Vladimir was a little shit.

That's all that kept running through Matt head as he dragged the Russian across a literal battlefield.

It had been a miracle that he had managed to find the other man in all the chaos and wreckage. His plan at breaking in had been foiled as the building surrounding Matthew had exploded. He'd barely succeeded in protecting himself from the blast and even still his muscles stung with the force from hitting the ground.

Moving in stealth with a body draped across his shoulders was extremely difficult. The man kept mumbling to himself (just like his brother) and fidgeted twice as much. It had been a near thing; Matt had felt the fire and heard the splintering of wood as the old warehouse had collapsed around him and had feared it was too late. If Vladimir died, Matt would never get his answers about Fisk.

He had almost lost control when he first found Vladimir. His anger at what had been done to Claire got the better of Matt and all he could feel was the scream for blood. The Devil unleashed itself upon the Russian and had almost gotten them both killed. Matthew hadn't heard the police until it was nearly too late.

His emotions were firmly under control now.

Matt grunted as he dropped Vladimir onto the floor. The man underneath him was both burned and had been shot in the side; this was such a fucking disaster. While he had been carrying Vladimir away, Matt heard as the cops shot the remaining Russian, even though the man had been defenseless.

This was all Fisk's doing.

He and Vladimir didn't have a lot of time. Matt sensed the structure around them: old and unused from the scent of dust. No one had been inside for years. Water was dripping from the ceiling and a few items lay scattered around, but nothing that was important. In the distance Matthew could hear the sirens and footsteps of people as they were hunted.

A wheeze caught Matt's attention as Vladimir came to. There was a scrape of leather against cement as the man rolled onto his back, groaning.

"Don't move," Matt ordered. "You've been shot." What followed was a slur of Russian that was completely undecipherable. Matthew assumed he was being cursed at. "That sounds pretty bad, but I don't speak asshole." He preferred Anatoly already.

"I'm going to kill you for taking my brother from me," was enunciated very slowly.

"You speak English better than your brother," Matt said. "He's not dead, I don't kill people. Not even scumbags like you who deserve it."

Vladimir spat a mixture of blood and saliva at him. "You dropped Semyon off roof. Put him in a coma! You expect me to believe you?"

"Yeah, but he was still breathing," Matthew growled. People were getting too worked up over this 'dropping-criminals-off-a-building' thing. The man was still alive. That's more than he deserved.

"I found your mask!" Vladimir screamed. "You didn't even leave me a body to bury!"

Oh for fuck's sake.

Matt squatted down. "I didn't kill your brother."

"Lies—!"

"Shut up and look!" Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring Anatoly had given him. He shoved it in Vladimir's face. "He's not dead, I fucking saved him. What, you think I blew your operation to shit too? Jesus, use your head and think. You're being played! By Fisk."

"Where—" Vladimir's hand was surprisingly fast, given his injured state, as he snatched the ring from Matthew's grasp. His unsteady heartbeat made it clear he had been caught off guard. "Мои братья..." A creak from the bones in Vladimir's hands told Matt he had a white-knuckle grip on the ring. His voice turned seething. "You took this from his body?"

"Wh—no!" Matthew desperately wished he could punch something. He clapped his hands together as if in prayer as his whole body shook. "Anatoly. Is. Not. Dead. He gave me the ring to me to fucking prove it!"

"So you are holding him hostage, is that it?"

"Lord give me strength," Matthew muttered. He was going to murder Anatoly when he got back to the apartment. 'No questions'—what utter bullshit. "Your brother is alive, Vladimir. He's with me. More than that you don't need to know."

"If you've hurt him—"

"—I didn't!" Matt snapped, his mental control cracking. "Fisk did; nearly beat him to death! If I hadn't stepped in your brother would be a bloody smear along the pavement. How would I know to give you the stupid ring if your brother hadn't told me?"

"Заткнись!" Vladimir shouted.

Matthew concentrated and focused all his senses on what was in front of him. Through his interpretation of the world, hazy with impressions of fire and darkness in broad paint strokes, he watched Vladimir press the ring against his forehead. For an instant he could see, almost feel, the grief the other man felt. It blurred the lines and Matt hated it.

Why couldn't things ever be simple?

"Just—try, to believe me." Matthew tried one last time. "Your brother is alive and desperate to see you again."

Vladimir made a noise like a wounded dog and Matt could feel the vibrations in the air as his body shook with the effort not to cry. "...what do you want?" he finally choked out. Matthew almost cried himself for finally getting through to the stubborn Russian.

