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Friday nights sucked.
People bitched throughout the week, waiting until Friday so they could blow their paycheck on booze and cigarettes. Or worse, try to impress some guy or girl with a cheap meal and lousy small talk in the hope of getting laid. For Jessica, the weekend meant spying through hotel windows on cheating spouses or digging through garbage cans for evidence on a dozen different types of bad behavior.
At least tonight ended on a positive note. She glanced over at Luke as they walked down 5th Avenue, a street lined with expensive boutiques and shops filled with clothes that cost more than her rent.
“Thanks for the help on this,” she said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket.
“The biggest lead in your case was trying to track some rich kid who thinks he can gain street cred selling stolen Nikes to club owners.” Luke peered over at her with a chuckle. “I doubt that’s your line of expertise.”
Jessica snorted. “Like the seedy underground for Nike shoes is up your alley?” The idea a pair could be worth hundreds of dollars boggled her mind.
“I had cousin get held at gunpoint for a pair of Air Jordans once.” Luke shook his head. “People do stupid stuff for status all the time.”
“Um. We’re talking about basketball shoes. But I’ve never claimed to understand the motivation behind cultural trends and I don’t plan to in the future.” She stopped at a street corner and waited for a car to pass before walking on. “Regardless. Thank you. Mr. Sneakerpimp was the last one to see my client’s son before he disappeared.”
“That voicemail he played for you was only a few hours old. So, that’s good news.”
She’d been pleased to hear that Ben was alive. “Now all I have to do is track him down.”
An older woman struggled dragging a trashcan toward the edge of the sidewalk and Luke grabbed one end of it and finished pulling it to the curb.
Wiping his hands, he continued walking with Jessica. “Your sneaker thief said he was hanging out in The Kitchen. Maybe you could hit up a certain friendly neighborhood lawyer.”
“Last I checked, Murdock was knee-deep representing an entire apartment building of people whose water was tainted by lead.”
“Based on this week’s newspaper headlines, I doubt he’s that busy. Besides. He’s been helping me out on a few things.”
Jessica wasn’t going to fall for it; she was too smart for his continued ploy for getting the band back together. “The dude doesn’t understand the whole work-life balance I keep reading is the key to healthy living.”
“Something you two have in common.”
“Um, no.” The only things she and Matt had in common was hidden aggression and a shitty childhood.
When they reached the end of the block, Jessica eyed the convenience store advertising cold six-packs and two-dollar chilidogs. Luke crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow at her in challenge.
“I actually want to grab a cup of coffee.”
He rolled his eyes. “And you waited until we walked passed at least ten cafés?”
“I prefer my coffee cheap.” Jessica glanced around at the houses surrounding the store, most with bars on the windows and sidewalks lined with cracks. “This is what? Ten blocks from where we just were? I bet I could buy a pair of counterfeit Nikes in there.”
Luke surveyed the dilapidated building with a frown. “Welcome to the gentrification of Harlem, where the money flows into high-end development, and pays for more cops to keep those who used to live here out.”
Jessica opened her mouth to give a snappy comeback when she heard the sound of glass breaking, followed by shouting.
The door to the store flew open and a scared middle-aged woman in curlers ran out.
“Hey!” Jessica shouted. “What’s going on in there?”
“Some stupid punks,” the woman yelled then mumbled as she hurried down the street. “All I wanted was my damn lotto tickets.”
Muttering under her breath, Jessica headed inside, Luke walking behind her.
She stepped on Hersey bars and bags of skittles that were scattered over the floor from a broken counter display. Three guys dressed in black leather jackets and sporting bad haircuts and dyed hair were yelling at an elderly man wielding a baseball bat from behind the counter.
Two of the assholes waved around knives and the ring-leader with a faceful of piercings aimed a .45 at the owner.
“Empty the cash register old man,” the lead punk yelled.
“Hey, idiot! Green Day called and said you’re a shitty rip-off,” Jessica yelled.
The leader turned around and stared at her in disdain. “Fuck Green Day and fuck you.”
Jessica had little patience for this. “Yeah, well, as stimulating as this conversation is, why don’t you pay for these damages then take a hike.”
Luke stood beside her, but didn’t engage. He simply crossed his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps, and looked menacing. The other two punks looked at each other like they wanted no part of a fight and started backing away from their buddy.
The leader with all the metal shit in his face must have decided that ignoring them would somehow make Jessica and Luke go away. He waved his pathetic excuse of knife at the store owner again. “I’m not asking you again. Give us the money!”
“For crying out loud,” Jessica muttered.
She closed the distance between her and the punk in three quick strides. The asshole lunged at her with the knife. Jessica knocked it out of his grip with a swing of her hand then socked him in the jaw with her right fist, knocking him out cold.
His buddies threw their hands in the air and started babbling apologies as they tried walking in a wide circle to get away.
Luke took exception and marched over, grabbing each one of them by the scruff of their shirts and dragged them back toward the mess on the floor. “Clean this up.”
The shop owner put his bat away and pulled out a broom, handing it to one of the teens. “You owe me two hundred bucks for the glass display.”
