Blaring sirens. Two blocks away, a rush of traffic.
Smoke trailing along the walk… someone chain smoking three buildings down.
Lingering smell of meat and salt. Someone dropped their dinner on the ground and didn't bother to clean it up.
Matt scrunched his nose under his mask- it was almost too much to take in all at once. Even when he wasn't out of practice, pinpointing a single target could be a challenge if he didn't have a place to start.
Nostrils flared, his head darted back and forth as he focused his senses. Raising his head with a strained expression, he kneeled on the edge of the rooftop he was perched upon, scanning the area for conversation.
"-that's what I told her! And she had the audacity to tell me-"
"-because you're absolutely impossible to talk to-"
"-the number you have dialed has been-"
"-don't usually do this kind of thing on the first date-"
"-really need to try and lay low for the time being, at least until-"
-There. A place to start.
Matt moved along the rooftop in silence, honed in on a pair of passerby as they walked by on the sidewalk below. If they were who Matt thought they were, they were in exactly the right place.
"You ask too many questions. Sometimes you need to just count your blessings, man. We were lookin' at five years even before any of that other shit went down."
"Five years's nothing. I'm worried about my safety and shit. We never shoulda gotten tangled up in any of this-"
"Not like we asked for it. Streets are a goddamn jungle these days."
"And we didn't even make off with enough in that haul to clear one grand."
"It's in lockup, bro. We're not 'clearing' jack shit. Like I said, you should just be happy we're not locked up, too."
"Man… why'd I even let you talk me into this in the first place?"
Their footsteps pounded on the pavement beneath them. Two of them, one clearly younger than the other, and more anxious, too. It was them, alright.
After a long breath, Matt sprinted to the edge of the rooftop and vaulted over, leaping from a fire escape into the alley below.
Pounding on the door.
"Matt, c'mon! It's me!"
Foggy's voice echoed through the apartment, rousing Matt from his awkward resting spot on the couch.
"Matt, we both know you can hear me, so there's no point in pretending!"
With a groan, Matt pulled himself from the couch and lurched to the hallway at the entrance to his apartment, not bothering with his cane.
Foggy rolled his eyes at Matt's tired expression as the door swung open for him, leaning on the door frame with one hand. "Hey, Matt."
Matt scratched his chin, looking tired. "…Hi, Foggy."
"Can I come in?"
Matt took a sharp breath, hesitating before responding. "Yeah. Yeah, please do."
"Thanks." Straightening himself out, Foggy stepped past Matt to make his way into the living room. "So where the hell have you been all week?"
"Uh." Matt followed behind him slowly. "Georgia."
Foggy slumped down onto the couch and rested his arms behind him, his face illuminated pink by the flashing billboard outside Matt's window. "Georgia? The hell were you doing in Georgia?"
"Work. I- uh, I took on a new client."
"…In Georgia?"
"I owed Claire a favor."
Foggy groaned quietly. "Yeah, right. With the… mending broken limbs and tweezing bullets out of you and everything."
"…Yeah, more or less."
Foggy shot him a look and then leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression.
Hands cusped together, Matt circled the couch, frowning uncertainly. "…Can I get you a drink or something?"
"God, yes, please. Get some alcohol into me."
Already walking to the refrigerator, Matt snickered, reaching for the coldest can in the back of the fridge and tossing it across the room. Foggy shook his head incredulously as he popped the tab, painfully aware of the fact that his blind best friend had better aim than he did.
Matt grabbed a second can for himself and took a few steps back into the living room, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "Long week, huh, Foggy?"
"Long life."
"Pft." Matt leaned his head back and sipped beer out of his can. "You seem to have embraced HCB well enough. Smells like you've got an entire tub of product in your hair."
"Wha-? Oh, come on, I washed it out before I even came here."
"Try more conditioner."
They shared a quiet laugh, and Foggy leaned forward, groaning into his hands.
"I take it this isn't a social call," Matt noted with a frown.
Foggy took a long pause to answer that, collecting himself and running a hand through his hair. "…I need your help, Matt."