"Fisk; on trial for everything he's done," he answered. Vladimir's laughter didn't surprise him, but as they bickered Matthew could taste and smell the scent of the other man's blood spreading across the floor. Time was running out.

"If I believe you..." Vladimir finally admitted, "and give you what you want—"

"You and your brother get to walk away." Matt bargained, even though it made him feel sick to think about letting criminals go free. Fisk was the main target, he had to keep his objective clear.

Anatoly had wanted him to come back too. That...had been unexpected.

"I've thought about your proposal," Vladimir began and Matt leaned closer. "Suck my dick."

It was an extremely good thing Vladimir blacked out after that, otherwise Matthew really would have killed him—promises be damned. Instead, he stayed crouched next to the dying Russian, tremors running through his body in an effort to keep his rage in check. Matthew tried to exhale and calm down, but his pettiness got the better of him.

"Your brother beat you to it," he hissed.

Convincing Claire to help him was no easy task, but Matt could be charming when he tried. He also privately thought she enjoyed making criminals suffer as Vladimir's screams echoed in the warehouse, the smell of burning flesh clogging Matt's senses as he cauterized the wound.

The young cop that had stumbled in and blown their hiding spot was just karma coming to fuck with Matt's life again. The Devil inside had told him to kill the kid outright, but he couldn't—two months on the job? The rookie wasn't in anyone's pocket, he was innocent.

Innocent and dead.

Matt even knew it as he tied the kid up. If Fisk's men found him first they would shoot him like they had the Russian to cover their tracks. Weak, he was weak! He should have done the deed himself.

Vladimir stirred. "You've been busy," he mumbled.

"The building's surrounded." Matt caught him up to speed on their crappy situation. He surveyed the area around them with his senses one last time as he broke down their opposition to Vladimir. He ripped off more of the duct tape to finish binding the kid.

He could feel Vladimir's stare. "How do you know this?"

"Lucky guess." Matthew rose and disassembled the cop's gun before throwing it away.

"We could have used that."

"I'm not big on guns." Matt shrugged as he walked back over to the Russian, picking up a metal pipe along the way.

"Great," Vladimir complained. "Little stick so much better."

Matt had to assume this is what having a younger brother must be like: someone constantly whining and criticizing your every action. He suddenly had a lot more respect for Anatoly if this was what he dealt with on a daily basis.

A small, tiny voice in the back of Matt's head wished he had had younger siblings.

"What did you do to me?" Vladimir demanded, spitting out several curses in Russian. He struggled to sit up, his breaths short and pained.

"Road flare," Matt explained and turned around, "cauterized the wound."

"You burned me?" Vladimir had the nerve to sound insulted. Matt felt his patience thinning already.

"Yeah I had to stop the bleeding," he quickly grew tired of Vladimir's struggling and dragged the man over to lean against some of the crates. Matthew might have taken a small amount pf pleasure this time from hearing the Russian's scream. "The bullet's still in there," he warned, "I wouldn't move around too much."

"You expect me to thank you?" Vladimir scoffed.

Matt took back what he had thought earlier; younger siblings were absolute monsters.

"If I didn't need you, believe me, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Why do you need me?" A crunch of plastic sheets as Vladimir tried to shift in his new position. "You have my brother, yes? He does not break easy under torture, but you could get what you need from him. Unless he is dead already—"

Matt was so sick of this shit. "Volodya. That's you, right?"

The increased heartbeat and quick intake of breath answered for Matthew.

"That some kind of nickname? He kept calling you that. What's his?"

What followed was silence, but that was only because Vladimir was trying to figure out how to respond. Matt could hear as his fingers tightened around the ring again. He wore a similar ring under his shirt as well. What did it mean?

"Tolik," Vladimir growled. "Nicknames from long time ago. He—he's alive?"

Matt nodded. "Yes. You have matching rings too, a sign only you two and one more know."

"Sergei was only other who knew."

"What that the man you were with earlier?"

"Да, did you kill him?"

"Oh for—no!" Matthew's control slipped and he punched through the crate next to Vladimir's head. He felt the other man flinch. "I told you I don't kill people. I left him to be arrested by those cops, but they were Fisk's men and they shot him."

Surprisingly, Vladimir went silent. His heartbeat slowed down and he tried to even out his breathing.

"My brother, he refused to talk until you bring me to him?"

"I—yeah." Matt was caught slightly off guard that he finally guessed right. Vladimir choked out a pained laugh.

"That is what he would do...глупый."

Matt couldn't help but smile. "He said being an older brother is it's own job."