“Do you want to call the cops, or should I?” Luke asked Jessica.
“That’s all you.”
Jessica stepped around the unconscious ring-leader and headed toward the coffee machine when she noticed the tower of twelve-pack of PBR, the dive-bar beer of choice.
“No, please, I have something much better,” the shop owner said, waving at her excited. “Hold on.”
She grabbed a bag of Doritos from the counter and ignored Luke’s shake of the head as he finished his call to the police.
***
It took an hour for the cops to arrive and for her and Luke to give their statements. Jessica preferred a visit to the dentist. “Do you think we’re like a giant magnet attracting all the scum around us?”
“I think people who want to do bad shit are going to do it regardless if we’re around. What matters is that we can actually do some good by stopping them.”
They walked down the alley behind the shop and found a quiet spot under a streetlamp. She tried not to sigh out loud at his romanticism for acts of daily justice. Jessica dug through the bag the shopkeeper gave them and handed Luke a stupid plastic cup and a bottle of booze. “You’ve really been drinking the Kool-Aid, haven’t you?”
“I grew up in juvenile homes and when I was fifteen, I ran with gangs to impress a local mobster. I didn’t hit the gym to get in shape; I went so I could get bigger and terrify more people.” Luke swirled his plastic cup in thought. “But now,” he released a breath, “…maybe I can somehow make it up to those I victimized.”
Jessica finished her shot to wash away the nagging guilt being stirred up in her chest. She didn’t want to put on a mask or wear a cape; she just wanted to get through a day without hating herself or her short-comings.
“You and Murdock should join a club or something; he says the same type of guilt-ridden shit all the time.”
Luke chuckled. “Don’t forget Danny.”
“Oh, how could I? I thought he’d gone even more mental when he started stalking rooftops when we all thought Matt had….” Jessica snapped her jaw shut instead of finishing her thought.
The days after Midland Circle had been a crushing wall of guilt; if it hadn’t been for Malcolm and Trish and their annoying hovering and late night movie nights—that Jessica missed half of because a bottle of Jack provided more comfort—she wasn’t sure she would have made it to now in one piece.
The only thing that horrible week reinforced for her was that the world was a piece of shit and no matter how you tried, it still stomped you into the ground. She poured herself another shot.
“You help people despite the whole I don’t care attitude, Jess. And if you need reminding from time to time, I’ll be glad to take on that job.”
“I’m not a job or a project,” Jessica growled before downing another gulp of bourbon. She closed her eyes against the burn down her throat. “Damn, what a waste of good liquor.”
“It’s not a waste if you enjoy it instead of using it as a sleeping aid.”
This time Jessica did roll her eyes. “You know nothing about the proper use of alcohol.”
It wasn’t that long ago that Luke split his time between helping some of his fellow inmates in the prison’s literacy program and filing books in the prison library. Unlike his first term, Luke’s second stretch was spent trying to lie low and avoid conflict, whatever it took, so he could walk away a free man.
Ever since his release, life had been fulfilling, if not busy. While he’d accepted his new abilities, it was more challenging trying to learn how to use them for the greater good. He wasn’t on the police force anymore and building a legal case against Shades was challenging without resources, not to mention all the attention he drew as a walking local legend made it difficult to conduct surveillance.
Sometimes it helped knowing certain people with skills he lacked.
He hadn’t spent a ton of time in Hell’s Kitchen before the start of his new life; now he almost knew his way around after visiting Matt Murdock numerous times. Luke had taken to checking up on the other man once a week after he’d been discovered alive in a small church, just dropping by only to find Jessica or even Danny doing the same thing.
But now, Luke’s visits were consultations, finding ways to go after Mariah and Shades within the law, and that would also stand up in court.
It was seven at night and he walked with Matt down a quiet block of an industrial neighborhood with a Laundromat and liquor store, not exactly a seedy area, but not the best part of town. Matt was still dressed in a dark suit from work and swinging his cane in front of him.
“Have you ever thought of getting a private office?” Luke asked.
“You’ve been to my office.”
Luke side-eyed him. “You mean that tiny space next to that head shop?”
Matt gave him a self deprecating grin. “Yeah, well that burst water pipe is going to put a damper on things.”
They stopped in front of small brick building with cracked windows, the front entrance covered with peeling posters of various fight bills. Luke looked at the sign on the front, the lettering faded and hard to read. “Fogwell’s Gym?”
“The owner is letting me use his office until mine airs out.”
Luke followed Matt down the side alley that ran all the way into the back. Pulling out a key, Matt opened the back-door. “He also lets me use the place after hours as long as I’m discreet.”
From Luke’s observations, Murdock was hardly discreet. No, that wasn’t true. His alter-ego was an attention-seeking piece of theater, and Matt the lawyer took circumspect to a new level. It was a little scary how well he adapted to whatever the situation required.
Matt folded-up his cane and put it inside his a pocket of his coat, walking inside with fluid familiarity while Luke squinted to see in the dark hallway as he followed him into the main room of the gym.
“There’s a light on the wall to your left,” Matt told him.
