Reckonings
The suppressant dealer's shop was a ruin.
Matt picked his way through the wreckage, his senses on high alert. The air reeked of burnt chemicals and blood, the floor littered with broken glass and overturned furniture. It was clear what had happened here - a professional hit, executed with brutal efficiency.
"Fisk," he growled, his hands clenching into fists. "This is his doing."
He'd come needing a refill, his body starting to rebel against the dwindling supply of suppressants. Now, he was faced with a new, terrifying reality: his lifeline had been severed.
He knelt beside one of the bodies, a low-level thug he recognized from previous encounters. His scent was a mix of desperation and fear, even in death. Matt closed his eyes, focusing on the impressions lingering in the air.
The attack had been swift, silent. The killer had moved like a ghost, taking out the guards before anyone could react. Extraordinary skill, almost superhuman. And a definite alpha presence, controlled and precise.
It was the same scent he'd detected at the warehouse, during the fight where he'd been rescued. His mysterious savior was responsible for this massacre.
But why?
Matt pushed himself to his feet, his mind racing. Was this some twisted form of protection? Had his unknown guardian eliminated his supplier to force him to stop taking the suppressants?
The thought made his stomach churn. He didn't need protection. He didn't need anyone controlling his life. All he needed was to maintain his control, to keep his true nature hidden.
He stumbled out of the shop, his body starting to tremble. Without the suppressants, his omega traits were becoming more pronounced, his senses heightened and distorted. The city's sounds were overwhelming, its scents too sharp. He needed to get back to St. Agnes, needed to find a way to stabilize before he completely lost it.
He didn't know how he was going to handle his heat without suppressants.
Back at the church, he went straight to the basement, ignoring the curious glances from the nuns he passed. He needed to release his frustration, to burn off the excess energy that was threatening to consume him.
The punching bag in the corner of the room was his usual outlet. He started with slow, deliberate strikes, focusing on his technique, trying to block out the chaos in his mind. But as his anger grew, his punches became faster, harder, more desperate.
He imagined Fisk's face on the bag, his smug smile, his knowing eyes. The man was playing with him, manipulating him like a puppet on a string. And Matt was letting him.
He pounded the bag until his knuckles bled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But it wasn't enough. The frustration was still there, building inside him like a pressure cooker.
"Damn it!" He screamed, kicking the bag with all his force. The chain snapped, sending the heavy bag crashing to the floor.
Exhausted and defeated, Matt sank to his knees, his head in his hands. He was losing control, losing everything. His investigation was stalled, his powers were fading, and now his access to suppressants was gone. He was trapped, helpless, at the mercy of forces he couldn't understand.
That's when he heard it.
A soft murmur of prayer coming from the church above, a familiar voice filled with pain and longing.
"Please, God," Sister Maggie whispered, "protect him. Watch over him. He's been through so much, and he's so alone..."
Matt froze, his senses straining to hear every word.
"He's so much like his father, Jack. Stubborn, reckless, always trying to save the world. But he needs you now, Lord. He needs your guidance, your love..."
A strange sense of recognition washed over Matt, a feeling he couldn't quite place. The voice, the words... they stirred something deep inside him, something ancient and primal.
"And please, God," Maggie continued, her voice breaking, "forgive me. Forgive me for leaving him. Forgive me for not being there when he needed me most..."
A long silence, broken only by the sound of Maggie's quiet sobs. Then, a single, devastating sentence that shattered Matt's world:
"Protect my son, Lord. Protect Matthew. He's all I have left of Jack."
The words hit Matt like a physical blow, sending him reeling. His mother? Maggie was his mother? The woman who had abandoned him as a baby, the woman he had spent his entire life wondering about... she was here, in this church, praying for him.
His mind struggled to process the information, to reconcile the image of the stern, compassionate nun with the ghost of the mother he'd never known. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be.
But deep down, he knew it was. The voice, the feeling, the undeniable connection... it all clicked into place with a force that left him breathless.
His whole life had been a lie. His past, his present, his very identity... all built on a foundation of secrets and half-truths. And now, the truth had finally come crashing down around him, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
He tried to speak, to call out to Maggie, to demand an explanation. But the words caught in his throat, choked by a lifetime of repressed emotions.
His body betrayed him then, the strain of the day, the shock of the revelation, the growing hormonal imbalance... it all became too much to bear. A wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by a searing pain in his head. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor.
"No!" He screamed, the sound raw and primal. "No, no, no!"
The world dissolved into darkness, leaving him alone with his pain, his anger, and the crushing weight of a truth he couldn't escape.