"Да," Vladimir's voice shook and Matt tasted salt in the air. The Russian was crying now. "He went to Fisk because I refuse. 'Too prideful, Volodya.' He not say it, but was in his eyes. Went to bow and beg for both of us—I—"

Matt finally understood. "You blame yourself."

"Always doing these things," Vladimir continued. "He follows whatever I am doing. Because of me we were thrown into prison. Different than soft American prisons—nearly killed Anatoly. I wanted to go to America. I chose this life for us. Anatoly never care much for violence or crime, but—"

"—he was watching out for you." Matthew finished.

"That how you say it?" Vladimir groaned. "I thought, when Sergei show me his broken phone with his blood—I thought, 'I have killed my own brother'."

Lines were becoming blurry again. His father's death...it was his fault, Matt pushed his dad to win that stupid fight. He knew how Vladimir felt; the pain had been so intense he couldn't even scream. Some nights, Matthew still wished he had died when that car had hit him.

"He's not dead," his voice shook as memories threatened to overtake him. "Anatoly is waiting for you."

"Always waiting for me," Vladimir slurred.

"Hey, hey." Matt reached out and grabbed Vladimir's jaw. "Stay awake."

"Hmm, strong grip," the Russian noted. "Fisk...his lap dog came to us first. He told us his employer had taken note."

"What—" Matthew hadn't been prepared for Vladimir to just start spilling everything. He assumed the man, like his brother, would demand they get out of their current situation before speaking.

"He complimented us—" Vladimir swallowed, "—on our business. He invited us to be...part of something bigger. To expand, if we entered into an agreement."

"What did Fisk offer?" Matt pushed. He was so close to finally getting answers.

"Police looking other way, aid from politicians, and access to Chinese and their heroin—"

"He working with the Chinese?" He couldn't help interrupting, but it made sense suddenly. Those Russians had been driving that Chinese man around last night. This was bigger than he had previously imagined.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" Vladimir snorted. "Just snapping scraps falling from table."

Matt ignored the insult. "I want names."

"There's only one name that matters; the man that can tie everything together."

"Who?"

Vladimir tried to lean forward. Part of Matthew wanted to tell him he didn't have to, the other told him to stay quiet. "Have you heard of name, Leslie Shumway?"

Matt's mind raced as he tried to connect the name. "No, he work for Fisk?"

"Ha!" Vladimir coughed and spit of more of his blood. "American schools; almost as bad as Russian."

"Come on."

"Leslie Shumway was an accountant to your Al Capone."

The dots connected. "You know who Fisk's money man is." This could change everything.

"Not just Fisk," Vladimir revealed, "he handled it for all of us."

That was it. This was all Matthew needed and more. He could take down Fisk in one fell swoop.

"Who is he? Where do I find him?"

Vladimir's heart kept slowing down, like sand from an hourglass. He breathing became more labored.

"We...we were going to rule this city, my brother and I..."

No. Matt reached out, "Vladimir, the name! I need his name!"

"His name...his name—"

Matt leaned even closer, until his ear was right next to Vladimir's mouth. So close...

The head butt came out of nowhere. Matthew's head snapped back from the force and he cried out. Vladimir threw himself forward and next thing Matthew realized a wooden plank cracked down along his back. He reeled back and Vladimir swung again, striking Matt across the chin and tossing him back across the floor. Two hard blows to the head; his senses shorted out and he couldn't feel anything around him.

"This is not how I die," Vladimir gasped, wooden plank scraping across the floor as he dragged it behind him. Matt turned on his side to try and get up. "This...is not how it happens!"

The Russian raised his weapon and Matt sprung into action, catching Vladimir by his wrists and blocking the attack. They struggled and Vladimir ripped his hands free from Matt's grasp. He tried to swing again, but Matt dodged and smacked the board out of his hands. He spun and punched Vladimir twice before bending down and lifting the man up by his waist. Matthew meant to throw Vladimir against the floor and stun the Russian, but instead he accidentally collapsed the entire floor.

Matt had perhaps half a second to panic before his world went dark.

Vladimir was a little shit.

Bad enough that Matt had to wake up with new cracked ribs, a sore jaw, and a massive migraine after falling several meters to a stone floor, but then to find out Vladimir had died on him was just icing on the fucking cake.

Murder was too good for Anatoly, Matt decided as he pounded on Vladimir's chest. When he got back to the older Russian he was going to flip the man over and make him explain himself as Matthew brutally fucked him against the couch—with Vladimir watching, just because he could. Oh yeah, that thought felt good.