Luke felt around until he found the switch and turned on an overhead light to take in the place. Fogwell’s was a decent space with a boxing ring in the middle of the room, the turnbuckles looking in need of repair. Several heavy bags hung from chains on the other side of the room, while a weight-lifting bench took up the other.
Walking around, Luke stared at all the faded posters on the wall; some of them had to be a few decades old. It stirred a sense of nostalgia inside him. “This place reminds me of a spot in my old neighborhood.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yep, right down to the same ugly yellow paint.”
Matt walked toward the ring and traced the edge of it with his fingers. “Really? It used to be beige.”
Luke looked over and was drawn to Matt’s red-tinted glasses, a question at the tip of his tongue, but one he didn’t voice. Some answers people were not entitled to. “Is this where you train?” he asked instead.
“Yeah.”
It shouldn’t come as surprise; a dinky run-down gym had to be the perfect cover. It wasn’t like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen could work out in his apartment.
Luke was intrigued. “How did you find this place?”
“I practically grew up here.” Matt stood beside an old bench, his head cast down at the floor as if re-living old memories. “My old man was a boxer.”
Luke remembered Jessica mentioning that in one of their late-night conversations over stale pretzels and warm beer. Something about a murder and an orphanage, but it hadn't connected in a meaningful way until now.
“That’s a tough way to make a living.” Beating another human being for sport was one of the oldest professions, one that didn’t require an education.
“It put food on the table,” Matt said matter of fact. He fiddled with his glasses. “We didn’t have much, but it didn’t matter.”
There weren’t too many steps higher on the socioeconomic ladder than being a lawyer, but Matt wore suits that looked bought off the sale rack, rented space the size of a closet for an office, and based on the contents of his refrigerator, drank cheap beer.
“Now that you’ve won a multi-million dollar lawsuit, maybe you could be one of these rich supporters of the community or something.”
Matt snorted, his eyebrows arching as he laughed. “I charged a standard rate for that case. I wanted the family to keep most of the money.”
Luke couldn’t believe his ears, giving a low whistle. “Either you’re the biggest bleeding heart I’ve ever meet, or you don’t care about being poor.”
“I care about helping people, the rest….” Matt shrugged. “I don’t have a need for lot of material possessions. It’s not like I could appreciate expensive art or get a thrill from driving a fast car.” His lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Although I do have a fondness for silk shirts. Mainly because they don’t feel like they’re rubbing my skin raw.”
Luke stared at the boxing-ring, remembered cheering his friends on in the neighborhood, and Tyrone sneaking him into matches when he was young. The scent of popcorn mixing with sweat and dust.
It felt like someone else’s memories, before the experiments.
Luke exhaled a heavy breath. “You know, they made me fight when I was in prison. Bare-knuckle, bloody brawls.” He swallowed against the pain it triggered. “I hated it.”
“That sounds awful; I’m sorry.”
“People with power think they’re entitled to do whatever they want, no matter the consequences, because they’ve learned they can get away with it. They know they can make those without power cower in fear and even make them hate something they never did before.”
Luke walked over to where Matt stood listening, his head cocked to the side like some bird.
Luke traced the outline of the ring, of the worn stretched canvas. “I grew-up loving this sport and they tried to take that away from me.” Freedom was more than a word; it was what you did with it. “Get in the ring with me. Maybe your enthusiasm will have a positive effect.”
Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “I...I don’t think that’s a good idea. I kind of like my jaw intact.”
“Based on what I’ve seen, I doubt I’ll get close enough to touch your jaw.” Luke wasn’t bullshitting Matt; the man had unbelievable moves, almost like he could predict what his opponents would do. “But even if I did, I’ll pull my punches.”
Matt was wavering; Luke could tell by the tilt of his head, by how long he considered the idea. “What about the case?”
It wasn’t a dismissal.
“I don’t mind taking a day off.” Then Luke went in for the kill. “Come on, what are you afraid of?”
Matt’s shoulders tensed. “Nothing.”
Luke smiled, because Matt was a competitor and he knew from experience, they never backed down. “Then prove it,” he challenged.
***
One thing Luke enjoyed when exploring a new part of town was discovering the best restaurants. And after one hell of a sparring session, he’d worked-up an incredible appetite. It was only fair that he treat Matt to the best Chinese in the area. In his humble opinion.
He was still a bit sweaty under his t-shirt, but he kept his hoodie on since it was chilly outside. It was kind of convenient that Matt kept a spare set of clothes at the gym, allowing him to change into dark sweatpants and shirt. Luke wondered how often he used the gym for his nighttime activities.
They took the last booth, the waitress handing them each a menu. But Luke didn’t look at his; he knew what to order. Matt picked up his menu with a frown then pushed it aside.
“Something wrong?” Luke asked.
Matt sat back against the booth. “It’s laminated.”
Luke hadn’t even given the plastic coating a second-thought and chastised himself for taking such things for granted. “Do most places provide a copy in Braille?”
“Not really. By the time they look for one and find it, I could have eaten half my meal.” Matt leaned back in his seat, obviously used to such daily inconsideration. “I usually stick to favorites.”