Matt raised an eyebrow at the proposition, rapping his fingers on his beer can. "Foggy, you have the resources of a multi-million dollar law firm at your disposal. You really feel like you need my advice? My biggest client right now is pro-bono."
"No, no. Shit. Ugh…" Foggy made a small shrug and turned back, shooting Matt a look. "I didn't say I needed a lawyer."
Two hands flew out of the darkened alley, grabbing the taller of the two men by the collar and pulling him inside. Shocked, the shorter man leapt at the interruption and then cried out, hurrying in after his friend. His eyes fell on the horned silhouette standing inside, dimly lit by lamplight from the adjoining road, and he froze in place.
Matt tilted his head down. He could sense the man's fear- his trembling hands, his rapidly increasing heart rate, his shortened breaths. It was exactly where Matt wanted him.
In an instant, Matt turned back to back to the taller man and beat him across the face, breaking his nose with a loud crack as he slid down the wall behind him. Almost smiling, Matt kneeled and landed another three punches directly in his face with his right hand, knocking him out cold.
"Jesus Christ, it- it's you!" the shorter man exclaimed with wide eyes, staring at Matt in disbelief. "Y- you're… I thought you… they said you disappeared…"
Matt stood and half-turned, facing toward him with a menacing scowl. "You had bad info."
"W- well, look, I don't know what the hell we did to piss you off, but- ngh!"
Matt cut him off by grabbing his collar and thrusting him into the wall, pressing his forearm into the man's throat and tilting his head down. "You've kept silent to the police. There's someone you're trying to protect. But I'm not as forgiving as they are, and I'm not going to let you."
He leaned back a little, loosening his arm against the man's throat just enough to let him breathe.
"I don't know what you- agh, fuck!"
The man's knee splintered as Matt drove his foot into it, face unflinching. "You and your friend robbed a pawn shop a few weeks ago."
"Fuck, you had to break my leg because we stole a couple hundred bucks worth of shit? Not like we hurt anybody. Most of that shit wasn't even worth what it was listed for; if anything we just helped out the general publ- gck!"
Matt's hand gripped his throat to silence him. The man's heart rate spiked from pain, but stayed steady when he spoke, like he was telling the truth… but there was definitely something he wasn't saying.
"A woman was murdered. You were there. If you didn't kill her yourselves, you saw who did. And you're protecting them." He loosened his hand slightly. "I want a name. Think carefully before you answer."
The man trembled helplessly, and took a long time to come up with a response. "N- no… no name…"
At that, Matt pressed his foot into the man's already broken knee, grinding it against the wall behind the two of them with a loud crack. "Try again."
"No- no! Shit, man!" The man threw his head back against the wall, biting into his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. "I can't! I can't!"
Matt's lowered his foot to the ground, interest piqued. He leaned in, loosening up a little. "I promise, whatever they are threatening to do to you, I can do it worse."
"No, you fucking- god- no threats… no threats…" The man let out a strained laugh, wincing from the splitting pain in his knee."Can't talk… can't… not… not about… that…"
"I can't, Foggy. Not now."
"Now's the only time I would ever ask you." Foggy leaned forward on the couch, resting his forearms on his legs with a tired sigh. "Jesus, you have to know I wouldn't be asking you this if it wasn't my absolute last resort."
"I don't understand why you would ask me this at all. I've been trying to move past that part of my life, and you were the first person to encourage me to do that in the first place."
Foggy set down his can and stood, turning to fully face Matt from in front of the couch. "And I still think you should- as a rule- but… it's really important this time, and-"
Matt scoffed, speaking harshly and walking slowly forward. "It's always been important, Foggy, and I know you've never understood that, and I don't see how in spite of that you think you suddenly have the discretion to make judgments about-"
"-Matt, it's Karen."
Foggy's brief interjection silenced Matt, and the two of them stood across from each other for a minute as he took it in.
"I don't- what happened to her?" Matt shook his head, disturbed.
