"Get Well Soon"
Buck Cashman, Fisk’s right-hand man, passed several hospital staff bustling to and from rooms wheeling patients and responding to various pages. He was given Murdock’s room number by one of his associates at the request of Fisk. He rounded the corner of the hallway, his shoes clicked as he walked down the fluorescent lit hallway, trusting his orders from Fisk without hesitation.
If eliminating Murdock is what his boss requested, he would do so without blinking an eye. He didn't require an explanation, but rather trusted Fisk wholly to make a decision for not only his personal benefit, for the greater good of the city.
He stood outside of door 312, carefully extracting a syringe from a fake ‘get well soon’ present constructed specifically for his ruse.
It would be easy and relatively painless, almost merciful he thought to himself. While he wasn't exactly sure of the true nature of Murdock’s involvement with Fisk, he knew enough that the lawyer needed to be eliminated from the equation all together.
Buck was told that Murdock was given a light sedative to ensure that he was docile and no complications should arise when dosing him with the liquid in the syringe he held in his right hand.
He let out a deep breath before unlocking the door in front of him and stepping into the room.
—-------------------------------------------------------
Matt wasn’t exactly thrilled with how he left things with Heather and Kirsten after they visited him. He knew it wasn’t their fault, he probably sounded borderline crazy rambling about Foggy’s death being orchestrated by Vanessa and carried out as a hit courtesy of Poindexter.
The sedatives he had reluctantly accepted were beginning to wear off, but his senses were still more dulled than he would have liked. He layed in the hospital bed, internally cursing the stiff sheets and the scratchy hospital gown he was dressed in. Every exhale was driving him insane as the sad excuse for fabric he wore rubbed against his bare skin.
Various monitors and hospital equipment echoed from his own room all through the floors of the hospital. He winced when an overhead code blue blared from the hallway speakers. The worst part of it all was the smell. Sterile and cleaning chemicals overwhelmed his senses, bringing on the headache that was slowly making its way into a full blown migraine.
However, even his dulled senses could still pick up the familiar scent of someone he recognized outside his door. It took him more effort than usual to listen into the person’s heartbeat, thumping erratically as they placed their hand on the door knob to open it.
Matt realized it was one of Fisk’s right hand men, Buck Cashman, if he remembered correctly. He willed the lasting effects of sedative out of his mind and body, hoping his flight or fight would kick in in time.
He knew that Fisk would want him dead, and ordering a hit on a blind lawyer hospitalized and recovering from a gunshot wound was the easiest way to do it. The door creaked open as Buck peered around the door frame, setting his sights on his target.
Matt kept his eyes closed, upholding the ruse that he was still knocked out from the surgery. Buck’s footsteps echoed closer to Matt’s bed, and he could sense the sharp object in his hand.
Buck’s heartbeat quickened as he got closer to Murdock, uncapping the lid of the needle and leaning down to Matt’s ear.
“Sorry Murdock, while I generally frown upon eliminating those who are less fortunate, orders are orders.”
He grabbed Matt’s IV line and gently released the serum into the opening. Buck smirked and recapped the needle, stuffing it back in his coat pocket and turned towards the door.
Before the fatal sedative could enter Matt’s bloodstream he covertly ripped the IV needle out of the inner corner of his arm. He winced at the mild sharp sting the removal of the needle caused him but quietly sat himself up in the bed.
Before Buck could make it out of the room, he was halted by the sound of rustling sheets and a set of hands around his neck. Matt leaped out of bed, his shoulder protesting the sudden movement, and grabbed Cashman by the neck.
He was still feeling the effects of the sedative, but the need for survival made his senses more sharp. Matt’s grip on his neck was loosened by the elbow to his gut, throwing him off onto the hard linoleum floor.
The taller man turned around and swiftly pulled out his gun in defense. Before he could fire a shot Matt plowed into him, shoulder first, dislodging the hold of his weapon, sending it clattering to the floor.
