Chapter 30:
[Matt Murdock POV]
[New York City]
[Junkyard.] The lead assassin's blade slices through the air with murderous intent. Acting fast, I duck under the attack and strike a right-hook to the body, right at the liver. The person folds, gasping. A heavier set of feet stump forward, swinging a powerful fist. I parry the attack, snap open my baton, follow up by bashing the weapon onto the weak point of the person's knee. The man goes down crying in pain. He was down but not out.
From behind, an assassin tries to blindside me with an iron bo-staff. I side-step, making him miss. Tag him with a spinning-back-kick. The first attacker, now back up, almost catches me. The tip of the blade crosses mear inches from my throat. 'These people are skilled. They're matching me at every turn.' Only thing going in my favor is they aren't working as a team. They're practically fighting each other for which one would get the kill.
Both the swordsman and staffman dash at me. I leap over them onto a fire escape. The 4th man pitches a shuriken. It embeds itself into the surface of the concrete wall next to the fire escape. My ears pick up the sound of a faint beep coming from it. My eyes go wide. It explodes. The blast knocks me off to the ground below. The big guy grabs me by the leg and flings me toward the wall. My back slams onto the exterior hard. 'Ow,' I state to myself internally, trying to get back up while ignoring the shooting pain surging through my body.
Halfway to my feet, they're on me again. The big one holds me up by the neck, "Foolish as you are. You are still a warrior. Deserving a warrior's death." He raises his large fist. The knuckles spark. I wait for the blow, but it never comes. From out of nowhere, a figure charges in, slamming a fist into the big assassin's face, sending him sliding across the yard. The other three back away a few steps, their attention fixed on the newcomer. Spartan. He and I go into a combative stance. "Can you still fight?" Spartan asks. "Yeah," I answer. The three go on the attack. The staffman goes after Spartan. Attacking first, Spartan quickly deflects the man's staff, hook-punches him in the face, knees him twice in the gut, and balls. There's a slight pop on the last strike. He goes down, cupping a hand between his legs. All the fight in him dies out.
The swordsman slashes the sword, cutting a gash across my chest. I put some distance between us by running up the wall and flipping over the assassin. Too slow to react, I rapidly trap the attacker's arm behind the back, locking it onto the shoulder, then kick a foot to the back of the knee to bring the attack to the ground. Once in position, I wrap an arm around the neck, putting the assassin to sleep with a back-choke-hold.
I let out a tired breath. Spartan just finished cuffing two of the assassins. 'Wait! Where's the third one?!' I nearly miss it. The third assassin jumps out of the shadow, throwing a shuriken at Spartan's back. "Watch out!" I shout, dashing in front of Spartan's path, taking the hit. The blast from the shuriken sends me crashing to the ground. "DD!" Spartan yells. He fast-draws the pistol resting in its holster and fires two shots at the third assassin, killing the man. The masked crusader bolts toward me. Everything is going dark. I can barely hear the man but know he's yelling something at me. Scan the chest plate of my suit. It's trashed beyond repair. The blast didn't puncture the armor. But it still rocked me internally. Spartan pouches a switch on his headset, "Karai, I heed immediate evac! Have a Trauma kit on standby!" An odd noise in the distance wrestles my attention. Blades spinning in a circle like a fan. It hovers stationary for a while, then flies off. 'Drone?' is the last thought that crosses my mind before I fall unconscious.
[Spartan POV]
[The Bunker, New York City]
The three of us surround the masked defender of Hell's Kitchen. Karai and I did everything the best we could to patch up DD's broken form. It was touch and go a few times, but we managed to pull it off. During the procedure, we had to remove his mask to clear any obstruction and assess any possible head injuries. Doing so gave us a clear view of the man's face. Karai called out his name in surprise. Matt Murdock. Karai briefed Wanda and me on how she encountered the man the other night. Said Murdock was her publicly appointed lawyer.
DD starts to wake up. He quickly becomes very aware of his surroundings. Notes the bandages covering his frame. He reaches a hand to his head. The mask is gone. "You saw my face?" DD asks, a little upset. All three of us nod. "Didn't have a choice. Had to evaluate your injuries thoroughly," Karai explains to him. DD doesn't argue with her logic. Karai stares hard at the man's eyes, testing them with a pen light, "Eyes are not reactive to light, and you're not freaking out. Blind?" The blind vigilante bobs his head conformingly. Karai, Wanda, and I all display impressive expressions. Prior to the ambush, DD conveys he was on the hunt for the arsonist responsible for setting the fire at Union Allies.
"Union Allies? Sounds familiar," Wanda states, a hand on her chin, thinking. I fold my arms across my chest, "It should. Union Allies' posters are plastered everywhere in lower Manhattan. A construction company. They're one of the main forces spearheading restoration efforts for NYC." A thought occurred to me. I peer at DD and submit an inquiry, "What were the other two building fires?" DD cogitates the question, "Gang operation sites." I clap expectantly, "Fires weren't random hits of a crazed arsonist. They were targets."
