Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)

"Devil? Yeah, right," Foggy stared at the news paper clutched in his hands. I rolled my eyes. I've been resisting saying anything about that article all day. "Guy's a coward." He walked away from me and into the office with the others. They've spent all day working some case. Of course when I say 'they' I mean Karen and Matt. Foggy's too hung up on the man in the mask.

I tuned him out as I finished up with their printer. Yesterday it decided to start squirting ink everywhere. I, unfortunately, only know how to make it work for a little while after it's stopped. I don't know how to make it stay working. I wipe what ink I can off my hands with a rag, walking up next to Foggy in the door way.

"Please tell me I don't detect a hint of admiration for that terrorist," Foggy was staring at Karen.

"This is just all speculation," she argued. "Nobody knows if he's a terrorist or what."

"You're absolutely right. Terrorists have causes," Foggy shot back. He was looking for someone to argue with about this. For some reason he's determined to get someone to believe him that the man in the mask, or 'The Devil of Hell's Kitchen', is a terrorist. "They claim responsibility. This guy's just a nut job." He tossed the baseball in his hands in the air. He reached out to catch it and moaned, clutching his side.

"Dude, catch with your other hand," I said.

"Yeah. It's downgraded to agony," he agreed.

"All right," Karen said. "What do you think, Matt?" He'd been sitting at the desk, quietly reading. I'm sure he's been trying to tune us out. "I think Foggy will be pitching for the Mets by mid-season," he said sarcastically.

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. Have you seen their bullpen?" Matt's question was rhetorical, which made it even funnier. I chuckled, along with Karen. Foggy, though, stayed serious, determined to see this through. "Come on," he said, "you're telling me this guy blowing up our backyard doesn't make you mad. At all?"

"What happened to Hell's Kitchen, to you, Dani, and Elena, and to all the people that were hurt," I could tell Matt was choosing his words wisely. He paused for a second, thinking. "Yeah, it makes me mad. But this man, whoever he is, whatever his motive, he shouldn't be tried and convicted in the press. We're lawyers, we know that's not how it's supposed to work." That was the polite way of telling Foggy to drop it.

Right now, I'm just the fly on the wall. I don't want to say anything that might incriminate me. And I was hoping the discussion would've ended there, but then Karen drug it a bit further, "So, uh, hypothetically, if this guy got caught…needed counsel, Nelson and Murdock would offer to defend him?"

"NO!" Foggy answered before the question mark landed on the end of Karen's sentence.

"It would be his right," Matt corrected.

"What about my right to punch him in the melon?" Foggy asked. I swear, the two sound like an old married couple half the time. "They pulled a piece of glass out of my side. Elena needed twelve stitches. And Dani needed…" he paused and looked at me.

"I…lost count at twenty," I said sheepishly, knowing it wouldn't help drop the subject. The running story is that I was out working a case and got caught in one of the blasts. I don't know if Foggy believed it or not, but the fact that I'm hurt because of all of this is helping him to prove his point.

Foggy made a gesture like I was proving his point, before continuing, "And you want to Perry Mason the guy who's responsible?"

"No one knows he's responsible," I said. "Right now, he's just the only suspect. As a lawyer, Foggy, you should want the right man behind bars. So he can't do it again." I half grumbled the last part.

"The whole things moot. After shooting those cops, police are probably looking to settle things the old-fashioned way if they catch up to him."

"Yeah, it's more than likely," Matt said. He didn't seem his usual self. Maybe it's just the topic of the conversation getting to him. "I wonder…" Karen said. "I wonder what Angel is thinking about all of this?" I rolled my eyes as Foggy's grew wide. You know, I think he did forget who I was. Just for a split second.

"She probably knows who the guy is," Foggy said, shooting a glance my way. I, ever so slightly, shook my head.

"Really? You think they've met?"

"The town blew up," I said. "I think right now anything's possible. I mean, they could be working together or they could just now be finding out about the other. But, I think the question that should concern us the most is if they're on the same side. Just going off of the names the press has given them, you'd think they were enemies. I mean, really. Who's ever heard of an angel and the devil teaming up to save a city?" The room went quiet. I had to lay it on a little thick. There's no way I'm letting this cat get out of this bag.

"Just a thought," Karen said, "but we may want to go a bit peppier at the end of the day. Leave on a note slightly higher than deeply depressing."

"Then don't become a private investigator," I smirked. Foggy pointed at Karen, "She's right. You're bringing us down, Dylan."