Matt slammed his fist down in righteous anger. "I'm not done with you yet!"

Vladimir's shout as he came back, and his wretched gasps, soothed the dark part of Matt's soul.

"You died, I brought you back," he summed up like it was the evening weather report. Standing hurt, everything hurt, but Matt forced his legs to work.

"You lied," Vladimir accused. "You can't even stand there and let me die."

"I made a promise to your brother," Matt said. It shut the Russian up and let him concentrate on finding a way out. The stale air moved around them, twisting downwards through a vent. Matthew scrambled over broken pieces of wood as he clawed at the vent underneath them. It was too heavy for one man. Matt's broken ribs screamed as he struggled to lift the metal grate. He tried until his shoulders nearly popped out and a cry ripped itself from his throat.

They were trapped.

Fisk's call didn't improve the situation.

His offer to kill Vladimir was tempting after everything he had put Matt through, but the promise to Anatoly was more important. It was useful in learning that Fisk assumed Anatoly had died and in that way, he was safe. Fisk's taunts and blatant display of power as he killed people around Matthew—all so he could pin it on the Man in the Mask—made Matt's blood boil.

He screamed as he threw the radio at the wall. It shattered everywhere and the Devil reared inside of Matt. He needed to kill Fisk—drown the world in his blood—he needed to slit his throat as—

The sound of his phone ringing dragged Matthew out of his terrible thoughts. Claire's terrified voice made him focus.

"On the news they're saying that you shot those cops!" His rage welled up again, but Matt shoved it away. He could feel Vladimir's stare.

"No, it was Fisk," he assured Claire. "It was all Fisk."

He heard her sigh of relief. "What's going on out there?"

"I—" A noise caught Matt's attention. "Hang on." He sharpened his hearing and cursed as he realized they were almost of out time. The police were coming and Matt was trapped in a tiny room with a dying Russian and vent that he couldn't lift.

There was no way out.

Vladimir's heart rate picked up as he heard it too and realized the same thing.

"Claire—" Matt wasn't ready. He figured this was how he would eventually die, but not tonight. Not when he was so close. He was never going to hear Foggy or Karen's voice again. When it was revealed who he was, it would break both their hearts. What would they think about him?

"Um, wh-what you said earlier." Shit, his voice was shaking. "Before I left—"

Her voice shook. "I was—I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, don't be," Matt cut her off. "It turns out you were—you were right about me." His whole body was trembling and Matt just wished he would stop, but he was so scared. The words were pouring out of him. "I just don't want you getting caught up if it goes that way."

"Matt—"

"C-could you give a message to Anatoly for me?" he asked. He heard her sniff and give a choked 'yes'. "Just...tell him I'm sorry. I couldn't bring his brother back. Fisk thinks he's dead so he should lie low for as long as he can. Th-the apartment's paid until the end of the year."

"Jesus, Matt you don't have to—"

"Promise me, Claire."

"I—of course."

"And tell him...sorry, about the other thing. He'll know what you mean."

"Oh God." Claire's voice cracked and she must have covered her hand over her mouth to smother her sobs. She really was a kind person. Matthew was glad they met.

"If we don't get a chance to talk again," he forced a smile that no one could see, "you take care of yourself." He clicked the phone shut right as the door to the warehouse was broken into. Out of time.

Matt reached for the metal grate, because he couldn't simply stand and wait.

"You would...do that for my brother?" Vladimir's voice made him pause.

"Wh-what?" God, they did not have time to argue more.

A grunt sounded as Vladimir tried to sit up again. "Even...even though you are about to die, you think of him?"

Matthew waved to the room around them. "Well I couldn't save you, it's the least I can do."

"No...least you could do was let him die, but you didn't." The slow scrape of cloth against wood as the Russian dragged himself up and staggered over to Matt. "Now, as death comes, you think of him?"

"You're reading too much into it," Matt deflected.

"Am I?" Vladimir dropped to his knees, biting back a moan. "What was other thing?"

"What thing?"

"Between you and my brother." Now Vladimir sounded frustrated and Matt relished in it. "The other thing you are sorry for?"

Matt gave a shit-eating grin as the police drew closer to them. "That's between Anatoly and I."

He expected to get hit, or for Vladimir to throw another tantrum. What Matthew didn't anticipate was for the Russian to grab onto the grate with him and start to lift. Matt's shock must have shown on his face because he heard Vladimir give a small laugh.

"Then I shall ask him myself," he said. "I told you; this is not how I die."

They were both injured, and it took all of their strength, but when they finally moved the vent Matt felt relief wash over him. A second chance had been given to him.

