6. Heaven help me…

She met Terri at the door to MDDC. She seemed to be as tired as Vera. They mumbled something that could be understood as a greeting and came in. The weather was awful. It was cold, drizzling and one couldn't see more than a foot in front of him. The charming autumn came to New York City. It was as unpleasant as back home.

Both girls recovered as they spent some time in the heated space of the shop. The tea and the coffee helped too. Vera loved shifts with Terri – both, morning ones and afternoon ones – but she preferred the mornings, since she needed to cheer up. She was glad that the third person with them was Caroline, because running into Olivia on such a gloomy day at such an unholy hour would ruin her day. And possibly her weekend too.

People weren't delighted about the rain either. Nope. They were bickering outside and inside the café, they were impatient and Vera would swear the crowds doubled since Wednesday. She considered making herself another tea, or maybe even a hot chocolate. She needed some sugar in her system. Around half past nine, she gave up and used a bathroom and drank from the tap at least. She was getting cranky and she knew it.

On her was back to the counter, she saw Terri give a small wave and smile – she curiously eyed the receiver. It was a likeable man, slightly overweight, with funny long (and wet-ish) blond hair and a nice smile. He put a leather case over his head and disappeared into the flow of people.

"Who was that?" she asked Terri as she turned to her with curious look.

"That was the less hot half of Nelson & Murdock. Still a charmer, though. He also-"

It immediately caught Vera's attention. She didn't hesitate and bent over the counter, hoping she could get another glimpse of him. He was gone. "That was Matt's colleague?!" she blurted out and Terri laughed in response.

"Jeez, girl. Way to be subtle." She laughed again and then she froze.

"Sorry."

"No, no, no. Wait. Did you say 'Matt's colleague'?" she asked her suspiciously and Vera found nothing suspicious about that.

So she agreed.

"Matt' Murdock's. Matt's!" And yeah, Vera saw where that headed. Terri's eyes popped. She smacked Vera's arm. "Are you on a first name basis with Mr. Hot 'n Badass lawyer?"

"Uhm. In case you are talking about Matt Murdock, then yeah," she answered timidly.

Terri smacked her arm again. Ouch. "You slay dog!"

Vera wrinkled her nose. "You did not justcall me that." She turned to the next customer. "Welcome to MD-"

"Just hold on a second, would you?" she interrupted her talk loudly and gestured to the customer, dragging her away.

"What-"

"How did that happen? When?!"

Vera couldn't believe her. She really dragged her away from the counter just to ask her about it. Vera sighed. "Ok. If I answer one of your questions, would you be so kind and let me work? And you know, serve customers with me?"

Terri considered her offer. "Fine. But when it's less busy, you answer the other one."

"Deal."

Vera had to fight a villain's laughter. She was going to wrack her. She created the brightest smile she managed.

"So?"

"It happened last night," Vera said simply and the look on Terri's face was gold. She was gaping at her silently, mouthing words like what, shit, kidding me, fuck. Vera was more than satisfied.

"Sorry for the delay. What can I get you?"

Terri joined her a minute later. She was still in awe and Vera almost cracked every single time she saw her face.

Terri managed a whole hour before she asked her about the rest.

It wasn't as funny as the first part. While Vera was telling her about going to Fogwell's and meeting Matt there, Terri's face clouded. Vera learned that Matt's dad died years ago (murdered, actually), when Matt was still a kid (recently blinded on the top of that). Vera felt deeply sorry for him - she couldn't imagine losing any of her parents yet and she was an adult.

The fact that whole Hell's Kitchen apparently knew about his fate made it even worse. It felt like a private thing no one had a right to know and yet people talked about him behind his back, and sometimes probably didn't even bother hiding it. It was just terrible and Vera would slap herself for telling Terri about Matt and Fogwell's.

Terri surprised her. She sealed her lips with deadly serious expression and crossed her heart. "They will bury his secret with me."

Vera had never been more grateful for her.

They spent the rest of their shift talking about nothing and Terri's upcoming date night (again). Vera quickly learned that her friend wasn't a long-time relationship material for now and she also couldn't resist experiments. Tonight she was going out with a fashion designer. Vera didn't understand how she had scored her date. It didn't change the fact she was looking forward hearing the story.

