Hello, everyone! Thanks so much for reading this far! I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you're having fun reading it. I love getting reviews - so thanks to those who left reviews, and thanks so much to everyone who has followed/faved. You're the best! Without further ado -
They didn't just leap.
They flew.
Again, Matt refused to enjoy any aspect of being possessed by a demon.
But deep down, a part of him enjoyed the feeling of soaring through the air, unhindered by the world below, only the cool air against his skin.
And Matt could tell Azirale was enjoying it, too. Anytime Matt flipped or twisted in the air, or pulled off a particularly tricky move as they vaulted wall to roof to pole to fire escape to roof, Azirale would laugh or let out a little cheer. Sometimes these little celebratory noises were only audible in Matt's head, but other times Azirale would actually let out a whoop as they sailed across an alleyway.
"This whole vigilante thing really only works if I keep a low profile, you know," Matt verbally interrupted, cutting off a peal of enthusiastic laughter from Azirale.
"And there you go again, interrupting me! I've never had a vessel that could do that before," Azirale answered, mentally.
Matt felt a tingle of unease ripple across his ribs, a familiar feeling. Having been blind most of his life, he was used to people studying him, being fascinated by his disability - and it never made him any less uncomfortable. He had always been afraid if the wrong person discovered his senses, they would want to study that, too. Some curiosity to break down and analyze. And Azirale was looking at him the same way.
Or, not exactly looking, since Matt's eyes couldn't exactly look - and there wasn't really anything to look at, anyway, because they were both in the same body. But he could feel the demon's interest focusing in on him, latching on, hungry.
Plus, he had the feeling that the more interesting Azirale found Matt, the less likely he would leave.
Matt didn't know what to do about it, though, so he just stopped talking to the demon and instead focused on getting to the woman. She was only a street away now - they had reached her in just a couple of minutes. As in - two minutes. Maybe shorter.
Again - Matt didn't enjoy the fact that he was now about three times faster than normal. But he was grateful that they had gotten there that quickly - because the men had roughed the woman up quite a bit, and two of them were holding her down on the ground while the third got his belt undone. Matt could smell their sweat, their filth, the woman's blood on their knuckles. He could hear her ragged sobs and stuttering heart.
Then he heard the man whose pants were now falling around his ankles' heart jump when he saw Daredevil drop out of the air and land in the alley just a few yard away.
"What, Harry? Come on - or I'll have a go," one of the men on the ground said, turning his head towards the pantsless man, Harry. The other man turned his head towards Daredevil, and his heart jumped too.
Harry and Man #2 both stumbled backward. The third man didn't move except to slump to the ground when Daredevil's billy club connected with his skull.
Matt moved towards the woman, wanting to tell her to go and find help - but instead his body carried him past the woman and towards the unconscious man.
Let's finish him off.
Azirale lifted their foot to stomp down on the man's head, snapping his neck or crushing his skull or both - but Matt quickly redirected the blow, causing them to stumble.
No killing, Matt reminded Azirale.
They stayed like that for a moment, frozen, half hunched over while Matt and Azirale fought over whether to kill the man. The woman stared at them in fear for a moment, then scrambled away and ran for the mouth of the alley.
BANG!
BANG! BANG!
Three gunshots rocketed through the alley, making Azirale and Matt wince, dropping closer to the ground as they focused their energy outwards once again.
Harry had pulled a gun out of - Matt wasn't entirely sure where, since he was holding his pants up with his other hand. Neither of them had noticed the gun before; or if Azirale had, they hadn't thought to share the information with Matt.
One of the bullets had smashed into the concrete near Daredevil. Bad aim.
The other had landed in the brick wall of the neighboring building. Even worse aim.
The third had flown into the back of the fleeing woman, between her ribs and her right hip.
Something dark and furious surged up in Matt, seeping out from between his gritted teeth in the form of a low growl as he turned to face the two men.
Azirale felt the shift, the change, the transformation in Matt.