“Well, I’m going to save you some time, because this place has the best Din Sum I’ve ever had. I’m surprised you’ve never eaten here.”
“This used to be a good Thai spot, but it closed a few months ago. I haven’t had a chance to try the replacement.”
Luke looked around at all eight tables; some of the best places to eat were the hole-in-the walls. “Thanks, by the way. For indulging me.”
Matt flashed him a smile. “Thanks for not damaging my teeth.”
Shaking his head, Luke slouched against his seat. “You might want to tone down the modesty. I managed to tag you what? Once or twice?” Matt took a drink of his water and tactfully didn’t respond. Luke smirked. “And if I was a betting man, I think you might have taken advantage of my special ability to take a punch.”
Matt’s lips curved into a sly smile. “What can I say, it’s not often I have someone I can spar with who I can’t really hurt.”
“I’m going to remember that for next time.” Looking out at the window, Luke’s thoughts drifted to important matters. “So, do you have time tomorrow to go over some of my new leads?”
Matt nodded at him and picked up his teacup a moment before the waitress came over with a steaming pot. “I would be glad to.”
As far as dive bars went Josie’s was a shit hole, but Jessica had been to worse. At least this place probably had a working toilet and ice, even though she always drank her shots neat.
Matt held the door open and she walked inside. Album rock blared from the speakers making her regret coming. “If they start playing Led Zeppelin, I’m outta here.”
He lead them toward the back corner, his cane clutched close to his chest in the tight quarters, people budging only enough to let them pass. “What do you have against Led Zeppelin?”
“Besides being overrated and played out?”
Matt smirked; it was the first time she’d seen him crack a smile in a while. At least his skin tone wasn’t white anymore; the black sweater he wore was thick and looked warm. He still had on the gloves she made him wear.
He took a seat at a tiny, high-top table and stared in her direction. “I had a girlfriend who taught me how to really appreciate jazz.”
She took the stool opposite of him. “That’s pretty boring.”
“Boring? No, jazz is…,” Matt’s face lit up, his grin stretched wide. “It’s syncopated rhythms, varying degrees of improvisation, deliberate distortions of pitch and timbre.” He rested his arms on the table and talked over the music with enthusiasm. “Some jazz musicians can bend notes on a string of a guitar or use a saxophone to alter pitch and make a sound that doesn’t exist in the western chromatic scale.”
His glasses slipped down his face and he pushed them back up, still animated. “And guys like Miles Davis and John Coltrane? Instead of using rapid chord changes they build around one or two scales—some of them using Indian, African, even Arabic music.”
Leaning back on his stool, he looked over at her in expectation, sporting a goofy grin.
“Oh my God, you’re such a dork.”
Matt shrugged. “I’m not much into over-processed music.”
Huh. Music created on a laptop using software instead of the thump of real drums or twang of a real guitar must have sounded flat to someone’s ears as attuned as his. And all the pop crap using auto tune? Jessica never thought she’d find more reasons to loathe radio-friendly top 40 than she already did.
“Yeah, well, we came here for a drink, which means there is something very wrong with this situation.” Jessica got up and went to the bar and waved down the burley lady behind it. “Two whiskeys.”
The woman nodded then gestured at Matt who sat at the high top table, tearing a flyer for a band to little pieces. “You want the bottle?”
“Do you regularly offer the whole thing to your customers?”
“You’d be surprised.” She glanced over at Matt. “He doesn’t drop by as often as he used to, but when he does, Murdock makes up for it with volume.”
Given the colossal shit storm that was Matt’s life…it was a miracle he didn’t find himself at the end of a bottle all the time. And tonight?
She looked back over at him, noting his fidgetiness, how his lips were drawn tight, his shoulders bunched in tension. Despite all the talk of jazz and the fake smiles, he was still the same guy who spent his nights believing if he just saved one more innocent person….
Jessica took the pint of whiskey and wandered back to the table, placing it and two shot glasses down. She poured them both a drink then downed hers in a single gulp.
Matt quirked an eyebrow. “What? No toast?”
“To what exactly? Here’s to catching a bunch of scumbags? Or here’s to rescuing a traumatized girl?”
She didn’t believe in sugar-coating things.
“Yeah,” Matt muttered, tearing the shreds of paper into tinier pieces. “After three days.”
“Exactly.” Jessica muttered and poured herself another shot. “You better keep up Murdock.”
Matt wrapped his gloved fingers around his drink and downed it in seconds. Then he reached for the bottle without fumbling for it and poured himself another one.
“Careful, Devil Boy, you might give away your secret.”
Matt answered her by drinking his second whiskey. “I don’t think anyone will notice.”
“You know that I don’t do the whole comfort thing, right?”
“Isn’t that what this it?”
“I forgot that you prefer to mope. I can relate.” But Jessica wasn’t pleased with the idea of sharing the title of Epic Brooder with another person. “You found her, all right? That’s what matters.”
“We, you mean.”
“Um, no. I came in and did clean-up.”
All Jessica had done was follow a trail of unconscious bodies to a warehouse. She didn’t even know it involved Matt until she’d discovered him interrogating some asshole with his fists.