"I'm not sure. Not exactly. But… I don't know, I think it's bad." Foggy groaned and pressed two fingers to his temple, realizing quickly that it would be hard to explain himself. "I got a call from her, and it really didn't sit well with me. I… looked into it."
"A call? What kind of call?"
"Oh, nothing too big. Just 'oh, hey, Foggy, how's work, by the way turns out that story I was investigating had nothing to it and also I'm quitting my job at the Bulletin for unrelated reasons and also don't worry about me or ask any questions because this is totally normal'."
"What? Quitting her job?" Matt leaned back against the counter again, confused. "I don't understand; is she in danger?"
"I honestly can't say for certain."
"Then why do you-?"
"-She reached out to me for a story she was putting together. Have you paid any attention to tabloid news? The guy called Kilgrave who was mind-controlling people on the side of the road?"
Matt pursed his lips. "That story was discredited by the NYPD."
"Yeah, well, Karen didn't buy it. She approached me for help with the story, and I turned her away. So she went to see Brett at the precinct."
"How do you know all this?" Matt tilted his head slightly, speaking quietly as he hung on to Foggy's words.
"I… looked into it."
"You looked into it. Okay."
Foggy rolled his eyes at that. "…I went to Ellison at the Bulletin. Karen's editor. He told me to talk to Brett."
"So you went behind her back-"
"She freaked me out, Matt!" Foggy threw up his hands, incredulous. "For God's sake, I thought something might have happened to her! You're really going to tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing?"
Matt, stricken, was quiet for a moment before nodding slowly. "Then what happened at the precinct?"
"There were these two guys. They had them in holding for witnessing a murder after robbing a pawn shop. Possibly were responsible for a murder. Brett said he told Karen that they might be connected to the story she was investigating."
"And were they?"
"Who knows? Supposedly it's impossible to tell. Karen was the only one looking into it. And the day after she hears about it is the day she calls me and tells me she's quitting her job at the Bulletin. She told me to forget about the talk we had, when she came to me to ask about the story. And those two guys? The ones that may or may not have murdered a woman? They walked. They were arraigned, they were charged, they couldn't afford to post bail, and then they walked. Now, I'm not a cop, but I don't think that's protocol."
"Well, did Brett explain why?"
"According to him? The guys at the precinct realized the charges were 'faulty'. As far as I know that decision was never run by a judge."
Pacing in front of the counter, Matt nodded, affirming to himself what Foggy was telling him- not something he ever would have expected. "So what you're saying is, you think this 'Kilgrave' guy might have the cops in his pocket."
"Maybe! You telling me it doesn't sound to you like something shady is going on here?"
"I don't know, Foggy." Matt spoke quietly, face dark. "Guys at the fifteenth have broken 'protocol' before on my watch, and it hardly took mind control to get them to do it."
"So what? Does it actually make a difference who's responsible? If Wilson Fisk was behind this, you wouldn't find that just as troubling?" Foggy raised an eyebrow. "Look, Matt, I could be completely wrong, and even then, those guys still got away with murder. Possibly literally! And, I mean, isn't punishing people that the law won't… kind of your thing?"
His words came down hard- there was something bleak, almost fearful in his voice. Matt felt sick to his stomach, his attention starting to creep toward the nighttime commotion just outside the apartment building.
"I know it's crazy, Matt. I know it is." Foggy let his hands fall to his sides. "…But what if it's not?"
"Kilgrave," spat Matt, releasing the man and taking a step further into the alley. "Does that name mean anything to you?"
"Wh- what?" The shorter man pressed his back against the building behind him, spluttering as he tried to recover from being choked. "No…!"
The man's heart rate spiked, letting on the truth completely by accident. A gloved fist flew across his face, sending him stumbling back against the wall.
"Don't try to waste my time." Matt massaged his fist with his other hand, now pacing in the alley.
"Wh- what do you want me to say?" Bruised, the man staggered to his feet, still supporting his back with the wall. "I can't. I can't… I swear on my life, I just… can't…"
The man's heart was pounding out of his chest, and he winced like a cornered animal.