"What?" I said sarcastically. "You hoped on that depressing train the moment you saw that article." He ignored me and instead picked up his baseball bat.

"High note! Softball!" he said with WAY too much enthusiasm. "When are we getting a company team together?" Karen gathered her things, chuckling. I rolled my eyes and then walked out into the main room to fetch my coat. "We have three employees," Karen argued. Foggy turned to me with a questioning look.

I shook my head. "I'm not on your payroll, Nelson. And I plan to keep it that way." He shot me a look like I was being ridiculous as the tip of the bat fell to the floor. Karen walked to the door and began putting on her coat. "At least two of them aren't blind," Matt spoke loud enough so Karen could hear, as he adjusted his glasses.

"Naysayers, each and every one of you," Foggy said, jabbing a figure toward each of us. "Karen, come on!" He walked closer to her. "Batting practice, you and me, Chelsea Piers. What do you say?"

"I would, it's just that I have this thing."

"Go, do that thing. Not a problem."

"Okay, um…see you tomorrow."

"We'll be here," Foggy said, clearly disappointed. Karen waved and then left. I stood by the desk with Matt, clutching my coat in my hands. I sighed, tired from a day of doing nothing. "Well, I'm out of here, too," I said.

"Thank you, Miss Dylan," Matt said, "for…fixing the printer, again."

"Yeah, well…I'd suggest getting a new one," I shrugged, jokingly.

"Oh, come on," Foggy said. "If we did that, you'd never come by again." Matt and I chuckled.

"No, I would," I said it like he was stupid for suggesting otherwise. And he was. I love coming here and shooting the breeze with these guys. And Foggy and I have always had fun together. He's just desperate, right now. I unfolded my coat, trying to get up the guts to put it on. Everything I do hurts. I must've been staring at the coat in my hands longer than I thought, because I hear Matt say, "Would you like some help with that?"

I could tell by his tone he wasn't joking. He was being completely serious. He might not be able to see the stitches on the side of my forehead, but he knew I was injured the other night. And, a lot worse than Foggy was. Of course no one knows it was a bullet, but stitches are stitches. "Yes, please." Matt was standing before I finished speaking.

He stood next to me and I gave him my coat. He held it open for me by the collar. I slowly slid each arm into it's spot, only wincing once. He then gently pulled the coat up onto my shoulders, at its final resting spot. He pulled my mop of hair out of the coat for me. I turned around and looked at him, "Thank you." I buttoned the top two buttons.

"You're welcome, Miss Dylan," Matt nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. Suddenly, Foggy cleared his throat. "Not in front of the children!" he spat the words out like an old lady, scolding us for about to make out in front of toddlers. Matt and I laughed as Foggy stormed past us, a mock disapproving look on his face. I walked to the doorway and Matt went back to his desk. I turned around and smiled, "Goodnight, guys."

Foggy popped out from around the corner, like nothing ever happened, still wielding the bat, "Later, Dani!" I chuckled. Where does he get all of his enthusiasm? "Goodnight," I could hear the smile in Matt's voice. I nodded and then headed for the door.

Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

My knuckles slammed into Dani's apartment door. It only took a second for her to open it. Her expression was exhausted, spread thin. "What can I do for you, Alison?" she asked, slowly. I inhaled. Trying to control the utter rage I felt inside seemed pointless, but I held it in as best I could as I replied, "Wanna tell me why you just happen to have the code to a satellite, and why my son was able to access it in order to aid a vigilante, all under your roof?"

"Alison, I-"

"How did Angel even know you had a satellite and what the code was?" I asked, interrupting. "You know what- I don't care. I don't even want to know. My son could've been put in serious danger being involved in last night's escapade, and you've made him an accessory to whatever crimes the police want to throw at the man in the mask. I trusted that he would be safe here. That's what you told me. But, obviously, I can't trust anything you say at all."

"I'm so sorry this happened. I didn't think he'd be able to find where I'd hidden the code to the satellite. And I don't know why some vigilante knew I had it," she explained, still seeming a bit worn.

"Yeah, well...now I can't trust you. First you bring a bleeding masked man into my home. Then you let Chase sit by himself at school. And now this. And you know, I'm sorry, too. Because it's going to take time, this time, before I can trust you again," I said. It was a second long and small, but I could've sworn I saw her eyes softening. She steeled back to her usual resolve as soon as I thought I'd seen it. "I just wanted to let you know, I'm highly disappointed in you."