Olivia called in sick. She was supposed to have the afternoon shift and she couldn't come, because she kept vomiting since the moment she had woken up - that was what the text Mrs. Walker had received said anyway. MDDC couldn't be handled with two baristas on Friday afternoon and evening. After all, it was Friday and everyone had plans and Vera didn't, so yeah, she would be the one staying, in exchange for the day off on Saturday.

Terri felt bad for her, so she stayed for another two and half hour while Vera took an approximation of a lunch break – although the lunch didn't take two hours, she used it to sit on a bench in front of the bistro (under rooftop, since the morning drizzle escalated into rain), because her legs already hurt from standing behind the counter all day.

She didn't like the idea of another shift and she was grateful to Terri for staying for some part of it.

Vera came back around three. MDDC was a mess. The place was just a little less crowded than in the morning. That day, the whole Hell's Kitchen decided to get their daily dose of coffee there, nothing else could possibly explain it. Terri sighed in relief when Vera took her place behind the counter.

At least people weren't pain anymore - except they didn't leave tips. Nope, she hadn't hear keep the change once that afternoon, and judging by the state of the cash box, Becky and Hannah hadn't either.

Vera sighed and knocked on Mrs. Walker's door.

"Yes?"

"Sorry. We're... kinda out of change? People are going all Scrooge today…" she smiled apologetically.

Mrs. Walker sighed and stood up from her desk. "I swear today is shit," she murmured and Vera couldn't agree more.

Except when Mrs. Walker opened the safe, she cursed.

"What?" Vera whined, anticipating more trouble.

"We're out."

"Yes." Yes, she had told her that.

"Out of the spare. I need someone to go to the bank," she quickly eyed her watch, "and I need it right now, because the bank is closing at six and that's in fifteen minutes." She snapped her head up. "Would you or should I send someone else?"

Vera didn't think about it twice. "I'll go." If she didn't walk, she might actually take root in the floor of the café.

"Girl, you're a treasure." She gave her a list of requested coins she and three hundred dollars. "It's just few streets over. Turn left and then take the second right, okay?"

Vera took her umbrella, handbag and coat, not bothering with buttons and headed out. It was getting darker. Any other day, it would be still light outside or at least dusky; however the clouds were covering the last sunrays dutifully, creating the atmosphere of later evening. The rain almost faded though.

The streets were quite flooded and with people trying to avoid the puddles, the water was splashing pretty much everywhere. Great. She would have to wash her uniform later. The day just kept getting better. She checked the time and quickened her pace.

She rushed into the bank. "Good afternoon."

There were only two counters opened - both clerks gave her an annoyed look. Yeah, I feel you. I'm not thrilled either. From her two options, she chose the young woman over the middle-aged man, since his look wasn't annoyed as much as murderous. The blonde woman sighed, but managed a professional smile.

Sorry.

"I'm sorry. Mrs. Walker from MDDC sent me," in case it's not clear from my stupid, wet and dirty uniform, "I need some change? For three hundreds." Vera gave her the list and money. The woman, Kirsten according her nametag (Hey, nametag buddies!) nodded couple times.

"Sure." Kirsten stood up. "One moment."

And then Vera heard a deafening sound of a gun going off multiple times and instinctively covered her head.

"Get on the ground, GET ON THE GROUND!" a male voice yelled and she didn't hesitate to do so. She crouched on the floor, trying to ignore the cries of the woman and the man.

Her day was getting fucking spectacular.

The gun went off again and it must have hit something, because Vera could hear the glass shattering. She ducked more, but peeked from behind her arms.

Four men in plain white plastic masks filled the space of the bank. One of them had his gun at the ceiling, probably shooting to scare them. Another gunman was aiming at her. She froze and didn't dare to move.

Kirsten was led by another robber in Vera's direction; it took her a while to realize that she must have had a gun at her back as well.

"You. The vault. NOW." The fourth man crossed the room coming for the older clerk.

The moment he stood up, two security guards rushed in. For some reason, Vera didn't felt relieved. And she was right.

Several gunshots echoed in the bank again.

Vera let out shriek of terror, hand covering her mouth. Ježiši Kriste. She couldn't breathe. Both security guards ended up with holes in their chest, blood soaking through their shirts. They lied on a floor, unmoving. The woman next to her broke into sobs.