And sure, they had experienced human anger before. Dealt with it quite a lot, actually. But never like this.
As soon as Matt realized the woman had been shot, that careful control he had been maintaining ever since Azirale moved in just disintegrated. Fell apart in shards of rage. All those hours of meditation flew out the window as Matt moved towards the two men. And that was another strange thing.
Matt had taken back control of his body, but he hadn't fought Azirale for control, or struggled to push them back - it was as if he had matched some sort of wavelength with Azirale. They felt their vessel moving, felt like a puppet on a string - it was almost as if Matt were the one possessing them. Which didn't make any kind of sense, since Azirale didn't even have a physical body. It was more like Matt had stepped into their soul and was using it how he saw fit.
And Azirale - well, he wasn't helpless, exactly. It was a strange feeling. They didn't want to fight Matt, didn't want to push back, or regain control. They were with Matt. Like Matt's emotions had infected them, taken over their own feelings. It had been a long, long while since Azirale had felt human emotions - he had forgotten what vividness and intensity humans conjured in their souls.
They could feel the anger, and the fury, and the terror. The heat that buzzed in their ears, the cold stream that twisted in their gut, the short circuit in their brain that cut off reasoning, the live wire that just spoke to violence and desire. Azirale felt it all, he felt what Matt was feeling - not just as an observer, but as a participant.
And they wanted to kill that man.
Harry aimed the gun at them again, and Matt and Azirale - they weren't really separate in the moment - flicked a hand towards the man, sending the gun flying.
The second man made to move towards Daredevil, but they had already found the second billy club and flung it towards the assailant with pinpoint accuracy. And demon strength. It shot from Daredevil's fingers and crashed into the man's eye socket, cracking bone as it drove through the skull and bluntly dug into the brain.
He fell, dead.
Harry backed up, tripped on his pants, and fell on his ass.
In the next instant, they were on him.
Grabbing his collar.
Lifting him into the air.
Listened to him beg for mercy, listened to him sob, then choke.
Listened to his throat start to crumple, to tear.
Smelled the blood in his mouth, spilling past his lips, drowning in it.
They hadn't used this trick on anyone in a while - and usually cut it short when they started coughing up their own blood. But this time they didn't stop. Daredevil didn't stop.
And they were Daredevil this time.
They weren't doing this to pass time, or bully some humans, or take out their own cold, dead anger that had festered over the centuries. They were doing this to satisfy the black rage that was consuming them.
Finally, they dropped the man to the ground. He was still breathing, but he wouldn't be for long.
They turned back towards the woman. She was trembling on the ground, bleeding, afraid.
Daredevil walked closer.
Her heart beat faster.
She was afraid of them.
They didn't care - they crouched down next to her, shucking their glove, placing their bare fingers on the bullet wound. It had passed clean through.
They cocked their head and listened - no sirens. No one nearby, no one on the phone. There had been no witnesses. No one to call the police.
They gathered the woman in their arms and then suddenly they were standing in a hospital, full of loud voices and weak heartbeats and blood and antiseptic and buzzing machines.
There were shouts and spiked heart rates to greet them when they suddenly appeared, but when they laid the injured woman on a nearby gurney, the attention shifted to the new patient.
And then they were back in Matt's apartment.
And they came apart.
Azirale felt Matt peel away from them like a snake shedding its skin. They were two spokes on a cassette tape, spinning in perfect unison - then suddenly they stalled, and the tape unwound and jammed, spilling film out of its base like intestines from a gutted pig. It was jolting. Like running, all grace and speed - then one of your legs seizes up while the other tries to take a flying leap. Then smacking face-first into the tarmac.
Matt shuddered and fell to his knees with a groan. Azirale fell with him, letting their legs fold under them, feeling numb. Matt's emotions were leaking out of the demon, going back where they belonged, leaving Azirale feeling colder and emptier than they had in a long time. Even Matt's senses snapping out of control for a second wasn't enough to phase them, the sudden influx of smells and sound and texture seemingly far and distant.