After dropping that, I turned and started for my car. Dani didn't try to stop me. Or respond in any way, actually. I slid in behind the wheel and started the engine. The next stop was Matt's apartment. I had to make this point elsewhere. Seeing as I wanted nothing to do with Angel at the moment, I would have to go through a middle man—the mask. Or Matt Murdock. Either way you look at it, I'm getting my message passed along.

Especially if he's going to be continuing to team up with her. I got to Matt's apartment building and headed straight for his door. I was in a lot of pain last time I was here, but even I could find my way back. Once again my knuckles met wood as I knocked twice, then stepped back to wait, sliding my hands into my coat pockets. There was a brief pause and nothingness before the door pulled open, revealing Matt still wearing his vigilante get-up. "Alison, this isn't really a good time," he said, seeming miffed.

"We need to talk," I slid past him into the apartment. He closed the door as I reached the living room. My feet froze in their place not even three steps in, and my eyes rounded. An older looking man stood by the coffee table with white hair and a weathered face. Almost immediately I noticed the gloss of his eyes. He was blind. "And here you said she wasn't coming back," the man commented, his tone snidely sarcastic. "What's your name?"

Matt didn't waste time coming into the living room, stopping near my side. "Alison Fletcher," I answered, raising a brow. I looked to Matt. "Don't tell me I missed the sarcastic blind guys' association convention. Obviously he knows about this." I gestured toward Matt's lower half, knowing he couldn't see it. He'd sense it anyway.

Matt squared his jaw, hiding a sigh. "I told you this wasn't a good time."

"Yeah, that's what you said right before you said goodbye," I defended, turning to him. "We don't all have super senses, Matt. Some of us are just human."

"Ouch." The other blind man in the living room sounded less than pleased, but he also sounded amused at the same time. Matt turned a little to face both of us. "Shut up," he told the blind man.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize your little breakup was private," the man said, sarcastically. He turned around and moved to the couch, taking a seat with a sigh. Matt seemed to only get further annoyed by his comment. I felt completely third-wheeled. This was a bad idea. Way to go, Alison. The man's tone turned mocking at his next words. "Boo-hoo. Stick left me. Think I'll bury my sorrows between the legs of supermodels."

"Don't push it, Stick," Matt warned, taking a step forward. The man referred to as 'Stick' stood from the couch and stepped closer to Matt. "Or what? I'm trying to teach you how to stay alive," Stick said. "And here you are, throwing it all away, because you're having too much fun with a girl. You're worse than your old man. Born to lose Battlin' Jack. At least your daddy got paid when he hit the floor."

"Okay. Let's get some things straight, buddy," I spoke up, crossing my arms in annoyance. "I'm no one's girl. And the next thing you say better be an apology, because you don't want to go down that road."

Stick huffed a mocking chuckle. "What road?"

"The road where you say things about my friends that I don't like," I replied.

"And what exactly are you going to do, huh? I know who you are, what you do. You sit behind a desk and write about stuff no one really cares about. Just because I can't see doesn't mean I don't know what's in the papers, kid. The Angel of Hell's Kitchen?" he chuckled again. "Please. Angel my-" Suddenly Matt lunged at Stick, grabbing Stick by his shirt. I stepped back on a startle. Stick easily turned Matt around, twisting his arm behind his back, locking his position.

I covered my gaping mouth with my hand, my heart beating now in my throat. Matt heaved for a breath a second. Then he managed to break free from Stick's grasp with a drastic flip, landing on his feet, and turning to face Stick with his fists ready to fight. Stick was poised ready as well. He chuckled a third time, this time sounding more interested. "Took you twenty years to learn how to get out of that," he commented, almost sounding prideful.

Matt nodded, putting down his fists. "Yeah, I've learned a lot since you've been gone."

"Like what?" Stick mocked.

"You're an idiot," Matt responded, almost instantly.

"That's true. You got any beer?" My hand fell to my side and I stared in confusion. Really? What is wrong with this guy? "Yeah, in the fridge," Matt answered. Stick turned and made for the kitchen, and Matt stepped over to me. "You okay?"

I blinked. "Seriously? No, I'm not okay—not in any form of the word. Look, I came here to tell you to tell Angel I said to back off. That's it. I-"

"What do you mean? Back off?" Matt now was the confused one. I exhaled and closed my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose. After a second I reopened them and slid my hands into my pockets. I nodded. "Yeah. I don't want her involved with my son again. Once was enough but, Matt, she had Chase use a satellite to help her get into the warehouse last night," I vented, feeling the anger I originally had billow up.

