Murdock, taking a breath to steady his trembling hand, slips the last wire into place in his bomb. A phone on his dorm room desk lights up with a peppy ringtone, and his skin nearly crawls off him.

"Shit," Murdock snatches it up. Roommate home in ten minutes. Picture of a dog laid out, drooling. Cute.

It smells like oil and grease, and it's noticeable. Jay wouldn't be happy, finding the door barred with a chair and all. That'd need sorting. What a lame day.

Murdock splays himself across his bed and eyes his creation. It's nearly ready. Then his time in school, his degree, it'll all be for nothing. Would it be worth it? Yeah, of course it would. Still… cute dog pictures. Chinese food. Nature walks while stoned.

Oh, right, the smell.

Stashing the bomb in a small, sturdy safe and scrambling downstairs to fetch his bike, it doesn't prove too challenging to make it look like he's giving it some affection… despite the weird locale. Leaning it against his side in the room and laying out a white cloth sells it more. Nice.

It's merely watching funny internet videos on the phone until Jay’s back. After a while, there's a knock—kinda unusual since Jay never really bothers knocking, but maybe he'd finally taken his complaints to heart. Dressing up in a thin grin, Murdock removes the chair, parting the door.

"Hey what's up man, I've just been—"

It is not Jay.

A girl, a pretty one, stands in a suit and tight-fit slacks. A grin. One just like his, where you curve your lips upward by force in just the right way to look natural. And violet hair? Must be one of those scene girls or maybe something worse.

"Hi there, you must be Murdock, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Who told you my name?"

"Oh, no one," her eye contact breaks for a second, and there's something sinister in it, "just a feeling I'm getting you're him."

Murdock pauses, stares, and feels his jaw go slack.

"Okay. Well, did you need anything, or like?"

"Nope."

"Cool, cool. I, uh, I like your hair bells. Really unique."

Her hand graces them, and her face tilts, "Thanks!"

A pause. A really long pause. Could he have gotten in trouble or something? They couldn't have found the bomb; it wasn't possible in that safe, so...

"Well, I'll see you around, err… who are you?"

"Vermillion."

"Right, cool name. Goodbye."

As Murdock’s hand guides the door shut, it stops as though slamming into something. Like a metal beam had materialized in front. For a moment he thinks a hinge went bad, but finds four pale fingers clutching the door's edge.

'What the hell?' thinks Murdock, gaping. 'I swear I didn't see her hand even move. And she's thin as a twig, so how…'

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An electrifying smile slices across Vermillion’s fair features, her pupils lingering. Stabbing him.

"Just some advice: don't do anything with that bomb of yours just yet, alright? Don't worry, I'll be in touch." She giggles and waves goodbye, unhanding the door which slams closed as Murdock forgets to realize he'd been pressuring it still. Maybe in some subconscious effort to escape that woman. That thing.

Murdock falls to a heap, unable to stop himself. His eyes slowly trace towards his window. There's the smallest crack past his blackout curtains, some buildings, and a telephone pole above them. A mere toothpick in the distance.

'How'd she get an angle?' Murdock, trembling, regains his footing. He looks to his desk and traces its line of sight outdoors. 'No, it's not possible. You'd need a telescope, binoculars, some kind of high powered optic.' A panic seizes him, stomach collapsing in on itself and trying to force up the chocolate puffs he'd eaten for breakfast. 'Some three-letter agency. It's gotta be. But I only used libraries, VPNs, it shouldn't be traceable. And if they'd found me out then why send…'

The door flings open and Murdock screams, throwing himself towards his bike as Jay enters and looks at him stupidly.

"Yo, what's got you tweaking," he says. Booze bottles clink together in a grocery bag he's holding.

"Man," Murdock sighs, letting the floor devour his body, "how much should I send you for some of that?"

----------------------------------------

Some hours later, mom calls. Murdock lulls from his stupor, half a fifth of some cheap whisky toppling as he paws for his phone on a rock. For a moment he can't remember where he is, but dense brush and a pond filtering through it jog him back. A bright phone screen cutting purple beginnings of night. Hyde Park.

"Hey mom," Murdock says, tapping his phone to speaker.

"Hey honey, just wanted to check in on you. How are your classes going?"

"Good, good," lies Murdock, trying to unslur his words, "been really loving history; it's got a good teacher."

"Oh cool, who's that?"

"Uh, Mr… Forester. His dad was a vet, so he's got some crazy stories. Heh."

A pause. Another of those damn freezes.

"We hope you're hanging in there. College isn't easy, but especially after your time in high school…"

"...It’s good, mom. I’m going to make a name for myself here, you'll hear about me one day."

"Okay, hun. Just know dad and I are thinking about you. We want what's best, and Grandma can't stop asking about how you're doing."

"I know. Tell her I'm thinking about her too, ‘kay?"

"I will. We miss you, dear."

"Yeah. Miss you guys too."

Murdock finds his mind wandering to his bomb, swaddled in its armor safe. His child. They wouldn't get it at first, but eventually, they'd understand. They knew who he was. They knew he loved them. His sister. Grandma. It wasn't good, but it was necessary. So terribly necessary. Murdock smiles, drawing a long breath.

"I'll see you soon, mom, I love you."

"Bye hun, and no smoking, no drinking. We'll know, alright!"

Murdock looks at his fallen bottle, "Right. Take care."

Click. Murdock frowns. If they found his bomb first, anything could be true. He wouldn't be some misunderstood warrior of justice but a terrorist. A maniac. They'd all think that in the headlines, the dorms, even mom and dad would…

Pounding down what whisky remains in its bottle, Murdock saunters his way past some bramble and ferns, kicking a rock down mulch bordering a walkway. Again. Again. His mind drifts to her. Of course, there’d be some stupid wrench in his plans. Was this God's will for him? Some divine justice? He'd thought God would understand, but maybe he hadn't gone to church enough.

"I'll be in touch!"

That damn giggling. Not a care, no sense of anxiety or apprehension. He was an experiment to this purple-haired freak, whatever agency she belonged to. They probably had men with guns all over dressed like students. Watching. Waiting. Yeah, all they needed now was a motive. No more if, but why.

Murdock punts his rock into the neighboring pond.

"DAMMIT!"