[Drake POV]
[Fisk Tower POV]
The entirety of Kingpin's syndicate watches the battle between the two masked heroes and assassins via live footage from a stealth-drone. All four of the assassins are defeated. Nobu drops his head in disappointment. Fisk releases a controlled, furious breath, "Your assets failed their mission. I have very little tolerance for failure, Nobu." Nobu rolls his eyes disrespectfully and whispers an insult at Fisk in Japanese. In an instant, the large man grabs Nobu by the neck, "Do not forget your place and never overestimate your value," Fisk growls. Nobu raises his hands in surrender, sweating a bit, "This was entirely a trial run to test the vigilante's skills in combat. As a result, I have already pinpointed his weaknesses. I assure you the next encounter will have a more favorable outcome." Fisk frees his grip, eyes narrow, "For your sake, Nobu, it better."
At the moment, Fisk's office doors open. The Russian brothers stroll in, towing a bloody man by the collar. Seeing past all the blood and bruises, the man isn't actually a man but a teenage boy. Can't be any older than 17. The Russians push the boy onto a chair facing Fisk. The crime boss glares dangerously at the teen. The teen tries to speak, but Fisk grabs a harpoon off his desk and fires it at the teen's shoulder. A high pitch scream echoes through the office chambers. Fisk reels him down to his knees by the harpoon's wire. He towers over the teen, pressing onto the wounded shoulder, "Perception and fear. Simple concepts yet extremely effective. By burning down one of my assets, you perceive me as weak." He shoots a hard gaze at the teen's eyes, then slaps him across the face.
The impact from his large hand knocked two teeth out of the teen's mouth. The teen cries out in pain. "Now, I will ask you this question once. Who do you work for?" Fisk demands. Through busted lips, the teen mumbles a name, "Valerio." Fisk smiled anticipatingly as if he knew he was going to get the answers he wanted. Fisk strides to the large window, peers out to the city, "Skin him. Record it and send the footage to Valerio," he orders over his shoulder. The Russian brothers seize the teen by the arms, taking him away. He cries and begs, but it all falls on deaf ears.
[Matt Murdock POV]
[New York City]
The car I'm in parks in front of my apartment building. "Still think you should get a full workup by an actual doctor," Spartan says in the driver's seat. "The problem is hospitals tend to ask a lot of questions. Questions I can't answer." He glances over his shoulder toward me, "Never said it has to be a doctor from a hospital. The medical team at SHIELD are very good at what they do and know how to keep a secret." I shake my head. Spartan sighs, "Alright. Your call, Murdock."
"It wouldn't be a good image for SHIELD to be affiliated with a vigilante. They're still working hard to gain the public's trust again after the whole HYDRA insurrection. SHIELD may be cleared by law. But some within the public space still hold a grudge," I tell the SHIELD operator. He nods, not arguing against the statement, "I programmed my contact in your burner phone. Keep posted." With that, I exit the car and enter my apartment building.
As soon as I step into my apartment, my cell phone rings. It's Foggy. I quickly answered. "Matt, I've been trying to reach you all day. What happened?" Foggy says, voice full of worry. "Sorry, Foggy. I got caught up with other matters and my phone died," I tell my long-time friend. "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days, buddy. Anyway, I got good news. We finally got our own office space," Foffy divulges to me over the phone excitedly.
[Jessica Jones POV]
[J-Rabbit Diner, New York City]
[Diner.] New York may be the city that never sleeps, but it sure does sleep around. Among other things, under the covers of night. Not that I'm complaining. People's ill choices are good for business. A big part of the job is looking for the worst in people. Turns out I excel at that. Clients hire me to find dirt, and I find it. People do bad shit. I step in where the law leaves off.
I sit quietly at the corner booth, enjoying the usual meal I order while studying the photos of the job I just completed. Jeri Hogarth, a high-profile lawyer, hired me to find dirt on Gregory Spheeris for a client. Turns out Mr. Spheeris is having a secret gay affair with the client's husband.
A girl in her 20s enters the diner and makes a B-line toward the nearest empty table. "The usual, please," the girl says to Judy, "What a fucking night." The owner of the J-Rabbit nods her head in agreement with the girl's statement, "Yeah, it's tough out there." Returning, Judy puts down a plate of food on the table, "Here you do, Ivy. Enjoy." "Hey, if you made it, I know I'm going to love it," the girl says. Judy smiles brightly at the woman then she walks off to serve another patron.
Seen the girl a few times around the block, always at odd hours. It doesn't take a genius to figure out she's a prostitute. Suddenly a car pulls up. A big black unmarked SUV. Ivy peers over to it and takes in a deep breath, "How much do I owe you, Judy?" Judy glances at the car, then back to Ivy; her eyes practically begging the girl to stay. Wordlessly, Ivy sets a $20 bill on the table and exits. From my seat, I watch the car take off. 'Bratva.' The girl is one of Bratva's workers. Poor girl. Likely got conned. Made her believe they could make her into a famous model or a movie star. Only to end up as someone's sexual conquest for a few dollars.