He sighed, turning away a bit. "I take it this isn't your kid we're talking about, Matty?" Stick assumed sitting on the couch with a beer in hand. "Please say it isn't."

"We are not talking about anything," I snapped, looking around Matt at Stick.

"Excuse me." I inhaled, practically fuming. I opened my mouth to say something but Matt's fingers encircled my arm, stopping me. "Don't. He's not worth it," he said, turning back to face me completely. "I'll tell Angel to stay away from Chase, okay?"

I nodded, trying to calm myself. "Thanks."

"So, you wanna know why I'm here, or what?" Stick called from the couch. Matt sighed and started for the chairs. "I thought the suspense was supposed to kill me," he said, dryly, sitting. I turned to leave, but stopped at Stick's voice. He said, "Why don't you stick around, kid? You might learn something useful." I rolled my eyes at the jab. But it would be nice to know what exactly Matt was going to get beat up doing. That way I can actually put an action to the stitches.

I forced myself to keep my mouth shut, and started for the chair left of Matt's. "It's the war, Matty. Never-ending war," Stick told Matt, as I dropped into the available chair. This guy sounds more and more like a nut job. Maybe staying wasn't such a good idea after all. I could still leave. "With who? You never got around to that part," Matt asked.

"Now, the Japanese, mostly," Stick replied.

"Look, I don't want you tearing up Hell's Kitchen going after the Yakuza."

"Yakuza? You don't know what's going on in your own backyard. That guy that was yappin' with that old man you slapped around-"

"Come again?" I raised an eyebrow, looking to Matt. Stick and Matt ignored me, continuing on with the conversation. "He's pretty high up. Goes by a lot of names. Using Nobu this time around," Stick finished, before taking a pull from his beer.

"So, Nobu- you want him so bad, why'd you let him get away back in the garage?" Matt questioned.

"I don't want him. I want what's on the ship he's meeting at the docks tonight," Stick corrected.

"Right, Owlsley was talking about that," Matt thought aloud.

"What's he bringing in? Drugs or something?" I asked, sitting forward. The journalist in me was overbearingly curious. I couldn't help but ask. Stick sighed. "A weapon. They call it Black Sky, the bringer of shadows," he answered.

"What kind of weapon?" Matt asked.

"The kind you don't want in your world." I looked at Stick skeptically. Really? He sounded like some dystopian nut. Matt was quiet a minute. I glanced between the men, unsure of what was going on. Then Matt said, "Just say it."

"Say what?" Stick grumbled.

"Say that you want my help," Matt clarified.

"I want you to help yourself. Nobu and his guys and in tight with Fisk. You them, you hurt baldy-"

"You know about Fisk?" Matt asked, not really a question.

"I know a lot of stuff. This beer for example-" Stick held up his beer bottle a little. "-Is awful." I refrained from chuckling a little. This guy may be crazy but he's got dry humor down pat. At least that's one thing he has going for him. "After all your talk about cutting friends loose, and...now you need one," Matt commented, pleased with himself.

"I don't need a friend. I need a soldier," Stick argued, calmly. "Committed. Not some bleeding-heart idealist hanging onto half measures."

"You don't know anything about what I'm doing here," Matt shook his head. Stick sighed. He leaned forward a bit. "Kid, in war, people die. If it's not you, it's the guy next to you. How many men have you killed protecting this city?" Stick questioned. Matt inhaled and Stick gesture out in a case in point kind of way before sitting back. "You're still afraid to cross that line," he pointed out.

"And what's wrong with that?" I asked. "What is wrong with having even just a shred of humanity? Which—correct me if I'm wrong—you don't have."

"Someday, it's gonna come down to you or the other guy. If it's not Fisk, somebody else. What're you gonna do then?" I could see his point, but it was still infuriating. There was no winning with this man. Matt sighed. "Yeah, a Russian asked me the same thing recently...right before he died," Matt said.

"Are you the one that put him in the ground?" Stick asked, somewhat hopeful.

"No," Matt shook his head once.

Stick nodded. "Half measures, Matty. Ah, forget it. Ride with me tonight- help me destroy Black Sky, keep it off the streets, and I promise you this: Wilson Fisk will know the taste of fear the day he faces you 'cause you kicked the guy he's afraid of right in the nuts. What do you say, kid?"

