Lights flickered in a dilapidated apartment building, and the voices of people making chitchat in adjacent rooms echoed quietly through closed doors.
A black gloved hand trailed down a concrete wall, feeling out the chips and cracks. Turning a corner, Daredevil stepped into a narrow hall, facing down an elevator at the opposite end. Next to it sat a guard leaning back in a wooden chair, struggling to read a book in the bad lighting.
He took several heavy steps down the hall before the guard noticed him.
"Oh, sh-" –the guard fumbled to get out of his chair and draw a handgun- "Shit- oh, shit…"
The vigilante didn't back off. His head tilted only slightly upward, keeping his face darkened over his mask.
"Get out of here, man." The guard's hand trembled over his gun, and he took one anxious step forward. "Seriously, I'll shoot… you don't want this to get ack-!"
In one motion, Daredevil cleared the distance, swatting the pistol out of his hand. A punch to the throat sent him stumbling backward, shortly followed by a front kick that knocked him the rest of the way to the floor. Digging a hand into the ground, the man struggled to stand, and a heavy boot shattered his nose as it slammed into his face, knocking him flat on his back.
A hand gripped his throat, and before he could even open his eyes, he was pulled to his feet and thrust against the wall, Daredevil casting a horned shadow over him in the pale artificial light.
"Saturday night. 10 PM. Pier two blocks from here."
"Yeah! Yeah! I was there! I was there…!"
The guard rubbed his bleeding face with one hand, eyes narrowed and diverted toward the floor.
Daredevil's grip tightened around his throat. "Someone came after you for information. Cleared five men by himself. Who was it?"
"I dunno, man-"
The guard groaned as his head slammed into the wall again, arms slumping at his sides.
"Who was it?" Daredevil growled again, raising a fist.
"I don't know, I don't know!" He whimpered as he spoke, both hands wrapping weakly around Daredevil's wrist for a moment before sliding off. "J- just some skinny white kid! Curly hair! Dressed in black. Some of the guys thought he was, y'know, ripping off of you. But shit, after seeing him fight, I was wondering if maybe he was you… maybe you'd ditched the costume or something…"
"What did he want?"
"I don't know, man! Honest! I- I turned and ran the second he started whooping ass, seriously… why the hell do you think they put me out here on guard duty? I'm on thin ice, man…"
The man's heartbeat pounded, but remained steady as he tripped over his words trying to explain himself.
Daredevil cocked his head and removed his hand from the man's throat, leaving it hovering at his side. "Yes. You are." He smacked his lips. "But I'm not after you. I'm after Grunter. Peter Grunter. Your boss? He stayed behind when you ran."
"Yeah, yeah… Hogman. Real ambitious, power-mongering type. He was in charge of that whole operation before we got-"
"What operation? You mean your deal at the pier?"
"Yeah, uh… hang on…" Slowly, the man lowered his hands and fished through the inner pockets of his coat, pulling out a small packet and raising it in front of him. "Here. This shit. It's like half our income these days."
"Heroin."
"Nothing gets by you, huh…?"
Daredevil swiped the packet from his hand, kneading it between two fingers. It was the same stuff he'd encountered plenty of times before- Madame Gao's handiwork. Still operating in New York… but not his concern for the time being.
He tucked the packet into his belt and socked the guard in the gut, who lost his footing and stumbled to the ground with his back still up against the wall.
With a deep breath, Daredevil knelt to put them face-to-face. "I want to talk to Hogman. He's here?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. He's, uh." Face contorted with pain, the guard lolled his head back against the wall, wiping blood from under his nose. "Third floor. Second door on the left. He's got protection."
"He'll need it."
Daredevil set one hand on the floor, feeling around for a second before finding the pistol he had knocked away from the guard. He clutched it tightly, raising it to point it under the man's jaw.
"Agh…" The guard shut his eyes sadly, too weakened to fight back. "Please, man… please… I gave you everything you wanted… I didn't lie about shit… you already beat the hell out of me… you don't have to kill me."
"Liability either way."
Daredevil grimaced, cocking the gun.
"Wait! Wait! God! Wait! You don't want to-!" The guard pressed his back into the wall, eyes shut tight. "Listen. You fire that thing in here, everyone is gonna hear. Shooting me will just mean more trouble for you. That is a liability…!" He wiped his forehead anxiously.
"…You're right."
His movement a blur, Daredevil pistol-whipped him in the face, knocking him unconscious. His fingers drumming on the gun uncertainly, he flipped it around in his hand, gripping onto the barrel.
He let out a long sigh, grip tight around the gun. After a long, hesitant pause, he bludgeoned the man in the head with the handle of the gun, beating him ruthlessly to the ground and spattering blood against the wall behind them. He listened with a frown as the man's skull cracked open, spurting blood from a tear in his scalp in a heavy stream. He didn't let up for another six blows.
