6. Losing balance

An old blind man walked into a Chinese restaurant. It still wasn't a joke. He was bloody, he was missing a hand and instead of a cane, he had a katana in his other hand. And he was the enemy of the Hand.

"This… is a one shitty excuse for a hideout," the man gestured among the four people.

"Stick…" the other blind man in the room sighed, slowly rising from his chair as well, just waiting to wake up from this fucked up nightmare.

"Matty."

"Holy dragon…" Danny breathed, shocked. He had honestly thought that guy was dead.

"Who the hell— wait. I know you. You're the-" Jessica looked at Murdock incredulously. This was the guy who- what the fuck? "You actually know this asshole?!"

"Unfortunately."

"I'm wounded, Matty," Stick exclaimed, seemingly not wounded by his words at all.

"Wait, do you know this guy?" Luke asked Jessica with disbelief. It looked like he was once again the only one who was completely lost and he hated it.

"Yeah. He tried to strangle his fiancée. I happened to be passing by."

Danny snapped his head in Matt's direction. "Wait, he tried to strangle her too?! You didn't tell me that!"

"You know his fiancée?" Luke turned to Jessica, confused.

"Fiancée?" Stick wolf-whistled sarcastically. Not only his student was not learning from his own mistakes, he was actually making it worse. He had to give it to the girl though, she was a tough cookie. "Mazel tov, kid. Another nail to your coffin. She's tougher than I thought though. She's a stubborn piece of shit, isn't she? She just doesn't know when to die…"

Matt leaned forward, his voice sharp like glass. "I swear if you touch her again-"

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? I wasn't the one leading the blade and Jacques didn't aim for her heart. I should have done it myself. Then again, it was quite spectacular to listen to her choking on her own blood…" Stick remembered fondly, causing Matt to lunge at him.

Danny wrapped his arms around Matt's body, stopping him before Matt could hurt the man. He had to use some remains of his chi; without it, Matt would yanked from his grip with no trouble.

"Whoa, whoa, Matt-"

"Cool it down, kid. She's alive, isn't she?"

Stick was not impressed; in contrary, he was disappointed that the kid was under the control of his emotions.

Luke's gaze flickered between Stick and the other two. "Wait. Slow down. You all know this guy and he tried to kill your fiancée? Twice?"

"Yeah, I think you got it about right," Danny hummed, loosening his grip a little as Matt gradually stopped trying to free himself, his raged breathing slowing down. He just kept watching Stick's figure like a hawk. Or perhaps a vulture. Danny let go of him completely, taking a hesitant step back.

"Well, who the fuck is he? The Hand?!" Jessica demanded, earning a confused look from Luke. He had thought she knew who this guy was…?

"No. There's another organization. The one we fought for-"

"We call ourselves the Chaste."

"God, these names are killing me-" Jessica complained, now 120% done with this.

She had thought this could not get crazier. She had been wrong, apparently. Then again, the puzzle pieces were slowly falling into place; except the picture was really big and they barely finished one corner.

"And we're the only reason the Hand hasn't won the war yet. I like to think we might have even won, if some of our warriors got their heads out of their asses."

Matt's shoulders twitched and Danny's hand was on his arm at instant to keep him from murdering Stick on spot. Matt had a strict no-killing policy, but if there was one person he would do an exception for, it was the man who had nearly killed Vera. Twice, apparently.

"You know, I don't think you're helping, Stick."

"It doesn't matter. The army is dead. Everyone except me, you and lover boy over here."

"No. I'm not part of this war," Matt stated, voice icily calm, all the rage bubbling inside. God, he wanted to strangle this piece of shit. He might have owed him for what he had once done for him, but there had been a lot of shit in between that overweighed it.

"You said you went to Cambodia to fight alongside Danny," Luke reminded him, baffled. If Matt had been shitting them, again…

"Not voluntarily. I agreed to come when I thought she was dead. And later, to keep the fact she's still alive secret from them."