Matt was quiet a minute. He turned toward me a bit, his face looking sort of in my general direction. "What do you think about all this, Alison?" he asked me. Stick grumbled an annoyed sigh, taking another drink of his beer. What did I think about it? I tried not to let Stick's presence sway my words. I inhaled. "I think if you do this, you'll probably end up regretting it," I answered, truthfully. "There should at least be one rule—no killing. From either of you."

Matt nodded in agreeance, turning back toward Stick. "What she said. We don't kill anyone." Stick, his expression full of annoyance and mocking, held up his right hand. "I swear to not kill anybody," he said, closed-eyed. He dropped his hand with a huff and stood. "Wimp." Matt stood and I quickly followed suit. He turned to me. "I'll talk to Angel tonight. I think I'm probably going to need her help with this one. Mainly keeping Stick in line," he said.

I nodded, before wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug. "Okay. Just be careful."

"Don't I always?" I could hear the smile in his voice as he hugged me back briefly. We parted, and he followed Stick up to the roof access door. My shoulders dropped—along with my heart—as I heard it click shut behind them.

Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)

I closed the door, not trying to stop Alison. She was right. It was stupid of me to let Chase help. And I even instigated him. Even though he called me…this all falls on me. If something were to happen to Chase because of that night, it'd be my fault. I sighed, pressing my forehead into the back of the door. Had I gotten caught, someone could've traced the phone back here. I've gone over it a hundred times. But, I never could've helped save the Mask without Chase's help.

Maybe I'm going about this all wrong. Maybe this town doesn't need some person in a mask. Maybe it needs the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent I'm trying not to be anymore. "You okay?" I turned around and saw Mary, holding her baby a few feet away. I shrug. She nods. "I suppose you don't want to talk about it?" she asked cautiously. I shrug. She nods, "Okay."

"I've gotta go meet a client," I said, pointing at the door.

"Since when do you go to them?" she saw right through my bluff. She knows I haven't had a client in a week, besides Alison. I looked at her and shrugged, "That's life." I grabbed my keys of the coffee table and then opened the door. I figure Alison's probably long gone. So I think the coast is clear. I waved and then left. I drove two hours away, to the most remote location I could find.

I pulled up next to a black car and cut the engine. I wiped the trip monitor before getting out of the car. That way, if this goes south, he won't know how far I traveled to get here. I closed the door as a man exited from the black car. Wesley. Dressed in his usual fancy suit, tie, and those annoying black rimmed glasses. "Mind telling me what this is all about?" he said, walking around the front of his car to me.

"I know you had something to do with Alison's kidnapping," I said. "Whether you planned it or you just took the opportunity to get her out of the way, I don't know. But you got the wrong girl."

He looked confused for a second. "What are you talking about?"

"If it's information on the man in the mask, or 'The Devil of Hell's Kitchen', that you're after, I'm the one who helped him that night and have been still. I'm the one you should be after."

"Tell me, Miss Dylan, are you this…close to all your clients or just the ones who have children who grew up without a father?"

"You're not the only one who's done his research, Mr. Wesley," I smirked. His face dropped, a spark of fear appearing in his eyes. "You're just the only one who doesn't know how to use his information wisely." I couldn't help the grin on my face. He's going to need to clean out his shorts when he gets home. "I need to know what exactly it is you want from the Fletchers."

"My, uh…employer can't find out about them," he said. I put my hands in my pockets, raising an eyebrow. He sighed.

"You tried to have Alison killed."

"I know. That was an…unfortunate turn of events." What is he talking about? He told the Russian mob who she was so they'd kill her in the name of getting intel on an enemy. I raised my eyebrow again, completely confused. He sighed heavily. "I'm sure she's told you about what happened, ten years ago, between us…?"

"Yeah, you tried to kill her then, too. I'm starting to see a pattern."

"I've worked for my employer for some time now. Only recently have we become…we've established mutual grounds. But, when I first started, he was ruthless. You had to make yourself disappear, and if you didn't, he would," he sighed, taking a quick look around. We're in the middle of nowhere on a gravel road. Is he that afraid of Fisk? I finally looked back at me.

"I'm telling you this because I'm hoping you can help me keep them safe."

"Whoa, what?" I said. "Keep them-what is the matter with you? Don't me telling your playing the 'I had good intentions' card. You got that one pulled out of your deck a long time ago. Like back whe-" I stopped mid word, my mind taking over. And then I had light bulb moment. "He told you to get rid of them," I half whispered the words. Wesley nodded. "Even if, and that's the world's biggest if, I believed your story…what is your end game?"

