The Unknown Protector
Morning light filtered through the basement windows, casting shadows across Matt's restless form. He hadn't slept, his mind replaying the events of the previous night in an endless loop. The mysterious alpha's presence lingered in his memory - clinical precision mixed with devastating power.
He sat up slowly, his ribs protesting the movement. His enhanced senses mapped out the fight scene in his mind again, trying to piece together clues about his unknown savior.
"The playing card," he muttered to himself, remembering the distinctive whistle as it cut through the air. "Who throws playing cards as weapons?"
He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain, and began pacing the small room. The alpha's scent had been... different. Controlled. Almost artificial in its restraint. Military training, maybe? Or something else?
"Matthew?" Father Lantom's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You missed morning mass."
"I was... thinking." Matt paused in his pacing. "Father, have you ever heard of anyone using ordinary objects as lethal weapons? Playing cards, pens, that sort of thing?"
The priest was quiet for a moment. "This is about what happened last night, isn't it? Sister Maggie mentioned you had help during a fight."
"Help I didn't ask for." Matt's jaw tightened. "Help I shouldn't have needed."
"Pride is a sin too, Matthew." Father Lantom's footsteps entered the room. "Perhaps this mysterious guardian angel was sent for a reason."
Matt laughed bitterly. "Guardian angel? More like... I don't know what. But they were dangerous. Lethal. The way they moved, the way they fought... it was like nothing I've ever encountered."
"And yet they chose to help you rather than harm you."
"But why?" Matt resumed his pacing. "They were alpha - powerfully alpha. They must have sensed..." He stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd almost revealed.
"Sensed what?" Father Lantom's heart rate remained steady, non-judgmental.
Matt turned away. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"Clearly it does, or you wouldn't be wearing a path in the floor trying to figure it out."
Matt's enhanced senses picked up more details as he thought back. "Their heartbeat never changed. Even during the fight, even when..." He swallowed hard. "Even when my suppressants started failing. Most alphas would have reacted, would have shown some response. But they stayed completely controlled."
"Professional training?"
"Maybe. But what kind of training teaches someone to throw office supplies with deadly accuracy?" Matt's fingers traced the edge of his desk. "And why would someone with those skills be watching that building? Unless..."
Unless they were watching him.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. "I need to go back there. Tonight. Maybe there's something I missed, some clue about who they are."
"Matthew." Father Lantom's voice carried a note of warning. "You're in no condition-"
"I have to know." Matt's voice was firm. "I have to understand who they are and why they helped me. Because if they know what I am..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If they know my weakness..."
"Is that what this is really about?" Father Lantom asked gently. "Not just who saved you, but what they might have learned about you?"
Matt's silence was answer enough.
"There are worse things than being known, Matthew." The priest moved closer. "Worse things than being understood."
"Not for me." Matt's hands clenched into fists. "Not when everything I've built depends on people believing I'm something I'm not."
"And what happens when that belief becomes a prison?"
The question hung in the air between them, uncomfortably close to truths Matt wasn't ready to face. His mysterious savior had seen through his carefully constructed facade, had probably sensed his true nature. And instead of using that knowledge against him, they had protected him.
It didn't make sense.
"Their fighting style," he said, changing the subject. "It was... perfect. Too perfect. Like they never missed, never wasted a movement. Who fights like that?"
"Someone with extraordinary control," Father Lantom observed. "Perhaps someone who understands what it means to hide their true nature."
Matt turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
"Only that sometimes those who seem most controlled are fighting their own battles within." The priest moved toward the door. "Be careful, Matthew. Sometimes when we chase answers, we find truths we're not ready to face."
After Father Lantom left, Matt sat heavily on his bed, his mind racing. The alpha's scent, their perfect control, their lethal precision... it all pointed to someone highly trained, possibly military or law enforcement. Someone who knew how to hide in plain sight.
Someone who might understand what it meant to wear a mask.
He needed to find them. Needed to understand why they had helped him, what they knew about him. But more than that, he needed to know if they were truly an ally... or if they were part of something bigger, something connected to Fisk.
The thought of Fisk knowing his secret made his stomach turn. But there was something else too, something he didn't want to acknowledge - a part of him that had responded to the alpha's presence, that had felt... safe.
"No," he muttered, pushing the feeling away. "I don't need safety. I don't need protection. I just need answers."
But as he sat there, planning his return to the building that night, Matt couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important. Something about the way the alpha had fought, the way they had protected him while remaining hidden...
It was almost like they were following orders.
But whose?