"Well, tough shit, Matty, the war came to you now."

"How did you find us?" Matt deadpanned.

"Easily. This Immortal Iron Fist," he snarked, "living weapon and protector of ancient city, is a thundering dumbass. I thought you got the rules, kid. Shit like this will get you killed."

"I— I tried to call Colleen, I told her where I was- where is she?" Danny stuttered, looking at everyone, slightly embarrassed.

"Safer than we are. Small mistakes, personal ties… these are what they'll use to end you."

"Poetic," Matt noted, irony dripping from the word.

It made Jessica snap. At this point, she was 140% done. "This is shit. What— what happened to your hand?"

"I cut it off to free myself… not important. Now I need your help."

"And here it comes," Matt chuckled darkly; only a fool would consider the sound an amused one.

"Here what comes?" Luke turned to him expectantly. Jessica wanted to ask the same question.

"This is what he does. He enters your life and fucks it up; the next thing you know, you're watching the people you love die," Matt explained, his voice dropping at the end.

"Oh, for God's sake, get over it!"

"Get over-" Matt gasped incredulously, leaning forward once again.

And Jessica Jones decided she really did not want to be part of this. She was Jessica fucking Jones, she didn't need this, her life was enough of shitstorm already. She would just focus on her case, end of story.

"I'm out of here. I don't need drama and-"

"You sit down and shut up!" the old blind man ordered, causing her to raise her eyebrow at him; an expression asking him if he was for real without saying a single word.

She was Jessica fucking Jones and she was not taking shit from anyone. She was not listening to anyone's commands.

She walked out the room with the door flying open.

Matt had no interest in hearing about the nonsensical war again, but he didn't have much of a choice. Luke needed to be brought up to speed. Unlike Danny, Matt wasn't interjecting Stick's narration; unlike Danny, who had been preparing to fight this war his whole life and despite running away from Cambodia once was still devoted to it. It was in his soul, in his blood, in his freaking Chi. He was the Immortal Iron Fist. He was bound to this.

Apparently, so was Matt, no matter how much he hated it.

Matt was listening to the noise outside, checking for anything suspicious that would indicate immediate danger, but he was distracted. By everything. Danny talking to Luke, Stick, Jesus, Stick redoing the bandage on his amputated hand and speaking of hands… Matt ran his own down his face.

When he had taken Jessica's Jones case, the last thing he had imagined had been it leading to the Hand, which was now apparently operating in New York. Matt's past came back to haunt him. The Hand. Stick. And… and Elektra. He wasn't sure, it had been years since he had seen her, but everything about the woman – about the warrior, about the- the person whose heart was silent as if- how was that even possible? Matt was sure his senses were deluding him, that— thing? Person? It couldn't have been Elektra, but the moment he had said her name, she had wavered. A short moment of hesitation, her breath hitching. Breathing. But her heart made no sound.

And Matt knew her heartbeat. He had always heard it loud and clear. Once, he had thought their hearts sounded right together – her flame was bright and fierce. Once, he had thought they were meant to be; until he had found out that her flame burned. If Vera was a candle, a torch, a hearth, occasionally bursting into sparks in the best way possible, Elektra was a forest fire; captivating, unchained force, freedom with no limits, burning passion, but leaving nothing but ashes behind. Where Matt thought Vera was bringing the best out of him, he could in retrospect tell that Elektra had been bringing out the worst.

Matt had never spoken to her since the night they had broken into Roscoe Sweeney's house and after a while, he had learned it wasn't a bad thing, even though the path to that realization had been painful.

And now what? He had seen her again, he couldn't hear her heart and— he knew she was skilled in fighting, but what the fuck was that? And there had been the force he had been sensing, the unknown power that could not have been human. How- and what was she doing with the Hand in the first place?

"You've crossed paths with her, haven't you?" Stick's voice snapped him from his thoughts and the first comeback that came to Matt's mind was 'shut the fuck up and fuck off'.