"To protect them, from my employer. For the rest of my life, if I have to. But, if he were to…find out," he briefly closed his eyes, sighing, "it would be the end of all of us. Me, Alison, Chase, You…those two lawyers and their assistant. Anyone she'd ever spoken to, or knew in anyway."

I nodded, processing the information. I knew Fisk was a tyrant, but…killing all of us at once? That would be too conspicuous. He'd need to do it a couple at a time, over the course of a few months. Unless he was so enraged he didn't care. "Who's your employer?" I asked. He glanced around again, then back to me. "Do you want my help or not?"

He sighed through his nose, closing his eyes. "His name is Wilson…Fisk."

I nodded. "I'll help you protect them. But the only way to do that is to stop Fisk," I said, turning to walk back to my car. I opened the driver's door, then looked back at him. "Work your magic and give Angel and the Mask some slack. I'll be in touch." I got in the car and started the engine. There's no way I'm whole heartedly trusting this guy, but if he can help us take down Fisk…it's worth the risk. That wasn't supposed the rhyme.

Before I drove away, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I watched Wesley drive away, then flipped the phone over in my hand. My thumb pressed the red x, stopping the recording. I'll delete the part where he said my name, but I want the Mask to here this. I drove back home and began my trek up the stairs to the top floor. I made it the third floor, when Angel's phone started buzzing.

Speak of the devil. Literally. I dug the phone out of my coat pocket, stopping in the stairwell. I confirmed it was him, then answered. "Yeah?"

"Bad timing?" he asked.

"No, why? Is everything okay?"

"How fast can you get to the docks?"

I smiled. "How fast do you need me?" I moved to the next chunk of stairs and began trotting up them. I heard someone grumble something in the background, but couldn't make it out. I reached the fourth floor and picked up the pace a little. The Mask quickly grumbled something unintelligible, as well, before answering me. "Angel, just…" he sighed in annoyance, but something told me that it wasn't directed at me. "Just come as quickly as you can."

"The last time you called, the town blew up and I got shot. So, what exactly am I walking into?" I reached my apartment, but didn't enter. I stood in the hall outside the door.

"Nothing that eventful," he chuckled. "Just bring your bow. I'll explain when you get here." The line quickly went dead. I ran inside and changed. It's late, so Mary's asleep. But I left her a note so she wouldn't worry. I hurried out the roof access and then made my way across town. Ten minutes and I was close to the docks. I was constantly checking my surroundings, not sure what I'd find. But, there's no sign of the Mask. My guess is that he'll find me.

I continued walking, feeling totally out in the open. I came across a field of shipping crates and knew I had reached the docks. I went a little further, in between two of the crates. A shadow crossed my path from above. I stopped and turned to the right. The Mask stood atop a crate looking down at me. He crouched down, reaching his hand out toward me. I grabbed his hand with my left and he helped hoist me up onto the crate. "Angel," he smirked.

"Mask," I said, trying to hide the pain from my back. "What are we doing? I noticed there aren't a lot of people around."

"There's a reason for that. Come on." He stood. I realized he hadn't let go of my hand when he used it to tug me to my feet. I follow him across several crates. The closer we got to the water, the quieter his footsteps got. If that were even possible. We jumped from a crate to the roof of a building. He bent down, keeping level with the wall surrounding the roof. I followed suit, as he led me to the corner of the roof where a man was waiting. "About time," the man said in a low voice.

I rolled my eyes, letting the jab blow over my head. "I needed your help tonight," the Mask says, "because a man named Nobu is bringing in some cargo tonight, that he shouldn't."

"And he wanted you here to help keep an eye on me," the old man said. He was wearing street clothes and blacked out sunglasses. Yeah, that's not suspicious. I glanced at the Mask. "This is Stick. He has a tendency," the Mask started, then glanced at the man, "to not keep his word. And kill people." There it is. The Mask's moral compass must be flying out of control. But if this guy likes to kill, why'd he team up with him?

Before I could respond, a few black SUVs pulled up not too far away from the building we were on. "This is like a really terrible game of hide and seek," I whispered.

