God and the Devil came together to have a cup of tea
By CCatastrophe
A/N: I recently got sucked into the Netflix adaptation of Marvels Daredevil, the moment I started watching I fell in love with the characters, the plot and everything about it. This is a small token of my appreciation to the creators.
Disclaimer: I do not own Daredevil, but I assure you if I did it would be twice as dark.
His hands shook.
Red liquid dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, an overly sensitive nose filling with the smell of iron and death. The devil inside screaming, tearing, pulling at his skin to be let loose, just let me loose. Pain, pain, grounding him, keeping him sane, or at least as sane as he will ever be. Slow but steady, breaths strained, he still put one foot in front of the other. There was a clink of metal and the feeling of something moving through the air quickly, a crowbar?
He moved to the side, narrowly missing a devastating blow to already cracked and damaged ribs. Punch, dodge, twist, kick, dismantle but do not kill. Never kill. The attacker fell to the ground, a sack of limp bones joining the others, heartbeat faint but still there.
Scared mewling, a frightened child barely four, running to him, hugging his legs, begging to be taken home. Please. Battered, bruised, arms straining with effort he lifts the child, you are safe. He whispers, the child now burying his small curly haired head into his chest, aggravating bruises but there are no complaints coming from the masked man.
Limping, dripping blood, he only barely notices the click of a gun, and as he flips out of the way, the bullet lodges itself in his precious cargo. A sickening squelch and gurgling, the boy falls limp in his arms. He already knows death is coming, the bullet stuck between bone and cartilage, because he can hear the small child's heart slowing, pitter pattering, straining to hold on. Anger makes his blood boil, the devil lurches, seeing its opportunity, its opening.
He sets the boy down, carefully, carefully. Spins around, and lets the anger take over, lets his boot crush that man's brain who took an innocents life straight into the concrete, where it belongs, what he deserves.
Exhaustion sets in the devil retreats, content for now. His victim is still, the steady drip drip of blood the only noise in the abandoned warehouse. He collapses to the ground, searching for the faint heart beat he hoped, prayed was still there. Hands find the face, the nose, the lips, still, unmoving. The candle of life snuffed out by one mans agenda.
It's my fault.
A/N: Now if you guys would like me to expand on this story, then please leave a review. They make my drive to write come alive.
