Shadow Guardian
The building reeked of stale cigarettes, cheap alcohol, and desperation. Matt's enhanced senses mapped out the space as he entered - twenty-three heartbeats scattered across three floors, most of them rapid with drug use or fear. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, telling stories of rot and neglect.
He was here following a lead about Fisk's drug operations, but something felt off. The suppressants were making everything fuzzy around the edges, dulling his usually sharp senses. He should have waited, should have come back when he was stronger, but he couldn't afford to waste time.
"Well, well." A voice drawled from the shadows. "Look what we got here, boys."
Matt tensed, his grip tightening on his cane. Five heartbeats approaching - all alphas, their aggressive scents filling the air. The speaker was the largest, his footsteps heavy and confident.
"I'm looking for information about Wilson Fisk," Matt said, keeping his voice steady. "I'm willing to pay."
A laugh, ugly and sharp. "Oh, we got information for you, pretty boy. Lots of it."
The others were spreading out, trying to surround him. Matt could smell gunmetal and leather, hear the soft click of switchblades opening. This wasn't going to end in conversation.
From his perch outside, Dex watched through a broken window as the situation deteriorated. His enhanced vision picked up every detail - the way Matt's hands trembled slightly, the predatory movements of the alphas closing in. Something was wrong with Matt's usual grace, his reactions slower than they should be.
And then Dex caught it - a subtle shift in the air currents, carrying a scent that made his alpha instincts roar to life. Beneath whatever chemical suppressants Matt was using, there was something sweet, vulnerable... omega.
Dex's fingers tightened on the windowsill, cracking the rotting wood. Everything suddenly made sense - Fisk's protection order, Matt's erratic behavior, the way his own alpha instincts were screaming to intervene.
Inside, Matt dodged the first attack - barely. A knife whistled past his ear as he spun away, but his usual fluid grace was compromised. His counter-strike connected, but without his normal power.
"Something wrong with you, boy?" The leader taunted, circling closer. "Not so tough tonight, are you?"
Matt gritted his teeth, fighting to focus through the chemical haze of the suppressants. He could handle five opponents normally, but not like this. Not with his senses dulled and his reflexes slowed.
The first real hit caught him in the ribs - already tender from previous injuries - and drove the air from his lungs. He stumbled, and that was all the opening they needed.
The attack came from all sides - fists and boots and the sharp bite of steel. Matt fought back with everything he had, but it wasn't enough. His world was dissolving into chaos and pain.
That's when everything changed.
The first attacker went down with a sound like breaking glass - a bottle thrown with impossible precision from somewhere above. Before the others could react, a rain of improvised weapons began: pens, coins, broken pieces of tile, each finding their mark with lethal accuracy.
Dex moved like a shadow through the building's upper levels, using anything and everything as a weapon. His alpha instincts were in overdrive, demanding he protect the vulnerable omega below, but his training kept him focused, precise.
Matt sensed the change in the air, felt the shift in the fight's momentum. Someone else was here, someone with incredible skill and power. The attackers were dropping one by one, taken out by projectiles thrown with impossible force and accuracy.
"What the fuck?" The leader's confidence was cracking. "Who's up there?"
His answer came in the form of a playing card that embedded itself in his throat.
The last two attackers tried to run, but Dex was already moving. A handful of marbles sent one crashing down the stairs, while a broken pool cue found the other's heart with surgical precision.
In less than thirty seconds, it was over.
Matt stood in the center of the carnage, his senses straining to identify his mysterious savior. The scent was alpha - powerfully, unmistakably alpha - but carefully controlled, almost clinical in its precision. The heartbeat was steady, unwavering, betraying no emotion despite the violence just unleashed.
"Who are you?" Matt called out, turning slowly, trying to pinpoint the location.
But Dex was already gone, slipping away through the building's shadows. His alpha instincts raged against leaving the omega alone, demanding he stay and protect, but Fisk's orders were clear. Do not reveal yourself.
Matt made his way out of the building, his movements unsteady. His enhanced senses picked up traces of his mysterious protector - lingering alpha pheromones, the whisper of controlled breathing, the faint scent of gunmetal and leather - but nothing concrete enough to identify.
Someone had saved him. Someone with incredible skill and power. Someone who now knew his secret.
The thought sent a chill down his spine.