"You have no idea, kid," Stick said. We each to a position at the edge of the roof. A crane was beginning to lower a shipping crate on the ground in front of the men below. An older Japanese looking man stood in front of one of the SUVs. I'm betting that's Nobu. He looks like he could be the man in charge. I guess you'd have to be with a scowl like that. "How many do you read?"

"I'm picking up a dozen heartbeats," the Mask replied. I only just realized he was doing that thing where he's listening to something intently. Turns out, he's scoping the joint. "Slow, steady, not even a flutter. There's one more. Stronger…different."

"Nobu," Stick said. So that must be him. Be nice if I, you know, knew a little more about our game plan.

"They're armed. MP7s with suppressors. Somebody wants things quiet."

"We'll be quieter. That is, if your girl can keep up."

I sighed. "Got a thing against women, bub?" A grin creped onto Stick's face. He turned back to the Mask, holding two sticks in his hand. Ironic. "You remember how to use these?" he asked. The Mask quickly shook his head.

"I won't need 'em," he shook his head.

"Yeah, you will. Thin out the herd. I'll take care of the Black Sky."

"How?"

"Just do your job, I'll do mine. Move," Stick said. I half grunted. "Okay," I sighed. "I need an explanation, old man, or I'll blow your sting to kingdom come. That's a promise."

"Watch out," the Mask teased, "she means it." Stick clearly wasn't impressed. Like I care. He looked at the Mask, "Can't you ever find a girl who's not as naïve as you?" Rage built up in me. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. My hand flew to my side. I pulled out my compacted bow, then flicked my wrist. It expanded into a normal sized bow, as I reached behind me for an arrow. The Mask quickly grabbed me, pulling me with him to the other side of the roof. "That's not a good idea," he said.

"Then why bring me here if you're not going to let me in on the plan?"

"I know, I'm sorry. Stick just showed up tonight, needing help stopping Nobu from bringing whatever's in that crate into Hell's Kitchen. I agreed to help him. But, you're right, Angel, I should've been completely honest with you from the start. I don't know what's in the crate, either, but it's not good." He froze, listening. "Why need to go. There about to open the crate. Just don't let them get the crates contents, okay? Follow my lead." I nodded.

I followed him down the back of the building. He pointed in a direction and I went that way looking for a stake out spot. I've slightly upped my arsenal, with a few new knives. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s of course. Which also means I can't leave them behind. It's like: "Hey, guys. We're a top secret government organization. How about we put our logo on everything?" I mean, really. How stupid was that?

But I have six of them on me. I haven't tried pulling back my bow since I was shot. So the knives are a backup plan. Just in case. Hopefully, I won't need them. The men, all dressed in suits, surrounded the whole area. Making sure no one gets in. The crane had almost lowered the crate to the floor. I reached behind me, quietly pulling an arrow out of my quiver and into my bow. Then I went back for another.

I had three arrows strategically placed in my bow. If my injuries will only let me use my bow once…then I better make it count. Like three. Three's a good number to count too. I tightened my grip as I surveyed the area. Movement on the far right caught my eye. A stick can flying out of nowhere, silently smacking some guy in the head. I toppled over into the water, the crane masking the splash.

The crane finally sat the shipping crate down, coming to a loud stop. Two men moved in to open the doors. I heard a chain clinking around, then they moved to pull the doors open. I nearly dropped my arrows. Inside the crate was a boy, chained up in the middle of it. From what I can see, he doesn't look much older than Chase. Nobu stood at the entrance to the crate, staring in.

Okay, this is not right. I don't care what that kid can do, he's still a kid. I do a quick glance around and don't see the Mask. Then I look up to the roof where I know Stick is. So, old man. What game are you playing? I don't know what Nobu wants with this kid, but he and Stick are not getting him.

Nobu nodded toward his men, then walked away. The two men stepped into the crate to unchain the boy. I sighed, not knowing what my next move was. "Mask," I whispered, just barely enough to make out the words, "he's just a kid." I was borderline pleading, trying to get my message across. I just hope he got it. Of course, I'll bet there's no way he's letting Stick have this kid.

The men pulled the boy out of the crate and stood him before Nobu. I moved in a little closer, trying to get a better shot. Still no sign of the Mask. I pulled my bow back, ready to shot someone. The further I pulled back my arm, the more stitches I could feel ripping. I bit my bottom lip, trying to ignore it. But now, standing turned to the side, something caught the corner of my eye. I looked away from my target and up onto the roof. I could just barely see Stick. He's standing, holding a bow aimed at Nobu and the boy.

