Chapter 5
The docks were empty and dark with only dim lights casting long fuzzy shadows over everything. If one were to look up, you would not be able to see the three figures standing on top of cargo containers, waiting, watching.
Daredevil could feel the static buzz of tension settling around them creating a charged atmosphere. There was a silence that was unnerving for New York, the only sound being the waves rolling in and out over the shore, but this silence would only last momentarily before it finally broke. In the distance, he could hear a boat approaching the docks. The other two must have noticed too, because they straightened up and looked over the maze of containers.
As the boat got nearer, an armored truck approached and out came two men wearing black suits and three others who were carrying guns, probably guards, these where most likely the buyers. Once docked, there were armed men that started moving crate after crate off of the boat and onto the dock. Daredevil quickly realized that the men were Russian after hearing them speak to each other, this brought up the question; how where the Russians involved with this? Where they the ones who where supplying these strange weapons or was there another party he wasn't aware of? This only added to the growing list of question that Matt already had, but hopefully tonight he would get some answers.
The three vigilantes waited until all of the crates were unloaded onto the dock before they jumped of the container they were stood on and advanced towards the grouped together criminals. In a flurry of movement the vigilantes where coming down on the gang of criminals.
"Sorry to drop in on your little get together here, but unfortunately weird, alien, laser weapons are a no go," Spiderman quipped, surprising the weapons dealers.
It only took a moment before the sound of gunfire rang out. Daredevil focused on his senses, letting them guide him through the fray of bullets and allowing him to also then disarm and knock out the criminals.
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The fight raged on for several minutes, but eventually, the last of the weapons dealers were taken down. Daredevil's heart was racing from the fight, exertion hanging over him, but he kept moving. He felt adrenaline coursing through him as he approached one of the unconscious thugs and knelt beside him. He grabbed the man roughly by the collar and hoisting him up he punched in the jaw. The man's eyes flew open. It only took maybe a minute before the Russian jumped back and swung his fist, aiming for the vigilante. He, surprisingly, made contact with the devil's jaw.
Daredevil hardly flinched only giving a now bloodied smile; the little light that there was, shined over the red lenses of the horned cowl. All of this probably made him look like the actual devil, because as he took a step closer towards the man, Daredevil could hear the Russian's heartbeat jack hammering in his chest out of terror.
***
Daredevil punched the man in the nose, causing it to make a loud cracking sound as it broke. He hit him again this time in him mouth. The coppery scent of blood could now be smelt as the man spat out a mouthful of blood.
The Russian pulled out a knife, swinging it in Daredevil's direction, but within a second Daredevil grabbed the knife and stabbed the man in his own shoulder.
Pushing the man against the container, he growled, "Where did you get these weapons?"
"I... I don't know anything," the man stammered out in a Russian accent.
"Liar." Daredevil took hold of the knife sticking out of the other man's shoulder, making him flinch. "I'll ask you again."
"Where." He pushed the knife in deeper making the man yelp.
"Did you." He twisted the knife. The man screamed in pain.
"Get these weapons." He again pushed the knife in.
"We do not speak his name," the man heaved
(Deadpool, overhearing this, snorted, "Who is he? Voldemort?" Spiderman, who flinched at the man being tortured in front of them, but still elbowed the mercenary in the stomach.)
"Tell me," Daredevil growled, ignoring the other two vigilantes.
Another twist of the knife and another scream of pain escaped the man.
"His... His name is... Fisk," the Russian shook as he spoke.
***
Not a five seconds later, laid the man unconscious again on the ground now soaked with his own blood, but still breathing. The three vigilantes all standing rigid at the mention of the Kingpin's name.
The docks were littered with the debris of the fight, and the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and copper. Daredevil, still standing beside the unconscious thug, felt a weight settle heavily into his stomach. So, Fisk was part of this. He had the distinct feeling that this was just the beginning of something much larger and more dangerous than he had realized.
After calling the police and leaving an anonymous tip, the three vigilantes quickly made their way up a building close by the docks. As they stood there Daredevil's mind kept racing with the new information that they had learned; trying to piece together an explanation for it all. Spiderman and Deadpool exchanged glances. Deadpool shrugged, "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I could use some comfort food after all that. Who's in? Tacos on me!" His voice called out. "You in, Spidey?"
