Trapped
Matt dreams of Foggy and Karen. He imagines that he’s between them still, cocooned in their warmth, however he soon jerks out of this when he feels a cold substance coursing through his veins. He opens his eyes, frantic, and begins clawing at the restraints on his arms.
His legs are also bound by leather straps, keeping him in place. On his left arm he can feel an IV, which seems to be pumping him full of an unknown chemical. He attempts to pull his arm away, but his wrist is strapped in.
Matt can smell the scent of bleach and antiseptic in the air. There’s no one else in the room right now, except for a sleeping body in the bed opposite him. Clint.
There’s a dull beeping noise which Matt attributes to the clip attached to one of his fingers, monitoring his heartbeat. With his right hand, Matt grips the scratchy, bleached blankets, trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings. He’s wearing a hospital gown, something loose fitting and chilly, and finds himself tugging at his blankets to try and warm himself.
He’s conscious that, if he is wearing a hospital gown, these people must have undressed him. This sends another wave of shock through him, and he hopes that his captors don’t use this against him in the future.
Matt rests his head back against the pillow and begins to listen.
The room isn’t huge, but it’s large enough for the two hospital beds and various medical instruments. There’s a door, but he doesn’t think that it’s locked. Beyond the door he can hear the hushed voices of two women, and from the words they’re saying, he assumes they’re nurses.
He’s in a hospital?
“His bloods are coming back normal,” one woman says to the other. “Dr Marsh says he’ll be ready within the month.”
“Has he examined him?” responds the other. He can hear the flipping of pages in a book, and wonders if they are looking at notes.
“Yes, while he was out. He says everything is intact,” replies Nurse One.
“And our Hawkeye?”
“He’s the perfect donor, Dr Marsh says,” Nurse One says quietly. “Dr Marsh says it would be absolutely perfect.”
“The benefactors will be glad to hear this,” Nurse Two responds with a happy tone in her voice. “The perfect specimen!”
“Ladies, do I need to remind you that Mr Murdock has enhanced hearing?” a deep voice interrupts, and Matt realises he was so engrossed in the conversation that he hadn’t realised another person had turned up. “He will be able to hear everything you are saying.”
“Dr Marsh! Apologies, but he should still be unconscious with the amount of sedatives we’ve given him!” Nurse One says, and Matt hears her heartbeat faster, signalling her attraction to the man.
“And, yet, Nurse Jenson, my monitors signal he is awake,” Dr Marsh responds smoothly, walking past the women. Matt hears him opening the door, and steels himself to confront his captors.
“Ah, Mr Murdock, you’re awake!” Dr Marsh exclaims to him.
“And who the fuck are you?” Matt responds, gripping at the blanket with his fists.
“Dr Marsh – it is a pleasure to meet you.” The doctor begins fiddling with the machines next to Matt, and the IV stops pumping him full of chemicals. “Mr Murdock, you are probably wondering why we are keeping you here.”
“No shit,” Matt replies, his lips curled up in a snarl.
“Well, I am a Reproductive Endocrinologist,” responds Dr Marsh. “I am also a keen geneticist in my spare time. I have been recruited by an organisation to genetically engineer the best possible specimens to become assassins – and I have been given near endless funds for this task.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means, Mr Murdock, that I am looking for individuals that I can combine to create near perfect specimens,” replies Dr Marsh as he begins stroking his hand up Matt’s arm. “I wanted individuals with peak physical performance, but I also wanted people who have overcome some sort of adversity and excelled despite this. Now, the adversity could not be genetic – nobody is paying me to breed blind or deaf babies. However, Mr Murdock, you are blind -”
“I hadn’t noticed, to be honest,” Matt says dryly, willing to pull himself away from the man despite his restraints.
“Very funny, Mr Murdock,” says Dr Marsh. “I hadn’t finished what I was saying. You are blind, and despite this you are a vigilante in peak physical health. Mr Barton is deaf, and yet is an Avenger. I have others too, none as special as you too, but I thought you would be the perfect starting point for my programme.”
“But how did you know I was blind?” Matt says, genuinely interested at how this doctor could know something about him very few people do.
“I have been watching you for months, Mr Murdock. You were very interesting to me as a subject well before I learned of your blindness. Then, after careful observation, I noticed your tells. The things you do when you think you are alone. It was then that I had someone watch where you go, and we were led back to Matthew Murdock’s apartment.”
“But why the kidnapping? Why lure me in that way?”
“I couldn’t just kidnap a pillar of the community like Matthew Murdock from outside his office! It had to be Daredevil, because no one will miss you. The cops won’t care that Daredevil is gone. And, well, the luring was a bit of fun for me!”
“Fun?”
“The laminated sign on the door – it was a way of me just testing that you were really, truly, properly blind! I thought, surely this man has to see at least something to be able to do what he does, but no! You’re as blind as a bat!”
“You’re sounding very enthusiastic over this,” Matt says calmly, trying not to let his worry cloud his mind. “So you wanted me as a test subject because I’m so brilliant despite being blind? And Clint because he’s deaf?”
“Exactly! I was planning on fertilising some of our other specimens with your DNA, but well…I examined you when you came in and I was ecstatic! Not only are you a perfect candidate for this study, but you’re a woman!”
Matt freezes. He knew they would have known, but it still stings to be referred to like this. “I am not a woman.”
“Oops, sorry! I mean you are a biological woman. This was something I did not find in my research about you, by the way. You have kept this very quiet. And, after my tests, I can conclude you are a perfect candidate for insemination.”
Sweat is pooling at Matt’s neck. “Insemination?”
“Yes. I am running a breeding programme. Clint will be the perfect match for you, and your children will be strong!”
Matt can’t take this anymore. His head is swimming, and he allows himself to slip back into unconsciousness at this statement.