I swore under my breath, quickly twisting, pointing my bow at Stick. He wanted what was in that crate. The Mask said it was a weapon. Stick is just crazy enough to shot a boy in cold blood. I twist my wrist, turning the bow on it's side. Stick's figure moved and instantly mine left my bow. I watched my blue feathered arrows as best I could. The first one knocked the bow out of Stick's hands. The second I lost track of.

The third arrow struck Stick's. Mine went into the water, but Stick's went off course flying straight into the crate. Guns started firing and men started yelling things in another language. This is just a guess, but…Japanese? I sighed with relief, then reached for another arrow. The Mask literally flipped out of the shadows. I stepped out into the light, shooting the first person I came to.

Nobu's men grabbed the boy and rushed him into the back of a van. I shot one of them in the back. I readied an arrow to shoot the other, raised the bow, began pulling the string back…the wound on my back split completely open. I muffled a scream, my hand slipping off the end of the arrow. The arrow imbedded itself into the side of the van, after skipping on the pavement. I groaned in frustration, as the van drove away.

The Mask was fighting the rest on Nobu's men. I switched my bow into my right hand. I readied three more arrows. Been a while since I've done it this way. I raised the bow and aimed for the men the Mask was fighting. I steadied myself, tilted the bow to the left…then released. Three men hit the deck with an arrow in their back. I walked closer, another arrow ready. I aimed and fired, then repeated the process until the Mask was the only one standing.

He stood heaving; one of those sticks in each hand. They got away. Great. I folded my bow as the Mask listened. I slid it into it's holster, then let out a painful sigh/moan. I bent over, my left hand on my leg to support me. "Now I know-" I wheezed. Grunting, I forced myself to stand up right again. "-why he's called 'Stick'…cause he's got one shoved up hi-"

"Are you okay?" the Mask cut me off with a worried tone as he rushed over to me. "Angel, that's a lot of blood."

"I know," I said. He pulled his glove off, then slid his hand down my back to the cut. I winced as he made contact with it. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" he asked. "It's at least half an inch deep, another five inches long."

"Well…I had it under control."

"You need to have Alison look at it."

"No. She's not going to want to see me," I said. His silence told me he knew why. "Look, just…don't worry about me. I'll go home and get it fixed up, I have someone who can help if need be." He nodded, like he was only half listening to me. He slid his glove back on. "Is what Alison said true? About the other night?"

"I don't know what she told you, but Chase called me. I only answered to make sure he was okay. Then he told me he knew where you were…and yes, the part about the satellite's true, too," I sighed, the pain in my back turning into more of a throb. "I stole it from a previous boss of mine. He was a jerk." The Mask chuckled. "But, yeah. That night was crazy. I've thought it through a thousand times. But the only way I could've found you was with Chase's help. So, Alison can be mad at me all she wants…but it was worth it."

He quickly covered the space between us, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me. He drew it out as long as he could. I could tell he didn't want to leave me, and I don't want him to leave either. He pulled his lips away from mine, but still stayed close. His hands still holding my face. I don't have to say goodbye. If I told him who I was he wouldn't have to leave.

Just as those thoughts entered my head, so did the doubt. I remembered the last time my two worlds collided. My brother died. Mary's husband died, Elizabeth was left without a father. She didn't even get to know him. When she's older, she won't remember him either. Even though it hurt to move, I wrapped my arms around him. I buried my head in the crook of his neck and held him. He didn't hesitate to return the hug. I held him like that for few minutes, then slid out of his grip. "I heard you."

"What?" I asked.

"Before the fight. I heard you whisper. I was thinking the same thing," he said. "If Stick shows his face again, I'll do more than just talk to him." I nodded. I turned to leave, but stopped and looked back.

"I want you to know that someday I plan on telling you who I am," I said. "The last time…" I swallowed, "last time didn't…work out. I'm just not ready to reveal myself again. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if…if I did and it turned out like last time." My voice was a little shaky, unsure of the words I was speaking. I wanted to blame it on blood loss, but I knew that wasn't it. I could tell he knew it too.

His face became very serious, almost like he was waiting for the ball to drop. He nodded. "Well, I'm not sure you could handle my day life, so," he shrugged his shoulders. I smiled. His face went serious again. "I'll wait, Angel. When, or if, you're ready…I'll be here. Take your time. Besides…who said it was your name I was after?" He walked up to me, smiling. He held out his hand. "I'll take you half way." I took his hand, a slight smile on my face.