As a kid, Matt never had many opportunities to go swimming.

He knows the theory, sure, and he knows it uses up practically all the muscles in your body, which means it's tiring, far too much work for a recently blinded Matt who'd really rather stay on the dry ground, thanks.

(A Matt in another universe would learn how to swim very, very quickly after being bodily thrown into the pool by a certain asshole mentor. But he'd have to admit, years later, that it helped. A lot.)

Anyways, Matt's never so much as touched a body of water larger than a bathtub in his entire life, which seems to be growing shorter and shorter by the day.

He's perfectly happy with this, seeing as it isn't normally a problem.

But, well.

"Mr. Fisk sends his regards."

Matt jolts awake. What the fuck? Had he just dozed off in the taxi? "I'm sorry?" he says stupidly.

"Mr. Fisk sends his regards," the cab driver says calmly, definitely not the same driver as before, voice deeper and colder.

Matt grimaces. He does not like those words, he does not like them at all. "Tell him the feeling's not mutual," he says, reaching towards the door on his left to open it, but when he grasps a hand tight on the handle and pulls, it does not open.

"They're locked," the driver says calmly. Matt tries the door on his right too, just to be sure, but it doesn't open either. He wants to punch the guy in the face, but has to take the time to consider the odds of dying in a car crash immediately afterwards.

"I was aware of that," Matt says acidly. "Where are you taking me?" For once, the guy stays silent. "If you won't tell me that, then can you at least say how you got the jump on me?" Not that it'd be very hard, what with him missing a sense. But he'd at least like to think he'd be aware of a kidnapping attempt when said kidnapping was taking place, not afterwards.

"I disposed of your original driver while you were meeting with your client, and knocked you out with a concentrated amount of chloroform once you got into the car."

Huh. Matt thinks he would've remembered something like that, but maybe his brain's still recovering from being high. "Very succinct," he says out loud. "Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer?"

No answer. Great. This is going to be a long car ride. Except...wait. "If I finally woke up after being drugged," Matt says, "and we're still in the car, then how long have you been driving? How far are we from Hell's Kitchen? Where the fuck are you taking me?"

"You'll find out soon enough," the guy, Fisk Goon Number Who-The-Fuck-Knows-Anymore, says, quite ominously. Matt hears the sound of the taxi speeding up, tenses for impact, but then he just opens the door and...jumps out? What?

Matt scrambles towards the driver's seat in hopes of stopping the car, but only manages to knock into the dashboard when the car hits the water (Water? In Hell's Kitchen?) with a huge splash, but it feels like concrete. Water seeps into the car at a too fast rate as it sinks, and soon Matt is soaked from head to toe trying to orient himself. He shivers, takes a big gulp of air before that too is gone, pivots towards what is hopefully the open door, except he reaches out and feels glass.

Wrong side.

He wants to groan in frustration. He can't. He pivots towards the opposite side, propels himself forward, and now he is floating in the cold water, too much like the murky darkness he's become well acquainted with.

He doesn't know which way is up.

Fuck it. He's going to have to guess.

Except when he turns, he rams his elbow, hard, into the hood of the car, and gasps in pain. (Well, at least he knows which way is up now.) Water fills his mouth, his nose, his throat, his lungs, and soon he's choking on it, it's too much, surrounding him and filling him up but he has no space for it, damn it! He tries to move his limbs in order to return to the blessed land and air, but they don't respond, too busy waving around uselessly.

Useless, like him.

When his limbs finally succumb to the stillness, he doesn't feel it, doesn't feel much at all. He's so tired. He's been fighting for so long, against Fisk and against everyone, but trying and trying doesn't do much if you just can't seem to win. Maybe he's back to floating in the darkness, yet again. Maybe Fisk has won this fight, for now. It wouldn't hurt to rest, would it? Just for a bit.

Just for a bit.


Not gonna lie, my notes for this chapter pretty much just said: Remember the taxi?

Also, if you look back at Chapter 6 (Resuscitation), Matt's okay! He's saved! I'm actually connecting all the chapters!