Stick was the reason this whole mess was happening in the first place. Matt knew his life would be a whole different story if he had never met the man, he would never become what he was, but Stick had also brought him a lot of pain and whole lot of shit.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he snarled, irritated.

Matt really, really wanted to punch him. He had wanted before, several times just tonight, starting with his dramatic entrance, featuring his pure delight when talking about Vera dying, ending with… the old man breathing.

"You know what I'm talking about. The Black Sky."

Stupid, meaningless words filled Matt's mind. Stick's bullshit about the war, about the weapon that needed to be destroyed – the weapon that Stick had claimed to be in a kid, other times in an adult, but always something dangerous, deadly, the weapon that would allow the Hand to win their war.

Matt chuckled darkly, no traces of humour. Sure. Great. His ex-girlfriend was an ancient weapon. Why not?

"The Black Sky," Matt repeated dully.

"I tried to keep Ellie in check, I really tried, but the moment they resurrected her, activating the weapon, something must have snapped in her…"

Matt's blood turned into ice in his veins, his heart forgetting how it was supposed to work. The only thing he could hear was his mentor's voice, saying a name. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the word 'resurrected' was flashing in neon lights as well, but-

"Ellie?" he choked out, losing the firm ground under his feet.

Stick knew Elektra? What, had he tried to recruit her too? After she had disappeared from Matt's life? Was that how she had gotten so good at fighting?

"Little Ellie, pretty face and eyes of a scared lamb they said, but deadly since the beginning…" Little Ellie? What—what- did that mean- "Oh, Matty. I can hear your mind racing. It had been racing ever since I've come in here, and you wanted to run away from this. You can't, kid. You never had a choice."

There was a ringing in his ears. Loud and painful, disorienting. Of course Matt knew he hadn't been the only one who had a role in Stick's plan. But… Elektra? Stick had known her as a child? Trained her? Abandoned her, just like he had abandoned Matt? Had Elektra had those skills when she had been with him, hiding them? Matt was sure he was going to be sick. Or that he was going to punch Stick, was going to make him bleed, break a bone or two or something, because what. The. Actual-

"She was talented, Matty. No one was a match for her. She was deadly, completed every single task with no mistakes. And then you came and she failed, coming with her tail between her legs, babbling about winning the war without so much death, muddled by your nonsense. She failed to recruit you and even let you turn her…"

"What?" Matt heard himself breathing, the world he thought he knew crumbling in a pile of dust. No, he was interpreting this wrong, whatever Stick was saying-

"The war, kid. The war we're fighting. You were a mission, the only mission Elektra has ever failed to finish. Right before she left."

Matt's hearing was shit because of the roaring blood in his temples, but he could hear that the old man's heart was perfectly steady. He was telling the truth. Elektra had been sent to Matt, because it had been her mission. Their meeting, their relationship, it had all been just a mission. No coincidences, no fate. No choice.

The world fell apart.

There was something unmistakably and disgustingly true about the saying that it always could be worse. While Matt's world was falling apart, the firm ground under his feet disappearing, he picked up the noise from outside – a dangerous noise, roaring of weapons, too many furious heartbeats. And one more in the same room as them.

A strange heartbeat, strong and weak, loud and silent. Alive and dead. The woman was talking about life and death too, trying to turn Danny against what he had been taught. Matt wasn't sure if he was glad Danny was so stubborn; because while he didn't betray their little group of renegades, featuring a bulletproof man, two blind fighters and Danny himself, he sure brought the anger of the Hand upon them. That was the moment the real roaring started.

Jessica returned, fighting alongside them, but she wasn't the only woman joining the fight. Elektra did too. Meeting her again, hearing no heartbeat, watching her blindly obey to the command of the Hand… Matt couldn't be angry with her, not with Elektra. Elektra, who had been manipulated since childhood, Elektra who Matt had always thought was nothing but the impersonation of freedom, was once again under the influence of evil, stealing more than just her own free will from her and it was on him. She had run from Stick because of Matt, because she believed Matt words, free will crawling out— and it had led to her death.

