Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)
The van traveled quickly. I tried to keep track of how long we went, but it was a bit hard in the stressful situation. My back pressed against the cold metal at the back of the van. My fingers picked at the duct tape around my hands, pinning them behind my back. After a few minutes, the vehicle came to a stop. The man driving spoke to the man sitting in the back with me, but I couldn't understand them. It sounded like they were gargling gravel while they spoke.
It was another language, a familiar one, but I couldn't quite place it. The men nodded to each other. Then the one in the back area of the van started moving toward me. I started pulling myself backward, quickly shaking my head, trying to fight it. He grabbed my arm and pulled roughly, yanking me to the van's sliding door. A man outside pulled the door open and grabbed my other arm. I writhed and kicked my legs out. They weren't much use with duct tape keeping both legs together.
But I used all my force to try and do something. They pulled me from the van and I screamed through the tape covering my mouth. My feet managed to clip one of them in the back of the head. It only angered the men, and two others hurried over to wrap their arms around my legs. "She's a little more feisty than original described, huh?" one of the men at my arms commented.
"Just get her to the chair," another said, sounding exasperated. I tried wiggling more but their grips were like iron vices. They shoved me onto a metal chair beside a taxi cab and stepped away from me. Directly in front of me, only a yard or so away, stood a tall man in black leather. He looked menacing. This didn't look good. But I put on the bravest face I could muster, trying to slow my breathing a bit. The tall man gestured toward me.
"Tape? How are we supposed to question her with tape covering her mouth?" he looked around at the others. When all they did was shrug, he sighed heavily. "Fix it, you idiots!" A man to my right hurried forward and gripped the corner of the tape on my mouth with his fingers, then ripped it form my skin. I hissed, wincing audibly at the intense sting. "Who are you people? What do you want with me?" I demanded.
"I'll ask the questions," the tall man said. "All we want are answers. You give them to us, we won't hurt you. Understand?"
I inhaled. "I understand."
"Good. Who is the man in the mask?" His face turned to stone, staring at me with a dead-pan seriousness that could make blood run cold. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know who the man was behind that idiotic excuse for a mask so I couldn't really tell this guy. I held my chin up, keeping silent. My hands shook behind me and I clasped them together to hold them still. He looked to a man at his right, then tipped his head toward me.
The man started for me and I braced myself. Solidity slammed the left side of my face, by my cheekbone. A force nearly threw me off the chair. Dense pain radiated up through my eye socket and a jaw felt loose. Then another hit to the same place, followed by a hit to my stomach. It forced all the wind from my lungs and I coughed repeatedly as I desperately tried to suck in a breath. My whole middle ached and my face stung.
"Let's try this again," the tall man announced. "What...is his name?"
I pulled myself up to sit as best I could on the cold metal chair, but my body just wanted to bend in half. I looked up at him a second. Then I gathered up enough saliva in my mouth and spat it at his feet. "Alright then," he gestured for the man at my left, just waiting to hit me again. And he did. With the next hit to my jaw, I tasted blood. This time the man didn't stop easily. I lost count as his fist repeatedly connected with my skin, over and over.
"Enough. Don't kill her quite yet," the tall man ordered. I drooped back into the metal chair in what I'm sure was a pool of my own blood. My left eye felt raw, and it stung badly. I was sure my lip was split and blood started to pool in my mouth. I rolled myself aside to spit it out. It only twinged the already stinging and burning skin on my face. I heard a ting, an odd metallic sound, and looked up as best I could through my right eye.
One of the men now held a silver baseball bat, and he twirled it in his hand. "Tell me his name," the tall man demanded, standing a foot from my chair. "Or this time, I won't tell him to stop." The man with the bat suddenly struck the taxi cab's window to the right of my head and I gasped sharply, dodging left as best I could. The glass tinkled to the ground and trailed onto my shoulder.
"What is it going to be, huh? Tell me...his name."