Matt clenched his fists. There had to be something more than that. "Then what can you tell me?"
"I don't… I don't know…"
"Figure it out."
The two of them stood in silence for a moment, and the man against the wall tried to straighten himself out, collecting his breathing.
Matt thought for a moment, then took a step closer, scowling. "You had a court date set. Start with that. Why aren't you in a jail cell right now?"
The man groaned weakly. "They let me out, man… I dunno…"
"Did you pay someone off?"
"No!"
"Kilgrave got them to let you out?"
"God damn it!"
"Close enough to a yes for me." In one swift motion, Matt shot out his arm and grabbed hold of the man's wrist, twisting it unnaturally. "The woman that was murdered. Did you know her?"
The man groaned in pain, opening and closing his mouth but unable to find words.
Matt nodded slowly to himself, contemplative. "But the pawn shop that was robbed. That was you?"
Surprised to have the opening to confess, the man's eyes shot open and he nodded his head furiously. "Yes! Yes! But we didn't want anyone to get hurt…!"
"It doesn't matter. Someone did. He's the one I'm looking for. You want to protect him? Fine. Stay quiet. See where that gets you." Matt clutched the man's arm firmly, arm steady. "But if you really don't want anyone to get hurt, you'll tell me what you can. And quickly."
Head grinding against the wall behind him, the man's face drooped with discomfort. "Just… want to get out of this shitshow…"
"You're not the only one." Matt's hand flicked to the side, and the man's wrist popped loudly. "Think fast and you just might."
"I don't… I can't… there's nothing…" Heart still pounding, the man pressed his free hand to his wrist, too weak to pry Matt off of him. "Agh, fuck, wait! Devon! Devon Campbell!"
Immediately, Matt released the man's wrist, taking a step back. "Who?"
"There's… there's this complex down the block from the pawn shop. Full of these rich assholes with overpriced apartments." Frantic, the man looked down at his unconscious partner. "It's a name we… heard. It will tell you more than I can… where you'll find… what you're looking for."
"Campbell… he was working for Kilgrave, too?" Matt asked cautiously.
"God…" The man shook his head weakly. "You don't have a fucking clue…"
Grimacing, Matt started off across the room, heading for the armoire near the entrance to his bedroom. Foggy followed closely behind, distraught.
"Matt, I just… I didn't know what else to do. I…"
"You felt helpless, right? I get it, Foggy."
Matt raised his head slightly, only half his face visible to Foggy in the dim light.
"We both know this city is dangerous," Foggy said bluntly, equally grim. "And the shit we've gotten involved with- both of us- it's not making that any easier. But you go after it, headfirst. Putting your life in danger. Constantly. And it's stupid, and it's reckless, and it's selfish, and…"
"You don't get to have it both ways, Foggy," Matt scolded, opening the armoire. "You came here to ask for help. I don't care if you think this is the one time it's okay. It doesn't matter if you don't approve. I'm not having this discussion with you again."
"Wait. Let me finish." Foggy clenched his fists, clearly exhausted. "For as goddamn stupid as it is… you can protect yourself. You stay prepared. Even when you throw yourself at danger, at least you have the sense to wear that body armor." Foggy's fists opened up, and he sighed. "But Karen is like you. She's the kind of person that would give her life just because she thinks it would have the slightest chance of saving someone else's. And as much as I want to tell you you can never justify going out in that mask again… god damn it, the fact is, Karen- or anyone else as stupid as you- they don't have body armor."
Kneeling in order to reach into the bottom of the armoire, Matt pulled out a box of his father's boxing memorabilia. The mask rattled around at the bottom.
Matt let out a quiet sigh, setting the box down in front of him. "Well, we both know I can't promise you I'm not going to get hurt."
"Yeah. I know."
"But if someone has to." Matt took a long, deep breath. "…Then maybe it was a mistake for me not to do this sooner."
Foggy looked over Matt's shoulder as he dug out an old pair of boxing gloves, a hesitant frown plastered across his face. "Then… what happens next?"