Azirale could sense Matt's rising panic and distress, but they couldn't feel it anymore.
And they wanted to.
The realization surprised them. They had possessed Matt to show him what it really meant to be a demon, but instead they had been reminded what it had been like to be human. They were disappointed in themselves. A little disgusted. But they only let it bother them for a moment - they were a demon, and demons didn't care how unseemly or inappropriate an idea was; they cared about self gratification. And Azirale wanted that feeling back.
The feeling of feeling.
They probed a little into Matt's mind, trying to see if they could soak up anything, but Matt reacted sharply, violently shoving them out, lashing out in fear and anger.
It was a little annoying. But Azirale was feeling more than a little drained and dazed at the moment, so he let it slide.
"Why are you freaking out? We saved that woman," Azirale asked.
"I killed those men. I killed them."
Azirale vaguely remembered Matt saying something about not killing anyone at the beginning of their little adventure, but had disregarded it. What did it matter if they killed a few rapists? They were bad guys. And Matt was a wanted criminal, anyway.
"It does matter," Matt hissed, and Azirale realized he hadn't been shielding his thoughts, at all. Oh well.
"You obviously wanted to kill him, so you did."
"I did not want to kill them! That was you! That was you…" Matt shouted, grabbing one of the cans Azirale had pulled out of the cabinet earlier and throwing it against the wall. His voice quickly faded into a trembling whimper.
"Does the lie detector thing work on yourself? Because you're definitely lying."
"You're a demon - can't you tell that kind of thing?" Matt snapped, sinking to the floor and putting his hands over his head. Azirale shrugged, which would have looked awkward if anyone had been there to see Matt's body. But it was just the two of them.
"Depends."
"I can't believe I killed them...I don't...I usually can control…"
"I mean, I'm not saying I didn't have a hand in it - but it definitely wasn't just me. It was...us."
Matt didn't respond, and Azirale prodded his emotions again. Matt didn't defend this time. Azirale thought he might be in shock. There were a million different emotions and thoughts running through his head, all contradicting one another. Anger at himself. Anger at the men. Anger at Azirale. Sorrow. Guilt. Fear. Pleasure. Justice. Satisfaction. Horror. Peace. And the memories of the murders kept playing themselves over and over again. The smell of the man's blood, the sound of his choking breath, the feel of his clothes wrapped up in Matt's fingers. The sound of the other man's skull crunching against Matt's baton.
Matt's heart spiked for a second, and his hand flew to his leg holster where he kept his clubs. They were there. Azirale didn't remember picking them up, and neither did Matt. They must have done it in that rage-trance state. Or maybe Matt had subconsciously used some of Azirale's demonic power to teleport the clubs back to him or something. They weren't really sure how a human accessing the power of the demon possessing it worked.
They also weren't sure how Matt's mind was working. Because even if they had forgotten the clubs, it's not like there were two still-living witnesses who could confirm Daredevil being at the scene of the crime.
Matt, once again, heard Azirale's thoughts, and slumped further to the ground until he was laying curled up on his side, pressing his forehead into the cold floor. Azirale let him. He wasn't concerned with controlling Matt's body at present.
"What was that? Back there. I choked that man without touching him."
"We choked him. That was both of us. And honestly, I don't know. You're a fucking weirdo - I've never possessed a vessel that could use my demonic powers like that. Or...or whatever else you did back there. I know you felt that, too."
"I let the devil out," Matt said, laughing without a single hint of sincerity.
Memories started flashing through Matt's head, and Azirale tried to follow them - a boxer, the smell of sweat, the sound of a staticky tv set, a priest - a priest?
But suddenly Matt was closing up his mind again, scooping all his renegade memories and pulling them back behind the safety of his mental wall. Azirale didn't fight him, but they were a bit miffed.
Instead, they both just lay there on the floor, unmoving. Each sorting through what had just happened.