"Do anything stupid and you'll end up dead too," the man hissed at them and none of them could hold back another cry.

"He says he doesn't know the combination."

Vera turned to the clerk, who went back in the room with gun aimed at his head.

"Oh, come on. Really?" the man who had threatened them (and she understood he was the leader of their gang) asked him sceptically.

"I-I ho-ho-honestly don't- don't!" the clerk faltered.

"Isn't that unfortunate?" he asked rhetorical. "I guess we don't need you then."

"Wait!" the woman next to Vera yelled. The boss eyed her.

"Oooh, so the lady is in the charge of the money." His voice was mocking, yet satisfied. "Wise choice. Let him go and take her."

Vera's head was spinning. How the hell this happened to her? And WHERE were the police?!

The woman stumbled to her feet and the man was shoved next to Vera.

The gunman who went to the vault earlier was suddenly knocked out cold by something hitting his head. His weapon had clanked on the floor a second before his body did.

Another man, the one who had fired the warning shots, dropped out the very next moment. A billy club rolled on the floor.

The Devil.

Two remaining thugs turned around, examining the space. Gunshots filled the air. They were shooting in random; no one was in sight.

Vera was close to tears of relief.

"Show yourself, DAMMIT!" the leader roared, scanning the room, aiming at nothing.

Black figure jumped the other gunman from behind, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled forward the same time Devil hit the ground – he was back on his feet in no time.

The boss shot in Devil's direction. He made a remarkable flip no human being should be able to do as he dodged it, kicking the other man in the process. No bullet hit him.

"Fuck!"

Kicked gunman turned around too slowly and didn't get a change to fire before the gun was removed from his hands with another fabulous kick. He received a punch in his face.

Vera was watching their fight in awe and feared for the man in the black mask despite his obviously better fighting skills. They had guns, after all. He had his fists.

Suddenly she was yanked up to her feet as someone grabbed her arm. She cried out in surprise and pain. Strong arm captured her shoulders in a tight embrace, her back pressed against another body. Something cold and metallic touched her temple.

Doprdele.

The air stuck in her throat. He had a gun at her head. There was a barrel of a gun touching her head.

The Devil who had just bashed his opponent to the ground froze.

"Move-" the boss growled and Vera could feel his chest vibrate with his words, "-and I'll blow her brains out."

Vera gulped. Nope. He didn't sound like he was lying.

The Devil indeed didn't make a single move except his chest working with heavy breathing. He was tens feet away. She would be dead before he could even get closer. His jaw was clenched, lips thin line. He looked pissed off.

The leader pushed her so she took a few steps left with him. They headed to the exit. Vera absently registered that the walls of the room were illuminated in red and blue. The police are here. Where exactly did he want to escape?

"Turn your back to me. Put your hands behind your head," he ordered and the Devil, bless him, did. Hesitantly. Unwillingly. But he did.

Vera could tell the boss turned his head to see outside, because he cursed under his breath when he realized he had nowhere to run.

Unless he would use her as a human shield. She let out a weird sound, mixture of whine and cry. She didn't want to be used as a shield. She hated this. He squeezed her tighter.

How did that happen again? …Oh, right. She hated Olivia from the bottom of her heart.

"Get on your knees," he grinded his teeth. She would do so, but he held her firmly. Vera realized the order wasn't meant for her.

The Devil didn't move.

"DO IT!" the boss roared and Vera flinched as the barrel of the gun pressed tighter to her temple. She thought she heard the safety lock on the gun unlock.

Move. Please. Just do what he says.

The Devil slowly sank to his knees, hands still behind his head.

Vera was aware she was trembling now. And crying. Through her tears, she saw one of the men, who had been knocked out by a billy club what seemed like ages ago, raise his hand to his head and groan. He was waking up.

Doprdele. Doprdele.

He stumbled to his feet and looked around, searching for something. His gun, Vera figured.

Her body became rigid, but her mind raced so fast it nearly hurt. He gets a hold on his gun and we're dead. She squeezed her eyes shut, more tears rolling down her cheeks. She almost couldn't hear over the pulse roaring in her ears.

The robber would shoot the Devil. And the boss would shoot her then, most likely; he only needed her for now, to keep the Devil from moving.