I looked up, shaking my head. "I don't know, I swear. He never told me," I admitted. My skin trembled a little as I glanced at the man holding the bat, my heart beating in my throat now. "Please, I don't know, okay? I don't know- I don't know his name!" The man with the bat seemed angered by my words. He lifted the bat and marched toward me and I shriveled into my chair. A small shriek escaped me.
"Not yet, you idiot!" the tall man said. I looked up. "We need her alive for now. Use your fists."
"No, no- please, I don't know who he is!" I pleaded, desperately. Of course, they didn't listen. The man with the bat was eager to hit something and I guess I just fit the bill. More pain, more blood, more hitting. Hits not only to my face but to my middle. Without a mirror I can't know what I look like but the whole left side of my face—and now my right side as well—felt like I'd used a cheese grader instead of a razor. More blood filled my mouth and it spilled from my mouth as I spit it out, nearly choking on it.
"This is your last warning. What is his name?"
I raised my head. One thought came to mind—Chase. These men obviously aren't going to be satisfied with another 'I don't know' and most likely I won't make it out of here. Everything started running through my head at warp speed. Do I trust Dani enough to watch Chase even after I'm dead? How is my mom? Who's going to tell her I can't go to Aunt Laura's estate due to my recent death? Am I okay with the way I left things with Foggy?
Suddenly the lights of whatever garage looking place we were in shut off, shrouding everything in a lick layer of darkness. "Sergei, check the breaker," the tall man said. The men said things in the other language, the one they used in the van. Just then it hit me—they were speaking Russian. These are the Russians. A whizzing sound caught my attention. I looked up just in time to see an arrow lodge itself into the tall man's thigh. He cried out, holding his leg.
Various grunts, slams, and other indescribably odd sounds came from behind. The vigilantes. Great, I thought. I used the darkness to slide forward out of my chair. My knees hit the cement and I winced as a pain shot up my spine. I hissed, worming my way closer to the taxi cab. A barrage of gunfire startled me and I whirled around. In the light the bullets caused bouncing off other taxi's, I caught a glimpse of the man in the mask. He punched some guy in the face.
A volley of arrows was sent across the top of the cab, toward men across the garage from me, practically dropping them all to their knees. Boots suddenly came inches from hitting my face, followed by legs and a familiar face. Angel dropped down beside me. "Are you okay?" she asked, quickly.
She pulled an arrow from a sheath on her back and used the sharp tip to try and saw through the tape on my legs, leaning across me to do it. "No! No, I am not 'okay'!" I replied, angered, like it was obvious. Because it should have been. Even in the dark the smell of the blood alone was enough to quease an iron stomach. Or maybe it's just the blood coming from my nose that's tainting my sense of smell.
Angel managed to cut through the tape at my legs, then moved to cut the tape around my wrists, kneeling behind me now. It was quiet a minute in the garage and I glanced around. Just then, the man in the mask stepped around the front of the taxi cab and I startled. "It's okay, it's me," he assured, kneeling beside me a foot. The tension holding my wrists released and I quickly pulled my hands in front of me. "Let's get you home."
I nodded a little as he leaned forward, putting his arms around my middle. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he hefted me up to my feet, the weight pressing on my sore muscles. A heat radiated up my spine and I audibly winced. I tightened my grip around him as I felt my feet slipping from beneath me. His arms tightened around my middle and I turned into his chest, holding onto him tightly. My chest felt tight and sunken in at the same time.
Without warning, tears poured from my eyes. My whole body trembled as I released the water I'd refused to let out when being beaten. For a moment, the only sound was that of the awful noise crying ensued. It hurt my rib cage to make any movement at all, which made crying even more appealing. The mask's grip around me tightened slightly in a half-hearted reassurance. "Don't worry," he said, semi-quietly. It felt meant for only me. "I've got you."
I tried to rein it in, hold back everything for a later time. It was a challenge. "If I weren't so beat up, I'd laugh," I said, on a tear-soaked wince.
"Do you trust me?"
I didn't know how to respond for a second. I nodded against his shoulder. "Y-yes."