She studied his heavier than normal scruff, knowing he must’ve been searching for the kidnapped girl for a while. How long had he been dogging after drug dealers and bottom dwellers, surviving on will power and adrenaline? Jessica knew what it was like to fall inside the black hole of obsession, to keep pushing and pushing and pushing.
“I didn’t know it was going to take several days….” He balled his hands into fists. “By the time I realized how much time had passed, I knew she didn’t have much longer to wait….”
Yeah, well the next time you realize you haven’t slept or eaten in days, you might want to do a mental health check and remember you know people who can help.
Jessica couldn’t bring herself to voice those words, even when she recognized all the signs, every feeling of failure and every fucking disillusionment. She was a lot of fucking things, there was no need to add hypocrite to the list.
“You know my number is programmed in your phone, right?” Jessica asked instead.
Shifting blame was much easier.
“You know that goes both ways, right?” Matt drawled, his voice thick and heavy.
Jessica rolled her eyes, not caring if he couldn’t see it. “There was that big hostage stand-off….”
“That was Luke and me.”
“What about that dude with metal hands?”
“Me and Danny.”
Jessica’s days were not dictated by alarm clocks or work, making dinner or walking the dog, nothing that resembled structure or obligations. Her clients were the reason she got out of bed, their problems the only thing to stimulate her brain, force her to walk outside and pursue assholes, providing clarity between bouts with the bottle. Maybe she’d read in the paper about Luke and Danny’s exploits with Matt enough that she filled in the blanks with her own participation.
“But we’ve hung out…you know, to grab food or something,” Jessica said.
“Yeah, we’ve had lunch, but we haven’t worked together.”
Funny how Matt referred to his life as a costumed vigilante as a job.
“Only one of us actually has this need to work themselves to death.” Reaching for the bottle, Jessica poured them both another shot and held up the glass. “Here’s to you not drowning after diving into a cold river.”
The assholes had hidden the little girl in a shipping container and one of them had thrown the keys into the water, and Matt, the idiot, had gone after them. Except he’d forgotten that Jessica could break the lock with her bare hands, but they hadn’t worked the case together, weren’t acting as partners, were just two lone wolves stumbling into each other by accident.
Matt held up the shot. “Here’s to your quick thinking.”
It’d been instinct to bang on the dock panels so Matt could hone in on the noise while she took care of the remaining assholes trying to shoot him through the water.
“This is why I don’t do toasts, they’re really lame.”
But he wasn’t a borderline hypothermic mess anymore, and they’d been able to find the girl inside that shitty container, each of them pushing aside the fact the world was filled with horrible people.
She swirled her drink as he tried to hide how cold he was. But Jessica was a PI; it was her job was to notice things, like how he shivered inside that fluffy black sweater, the fidgeting a way to cover up the way his fingers occasionally trembled.
Jessica sighed loud enough the bartender could have heard it. “You’re looking kind of pathetic right now. I can see why you wear that stupid costume, it’s the only way you could actually intimidate anyone.”
“You know that my skin isn’t unbreakable, right?”
Of course she did. “Do you realize your suit is bright orange?” Jessica asked.
The way his eyebrows rose above his glasses made her belly-laugh for the first time since she could remember. Still chuckling, Jessica tugged on her scarf, unwrapping from her neck and tossed it at his head.
Matt plucked it from the air and made a confused face at her.
“Put the damn thing on .It’s not like you care about fashion sense.”
Taking the scarf, he wrapped it around his shoulders. For a vigilante who could take out a dozen armed men, he looked kind of soft and endearing at the moment.
Jessica ignored the emotion it stirred inside her chest.
Garlic chicken and rice never tasted so good. Even the baby spinach was to die for. Danny scarfed down the dish, still eyeing the mountain of chow mien, although to be honest, he might ask for another bowl of egg drop soup. He held up his chopsticks in silent contemplation when he noticed Luke staring from his seat across from him.
“Didn’t we agree about the whole judgment thing?” Danny asked while chewing.
“No, we didn’t.” Luke poked around at his own dish with his chopsticks. “Not with you making all those smacking sounds.”
“S’rry,” Danny said, finishing his last bite.
He washed the rest down with a glass of water and decided to take it easy despite his growling stomach. Clearing his throat, he sat back in his chair, allowing his body to absorb the extra carbs and protein. Damn, he was tired. And honestly, a little blown away at what they encountered earlier.
“So, um, what do you want to do next?”
“Next?” Luke snorted. “I don’t know? Call Tony Stark and ask him if he lost any technology that makes people invisible?”
“Tony Stark, that’s Iron Guy?”
“Iron Man.”
“Right.”
It was taking Danny a while to catch up on the current political and cultural landscape, given how long he’d been away. He still felt like a fish out of water, roaming a city he didn’t know, a company his parents built influencing thousands of people's lives. Meeting strangers with fully developed opinions about him before a single set of words are exchanged.
“Hey, yo. Danny.”
Jerking his head at hearing his name, Danny looked over embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, thanks for the assist by the way.”
The last thing Danny had expected to witness tonight was Luke battling phantom people. For a second, he thought the other man had been drugged, until he saw him take several punches to the face.