The two barreled into the door and out into the hallway. The scene would have sent any bystanders running, but the hospital staff were busy dealing with the sudden darkness from the lights and electricity shutting off without warning.
Matt pushed Cashman into the wall but was quickly shoved off of the man into the floor. He could sense the buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lights stopping. He now had the advantage of the darkness.
Buck dizzily stood up, staggering towards Matt who was pushing himself back up against the wall. He threw a punch that Matt easily dodged, returning the favor with an uppercut of his own. His shoulder throbbed and protested at the movement but he pushed the pain away and threw another cross at Buck.
However, his fist didn’t connect with anything but air and his head was suddenly snapped to the side by the butt of Cashman’s gun. He could barely register his body hitting the ground, partly due to the sedatives still working his way out of his system and the new gash he was sporting on the side of his head. Warm liquid slowly trickled down the side of his face, filling the air with a pungent copper scent that nearly overwhelmed Matt’s nostrils.
“You won't get away with this,” Matt grunted. His gunshot wound was pulsing with pain, and the new wound on his head was working its way towards a migraine.
Buck let out a maniacal laugh, staggering towards Matt who lay on the ground, making a futile attempt to push himself back up.
“I don’t think so Mr. Murdock,” he responded as he pulled out a knife he kept hidden in his suit jacket pocket.
He plunged the short blade into Matt’s already wounded shoulder, sinking the knife into the flesh. Matt made an involuntary scream, scrambling to grab purchase on the weapon that was reopening the wound he spent hours getting stitched up the first time.
Just as soon as the knife slid into his flesh it was being retracted. Cashman grabbed the weapon from Matt’s shoulder, wiping the blood on his hospital gown and putting it back in his own suit pocket.
The searing hot pain in Matt’s shoulder was all he could focus on until he caught wind of a familiar scent that he recognized all too well.
“Matt? Matt, where are you? I can't see anything!” the familiar voice came from around the corner. Heather, Matt deducted. Through the white hot pain he heard her footsteps quickly approaching him and Cashman.
“Buck? What the hell are you doing here?” Heather gasped, her face in shock at the scene before her.
The emergency hospital lights flickered on, revealing the scene that looked straight out of a horror movie. Blood was nearly everywhere, not only painting the floor and splattered on the walls, but stained most of Matt’s once white hospital gown a dark maroon.
Buck quickly turned away and ran down the hallway, no doubt to a getaway car conveniently parked out front Matt thought. As soon as he heard Cashman leave through the emergency exit doors he let out a strangled groan and turned his head towards Heather.
He could feel the fear radiating off of her like a heater on a cold day, her heartbeat ricocheting in his eardrums. Matt tried to focus on something other than the pain, but between the reponing of his shoulder wound and the pounding in his head the task was nearly impossible.
Heather sank down beside him, her hands hovering over the mess of a wound that Buck had made, not knowing whether or not she should put pressure on the wound. Matt could feel her shaking next to him, and made a futile attempt to sit himself up against the wall.
He felt her hands on his bicep, helping him ease his way up. He let out a groan as he braced himself against the wall, eyes pinched shut in agony.
“Matt? Matt, are you okay? What the hell happened? Why are you covered in blood?” Heather spitfired out questions, too many for Matt to keep track of. He wasn't sure what he should tell her, not wanting to put her in more danger than she already was in.
He forced himself to open his eyes and tilted his head in her general direction.
“It was Fisk, he wants me dead. He sent Cashman to finish the job, just like with Foggy,” Matt replied as another wave of pain coursed through his shoulder.
“That doesn't make any sense…” Heather trailed off, “You saved his life, Matt. Why would he want you dead?!”
He sighed in response, not knowing how to respond without revealing too much to her.
“I’ll tell you later, but first we need to get out of here,” Matt said as he shut his eyes, attempting to devise a plan on escaping the hospital without being noticed and finding a place to lay low while he was actively being hunted down by Fisk and his men.