Why? Why is this happening to her?

She opened her eyes again. The man found his gun on the floor, three steps in front of him.

Two steps.

One.

Bože, stůj při mně.

She grabbed the gun aiming at her head and tried to get out of its trajectory as she elbowed her captor. He made a shocked noise and let go.

Two gunshots rang in her ears.

Vera realized with horror that one of them came from the gun in her hand. She dropped it as if she got burned. It clanged on the floor. She managed to push it aside with her feet.

It happened within seconds.

Hard blow sent her to the floor and she whimpered when her hands collided with the solid surface. Pain shot through her left wrist.

She quickly rolled over to face the man just in time to see him receive an impressive right hook followed by multiple punches in a quick pace. Vera wasn't an idiot, she stumbled to her feet and limped away, checking the other guy - he was out cold again.

The Devil placed the last kick-flip to the boss's face and they both ended up on the floor. Unlike the Devil, the boss didn't get up.

The Devil slightly turned his head, crossed the room in hurried steps, grabbed his billy club and would be heading out.

Vera scanned the room, seeing the other stick just feet from her. She stretched out to reach it.

"Hey!" she managed to call out and tossed it in his direction. It was a lame throw – he bended and caught it with no trouble anyway.

And holy shit, that was blood. A lot of blood. On his upper arm. Pitch black stain on his already dark outfit. He had gotten shot.

She gasped.

"NYPD! PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" Unknown voice roared and Vera instinctively did so and span in the direction of the newcomers.

Six men in bulletproof vests, automatic rifles in hands, armed to their teeth, filled the bank and found four unconscious men and three people scared to death along with two corpses.

The Devil was gone.

Vera suddenly couldn't hear a sound. Someone entered her field of vision and she thought the man in black helmet was talking to her, but she didn't understand what he was saying. He raised his head a little and spoke to someone above her.

She was gently pushed up to standing position. Her legs felt like jello. The person who had lifted her noticed and didn't let her soak back on the floor. His grip was firm, supporting her as he led her from the bank.

Vera wasn't able to see his face. All she could see was the blood stain on devil's shoulder, guards falling to the ground, she felt the cold barrel of the gun pressed to her temple. The sound of gunshot echoed in her ears. The gun in her hand went off. She could have been shot.

She was sitting, a woman's hands on her shoulder, her lips moving too. "- hurts?"

Vera blinked. She was trembling. "What?" she croaked.

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. "What hurts?"

A paramedic, she realized.

"Oh."

Vera didn't need to go to the hospital. The paramedic gave her a splint for her left wrist - it's not broken, but if the pain gets worse, don't hesitate to go to hospital – and she received an ugly orange blanket form a police officer, who had asked her to come with him. She sat in a backseat of the police car, two policemen taking her to the precinct.

She was led to a small room with plain grey walls, one of them having large mirror on. Few chairs and a metal table. An interrogation room flashed in her mind. They wanted her to give a statement. She sat on one of the chairs, facing the mirror. She hated it; she could see that she looked like crap. She absently eyed her apron. Yeah. That's not something a washing machine would handle. She would need a new one.

"I am Officer Collins. Please, tell me what happened in the bank. Tell me everything you remember, anything that crosses your mind." He placed a voice recorder. "Please, start with your name."

She did. Her voice was weak. She was tired. Pictures were flickering in front of her eyes. While she was talking, another officer came in, placing an open laptop in front of Officer Collins. She went quiet.

In the reflection in the mirror, she saw what could be a photo of the bank. Both officers watched the screen and she realized it wasn't a photo - it was a security footage. It was from the bank and the pictures were moving. Vera wouldn't make more than that from the reflection.

The men shared a weird look and then eyed her. She had no idea what that meant. Officer Collins made a hush, hush gesture at the other one and the man left.

He touched the recording button on his device. Turned it off?

"You have quite a temper," he said, voice filled with emotion she couldn't recognize. His eyes examined her thoughtfully.

"What?" she asked, confused. What was he talking about?

He pushed the laptop aside and leaned forward, hands resting on a table, spread widely.

"You disarmed the robber," he pointed out and oh. She shuddered at the memory of the gun going off in her hands.

"Yes. I was lucky I didn't end up dead." Her voice broke. She cleared her throat.