Matt feeling closer to being a real devil than he ever had before, and Azirale feeling closer to human. Neither of them were particularly happy about it.
But deep down they both wanted more.
Suddenly someone was pounding on the door.
They both started, but jerked in different directions that ended up with Matt's body spasming on the floor for a second before finally sitting up and facing the door.
"Matt, open up! Matt!"
Foggy.
Azirale lurched towards the door, but Matt pulled away - once again, they ended up falling to the floor with a loud thud.
Whatever synchronousity they had experienced before had been reversed now, apparently. But it didn't matter, because Foggy had a key and was loudly jangling it in the lock, trying to get the door open. His heart was fast. He was sweating. His hands shook slightly.
"Leave him alone," Matt growled.
"Why would I hurt Foggy? He's our best friend," Azirale said, sounding sickly sweet and innocent.
"Matt?" Foggy had heard them talking. Of course, to him, it would just sound like Matt was talking to himself.
Matt wanted to jump out the window, to avoid Foggy at all costs. Azirale didn't want to completely take over their body again, but they wanted to stay and talk to Foggy. So they grabbed the counter and clamped their fingers down in an iron grip - it helped to have a physical anchor to focus on, rather than just fight a mental battle with Matt for control. When had they needed to fight a vessel for control? The whole idea was ludicrous - but Azirale didn't want to shove Matt away, and honestly, he wasn't sure he could at this point.
Foggy walked into the room.
"Whoa…" his head slowly turned, surveying the scene. Ah, right. Azirale had made quite a mess the night before. Clothes were still scattered across the floor, along with Matt's bedding, books, and personal possessions. Plates, tupperware containers, cans and bottles lay stacked on the counters, tossed haphazardly in the sink, or broken on the floor.
"Foggy, you need to leave," Matt said from his place by the counter, where Azirale had placed them.
Foggy turned his head towards Matt, and his heart rate picked up. They noticed Foggy was holding something in his hand - a newspaper? Azirale pulled Matt's lips up in a grin - they were getting much better with the super senses.
Foggy took a tiny half-step back when Matt smiled, then squared his shoulders and walked a few steps closer.
"Matt - what the hell happened last night?"
They frowned, cocked their head - last night, when Azirale possessed Matt?
"Did you kill those guys?"
But that had just happened - how did Foggy know -
"How do you know about that?" Matt asked, and Foggy's heartbeat started drumming even faster.
"How do I - it's all over the news! Matt - what in fucking hell? One had a giant gaping hole in his face! And I don't even know what you did to the other one, the cops can't even figure it out!"
They were still frowning.
"Wait, what day is it?"
"Wha - it's May 8th, Matt."
The next day. They had laid on the floor all night? And part of the next day? It had only felt like a few minutes...or hours...honestly, time had seemed nonexistent last night. Azirale blamed his skewed sense of time on immortality and the whole way being in hell warped time.
So the story of their heroics had already been printed. Azirale was still amazed at how quickly humans spread gossip.
"Foggy, I can explain," Matt was saying. He didn't sound very convincing.
"Just let me tell him. I'll do a better job," Azirale said.
Matt immediately tensed, and Foggy - yep, his heart started beating even faster. He was going to have a god damned heart attack any second at this rate.
"Shut up," Matt said internally.
"You shut up. I got this," Azirale answered.
"Azirale!" Matt barked - then cut himself off.
"So formal - just call me Az," Azirale laughed.
"...Matt?" Foggy asked, voice wavering.
"Yeah, you already know him. Let me introduce myself. Name's Azirale - but I kind of like the sound of just Az, don't you?"
Azirale turned towards Foggy - with very little resistance from Matt, surprisingly - and pasted on an enthusiastic smile. They were still wearing the Daredevil costume, but had ditched the mask and gloves at some point. So when they turned towards Foggy and flashed their eyes black, the trick had its full effect.
Foggy's heart almost stopped.
