Chapter Text
The hum of the city below his feet made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen clench and unclench his fists, wriggling his fingers as the cool air of the night gently swirled around him. Taking a long inhale, Matt allowed the scent of the city to fill his lungs as he lowered himself to a crouch once more on the rooftop of the warehouse. The smell of the mixed pot of different restaurants, the damp scent of recently rained on asphalt, the rich aroma of rubber tires and gas and the underlying smell of grit, dirt and grime. So thick that Matt swore he could taste it all at the back of his throat.
The smell hadn’t been what had brought Matt to the edge of the city though. It was the hum of the police scanners all together being drawn to the other side of the city, away from the docks. At first he’d overheard a call about a break in, then moments later another scanner announced a small robbery, then an assault. Slowly Matt listened to all the scanners in his earshot driving the police away from the docks. It was clever but it wasn’t exactly subtle.
Matt tilted his head slightly as he listened for the gentle rolling of waves, listening as they crashed into the wooden posts of the dock. Aside from the waves the rest of the space was still and quiet; quiet in a way that felt unnatural and certainly didn’t mean empty. He could hear a deep hum, a low humming. Like one united heartbeat, coming from inside the warehouse below him.
It was only a few moments of the unnatural stillness before Daredevil could hear the rolling of tires easing their way down the gritty path of the docks. The engine thrummed low and quiet, but the brakes squeaked softly as it eased to a halt. Matt could tell by the way the brakes moved and the sound of the ground below the tires that it was a long car that had pulled up and he didn’t have to guess who would be stepping out of it.
Wilson Fisk. The sheer size of the man gave off a demanding presence, air parting around his wall-like figure and the ground crunching loudly beneath the Kingpin’s heel. Matt drew in a soft breath to keep his heart rate steady as he waited, knowing that more company would be arriving soon.
As if on queue, the heavy roller door of the warehouse opened and forwards stepped a cluster of black clad figures - four of the same looking figures were in the middle carrying a large box. The Hand. Matt felt his lips tighten, he knew their presence all too well and that could only mean something serious if they were meeting with Fisk. Last he had heard of The Hand was when Elektra was still alive. The fleeting memory made his throat tighten, if only for a second. He couldn’t get distracted like that, not now.
An exchange began below and Matt listened keenly, making mental note of the grunt the two of Fisk’s men made as they took the weighted box from the other party, the hushed hefty words coming from Fisk as he nodded towards the masked group of figures. He was so intently focused on the interaction below, wondering what was in the heavy box that the sound of a hammer clicking in a gun suddenly snapped Matt’s attention to the van just as a shot rang out.
A thud and a black clad body fell to the floor, The Hand all readying themselves in a fighting stance. But by the increase in Fisk’s familiar heart rate, Matt could tell that the shot hadn’t come from one of his men and it wasn’t particularly in The Hand’s M.O to go around spontaneously killing their own.
Another shot rang out and Matt felt it whiz past his ear as he moved his head just in time. Either the marksmen had a terrible aim or that bullet was meant for Matt.
Daredevil sprung off the roof as a third shot rang out and nicked his shoulder. The heat of the bullet grazed through his suit and his skin felt the familiar sting of something a little too close for comfort. He just needed to pinpoint where the gunfire was coming from, not wanting to risk another shot being fired off. As he landed on the ground, Matt heard the tires of the car tear off up the road they came down earlier. The previous ease and subtlety of their arrival clearly lacked in their departure. The Hand had also fled without trace, even the body of their fallen brethren had been taken; only leaving behind disturbed gravel.
The air felt silent again and Matt cursed to himself as he realized how exposed he was, doing his best to focus. The waves, the hum of distant traffic, his own breathing, then…the metal grinding of a hammer being pulled back followed by a heartbeat and something else. “Fuck.” A huff of air and an unfamiliar voice aided in pinpointing the location of the shooter. Dropping low, Matt rolled away as the bullet kissed the ground, sending gravel flying up. Moving quickly, Matt was able to get to the assailant before he readied another shot.
“Boy, you move quick!” The man spoke up. His voice was loud, almost bordering entertained and his heartbeat was steady and solid. Matt grabbed the man’s wrist and yanked him forwards as he raised his opposite fist and felt it collide with the other man’s jaw.
There was a crack at the impact and Matt stepped back as the man who was shooting at him regained his bearings. His hands ghosted down to his batons and freed them from their holsters as he readied himself. But the man didn’t retaliate straight away, his hand not holding his gun instead went to his jaw. “You punch like my grandma. And my grandma has a blackbelt in Karate…or was it Judo? Taekwondo? Brazilian Jiu Jitsu?”
Matt felt his brows knit together in response to the man before him. “I…what?” His own voice sounded more confused than he wanted it to and worried it gave him away slightly. Was this a tactic? Some kind of attempt to distract Matt from the fact that the man before him clearly was trying to shoot him like a can on a fence not moments earlier.
The man stopped talking as he heard Matt talk and the lawyer could feel eyes taking him in. “Look, it's a little on the ‘costumey’ side but the horns could always double as handlebars with a couple of tweaks.” His assailant snorted, holding both his hands up on either side of his own head and pointing a single finger on each side to mimic horns. Matt’s nose crinkled at the comment and settled back into his heels, making a mental note that this man was trying to kill him. “What are you playing a–” With a swift move, the larger man swept Matt’s leg out from under him and he felt his own weight collide with the gravel below. The wind had been knocked out of him as he reached to his sides to start to lift himself back up before the man’s hand gripped the front of Matt’s suit and he felt a hard collision to his cheek. The hilt of the gun collided with a loud thud. Matt felt the hard sting and heat rush to the site of contact.