"Your arrival in the bank was also…disturbing."

She blinked, not following. "Uhm. What do you mean?"

"You came, what, two minutes before the robbery went down?" He watched her with his eyebrow raised. His eyes were hard. Cold.

She was beginning to understand. She couldn't voice her thoughts though. It was absurd. He sure knew that?

"Well?" he stood up, hovering over her now.

"You think I am one of the robbers?" she asked incredulously.

"No. The exact opposite, actually," he sounded offended. "I think you knew the robbery was about to happen and you helped the Devil to take them down."

What?!

She couldn't believe him. She heard wrong. "You think… you think that I work with the Devil? No to si ze mě děláte prdel."

She jumped as his fist hit the table.

"Do you know who he is?" he growled at her and she deflected, startled by the razors in his voice. He looked like he was going to rip her to pieces. She tried to make herself as small as possible, sinking into her chair. Tears found its way back to her eyes.

She was sick of today. She was.

The door flew open and someone rushed in.

"Dammit, Collins! Get out of here, now," the man demanded. Officer Collins stung him with his eyes.

"Of course, Sergeant." He gave them both a wry smile and left the room. The door closed again.

Vera was aware she was hyperventilating. She was crying again and her vision got blurry. God. She just wanted to go home. Away from evil officers, robbers, guns, shooting, blood and oh god, there had been so much blood.

She covered her mouth as she let out a sob. And another.

"Hey, hey!" A hand appeared on her shoulder.

She leaped aside from it. It disappeared quickly. A black man with a badge on a string around his neck was step away from her, hands in I-come-in-peace gesture. His eyes were worried.

"Hey, I am not gonna hurt you, alright. Calm down."

Never tell anyone to calm down. It doesn't calm them down. She made herself to take one slow deep breath. It helped.

And then she started sobbing again.

"Sorry, wrong choice of words." He left and came back with a box of tissues. "Mind if I sit?" he asked her and Vera felt like he was actually asking her. He wouldn't sit except she let him. It was nice.

She gave a nod.

"Thank you." He sat and she reached for the tissues. She might actually like the guy. "I am Sergeant Brett Mahoney. I am deeply sorry for my colleague's behaviour."

Yeah, it would feel better if he would. She gave him another nod. He didn't speak again. They were sitting in silence, interrupted only by her sobs. Vera was trying to get herself together. Her breathing was getting back to normal.

"Can I go home?" she broke the silence asking the question she wanted to ask since forever.

He smiled politely. "Yes, yes you can." Pause. "But then I would need you to come back soon to finish your statement," he told her, voice filled with regrets.

Vera whined. She couldn't help herself. "Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

Sergeant Mahoney reached for the recorder and pushed the button. "Just few more questions, I promise. What happened after the vigilante known as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen appeared?"

She really didn't understand why they asked her. They had a freaking security footage. She exhaled.

"He knocked out two robbers with his billy clubs. Attacked the third. He was superior, he beat him fast and then-" it went all to shit, "the last man, I think it was their leader, he was giving them orders earlier… he grabbed me and held a gun against my head."

It was gone now. He wasn't here to hurt her anymore. No gun pointing at her. Calm down.

She continued. "He told the Devil that if he moved, he would… he… uhm, he said he would blow my brains out." Her voice broke, but she went on. She wanted it to be over. "He ordered him to put his hand behind his head, kneel down. He did. And then, then one of the unconscious men woke up and he made a move to get his gun. And I thought- uhm. I thought that if he gets his gun and the Devil won't move, we both end up getting shot." She really, really didn't want to say the word dead again.

"So… I, uhm. I tried to grab the gun of the man who was holding me and elbowed him. He let go. There were two gunshots. He hit me; I ended up on the floor. When I turned around, the first man was lying on the ground again and the Devil was fighting the leader, knocked him out. He took his club and left. Well, almost, I noticed the other club so I… I kinda tossed it at him. Then the police arrived and he was gone," she finished and felt the relief washed over her.

Am I going home now?

Sergeant Mahoney had been nodding during her whole story-telling, hadn't interrupted her once. He turned off the recorder.

"Alright. Thank you." He hesitated, looking like he wanted to tell her something, but wasn't sure about her reaction. "You were very brave, Ms. Machackova. I believe you're right and you would both end up dead."

