"No killing," Matt said as they moved across the rooftops towards the Hudson Yards. On the streets below, the people of New York were heading out for a Friday night on the town. Off to dinner. Off to the theatre. To a party, on a date, to the cinema, to the game. No one looked up.
"Really, Murdock?" Natasha said. They'd been through the plan back at Matt's apartment as they'd suited up. However Natasha and Matt still found this one detail to be a sticking point. "They're going to try and kill us. They would have killed Bucky."
Matt bit the inside of his lip. He didn't want Natasha to be right, but he had a bad feeling that she was. "I need to talk to them."
"Oh, I'm sure they'll be very forth-coming."
"Let me try," Matt said.
"Fine," Natasha said, "But if I think the situation's getting out of hand, I get to intervene."
'Try and keep the fight away from me," Matt said.
"I know how to buy time," Natasha said. They'd been through this too. But Natasha let Matt go over and over the point. She'd been the same when she'd first started working in a team. It was hard to put your life in someone else's hands. She understood that. "Trust me, Matt."
"I do," Matt said. He knew Natasha wanted to help, only she liked guns and he did not. She liked guns a lot.
...
"How many?" Natasha asked as they stood on the roof of the Hydra building.
"Six," Matt said, sensing the body heat of the men below. "All male. All fit. All - distracted."
"I could have this over with in a minute, you know."
"We need answers."
"We really don't."
"No killing."
"We'll see."
"Natasha."
"What?"
"If you just wanted to take them out in one smooth sweep, you wouldn't have asked me to join you."
"Touche."
"Ready?" Matt asked. He knew she was. She was itching to get into the Hydra den and punch the lights out of these goons. Almost as much as he was.
"Let's go get some answers."
Matt looked at her as he reached down to lift open the glass roof door, and was glad he wasn't alone. "Can you smell that?" Matt asked, the door open only an inch.
"Smell what?" Natasha asked.
"Bleach. Cleaning chemicals. And paint. Fresh paint."
"I think they're getting ready to move out," Natasha said, crouching down next to Matt, trying to get a better look inside. The room below was all but empty save for the six men sitting on fishing stools, leaning over an iPad.
"They're waiting. Listening to the game on the radio."
"Actually, they're streaming it on an iPad, but that doesn't matter, does it?"
"No," Matt said.
"Can you - see the shape of the paint?" Natasha asked.
"No. Can you?"
"Yes," Natasha said, "The wet paint. It's still glistening in the light."
"What is it?"
"Huh," Natasha said, "They've painted over a seven-foot high Hydra octopus."
"They're definitely moving out tonight," Matt said.
"Yep."
"Ready to speed up the process?"
"What if I kill those lights, first?" Natasha asked.
Matt hadn't thought about the lights. "How many shots?"
"Three. One for each of light. They're fluorescent lights. Making the whole place very bright."
"Light or dark, it doesn't affect me either way," Matt said, "but I don't want it to impair you."
"Loving the chivalry, Murdock, but trust me. I've worked in the dark before. Now block your ears. This will be loud."
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Matt put his hands over his ears. Yells and shouts rang from below as the Hydra goons ducked for cover, presuming they were under attack. One of them fired his weapon blindly, the bullets doing nothing but bounce off the walls.
"Steve wouldn't much like that language," Natasha said, holstering her weapon.
"Ready?" Matt said, lifting up the door.
Natasha slipped inside. "Time for some real Avenging."
...
Matt shoved his stick up against the man's throat. By the skip of the man's heart, Matt guessed the man assumed it was a gun. Matt had no intention of making him think otherwise. "How did you find the Asset?"
"Why do you care?"
"How did you find him?" Matt snarled.
"He's got a fucking metal arm. How do you think?" That wasn't the correct answer, but Matt decided to let it slide. Now he had one of the men, he was mad.
"Six of you and one of him?"
"You don't get it," the man said, and tried to wriggle out of Matt's grip. Matt readjusted his arms to pin the man tighter.
"Six highly trained Hydra soldiers versus one exhausted, sick, injured homeless guy. Sounds like a great fight."
"You have no idea what he is."
"And you do?"
"He's a killer."
"And just what were you going to do once you had your hands on him?"
"I think you know." This was not a nice man, Matt thought. In no world would Matt want to have a beer with this guy. He smelt like steroids and body odour.
"Say it," Matt said, and pressed his stick hander into the man's throat.
The man gulped. "Why? He's already dead."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Matt asked.
"He is already dead. Can't you understand English?"
Matt felt his insides turn. Barnes wasn't dead, not unless something had gone terribly wrong in the interim. The worst part was that the man was convicted he was telling the truth. "Where is he?" Matt asked, desperate for the man to give something else away.
"Why would I care?" the man said, "But don't you worry, we'll clean up the mess in the morning. Remove that metal arm, and chuck the body in the river. No one will know. No one will find him."
"Why?" Matt growled. The man's tone told Matt that they didn't know Steve and Sam had found Barnes earlier. Why kill Barnes now? And how could he already be dead?
"You ask a lot of questions."
Matt hesitated for a moment. Something was wrong.
"Let me ask you something," the man said. Matt knew he had the man trapped. He listened around the hall. Natasha was proving a welcome distraction, holding the other men herself. One lay knocked out on the floor. So what had Matt missed? "Who are you working for? Who's sacrificing the Devil of Hell's Kitchen for a tiny bit of information on a dead man? What does it matter what we wanted with him? We wanted to him out. And now he will be."
"What did you do to him?"
"He's disposable. He's defective. Past his use-by date. Just a shame his tech is too."
"What does that mean?"
"The real question is," the man said, ignoring Matt, his heart increasingly rapidly, "How disposable are you? Heil Hydra."
Matt heard a tiny click and then the man's body went rigid. "What the…?" Matt said, as the man slumped forward, frothing at the mouth. Matt let go of the man, and his lifeless body dropped to the ground. Matt stepped back from the body. He wanted to yell to Natasha, tell her to get out, and get in contact was Steve.
A moment later Matt was lying sprawled on the ground. He wasn't sure how he got there. Stars flashed before his eyes and his head spun. The blow to his head messed with his senses. He used the wall to try and stand. He had to get up. He had to keep fighting. Natasha was still here. He couldn't leave her alone. They had to call Steve.
Matt sensed someone behind him. He swung and hit them, sending the Hydra goon stumbling back a few paces, but Matt was disorientated. He was literally fighting blind, and it scared him. The goon was upon him again, he grabbed Matt by the shoulders and threw him into the ground. Matt tried to regain his feet, but the goon kicked Matt in the calf with his steel-capped boot toe, sending Matt back onto his hands and knees. Another kick hit Matt square in the ribs, knocking all of the air from his chest. Instinctively, Matt curled his knees up to his chest and put his arms over his head to try and protect himself. He heard the goon laugh and then kicked him again, this time the kick hitting Matt's arm, just above his elbow. Pain shot down his arm to his hand.
Vaguely, Matt was aware that Natasha was still fighting. He wondered if she'd noticed him. He wanted to call out to her, but he didn't know how. How was he supposed to call for help?
"Get up, you dick," the goon snarled, and grabbed Matt's arm, pulling him into an awkward sitting position. Matt was too dazed to fight, and being pulled from the ground made his head spin. "What game do you think you're playing?" he goon laughed. "Heil Hydra."
Matt sat slumped against the wall. He heard a click.
Bang.
Matt felt cold. He closed his eyes. It was late and he was tired and everywhere hurt. He wanted to go back to bed. Preferably with Natasha. He wondered where Natasha was now.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.