[Brownstone, New York City]
After leaving the J-Rabbit, I walk by a brownstone complex. The black SUV that carried Ivy away is parked in front of the building. Just as I'm about to keep walking, a scream cries out from within the upper level. Without hesitation, I dash into the building and sprint up the stairway. "Stop! I said no! Let go of me, you psycho!" "Bitch! No one says fucking no to me!" [Inside.] Following the shouting, I hurry quickly toward the door at the end of the corridor, then break it open once I've reached it. A perk who oozes entitlement and privilege smacks Ivy hard across the face with enough force to knock the girl to the ground. The piss poor excuse for a man catches sight of me at the doorway, "Who the fuck are you? Get lost, bitch, before something bad happens to you!"
I glare at the walking shit-stain, "No, I'm not going anywhere." The man stalks toward me, readying to swing a punch, "You barged into the wrong place tonight, bitch." Fists up, I intercept the perk as he fires his fist forward. With zero effort, I dock under the strike and clock the man in the jaw, breaking it with a solid uppercut-punch. The man bellows and writhes in agony on the floor while holding his jaw. 'Should've held back on that punch a bit more; enhanced strength tends to do unnecessary damage, even if the bastard deserves it." Ivy recovers and nurses the now swollen cheek. "It's probably best if you leave," I tell the girl.
Ivy sighs a painful breath, "I'm not leaving until I get what's owed." "You're not getting shit, bitch," the man snaps, despite sounding like a mismatch of words tied together. I point a finger toward the creep, "Keep talking shit, and I'll make a broken jaw the least painful experience of your night. Do not test me." He goes deathly quiet. I walk over to Ivy, studying her over; the fuck did a real number on her. "You good?" I ask. "Hunky-dory," Ivy voices sarcastically, "Look, this is just the start of a shitty night for me. I only need the money he owes me, and then I'm gone." "You're dead, bitch! I'll fucking put you in the ground, whore." the man barks. Rolling my eyes, I draw my taser and shoot the creep with a stun-bolt, shutting him up and knocking him out. After calling it in, Ivy and I leave the scene.
[Outside.] The two of us put some distance from the building. "Guess it'll be bad for you to return empty-handed," I state, despite already knowing the answer. Ivy's eyes carry a worried expression while forcing a smile, "I'll be fine." 'No, you won't,' I think to myself internally. Ivy starts to make her leave, "If you go back to the Bratva with nothing, they'll send you on a trip to the ER and that only if you're lucky." Back faced to me, she stops mid-way into her stride, shoulders dropped, "Thank you for the concern, but I'm indebted. I have to pay back what I'm owed." It isn't much, but it's the best I can do under the circumstance; I hand over the girl a few hundred dollars in cash. The girl gazes up at me with thankful eyes. "Don't sweat it," I say to Ivy, "It's a one-time thing." Ivy waves down a taxi. I hang my head in disappointment as I watch the girl go. The whole fiasco really weighed down on me. Part of me feels I should've done more for the girl. Could've talked her into going to a shelter, like FEAST or something.
[Karai POV
[New York City]
Feeling hungry, I approach a food cart up the block. Halfway through the Ramen bow, a commotion breaks out across the street. A small shopkeeper is being violently harassed by a gang of thugs. The store owner tries to fight back with a baseball bat, but the man is old and slow. Thug-1 kicks the man in the chest, knocking the poor old man over a stand. He crashes to the floor. With an eye-roll, I ready myself to step in and put a stop to this transgression, but a whistling sound impels me to pause. At the other end of the sidewalk, a woman appears. My eyes gape at who it is. Skye. For a split second, I hardly recognized her. She appears so different since the last time we crossed paths. More mature and experienced. What really grabs my attention are the strange bands around her hands.
Skye strolls past the gang toward the down old man and helps him to his feet. "Hey!" The gang leader yells, feeling insulted for being ignored, "This doesn't concern you, bitch. Get lost before you dig yourself too deep." "It doesn't have to go this way," Skye tells the five men. The thugs' faces go red with rage. The gang leader marches up to Skye, invading her personal space and trying his best to intimidate her. It doesn't work. Punk goes to grab her arms. Big mistake. In one fluid motion, she traps the thug's hand and twists it sharply, flipping the goon onto the ground with a perfectly executed Judo throw. The other four men freeze up for a moment in surprise.
Snapping out of it, thug-2 pulls a knife. He tries to slash away at Skye, who sways out of the blade's reach. At the right time, she side-steps as the thug slashes downward but misses. Skye snaps out an extendable baton and bashes the rod at the coons knees. The man exclaims in pain, gripping at his leg. Thug-3 goes for the gun hanging in his waistband. Before he can clear the weapon, I jump in, and my fist meets his face, knocking him out cold. The last of the goons cut their losses and runs away. Subsequent to securing the three gangers via zip-ties, I stroll over to the old man to check if he's okay. Discounting a few bruises, the old man isn't seriously hurt. I pull Skye to the side, and she shares that she's in NYC for SHIELD training. Before I can press on the subject more, police sirens blare in the distance. Not wanting to deal with the local LEO, we take off in different directions.