She gave him an unamused chuckle. "More like stupid. And he still got shot." She looked away. "And the security guards…"

"Not your fault. None of it." She eyed him, surprised by his gentle voice. "I saw the security footage. I can't show it to any civilian, but you were there, so…" He stood up and spun the laptop so she could see the screen.

He clicked on few icons and the video started playing. Vera wasn't sure why was he showing her this.

A black haired girl was grabbed by the robber, gun at her head. The Devil fell to his knees. She knew what was about to come next. She had lived it.

Pause.

"See?" A black finger pointed at the man reaching for his gun. He clicked on some icon multiple times and when the footage started playing again, it was in a slow motion. "Like a second before you elbow your attacker, he tilts his head, as if he knows what you're about to do – hell, he actually might. The moment you move, he moves too and then he's shot. If he hadn't moved, he could have been dead. Or in a critical condition. The bullet only hit his arm, see." She thought she heard a smile in the sergeant's voice.

She was oblivious to the rest of the footage despite having eyes on it.

"You managed to save his life and yours too." He closed the laptop. "Now let's get you home, hm?"

She looked up and saw kindness in his face. "Thank you."

They left the police station together. Vera tried to be invisible while walking among the officers, but she could sense them staring. Somewhere along the way, he gave her back her purse. She was pleased. She had no idea when she had lost it. It slipped her mind since she had been kinda occupied before.

Outside, Sergeant Mahoney stopped at one of the police cars and she followed his example, standing at the back door, waiting for his invitation. He turned to her, surprised. "You prefer the backseat?"

She was confused. "Uhm. No. But I thought-"

He huffed. "Please. Backseat is for criminals. Come on." He gestured to the front seat and she obeyed. "Address?" he asked as she closed her door. She had to admit it felt better, sitting in the front.

She told him the address and he just nodded, obviously knowing it. The ride was quiet for a long time. She fidgeted with the apron of her uniform.

"Can I ask you something? Off the record?"

Her head snapped up to him. What could he possibly want to know? "Okay," she agreed carefully.

"I was just wondering. You met him before? The Devil?" His eyes observed her attentively, not really watching the road.

Vera was torn. Should she tell him about the mugging? She never went to police with it - but what could he possibly do to her? She decided to stick with the truth. It wasn't a crime, to be assaulted, after all.

"Yes. Yes I did," she admitted. "But I don't know who he is," she added immediately.

He laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Does anyone even know him? He's a ghost. All we know is that he's a man with extraordinary fighting skills and ears tuned to the cries-for-help channel. What happened?"

"I was jumped in the alley. Tried to fight the guy off and ran. There was another one." She gulped. "With a knife. The Devil saved me." And I gave him a midnight snack.

He remained silent for a while.

"You never came to the precinct to report it." It wasn't an accusation. Simply a note.

"No. I…I haven't seen their faces." Liar. "There was no point. He saved me. I wanted to get home as fast as possible."

The car slowed down, then stopped. He looked at her, plea to face him too. She did. He still wore kind expression, sympathetic.

"Thank you, Sergeant," she said simply. She didn't know how else to express her gratitude.

"It's alright. Get some rest." She nodded and opened the door. He touched her forearm and she turned to face him once again. "And remember. Tonight, you're the hero."

She froze when an idea appeared in her mind. "If anyone asks you…reporters, anyone, you won't give any name, right?" Oh god, she would not want that. Like at all.

"No. Of course not. It's classified. One customer, four employees. Four robbers. The vigilante. No more, no less. "

Vera let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. Good night."

"Night."

When the apartment door closed behind her, she rested her head against it. She eyed her watch, shocked it was still in one piece. It was past midnight. She would shower, but she was too exhausted. She made her way to the bedroom, tossed her purse next to the bed, carefully stripped of her coat and uniform without using her left hand and put her upper part of her pyjamas on.

She landed on the bed without attempt to move ever again in her life. She had never got to covering herself before falling in a restless sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Ježiši Kriste. – Jesus Christ.
Doprdele. – Shit.
Bože, stůj při mě. - God, stand by my side./ Heaven help me.
No to si ze mě děláte prdel. – You gotta be fucking kidding me. /You gotta be shitting me.