The guard's lifeless body slumped over into a pool of blood, soaking his clothes. Teeth gritted, Daredevil stood, dropping the gun at his side.
Marching the rest of the way down the hall, he tapped on the elevator button with two fingers. He stepped inside as soon as it arrived, selecting the third floor and cracking his knuckles as it carried it away from the crime scene.
With a cheery ring, the elevator rattled to a stop at the third floor, and he stepped out into a near-identical hallway. Pressing a hand to the wall again, he took a few moments to sense the interiors of each room, focusing on the second room on the left.
Four men. Three armed. One overweight man on a couch in the center, unarmed- surely Hogman. TV audio played in the background, meaning they weren't prepared for a fight. And a single neon light on the ceiling.
His back against the wall to the side of the door, he reached one hand over and quietly opened the door, drawing a baton from his belt with his other hand. Nobody reacted at first.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the baton into room, aiming for the light on the ceiling. Broken glass rained down onto the floor as it shattered, obscuring the room in sudden darkness. As the guards inside leapt into action, Daredevil stormed inside and caught the nearest one in a chokehold, stealing his gun and pressing it to his head.
The couch in the center of the room fumbled as Hogman stood from it to face the intruder, and guards on both sides of him drew pistols, hesitating to shoot at the human shield. They stood in the dark, but the TV still flickered off to the side- probably the only light they could see with, Daredevil thought.
"Grunter," Daredevil growled, gun positioned firmly against his human shield's temple. "You're the one I want. Tell them to drop their weapons."
"Jesus." Hogman ran a hand through his greasy hair, scowling. "Don't lower your weapons. Christ. The hell do you want, freak?"
Daredevil tightened his finger around the pistol's trigger. "Tell them to lower their weapons. Don't test me."
"Don't test you? Come on. You've got one meat shield. You think I give a shit about-?"
The guard with a gun to his head shifted in Daredevil's arms, spitting in his boss's direction. "Hogman, you fat fuck, I swear to Christ-"
"Agh! Forget about it!" Hogman crossed his arms. "He's bluffing. Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He doesn't kill. Fuckin' everybody knows that.
"Hrm." Without moving his head an inch, Daredevil thrust the pistol in his hand out to his side, unflinchingly putting a bullet through the head of the bodyguard to his left. Hogman jumped with shock as the body collapsed on the couch and rolled onto the floor, spurting blood from the skull.
"Still think I'm bluffing?" he hissed, driving the hot barrel of the gun against the head of his human shield again.
"Okay! Okay! Jesus Christ!" Hogman stumbled backward with shock, the still-standing bodyguard tightening his grip around his own gun.
"Lower. The gun," Daredevil commanded.
"Fuck! Fucking drop the gun!" shouted the captured guard.
Hogman and the other guard exchanged a brief glance, and the other bodyguard nodded slowly, placing his pistol back into its holster.
Daredevil nodded once with a sigh. "Good."
Without hesitation, he fired the gun again, blasting out the human shield's brains and letting the body drop to the floor. Unable to protect himself, the other bodyguard got two bullets in the chest and hit the floor behind the couch, though he survived. Daredevil whipped the pistol at Hogman's face to knock him to the floor as well, kneeling down to retrieve the baton he'd thrown at the light.
The remaining bodyguard yelped like a wounded animal, both hands scrambling on the floor in front of him as he leaked blood from his chest. Vaulting over the couch, Daredevil landed on the bodyguard's leg, snapping it with a loud crunch and earning another pained scream.
With his foot, he rolled the guard over onto his back, tightly gripping his baton in his right hand. Spooked, Hogman pulled himself up onto his knees and watched helplessly, two fingers tracing over his now-split lip.
"Wait…" the bodyguard raised one hand in front of his face, shaking with fear. "W- wait-"
krrrck
Merciless, Daredevil brought down the baton full-force on the guard's face a few times, beating it into an unrecognizable mess of blood and mangled cartilage. The edge of the baton dripped with blood as Daredevil lifted it from the guard's caved-in face.
Horrified, Hogman slid back against the wall, edging away from Daredevil as he approached with the blood-soaked baton. "Fuck! Fuck! Wait! I can help you! I can pay you! I can-"
"Shut up," Daredevil grumbled harshly, kneeling. "Saturday night. 10 PM. Pier two blocks from here."
"I was there! We got attacked! I didn't- I couldn't-"
Daredevil punched him in the face, promptly shutting him up. "The one who attacked you. What did he ask about?"
"Ahh… uh… uh…" Hogman brushed off his shirt with both hands, almost too frazzled to speak. "Uh… R- Rand. Our contacts in Rand. He's trying to work his way up the ladder. Why the hell do you want to know?"
"You gave out names. Whose?"