When a hail of bullets came out of nowhere, Danny knew they were in trouble. “I’m glad I was in the south part of Harlem during my patrol.”
“Your patrol?” Luke furrowed his brow. “You know you don’t have to do those anymore.”
After Midland Circle, Danny had fulfilled his promise to Matt; he’d gone out every night, helping those in distress, remaining in the shadows to keep Daredevil’s reputation alive on the streets and help keep Matt’s dual identity a secret.
But Luke’s question took him by surprise. “Why not? New York is bigger than Hell’s Kitchen.” Daredevil may have officially returned with none the wiser, but Danny had found a purpose.
“You’re a CEO of a billion dollar company.”
In name only; Danny had lived for more years at K’un-Lun than the city where he’d been born.
“I trained with some of the best warriors for most of my life. I came to New York to go after The Hand. I’ve made it my home now, and I want to protect it.” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. Danny read Luke’s body language, recognizing the signs of disagreement. “And what have you’ve been doing the last few months?”
“I’m building a case to take down a criminal empire that puts drugs and guns on the streets and gets away with it because of money and political corruption.”
“And do you think blowing up Midland Circle wiped out The Hand? We took out their leadership, but they still have roots in everything: politicians, key people in the financial market, not to mention members of gangs and organized crime.” Danny took a breath, aware he was getting too quick-tempered again, a weakness he’d been working on. “We might be fighting different battles, but it’s all part of the same war.”
“Please don’t tell me there are more ninjas.”
“I can’t dismiss the possibility.”
“I am not getting pulled back into that nightmare.”
Despite all that Luke had experienced, he still didn’t understand the world was influenced by forces none of them could control. “You might not have a choice.”
“How’s that?” Luke grumbled, sinking into his chair.
“Evil thrives on conflict and flourishes when there isn’t anyone around or willing to stop it.” Luke pursed his lips and Danny knew he sounded condescending. “All I’m saying is maybe we can help each other by working together on a more regular basis.”
Luke’s expression softened, his eyes glancing down in thought. “Like going after a team of invisible people?”
“Based on the oddball story I read in the paper, they struck an armor car in Brooklyn yesterday before robbing the bank in Harlem.” Danny rested his elbows on the table; these were not ordinary bad guys; they could be a serious threat to civilians and police. “Sounds like they’re escalating…or….”
“Or they’re working their way to something bigger.” Luke rubbed a hand over his face. “But how the hell do we fight people we can’t see?”
“Spray paint?” But Danny knew that would require knowing where to aim.
Luke got a glint in his eye. “I can think of someone who doesn’t need to see people to track them down.”
A tingle of anticipation went through Danny’s gut. Because hell yeah, this is what he’d been waiting for; a giddiness energizing him. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll text Matt.”
“Seriously?”
“Dude, he has voice to text software on his cell.” Danny may have made a noise of exhilaration inside his throat.
“Your eagerness is a little worrying,” Luke said with a snort.
“We’re going after people who can turn invisible, that’s kind of cool.”
“Not when they punch you in the face.”
Okay, Danny conceded the point to Luke, but seriously, they were going to take on people who could disappear; it was a little exciting.
The clouds rolled in as the wind picked up from the east, creating a sharp aroma of ozone. It would rain soon and the falling water would displace all the molecules from the concrete and asphalt, carrying the scent of the city with it. Matt picked the rooftop of this particular building because it was ten stories high and the southern side wasn’t surrounded by too many other structures that could create echoes.
“There’s a storm coming.” Matt could feel the atmospheric pressure shift. “It’s going to pour in the next hour.”
“I think you missed your calling as meteorologist,” Luke said as he stood beside him, his heartbeat a strong, steady cadence. “I’ll call you the next time I want to shoot some hoops outside.”
This was the second time in the last few weeks he’d played human-radar for Luke and Danny. Not that he minded, although each case got weirder and weirder.
“Do you see anything else?” Danny asked. The swirl of energy and chi through Danny’s arm was a distraction that Matt still worked hard to adapt to and filter out.
Instead, he focused on sound displacement, searching for vibrations in the ground, the whirring of mechanical noises that weren't any of hundreds of appliances or normal every day machines. “I’ve got nothing. Are you sure we’re looking for some robot?”
“I don’t know what it was.” The trapezius muscles in Luke’s shoulder flexed when he shifted his arms. “But the thing was huge.”
“And it wasn’t someone wearing an exoskeleton?” Because Matt had a hard time imagining the type of money and technology needed to construct a robot with full articulation.
“Like I said, I don’t know. It did have some type of energy force field though,” Luke said, stepping on the ledge and peering down.
“Okay,” Matt said, thinking. “Maybe I can search for a remote power source.”
“You can do that?” Danny asked, his respiration rate increasing.
“Most power generates a sound, although I preferred it when we were searching for your invisible people.” That had been like any other normal day for him, using their body odor and heart rates as markers. “Their clothes were lined with miniature batteries that made a humming sound from the energy field they created.”
“You owe me twenty bucks,” Danny said, tapping Luke on the shoulder.