Vladimir basically fell down the ladder while Matthew carefully climbed after him. He listened as the young cop was murdered—Fisk was a monster, killing an innocent boy—and shouldered the weight of another person he'd failed. Vladimir clung to the ladder in an attempt to stay upright, gasping for breath and Matt reached for him.

He could save this one life. He could keep at least one promise.

"This way." Matthew dragged Vladimir towards their freedom, even as the man buckled and tried to drop to the floor. Mutt pushed him up against the wall.

"Where are we?" Vladimir sounded delirious. Matt sensed the area around them.

"Access tunnels," he answered distractedly. "The city was built on a network of these, most of them sealed up years ago." The officers were getting closer. "All right, we have to keep moving, find a way to the street." Matthew hauled Vladimir up, taking most of his weight and covering his cries with his free hand. He would get them out of here, whatever it took.

That thought lasted all of ten seconds before they ran into a door. Matthew struggled to open it, tried to ignore how Vladimir's breathing was getting worse—the blood that kept dripping from his mouth.

Footsteps were Matt's only warning as the police came through the tunnel, he barely had time to throw Vladimir out of the way before a hail of bullets came at them. Matthew spun out of their trajectory, let his pipe go and flung it at the shooter's face. Both men kept firing. Matt had to keep dancing along the walls and flying through the air to dodge everything. Their armor made his blows less effective.

It became more difficult spinning around his attackers, but also making sure their shots didn't go towards Vladimir either. Eventually Matt subdued them, but too late he realized a new problem.

Vladimir pointed one of the rifles at him.

They both were silent. Part of Matthew wished he could just cry at all the bullshit he had dealt with today. Another part of him burned with fury. After everything Vladimir still wanted him dead?

Matthew jabbed his finger outwards. "There are five more coming. All working for Fisk, probably not even real cops. We don't have time for this." His voice was desperate, Matt knew, and he didn't care. He was so sick of the rug being pulled from under him every time he though he was getting somewhere.

"I think...maybe I stay."

Like listening to static, all of Matt's senses shorted out. He stood, stunned for a moment, and his jaw dropped. What?

"We can still make it out of here." Matthew turned to the door, where escape was waiting for them. "I made a promise to your brother."

"My brother needs to start living his own life." Vladimir coughed more blood out. "Always waiting for me, always doing what I want—I-I don't even know what he wants. I never ask."

"Listen!" Matt tried to snap him out of it. "You two turn evidence on Fisk, we can—"

"He controls all police—judges," Vladimir's voice hardened. "There's only one way to stop him, you know this." Anatoly's words echoed with his brother's and Matt shook his head vehemently.

"No. I'm not a killer."

Vladimir snarled at him. "The moment you put on the mask, you got into cage with animals. Animals don't stop fighting; not until one of them is dead." Matthew clenched his fists, still in denial.

He would find another way.

"What Fisk did to me, he'll do to you! And he will do it to everyone you care about.
Will you feel the same way then?" the Russian asked. "Or will you be man and do what you know you must do?"

"...Vladimir—" Matthew tried but was cut off.

"Leland Owlsley. That is the name you want. That is the information you wanted from my brother, now you don't have to keep promise." Vladimir fumbled with his clothes, Velcro ripped as he pulled off his vest and a slight clink as he withdrew a chain with his own ring on it. "Here. Take both."

"No."

"Take them!" Vladimir demanded and threw them at Matt. It was a shitty throw and both rings went wide but Matthew's reflexes caught them with ease. His chest ached at the realization of what was happening. "You...saved my brother," was finally admitted. "I owe you large debt. I repay it now."

"Please, don't do this."

"Ha! One minute you want to kill me, next you sound like broken child. No wonder my brother likes you."

"I never said—"

"I figure it out." A distortion in the air as Vladimir waved his hand. "Also comment about sucking dick; I heard. Typical. Tolik always attracted to certain types. Now go. Tell my brother I will be in Hell—while he keep company with the Devil."

Matthew stood for another moment longer, frantic.

"Go!" Vladimir roared and Matt used his rage at his helplessness to kick the door down and flee. The rings in his hands felt like lead weights. Vladimir's voice floated through the air, chasing Matthew, as he sang in foreign words. Almost like a lullaby one would hum to comfort a small child. The notes were bleak and eventually drowned out by gunfire. A desolate sob escaped Matt as his lungs burned with shame.

The night air stung and the wind chilled his skin as Matt broke to the surface streets. He kept sprinting, trying to outrun the horrors behind him.

.

.

.