.

And then... there were the other benefits.

If he took the job, he'd be working alongside the X-Men. Legends. Allies.

If trouble ever came knocking...

Well, it never hurt to have powerful friends.

"I think..." Matt said slowly, "I might be interested."

But before he could finish, his radar sense twitched.

The seat across from him... was empty.

He hadn't heard movement. No shifting. No footsteps.

Joseph was simply gone.

Matt's brows furrowed.

A moment later, the door creaked open and Karen Page stepped in, balancing coffee in one hand and a stack of files in the other.

"Matt? Who were you talking to?" she asked.

He turned toward her, startled. "Joseph... the client you just let in?"

Karen blinked. "What client? You've been alone in here the whole time."

"What?"

"You're not pranking me, are you? I just got here."

Matt froze, stunned. "But we were talking. I touched the check. I felt him across the desk—"

Karen was already peering at the check. Her jaw dropped. "Holy—Matt, is this... is this your weekly salary?!"

"Apparently," Matt said, still shaken. "I... guess I won't owe you back pay anymore."

Karen whooped in delight.

As she danced out of the room, Matt quietly reached into his pocket.

There was something there. Something that hadn't been there before.

He pulled it out.

A small, smooth object—a key.

Then, Joseph's voice echoed in his mind, calm and amused:

"This is the key to the academy. Hold it for more than three seconds and say 'Harry Potter' to view your schedule. Say 'Dumbledore' to summon transport to the academy."

"And, just in case… if you ever find yourself in danger, and I mean real danger... shout 'Grindelwald.'"

Matt stood frozen, the key in his hand, Joseph's words echoing in his head like a ghostly whisper.

Harry Potter. Dumbledore. Grindelwald.

Names from a fictional world.

Or so he had thought.

A chill ran down his spine.

Who exactly was this Joseph? A mutant? A magician? A ghost?

He had no answers.

But one thing was for certain—he had just stepped into a world far bigger than the streets of Hell's Kitchen.

And for once, Matt Murdock—the man without fear—felt something very close to awe.

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