"Who- whose? Uh, fuck. Nobody at the top or anything. Uh… Stuart. Thomas Stuart. He's the one I work for." He tugged at his sleeves, armpits soaked with sweat. "What the hell do you care…? Jesus, I figured you two were peas in a pod…"
"You figured wrong. I'm running a tight ship." Daredevil poked him in the chest with the end of the baton, allowing blood to trickle down onto his shirt. "Stuart? That's the only name you gave out?"
"Stuart. That's it. Swear to Christ."
His heartbeat backed the statement up.
"I'm here to deliver you a warning. Keep your mouth shut. Someone tries to work their way up the ladder, you don't give them rungs to climb. Am I clear?"
"Fuck! Who- did- who sent you-?"
The baton pressed tightly against his sternum, and he groaned with pain.
"Am I clear?" Daredevil growled.
"Yes! Yes! I hear you! Loud and clear! Tight ship! I got it!" Hogman shut his eyes, wincing.
"Good."
Exhaling loudly, Daredevil stood, tucking the baton back into his belt. Hogman trembled helplessly on the floor.
His combat boots splashing in blood, Daredevil stepped around the couch again, stopping in front of the door. Getting on one knee, he reached one hand into the pile of broken glass left behind by the shattered light, settling on one particularly sharp piece about an inch long.
Then he stood again. Hogman's heartbeat spiked with fear as the man in the mask approached him.
"W- wait! I told you! I heard you! Loud and clear! P- please!"
"I hear you," Daredevil murmured, kneeling to put himself on Hogman's level. With one hand, he gripped the larger man's jaw and yanked it open, shoving the shard of glass into his mouth and pressing it firmly against the inside of his cheek. "I'm here to remind you of something."
"T- tight ship… I g- got it…" Hogman mumbled, sweat pouring down his forehead. "I swear on my kids' lives, I g- got it…"
"Not all I'm here to remind you about, Peter." Daredevil leaned in close. "Forget about Stuart. You don't work for Stuart."
"Th- then…"
"You don't work for Stuart. You don't work for me. You certainly don't work for strange men in black that come looking for the names of your bosses." Making a tight fist, Daredevil struck him across the face, shattering the glass in his mouth. "You work for the Purple Man. We all do. And you remember that, because next time I'm here you are really going to wish I was as kind to you as I am today."
The broken glass shredded the inside of Hogman's mouth, and he nearly choked, spitting up blood and flesh on the floor alongside little glass fragments. Daredevil stood from the floor, taking a step back.
"You got it?" he asked brusquely.
Hogman coughed loudly, blood spattering from his mouth onto his face and arms. "Y- yah… Phuh… Purple Manph… I got it…"
"Good."
Breathing heavily, Daredevil stepped around the couch again, lifting a foot over a corpse and walking out of the doorway without a moment of hesitation.
Police sirens rang out on a street near a cheap motel, neon lights buzzing on all sides of the building. The room at the end had a small balcony. A figure in red dropped down onto it from the roof.
Sliding glass doors opened up into one small bedroom, which he stepped into, shutting the curtains behind him. Every window was covered and all the lights were off, leaving it nearly pitch black inside, not that any light was necessary.
Reaching behind his head, he undid the straps on his helmet, allowing it to fall away from his face and clatter to the floor. The gloves followed shortly after.
Matt slumped down onto the foot of the bed, burying his face in his hands. His knuckles had bruised, chafing even underneath his gloves.
He stood, making his way into the bathroom, and turned on the sink, wincing slightly as he ran his hands under the. Drawing his baton, he set the end of it in the sink, allowing some of the blood to run off into the drain. But it would still need to be scrubbed, along with his boots.
Matt tossed the batons onto the floor next to his helmet, and they rolled softly along the carpet before bumping into the foot of the bed. He leaned in and splashed cool water on his face, trying to manage his own heavy breathing.
The sirens outside felt almost endless, passing by the road leading to the motel as if on schedule every few minutes. In other rooms, Matt heard people talking about their jobs, or their kids, or TV. One guy was with a prostitute.
He knelt on the bathroom floor to undo his boots and turned on the faucet in the bathtub, filling it until there was enough water to soak out the blood in the soles.
The rest of Matt's outfit ended up in the pile at the foot of his bed. Now dressed only in boxers and a tank top, he reached into the fridge to pull out a bottle of whiskey and slumped down onto the bed on top of the covers.
He drank right out of the bottle, resting his head against the headboard. The alcohol burned his throat, and tasted cheap, like aluminum from a bottling plant. The kind his dad used to give him to stitch up wounds.
His breaths were pained and heavy. The sirens outside wouldn't let up. His head felt thick. Frustrated, he slammed the bottle down on the bedside table, almost hard enough to break it.
Matt's face contorted into a defeated frown. Hands shaking relentlessly, he raised an arm to touch his forehead, crossing himself and murmuring under his breath. He slumped down so that his head rested on his pillow.
Rubbing his hands together neurotically, Matt winced, his knuckles starting to swell.