Matt reached one hand up to grab the wrist of the man, lifting one leg and centring it on the man’s stomach before he used their combined weight to roll backwards so his assailant was now on his back as Matt stood over him. This wasn’t like Matt at all - normally he could focus, he could pick up the way his opponent was going to move seconds before they completed their movement but the incessant jabbering was making it hard for the lawyer to focus.
“Now this, this is a good view. I could get used to this.” The man chuckled and for some reason it struck a chord with Matt. His nose scrunched up as he reached for his baton before realizing he’d left them on the ground when he had been knocked down. The assailant must’ve seen where Matt’s attention flicked to before he quickly pulled himself to his feet and made a break for the weapons. “Uh, uh. Oh no you don’t. You’re already making my job hard enough.” As the man made a grab for the batons, Matt managed to beat him to them, holding the leather handles tightly as he tried to regulate his breathing.
Matt’s body faced the man, swallowing thickly as they seemed to square off for a moment. “Y’know…people hire me to get the job done. Deadpool gets it done. But you…” There was a pause in the man’s sentence and then he seemed to be talking to someone else? To…himself? “I know! We should totally put that on our business card! We could drop some off at Subway next time we get a footlong.”
The lawyer tilted his head slightly but didn’t have much time to linger on the odd moment Deadpool was having before the man was on him again. Matt swung a baton and felt it collide with Deadpool’s ribs, hearing a crack as he slid to his knees and aimed the other baton to the back of the man’s leg. Deadpool’s hand came down and grabbed the back of the lawyer’s head as the baton connected with his calf. He pivoted on one leg and brought his knee to Matt’s face.
Matt felt his lip split and he stumbled back.
As he sensed Deadpool move closer, Matt lifted his hand and wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his glove. “Hired? You were hired? By who? The Hand? Kingpin?” Matt demanded as he pushed himself to his feet again. “Were you hired to be here to stop me from taking Kingpin down? Is that what this is?”
Deadpool cocked his head to the side as a hand lifted over his own head and rested on the handle of his sword, but he didn’t ease it from it’s sheath. “Wait...you’re trying to take down the Kingpin? Your mom’s name is Martha too?”
The second part of the sentence was lost on Matt and he shook his head as he tried to shrug the nonsense comment off and focus on Deadpool’s first comment. “Of course I am! Why else would I be here?” Deadpool gave a shrug with one shoulder and gestured vaguely to the warehouses. “Well you could have just been out doing some sightseeing? Or going to some weird sexy Heaven and Hell themed party?” A scoff left the lawyer at the first comment. If only Deadpool knew.
“No. I was trying to stop whatever was going on here before you showed up and tried to shoot me!” Matt felt the air around Deadpool shift and he heard the gravel move as the man backed up slightly. The sound of his gun reholistering and a hefty sigh. “Well shit, looks like I’m gonna have to make use of that advance payment before my employer asks for it back.” And before Matt could question him further, Deadpool began to walk away; holding his hand up as a parting gesture. “ See you around, Red.” With a wink his hand formed the shape of a gun and he pretended to shoot at Matt, the gesture lost on the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
Deadpool had left Matt there, standing in the cool night air with blood in his mouth and more questions than he’d started the night out with.
—
It had taken Matt a few long moments alone on the docks to process what the hell had just happened. Sure, He’d had run-ins with assassins before and other enhanced individuals had come through Hell’s Kitchen so running into one wasn’t that big of a deal. But this interaction had left Matt unsure and a little shaken if he was being honest with himself.
Deadpool was…for lack of a better word…odd. The whole interaction had been unusual and he couldn’t really make heads nor tails of it.
He’d taken his time to get home, skulking along rooftops and down alleys until he was slipping through the fire escape and into his apartment. The weight of his landing creaked through the apartment via the wooden floors. It was among the familiar smells and the safety he felt in his home that Matt felt his mind and nerves relax a little although he still felt his thoughts processing.
Matt felt himself wince as his hands gripped the edges of his cowl and pulled it off, feeling his way over the bathroom counter before setting it down. He could hear his own breath echoing through the small tiled walls of his bathroom. His hand rose up to his face where Deadpool had hit him, right on the cheek with the hilt of his gun. It ached, dull and throbbing.
His fingers kneaded into the skin and his eyes closed as he let out a low hiss of air from behind his teeth. Warmth tinted his cheeks as he swallowed and focused on really feeling the pain. Matt’s fingers ghosted lower down his own jaw, thumb nudging his own bottom lip where he’d split the skin when his face had met Deadpool’s knee. The blood was mostly dry, a little tacky in the middle still. His tongue flicked out and tasted the metallic sting left behind as the warmth in his cheeks deepened.
While the lawyer was still trying to collect his thoughts about the night - what was the meeting between Fisk and The Hand about? Who hired Deadpool? Why didn’t he finish the job and why had he just…stopped? - Matt couldn’t help but linger on the scuffle between them. It had been close. And God as his witness, it had been the best fight he’d had in a long time. A heavy sigh voiced his thoughts to the walls around him.
The last time he’d been hit so hard had been from Elektra. And that had been catharsis for the pair of them at the time, consensual and he remembered feeling the woman hold back her punches. But with Deadpool…There had been no hesitation, no pulled punches. Not until the end at least.
Lost in thought, Matt’s attention was sparked as he heard his phone buzz loudly from out on the kitchen table.
Clearing his throat, the lawyer shifted his way from the bathroom and shook his head as he heard the familiar ringtone he had allocated to Foggy.
“Hey Foggy…”