“What? That’s not what we agreed on,” Luke argued.
Matt ignored them, but searching an entire city for something that he had little frame of reference on was daunting. “Is it like a Transformer?” He remembered watching that cartoon as a kid.
“More like a cheap, but clunky version of the Iron Man or Falcon suit,” Luke told him. “Except much taller.”
“And strong as hell,” Danny added.
Those were all modern descriptions. It still didn’t give him a clear idea of what they were hunting. Working his jaw, Matt stepped away from the ledge and turned toward the others. “If this thing is as big as a threat as you say, don’t you think we’re missing someone?”
While Matt had never encountered Iron Man, high-tech technology was usually military in nature and very destructive; engaging it would endanger civilians. And he wasn’t about to ignore the collateral damage of a huge street fight.
“I tried calling Jess before I met up with you guys,” Luke said. “But she didn’t pick up.”
“Yeah, well, I think I know where to find her.”
***
Once Matt memorized a person’s heartbeat he could detect it twenty feet away, but people’s scent lingered for days, even weeks. He followed a particular mix of shampoo and soap, of leather and sweat that exuded alcohol, all the way to a bar with pool tables.
Jessica stood outside on the corner of the block. “You’re like an annoying bloodhound.”
“You tend to stick to the same four hangouts after dark.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He folded-up his cane and put it inside one of the pockets of his hoodie. “Did you know your phone isn’t on?”
“Who do you think turned it off? Maybe that should have been a hint.”
Matt knew she wasn’t looking in his direction; it was another form of deflection, a noticeable increase in her usual barriers. “Why are you hiding?”
“If I were hiding, I’d make sure you couldn’t find me, believe me.”
She was all bite tonight, her breath heavy with liquor, but she wasn’t heavily inebriated. Luke had called and left at least once voicemail. This wasn’t anger, it was something else.
“We need your help.” Matt knew she preferred him getting to the point.
Jessica scoffed. “Not interested.”
She started walking away, and Matt followed, keeping a healthy distance between them, knowing not to press too hard. “Since when?” All four of them had helped one another out for weeks now; each time it was a new learning experience as they adapted to each other's varying personalities and styles.
Jessica slowed down, and he matched her pace, still giving her space. “You helped me with that missing girl, and Luke gave you a hand with one of your cases.”
Her heart thudded faster, the capillaries in her face expanding from agitation. “Are you keeping score or something?”
“It’s not like we haven’t helped each other out before, and this new threat….” Matt didn’t beat around the bush. “My gut tells me it’s dangerous.”
Jessica spun around so fast, he almost ran into her. “Then maybe you should avoid it.”
He held his ground, his glasses heavy on his face, his sweater suffocating against his skin. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re addicted to playing the hero?”
“We’re stronger as a t—”
“Don’t use that word. It’s bullshit and you know it,” Jessica growled, her pulse racing. “We’re not the mini-Avengers, we’re not—”
“We’re a team when we need to be, when the city needs us to be.”
“Enough with the fucking city, Murdock! The last time New York needed all four of us, you….”
And this was what she tried and failed to hide, the way her voice shook as her words trailed off, her chest expanding with every rapid breath. Matt was too caught off guard to know what to do with it.
He swallowed against the guilt growing inside his chest, his voice soft. “This isn’t Midland Circle.”
“Yeah, but maybe I just don’t feel like saving the world.”
“I’m not asking you to save the world; I’m just asking if you’ll back up some of your friends.” Matt held up his head and stared in the direction of her face. “Or is that F-word off limits, too?”
The muscles in her face twitched as she bit her bottom lip. “If I go, will you stop stalking me?”
“I’ll wear a bell around by neck to give you enough warning I’m nearby.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
***
Matt had never been to Luke’s place. The apartment was small but comfortable for New York, and the four them each had a place to sit. His ears still rang from the last explosion; suffice it to say that fighting a stolen military robot prototype from a rival tech company was not fun.
He still had on his suit, but had removed his helmet a little while ago. Closing his eyes, Matt rested his head against the wall from his spot on the floor and listened to the steady heartbeats of those around him.
“I can’t believe that thing had laser,” Luke mumbled from the sofa. “That was like a scene out of Star Wars or something.”
“I actually remember that movie,” Matt said. The resulting silence that usually followed when he shared a memory from when he could see lasted only a few seconds this time.
“I can’t believe it could absorb and redirect energy,” Danny mumbled. He sat on the floor in the corner opposite of Matt.
“Yeah, you’ve said that like ten times now.” Jessica sighed and pulled out her flask. She leaned on the edge of the loveseat. “We get it; you didn’t mean to almost kill us all when you gave it the fist.”
Matt let out a chortle.
“Hey, and you,” she snapped at him. “Making yourself a moving target is not by any definition a good plan.”
But Matt wasn’t going to apologize for knowing his capabilities. He could hear the weapon before it discharged and avoided the laser with his reflexes quite easily, providing his teammates with opportunities to attack—until one of the laser shots struck a warehouse generator. It’d been impossible to predict the resulting explosion.