Spiderman hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I could go for some tacos." He glanced over at Daredevil, who's face was etched with a grim expression. "You coming, DD?"
Daredevil cocked his head to the side as thinking it over or if listening for something, but then shook his head, "No, I've got somewhere else I need to be," he replied, his voice tight. "But I appreciate the offer."
There was a moment of silence as the other two looked towards each other and shrugged, then finally, Deadpool clapped his hands together and said, "Alright, let's just get out of here then. I'm starving. Come along now, young spiderling, the author needs us to make an exit."
Deadpool turned and began to head back towards the city, whistling a cheery tune. Spiderman glanced at Daredevil, as if wanting to say something, but instead turned around and followed the mercenary. Daredevil may be blind, but he still realised that the young vigilante must have looked more than a little shaken up. The guilt started to settle in the horned vigilante's stomach. Sure the kid had been in more than a few bloody fights, but he was just that, a kid. Having to witness Daredevil torture someone to get information out of someone, would be scaring for anyone who wasn't used to it.
Daredevil listened to the duo, walk away for a moment longer, then he turned and headed off in the opposite direction, a strange mixture of emotions and thoughts rolling around inside of him. He knew that he should be feeling victorious, having stopped the weapons deal and finding out who was supplying these strange weapons. But instead, he felt uneasy about it all. The fact that the gang had been using alien weapons was troubling enough, but the mention of the name Frisk sent shivers down his spine. As if he didn’t already have enough to worry about, now knowing the Kingpin was involved it made everything much more difficult. They had been building a case against Frisk for a few months now and this new piece of information was the start of something big.
The wind picked up, carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean and the distant sounds of the city. Daredevil stated to climb another building nearby. Once he reached the top, it was as if he melted with the shadows as he jumped from building to building.
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The streets were quiet, the usual bustle of Hell's Kitchen having subsided for the night, but there was still the satisfyingly hum of life that would hopefully never quiet. It was in moments like these that Daredevil felt most at home, the world around him slowing down to a pace he could manage and not rushing around him every minute, not overwhelming his senses. He knew he should be going back to his apartment, taking a shower, and getting some sleep. But first, he made his way to Foggy’s apartment.
When he arrived at the building, he honed his senses, listening to hear if anyone was nearby that would see him. When he knew that the cost was clear he made his way up the fire escape and then stopped at the window of Foggy’s apartment.
Matt climbed through the window and found himself in a room. This was the reason why he came here. Jackie was staying with Foggy tonight, while Matt had been out fighting crime. It was part of his and Foggy's agreement.
Standing in the small room, Matt could hear the steady little heartbeat as she slept peacefully. He walked over to the little bed she was sleeping in. Without waking her sleeping form he brushed away a few hair strands from her forehead and then placed a kiss on top of her head. Knowing that Jackie was safe here for the night, comforted him.
Matt left through the same window he came in through and was now jumping from building to building towards his apartment.
----
Matt finally reached his apartment, a small studio in the heart of Hell's Kitchen. The neighborhood was quiet, the usual sounds of sirens and car alarms quieted, but not replaced, by the gentle hum of the city's late-night denizens. He let himself in through the rooftop access and shut the door behind him, the familiar smell of his home washing over him. It had been a long night, and he knew he needed to get some rest if he was going to be ready for whatever came next.
As he changed out of his wet and dirty costume and then stood under the shower to washed away the grime of the fight that was glued to his skin, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that has been following him since the fight. He knew that they were getting closer to uncovering something big, but the path ahead was shrouded in mystery.
After showering, Matt crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. The soft mattress and the familiar smell of his linens helped to soothe his nerves, but sleep didn't come easily. His mind kept racing, replaying the events of the night over and over again, searching for any clue or hint that might help him make sense of it all.
As he lay there in the darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. It was as if the city itself were holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He tried to push the thought aside, telling himself that it was just paranoia, that he was simply overreacting to the events of the night. But the more he tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling grew. Fisk was planning something and it couldn't be good.
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