"I'll get you somewhere safe, Alison. I promise." We adjusted my position so that I hung on his left side and Angel's right, one of my arms hooked around either of their necks. I forced myself to swallow down the tears as we started out of the garage, making myself sober.
Walking became a challenge. It was a one-step-at-time scenario. I most likely had some kind of rib injury, whether it is a simple fracture or a break, and it made it hard to move at all without it hurting. But Angel insisted I be home as soon as possible so that Chase wasn't alone.
That thought spurred me on a bit. It may have taken an hour or so but we made it to my building. In the door, around the corner, to the stairwell. We stopped at the bottom, and I looked up at the seemingly endless flights of stairs between us and my door. I exhaled ruefully, the breath shaking. "Why couldn't one of you have flight capabilities?" I muttered, under my breath.
"Sorry. Angel is just a name," I glanced at Angel and she smiled sarcastically. "Sooner we start, the sooner it'll be over." I sighed, but nodded, and we began the ascent. Step by step. Floor by floor. I don't know what hurt more, waiting here or getting up the stairs. "Don't vigilantes have getaway cars?" I asked, at floor three.
"You're thinking of the perpetrators," the man in the mask said, a certain humor to his tone reminiscent of a smile.
"Cops drive cars," I pointed.
"We're not cops," Angel disputed, through a groan, helping heave me up to the last floor.
"Yeah, okay. You have a point." I shoved a trembling hand into my pocket for my keys, praying they'd be there. My fingers encircled the familiar metallic circle and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Angel held her hand out, palm up, and I gave her the keys. She went ahead to unlock the door and I hung on the mask. He shuffled us onward and into the apartment behind Angel.
Pain swirled around in my head in an almost drunken way. The mask helped me to the couch and I eased myself down onto a cushion, my whole body screaming in protest. I clenched my jaw tight and squeezed my eyes shut, fighting a scream of my own making. "Someone needs to make sure Chase is safe," the mask said, turning halfway to see both of us, though his face remained downcast.
"I'll go. Bringing him here is probably the safest thing for him right now," Angel replied.
The mask nodded. "I'll stay with Alison." Angel nodded in response and hurried through my front door, closing it securely behind her. There was a split-second pause. Then the mask started walking toward my open bathroom door, and I raised my eyebrow—against my better judgement. It twinged the right side of my face and I hissed. "Can't hold it?" I asked, riding out the new wave of pain.
He disappeared into the bathroom, not turning on the light, and emerged a moment later with the med bag's strap in his hand. He walked back to me at the couch and dropped the bag on the coffee table. "You keep it in the bathroom," he answered, simply. "Do you have ice?"
I nodded slightly. "In the freezer."
He nodded and turned around, almost mechanically so, and started into the kitchen. He pulled open the freezer door, shadowing the better part of his upper half. "Are you gonna tell me why they were asking about you?" I called, slowly rubbing my shoulder. I heard ice clattering and he shut the freezer door, heading back for the couch. I heard him sigh. He held out the ice pack and I took it, holding it to the right side of my face, the side not completely covered in blood.
He took a seat on the coffee table across from me. "The guy Angel and I took up to the roof was with the Russians. He must have told them somehow that you were here that night, that you were...involved in what I was doing," he finally answered.
"Angel was here, too. Why didn't they ask about her?" I asked, slightly confused.
"Angel hasn't been hurting their operations—as far as I can tell," he explained. "So far, that's just me. Alison, I...I'm so sorry that this happened, to you. I should've watched you and- and made sure they weren't onto you."
"Don't beat yourself up-"
"I need to, um...I need to tell you something."
I paused. "Okay...? Jeff, what is it?"
"My name's not Jeff," He was still a moment, and I waited quietly, holding my breath. His hands slowly reached up to his face, his fingers gripping the black fabric of his mask. They tugged up. My heart beat faster by the second. As his face was revealed, it came into focus. "It's Matthew."