And she hesitated again. She fought him, but she hesitated, just like she had at Midland Circle as if she remembered him, as if there were still traces of Elektra Natchios, her own person, despite some stupid tale about an ultimate weapon. Matt tried to talk to her, to light up the spark of something— only to be interrupted.

The next thing Matt knew, he wasn't alone and one of theirs was taken.

It felt like he was losing everyone around him all the freaking time; people, lives just slipping between his fingers.

Luke might have been taken, but he wasn't an easy guy to deal with. He had won. The bulletproof man had won and even brought their peculiar group, which had moved to a dojo owned by Danny's girlfriend, a captive. One of the Fingers of the Hand. The argument they had been having about Matt leaving to fight 'the chick in spandex' was cut off. Small victories.

And every victory came with a prize. Learning the truth was never easy. They might have caught one of the Hand's own, one of their leaders, but his words were not helping them. The man remained irritatingly calm, a mean lizard smile audible in his voice, plastered to his face as well no doubt. He seemed amused at their attempts to stand up against the Hand, to save the city.

"You are nothing," he reacted to Danny's questioning. He wouldn't give up the secret, their plan, playing with them instead. "Danny Rand failed an entire city. The place he was sworn to protect."

Danny gritted his teeth, looking away as the man easily found his sore spot. But Sowande didn't stop there.

"The same way the unbreakable one let that boy die in a jail cell. Afraid and alone."

This might be new information for Matt, finally truly learning Luke's motivation, but while he knew only little about the man, he could tell Sowande hit Luke precisely where it hurt. He continued.

"The same way the woman couldn't save the architect." Jessica scoffed, offended, not wanting to show him he hit a nerve again. The man mocked her once more. "What's wrong? Have I gotten in your head the same way he did long ago?"

Jessica lunged after him at the mention of Killgrave and Luke stopped her in the last moment, wrapping his hands around her forearm which was ready to strike. "Hey, hey, hey!"

Sowande had nothing in particular to call out Matt on, but his next words got under Matt's skin as deeply as if the leader of the Hand aimed right for him. The man's voice sent icy shivers down Matt's spine.

"What about the ones you still love? What will become of them once you are gone? Who else must die because of you?"

Matt's blood run cold. This man seemed to know everything so far. What were the chances he was bluffing now? Just testing their limits?

Matt had thought about that before. Whether they had recognized Daredevil in him or Matt Murdock, one particular person was in danger. The rest just depended on which persona they had discovered. Matt could only be so naïve to hope they hadn't made the connection with either of the two. The panic clenched his insides painfully.

"What are you talking about?" Luke asked the question that burned on everyone's tongue.

"The nurse. The barista. The woman on the radio. They'll come for them next. How many mice must drown with you?" Sowande exclaimed, not expecting an answer.

He got one nevertheless; Jessica was to one to deliver it. She punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

"He talked too much."

As if it could erase the man's threat that echoed in the suddenly silent room, bouncing off the walls, soaking through their skin and flesh right to the marrow of their bones.

The Hand knew everything. About their past, about the present, about what defined their future.

'The nurse.'

Claire. They knew about Claire, the closest person to Luke.

Matt's mind deliberately skipped the next person the man had mentioned, protecting his own sanity, carrying on with another hint.

'The woman on the radio.'

Trish Walker. The person Jessica cared for the most.

'How many mice must drown with you?'

None. Not one person would get hurt, not for being connected to them-

Yeah? And how you're gonna stop them? How you're gonna stop them from— from-

Say it. Say it, it won't make a difference. You can't run away from this.

An impossibly huge lump grew in Matt's throat, his heart clenched by a cold hand, squeezing his lungs as well, making his breathing almost impossible.

'The barista.'

Vera. They knew about Vera too. And they were coming for her next.