That morning Vladimir leaves soon after the vigilante. He's restless and angry and the thought of sitting in the flat for another day is appalling. For a second he considers tailing the Masked Man but in the end decides against it - he hasn't recovered enough to be able to pull it off.
He spends the afternoon walking aimlessly around the Hell's Kitchen. His wounded side never lets him forget about itself so it's a time-consuming walk but short in distance. He's not sure if he's happy or disappointed that he doesn't bump into any acquaintances. Being dead to the world is quite freeing but then, at times, feeling like a ghost is disconcerting.
He's not sure why he comes back to the vigilante's flat. He has told the man everything, his arrangement with Fisk was quite recent and the man was awfully secretive, he has nothing else to offer to the vigilante. Still, Vladimir comes back - maybe because it's the only place to come back to.
It's two hours later that the Masked Man enters the flat. Vladimir is seated in the armchair closer to the window, one he's come to favour, and reading a cheap crime novel he bought at a news-stall on his trip outside.
"You left," the vigilante says in a way of greeting. His whole posture speaks tired.
"I went for little walk. Your flat is boring."
"Why are you back? I failed with Fisk. I failed everyone."
Vladimir frowns, taken aback by the question. The vigilante's anger from the morning has turned into something more hopeless, desperate…
"What happened?" the Russian cannot stop himself from asking.
"Someone innocent died today," the vigilante takes a deep breath. He turns his head and it seems as if he was looking straight at Vladimir. The Russian feels a shiver running down his spine even though he knows the other man is blind and this is just an illusion. "Fisk did it… He needs to pay."
There's something dark in the vigilante's voice and Vladimir recognizes it without a problem. Bloodlust. Tonight the man is determined to kill. Even though Vladimir should be the last one to judge, it all feels wrong.
The vigilante starts rummaging in a wardrobe Vladimir has looked through earlier. He found a chest with some memorabilia there and something made him leave it untouched as soon as he realised what it is. Dying must have made him soft.
The man takes out his vigilante array out of the chest and starts stripping right there to change into it. Vladimir doesn't waste his chance and hungrily takes in the sight of his back again. This time he skips the goddess of justice and focuses on the red Mark he did not manage to fully scrutinize the last time. On the man's left shoulder blade there's a pair of boxer gloves - they are all in black and white as well. The red is the blood dripping from them... It's all he manages to see this time before the vigilante's back is covered by clothing again.
"It's rude to stare," the man says without even turning towards Vladimir. He changes his trousers much quicker and though the Russian sees some Marks on his legs as well, he doesn't catalogue anything in particular.
"How would you know?" he replies, too aware that his heart is going a bit faster. Was that what betrayed him? Vladimir was already suspecting the vigilante is heavily relying on his other senses in order to see, it was the only explanation for the phenomenon, but was the other man actually able to hear his heart speeding up across the room?
The vigilante snorts at Vladimir's retort and checks the ties on his mask. Only now Vladimir notices he changed the black shirt for one with a higher collar so the mask Mark on his neck was mostly covered. Someone must have told him about it. Fortunately, the new shirt is as tight as the previous one. "I wasn't always blind, Vladimir," he says all of a sudden as he puts his gloves on. "I'm aware of savoir-vivre regarding staring."
Vladimir doesn't know what to say to that so he just watches as the man walks towards the roof entrance. Every step seems more determined.
"Don't do anything stupid, мудак," he says just before the man closes the door behind him.
ж
The night is turning out to be quite interesting for Vladimir. There's not much to do in the blind man's flat and the novel he bought today is incredibly dull but tonight comes to offer him some proper entertainment.
The vigilante's friend, or at least that's what Vladimir deduces from the stranger's drunken drawl, is camping by the front door. His main occupation is whining about revenge on someone. Vladimir does not care too much, though he wonders if the "bastard" the man on the other side of the door wants to "nail to the wall" is Fisk. This would make sense considering the Masked Man said someone innocent died today because of him. What actually is of interest to Vladimir is that, thanks to the stranger's monologue, he finally learns something about the vigilante. His name.Matt.
Vladimir was dozing off in his armchair when he first heard someone pounding on the door and now he's quite content to simply sit there in the glow of that ridiculous billboard and listen to the drunk rumblings of a stranger.
He raises his head sharply when he hears the roof entrance opening. The silhouette of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is easy to recognize.
"How was crime-fighting, Superman?" he accosts the man playfully, the Russian accent especially heavy on the last word. There's no response which is not anything surprising. But the way the vigilante holds himself evokes a feeling of alarm within the Russian. The man - Matt - starts to slowly and carefully descend the stairs and that's when Vladimir is sure that something is wrong. He stands up as fast as his injuries allow him to and approaches the stairs. He is not quick enough though and he just watches as the vigilante falls down the last couple of steps. The thud is loud enough for the stranger behind the front door to hear.
"Matt? Are you okay in there? Matt!"
"Глупец!" Vladimir lets a streak of curses in his native tongue out of his mouth as he helps the other man up. The coppery smell of blood hits his nostrils - the man is badly hurt. Still, the stubborn vigilante tries to fight his grip, turning his head towards the roof entrance with visible distress. "Блядь, let me help!"
The vigilante struggles free and in the process stabs Vladimir directly into his recovering side with an elbow. When the Russian let's go of the other man, he takes another step and falls down again. Vladimir is on his knees second later, trying to assess the damage as now they are closer to the billboard and the glow is finally allowing him to see more.