I sat there, practically agape on the couch, accompanied by an unparalleled lack of words. "M-Matt? Matt Murdock? The blind lawyer?" My voice rose in realization with each word. I sat forward a bit, pulling something in my middle, and I quickly moved back. I winced. "How does that even work? You're blind."
"Not entirely. You see, when I was a kid, some chemicals got in my eyes. It blinded me but everything else was so much louder. I can smell, taste, and hear better than any normal person could. The taste of blood in your mouth—it's because of a cut in your left cheek, caused by your teeth biting down," he explained, his face slightly to the left of me. The taste of blood was in fact on my tongue but I couldn't tell where it was from.
I adjusted slightly to remove the pressure forming on my spine, then inhaled a breath. "So...you have heightened senses. Why go around in a mask, kicking people in the face?" I asked, trying not to sound sensitive to the issue. "I mean, you are a lawyer, you must believe in the law a little bit."
He opened his mouth with a weathered expression, but stopped, tipping his head to the right a bit. "Dani is coming up the stairs with Chase," he announced, turning back to me. His demeanor was hesitant. It took a second, but it clicked. He didn't want to leave. "Go. Chase can't know you were here, and Dani doesn't even know I'm still involved," I told him. "I don't really feel like explaining that one right now."
He nodded and stood, sliding his mask back over his face, stopping at his nose. He opened the window in the dining room and slid out, disappearing in a second. Honestly, I didn't want me to be alone. But I promised myself I wouldn't let Chase get tangled up in this. As it is, I'll already have to lie to him about this.
Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)
There's no way I could have taken them on by myself. What happened to Alison… it's horrible- the way she looks…I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Going down that road isn't good. Very rarely do people come back from the long line of 'what if's'. I glance over my left shoulder and know that that's exactly what he's doing.
The Mask and I have been camped on top of the building across the street from Alison's for the last three hours. Funny part is that he doesn't know we're on my building. But, he's been incredibly serious, barely saying a word, since I found him here after dropping Chase off with Alison. I've never had to sneak out of my own building before, so that was interesting.
But thankfully, he seems too focused on Alison to care about what Dani's doing. Even though I can only see half of his face, I can still tell that he has no intentions of letting this go. He blames himself for what happened to Alison. I would too, if I didn't know what I know. Which is that this Dawson character was behind this. Of course, only Dani's supposed to know that.
But I can't let him beat himself up over something that wasn't his fault. Now, I have to decide how important it is to keep my halves apart. But I don't need to tell him I'm Dani to tell him what I know. My arms are crossed, leaning into the top of the brick wall surrounding the roof. My bow is on the ground by my feet.
I clear my throat, causing him to startle a bit, as I adjust my glasses. "This wasn't your fault." I say, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets, turning to face him. He sighed heavily. "Of course it was," he said. "They took her because she helped me- has been- helping me." He shook his head, "If you could've heard the fear in her voice-" He pushed off the wall, taking a few steps away, rubbing a hand over his mouth.
Okay. I can't take it anymore. "I'm serious, Mask. Look, I need to tell you something," I sighed. He turned around to face me. "Alison has her demons, like everyone, but this one has a name: Steve Dawson. Or, at least, that's one of his names. Ten years ago, he was Alison's boyfriend. She told him she was pregnant and he tried to kill her." None of what I was saying seemed to faze him.
So, I continued: "It wasn't long after she moved here that I found out he was here, too. So…I've been working with, I guess you could say, Danielle Dylan, Alison's PI." That part, he didn't like. He opened his mouth to say something, didn't, and then ran his hand across his face again.
"Why?" he asked. "Why put someone else at risk?"
"So that stuff like this doesn't happen," I thrust my arm at Alison's building. "Dylan's being paid, by Alison, to find this guy. She's going to look for him anyway, with or without me. It's probably safer, knowing what we know now, that I'm on her side of this mess. So that this doesn't happen to Dylan as well."
He looked like he wanted to protest and continue the argument, but didn't. "What do you know?"
"That this guy is a ghost. And he wants it to stay that way. Based on what happened tonight, I would have to say he's in bed somehow with the Russians."
