Summary: Sometimes, there are people who don't want to be saved. TW: domestic violence, bodily harm, death, very unhappy ending (I don't go into gory detail, but I don't exactly shy away from it either)
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REFUSAL
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Arguing.
A bottle being shattered against a wall.
Yelling.
The sharp smack of a palm against another's face.
Screaming. Furniture being knocked over.
Matt broke into a hard sprint across the rooftops, ducking under and scrambling over any obstacle to take the shortest path to the fight.
Another scream, this one cut off by the dull thud that came when a fist hit flesh. Crying. More yelling. More hits. Cries of pain, sobbing, pleading-
Matt crashed through the apartment window, startling the pair and interrupting the assault. The woman shrieked when Matt snatched the wiry man, who absolutely reeked of booze and cigarettes, off her and flung him against a near-by wall. Matt's devil howled in glee when the man cried out as his back collided with the closet door, the knob catching him in the kidney—he'd be pissing blood for the rest of the week. Matt moved in and returned some of the blows the man had brought down on the woman—a right hook to the jaw, a punch to the gut, a kick to the ribs when the man went down.
"Its easy to hit someone when they're smaller than you…weaker than you, isn't it?" Matt snarled as his gloved hand wrapped around the man's throat, hauling him back up to his feet. "Not so easy now, is it?" The man whimpered, clawing at the iron grip holding him up. He tried to kick, but his blows were ignored. "If you ever do this-"
A heavy glass tumbler shattered against the wall, barely missing Matt's head. Matt's head swung around, and he refocused his senses on his attacker: the woman. She'd staggered to her feet and had grabbed the glass from the counter. Standing on wobbly legs, she held one arm against her chest—Matt could hear the faint creak of a spiral fracture—and used her good arm to reach out and snag a kitchen knife.
"Leave him alone!" she yelled, waving the blade at Matt. The faint rattle of loose teeth and a bloodied nose accompanied her demand.
Matt blinked. "What? But he-"
"Get out!" Frantic knife waving became stabbing as she crept closer, trying to get Matt to move away from the man. "Leave us alone!"
"Ma'am, he was beating you! You have a broken arm!"
It was like she didn't hear him as she kept screaming at him to let her boyfriend go. In the background, all Matt could hear were the neighbor's TVs and radios, their speakers much louder than what would be considered normal. Why is no one calling the police? When it was clear that Matt was not going to get through to the shrieking woman, he released his grip on the boyfriend, who promptly crumpled to the floor, but not before he delivered one last threat. The girlfriend shoved past Matt, practically draping herself over her boyfriend as she cried and tried to comfort him.
Frustrated, furious, and utterly bewildered, Matt pulled out his burner as he retreated out the broken window and called the police.
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Matt went past that apartment the next night and found only the woman's heartbeat there. She was alone the following night, and the night after that, and for the rest of the week. Ten days after the original incident and the boyfriend had seemingly not come back. Matt felt satisfied that his message had gotten across.
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It was two weeks after the original incident when Matt heard that address being called over the police radio as he and Foggy were coming back from the courthouse that afternoon.
"…repeat, responding to a reported 10-71…"
Matt tried to focus in on the call, but the sudden blare of a car horn cut him off and made him flinch.
"—ot a 11-44, possible Code 187, female…and a possible 10-56, male…"
Foggy yelped when Matt's grip on his elbow suddenly tightened. "Ow! What was tha-" Foggy stopped when he saw the stricken look on Matt's suddenly pale face. "What is it? What happened?"
Matt opened his mouth, but the words didn't come.
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NYPD Codes (according to my google-fu, hopefully I didn't screw it up completely)
10-71: shooting
11-44: body, need coroner
Code 187: homicide
10-56: suicide
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A/N: /Hello darkness, my old friend…/ I warned you… *side eyes Chapter 1* JFC, how did I manage to get from THAT to THIS? I swear, I'm trying to put together a follow up to Chapter 1, and this…this…thing came crawling out instead. *shoots muse with squirt bottle* Bad! Bad muse! Stop depressing my readers!