"Matt?" It's the voice of the stranger, but he's not behind the front door anymore, but on the top of stairs. "It's me, I heard a crash-" The man stops abruptly. He must have spotted them. "Who the hell are you?!"
Vladimir does not even bother to turn around. One of the wounds on the vigilante's abdomen is pouring blood quite heavily. He needs to stop the bleeding somehowandnow.
"I asked you a question! Who are you?! Where's Matt?!"
The other man running down the stairs while Vladimir observes how wrecked the vigilante's shirt is. He manages to rip the front off in one sharp motion and then apply the material to the worst of the wounds. By that time the stranger is hovering above then, breathlessly mumbling his words of confusion.
"That's the Devil of- And who are you- What's you're doing in- Where's Matt?!"
So apparently the stranger has no idea his Matt is the vigilante. Well, so far Vladimir had no idea that the vigilante is Matt… It's time to put some light on all of it.
Keeping the right hand in place and still trying to stop the bleeding to at least some extent, Vladimir reaches with his left towards the mask. He feels excitement bubbling on top of all the emotions buzzing within him as he finally tugs the mask off the vigilante's face.
"Matt!" he hears an incredulous gasp above him but he's more occupied with the face that he has been dying to see even when the Masked Man was just an obstacle in his business. The first thought that comes to his mind when Matt's face is finally revealed to the glow seeping through the windows is that it's matching the rest of the package, the man is handsome, captivating.
"What the fuck! You're his-?!" the stranger chokes on his own question and that's when Vladimir finally turns his gaze towards him. The man is not looking at him though, his eyes are fixed on the Russian's left forearm.
Vladimir's hand is still gripping the mask next to the vigilante's head and his left forearm is almost right above Matt's collarbone. There's a Mark there, it's the one that Vladimir has seen protruding from the man's white shirts. It's a scarred blind eye. Exactly the same as the one on Vladimir's forearm. Which can be clearly seen now that they are both next to each other.
Vladimir swallows a nasty curse and stifles the panic that's suddenly spreading in his chest. He turns back to the stranger.
"He's bleeding. Call for help!"
The stranger looks as if he was slapped to the face and he seems unable to get a grip on the situation.
"Who should I call?! I can't call for ambulance, we can't take him to the hospital, he's the damned Devil-"
There's a sharp intake of breath from Matt and his hand clenches around the Russian's wrist almost displacing the hand which is responsible for keeping the makeshift dressing in place.
"No hospital,"Matt hisses through gritted teeth. "Claire. My burner phone. No one else."
The vigilante's grip on Vladimir's wrist is surprisingly strong for someone who is dying on the floor. It definitely shows the determination behind his words.
"Okay, мудак. No hospital. We call Claire."
Matt turns his unseeing eyes on Vladimir for a second before he passes out again.
They find the phone in the vigilante's outfit and the stranger calls the only number he finds there. It indeed turns out to be a woman named Claire who is familiar with the vigilante situation. She comes soon, works efficiently in silence, gives the stranger - Foggy, as he introduces himself to Claire - some basic advice on dealing with Matt's wounds and leaves without stalling.
Vladimir seats himself in his armchair and wordlessly observes how events unwind. Claire purposefully ignores him - he's not surprised, he adds up the facts and realizes she's the vigilante's associate whom he ordered to kidnap - but as soon as she's gone and the situation is no longer critical, Foggy turns towards him.
"How long have you been with Matt?"
"These are not my answers to give."
Foggy lets out an annoyed huff but doesn't ask any more questions. He sits down in the other armchair and they both wait in silence for Matt to wake up.
ж
"So, you can see…"
"That's not... You're not… Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"
"Yeah, world on fire, I got it. But you can see, right?"
"Yeah, in a manner of speaking. But I…"
Vladimir kind of feels like he shouldn't be present for this conversation. From what he already deduced from it, Matt and Foggy has been friends for years and apparently had next to no secrets between themselvees… Well, beside the Devil of Hell's Kitchen affair.
And maybe Vladimir shouldn't be there now but he's too engrossed with learning more about Matt to care. There is no mask covering his identity now and Vladimir finds himself drawn to studying the lines of his face. The unseeing eyes are still unsettling at times but their colour is captivating and Vladimir keeps gazing at them. It's easy when the other man cannot catch you doing it and glare back at you.
Well, he guesses he does have a right to stare at his soulmate.
It still feels surreal. Vladimir was pretty content without one all these years. It feels like a responsibility, a promise he didn't want to make… They are a pair of a vigilante and a criminal. This has no right to work. Though it does explain some things - why Matt saved him in the first place and him allowed him to stay in his home or why Vladimir was looking for excuses to remain close to the vigilante. Soulmates are supposed to feel subconsciously drawn to each other…
The Mark is exposed on Matt's skin. The scarred eye suddenly seems mocking in Vladimir's mind.
But he has nothing to worry about, really. Matt won't see it so he'll never know and Vladimir doesn't plan to tell him. Not that Matt would believe him...
"You could have at least told me you've found your freakin' soulmate!" Foggy yells and Vladimir stops breathing for a moment. "I could understand your double life as a vigilante being kept secret, though I still feel like it's a dick move, Murdock, but you could have told me about keeping your Russian soulmate in your flat! This is something you usually inform your friend about!"
Matt opens his mouth and stays speechless for a few seconds before he chokes out "Soulmate?"
Мудак (mudak) - asshole
глупец (glupets) - stupid man
Блядь (blatch) - fuck (there's no better translation but it's a strong curse. a strong fuck. a hulk fuck xD)
Aaaaaaaaaaaand shit went down ;)