"You think he had Alison kidnapped?"
"Yes. I think the Russians were out looking for a lead on you, when he came to them and figured he'd take out two birds with one stone. They'd get the person they're looking for and Dawson would get Alison out of the way, without breaking the agreement he signed with Dylan. Had it worked, Alison would be dead and custody of Chase would fall on him."
"All of this for the boy?"
"This guy has made a living off of being a nobody, being invisible. Chase and Alison, they threaten that, everything he's worked for. If he ends their lives, he stays a ghost…and then no one's around to expose a past he wants hidden," I said. We both went quiet, letting the discussion sink in. I leaned into the wall again, and he went back to staring at Alison's apartment.
About a half hour past, and I swear I could see the sun rising in the distance. "They're not going to come for her. Not right now. If they come again, they'll find a different way." When he didn't flinch, I sighed. I bent down and picked up my bow, every muscle stretching for the first time in hours. I straightened and then looked at the Mask, who was now looking at me.
"Thank you for calling me," he said.
I nodded. "Yeah, sure. Um… you got a better way for me to get a hold of you next time?"
He chuckled. "'Next time'? Do you always get into that much trouble?"
"Only when I'm wearing blue," I smirked. I handed him a piece of folded paper. "Call. You know, when you need me?" I turned and started walking away. I hollered over my shoulder, "I know you're number." I was halfway across the roof, when I stopped and turned around. He stuffed the paper in his pants, a grin on his face. We both lingered, probably each for a different reason.
"Goodnight, Angel," he said.
"'Night, Mask," I replied. I then spun on my heal, running to the edge of the roof. I put my hands on the wall, swinging my legs over it. I land five feet below, on the fire escape I remembered being there. Had to make it look authentic. Sure, he could try to follow me. But, I don't think so. See, thieves have honor, vigilantes have unspoken trust.
I sat on the fire escape for five minutes and then climbed back up onto the roof. He was gone, as I expected. I walked to the hidden door around the corner. I pulled off my glove and placed my hand on the scanner. It glowed green, followed by the sound of the door unlocking. It popped open slightly. I grabbed the handle, pulling it open the rest of the way, then slipped inside.
I walked down the stairs and into my hide out. I slid the wall panel back and then stepped out of the closet. It's so late, or early, I might as well not even bother sleeping. I walked through my room and to my desk. I'd called in a favor the other day, mainly to try and track down the real Steve Dawson. But, so far, no reply.
I wriggled the mouse to make the computer turn back on, and sure enough, my inbox was empty. I sighed and straightened. A floor board creaked as I saw movement in the corner of my eye. I had an arrow in my bow and the string pulled back as far as I could before I could even think the words 'someone's in here'.
A man stepped into the door way, the desk lamp and rising sun helping to illuminate his body. Black caviler, the slightest hint of purple on his chest. A quiver strapped to his back and a bow in hand. I lowered my bow, sighing and inwardly cussing. "You idiot. I could've shot you."
"Wouldn't have been the first time," he said, smiling. "Good reflexes, though." I rolled my eyes as I put my arrow back where it belongs. Clint Barton. If it weren't for the fact that he's family, I would've left him with the rest of my past. I walked to my room and tossed my bow on the bed. I heard him follow and turned around.
"Why did you break in? Ever hear of a door?" I asked. My goal has been to put S.H.I.E.L.D. out of my head. For good. As in forever. But it's kind of hard when your cousin is still one of 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes'. I mean, who calls themselves that? I'll tell you, someone with one eye and his head so far up his-
"You're the one who requested I look into this guy for you," Clint said. "And I decided to use it as an excuse to come and see you. You know, check in?" He eyed me suspiciously, looking me over from head to toe. "But, since you're the one covered in blood, I think you need to explain, first." Right. I almost forgot my jacket was still covered in Alison's blood.
I slipped it off and then threw it into the entrance to my hide out. "Sit," I told him. "And, I'll explain."