Claire returned with an icepack after making her first round of examinations and handed it to Jessica. “Here, keep this on your shoulder for the next twenty minutes.”
The stairs leading to their floor creaked, and the odor of Chinese food wafted through the air. “Did someone order dinner?” Matt asked.
“Yeah, I did.” Claire knelt next to him, the muscles in her face stretched into a frown. “How’s the ringing?”
“Better.” His equilibrium had almost completely returned.
“He walked into a wall coming here, so don’t listen to him,” Jessica said.
The deliveryperson knocked on the door and Claire moved away to answer it. Danny got up and helped her carry the food inside.
“Don’t let him near the Chow Mein,” Luke called out. The gas and air pockets caused his stomach to growl. “He’ll eat it all.”
Jessica got up and plopped herself on the floor next to Matt, the edge of her leather jacket brushing against his suit. She tossed the icepack by her feet.
He leaned his head toward her. “Good job smashing the sensors on that thing.”
“Thanks, but the next time you push me out of the way of a murderbot’s laser, I’m going to beat you with it.”
“With the laser?” Because Matt thought that might be tough to do.
Jessica whacked him in the shoulder.
“That was actually a cool flip thing you did though.” Danny curled up where he’d moved to the loveseat with a pint of sweet and sour pork. “You’ve got to show me how you can twist your body like that while throwing your baton.”
“If you come to the gym one day, I’ll show you.”
“That’d be so cool,” Danny enthused as he dug into his food.
Matt tried to ignore the chomping of his teeth.
“It’d be easier if you two just joined a circus,” Jessica mumbled.
Claire walked over and bent over to give Jessica some of the take-out. Jessica proceeded to hand Matt a pint of food and some chopsticks. The scent of tofu, cheese, onions and soy sauce was a welcome sensation.
“You know,” Danny spoke between mouthfuls of ginger beef. “The first time the four us ever sat around together was to eat Chinese food.”
“This is not going to be some tradition,” Jessica insisted.
“I don’t know, it could be.” Luke popped open a can of beer and sat back in his place on the sofa. “Why not savor the moments when the good guys win?”
Matt didn’t need sight to know Jessica had rolled her eyes. Munching on his bean curd, the scent of hops and malt filled the air, and Matt looked over at Luke and Claire who were drinking beer.
“You got another one of those by any chance?”
“I’m sorry, Matt, these were the only two left in the fridge.” Claire shifted her legs as she ate next to Luke. “Although, you probably shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”
Poking at his food, Matt felt something metal nudge him in the arm. Brow furrowed, he realized Jessica was offering him her flask.
His lips drew into a smile. “Thanks.” Still grinning, he took a drink. It was cheap bourbon with a huge bite, the wheat and rye barely aged so it burned going down his throat. Matt coughed; it reminded him of law school.
“You want a couple of drops, too?”
Jessica only spoke that way to Danny, and Matt covered up his laugh by taking another sip.
“I’m good. I’m trying to re-charge, but thanks,” Danny said.
“More for the rest of us.” Then Jessica batted Matt in the arm. “Mind givin’ that back?”
Returning the flask, Matt rolled his neck, his face slightly flushed. “We did good today.” The words felt right saying them out loud, even though he’d never expected to feel this way.
“Yeah, we did.” Luke’s lungs expanded then released a heavy breath. He was content, his pulse rate steady and relaxed. Claire rested her head on his shoulder as she toed off her shoes.
“I think….” Danny hesitated and rubbed his head. “I don’t think these things should be so random. What we accomplished tonight, together, this could be the start of something.”
Jessica took another swallow. “This isn’t the start of anything.”
“I think it is,” Matt said, because things had changed, he’d changed. “Just knowing if things get bad, that there’s some else we can…ask for help.” He licked his lips. “That knowledge can provide a glimmer of hope at the end of a very dark tunnel.”
“All of you guys own a phone,” Claire added. “There’s no reason why you can’t call one another to work on a case together from the beginning.” She curled her fingers around Luke’s hand. “Strength in numbers.”
“'An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.'”
Matt tilted his chin at Luke. “Sounds familiar.”
“Martin Luther King.” Luke shifted on the sofa. “Like I said, I had time to read.”
Matt nodded. Clearing his throat, he raised his eyebrows in question at Jessica, who hadn’t given a positive consensus.
“Whatever,” she said.
It wasn’t disavowment.
Danny’s heart rate started increasing and Matt felt his enthusiasm before he started talking.
“You know, we could create a set of code words and–”
“No,” Matt, Luke and Jessica said in unison.
“It was just an idea,” Danny mumbled.
Matt patted Jessica’s arm for the flask and she slapped in into his palm.
“You two need to take it easy on that stuff. This is not turning into a slumber party,” Luke warned.
He couldn’t help it; Matt burst into laughter, because this wasn’t something he would have thought possible a few months ago. Bonding with others like him on the floor of an apartment eating take-out and drinking booze from a friend's flask. He could almost get used to it.
Fini-
I've been wanting to write a team-fic, so thank you to RedRowan for the fun prompt.
You can hang out with me here :) http://thekristen999.tumblr.com