Arcane

"I need her to kill that masked vigilante." Fisk booms. I've never liked working for the men before me, but I suppose I have no choice in the matter, do I? All they do is treat me terribly and expect complete obedience in return. Seven years of this shit and I have yet to find a way out of my predicament, perhaps it's because they barely give me any room to do anything. They've sculpted me into their perfect soldier, taking away my free will, and yet they still don't trust me.  

"Fisk, just four days ago you were saying that you wanted him to take out your competition, are you sure?" Victor questions.

"And he did just that, the Russians are no longer a threat to our operation. He's overstayed his welcome now."

"Alright, she'll get right on it." 

Fisk turns to me. "You don't bring me his head, I'll have Victor here kill you instead." I'm quite sure that his voice will haunt me in my dreams for the rest of my life. He mostly speaks in whispers and yet, it's the most terrifying sound on this planet. 

I nod, walking out of the room to get to work. The only way to survive his wrath is to keep my head down and stay quiet. If I breath wrong he might go off. 

I took the day to make the right preparations, awaiting the night. I pick a secluded rooftop and begin searching for someone to use as bait. I've studied The Devil of Hell's Kitchen in the short time I was given, and from what I could gather he only operates at night. He's also quite the stickler for helping someone in distress. I watch as many people stroll through the night. Men and women of all ages and ethnicities. Some couples, some alone. None of them seemed right though. I need someone who will scream loud but not put up a fight, preferably a woman. I hope to attract him with her screams. The plan is foolproof aside from the fact that he might not be out tonight, or the fact that he might not be in the area. Aside from those few minor flaws, the plan is bound to work. I just need to be patient.

As the night progresses the commotion dies down. Someone would walk by around every fifteen minutes. I watch as two people stagger on the sidewalk. The woman is tall and blonde, she has a kind of warmness to her that I could sense from here. The man is about the same height while his hair stops at his shoulders. They are quite loud as they walk the street, laughing at almost anything. The man trips and falls to the floor while the woman helps him up, laughing. They are most likely drunk so I focus my attention elsewhere, I need a completely coherent hostage. 

I fiddle with my black silky hair, watching the dead sidewalk. I'm not worried that the plan won't work, it has to. I'm more worried about the bait. I'm not particularly keen on hurting innocent civilians, and while it is true I wasn't instructed to kidnap some random pedestrian, the mission is still my priority. I'll just have to be extremely careful to keep the hostage safe while everything ensues. I've survived this long without crossing that certain line, I can't afford to cross it now. 

About ten minutes later a brunette woman walks by, alone. She walks with haste while clutching her purse. She's rather petite and constantly watches her surroundings. Something tells me she'll make fine work of making everyone know she's being abducted. I quickly slide down the fire escape and trail the shadows. I enter an alley down the street, waiting for her to pass it. 

I jump out as she walks by the opening, her screams echoing into the night. I do nothing to silence her, rather I drag her into the alley. Here's to hoping the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is nearby, or this plan goes to shit. I grab her by the collar of her coat, dragging her on the floor. She kicks and yells into the vast night, pleading for someone to come to her rescue. My heart feels heavy as I watch tears stream down her face. She looks young, mid-twenties maybe. She won't get hurt, I reassure myself. She'll be fine. 

I drag her up the fire escape all the while she begs for her life. I toss her onto the roof and grab the rope I brought. I bind her arms to the sides of her body and her legs tight against each other. She lets out a blood-curdling scream that could shatter glass. "Scream all you want," I take my knife out of my holster. 

"Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything, please!" Something inside me can't help but feel sorry for the woman. I don't want to hurt her, but the mission. I have to do everything I can to kill the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. But she's innocent. What am I doing? I'm using her as a means to kill someone who might not even show up. And I'm doing it willingly. God, maybe I'm farther gone than I thought. 

I grunt as I use all my strength to force the knife back into my holster. I crouch in front of her, scanning her tear-filled eyes. Her mascara is smudged down her face while her lipstick is smeared. "Listen, I'm not going to hurt you okay? I just need to use you as bait, but I promise you won't get hurt. I just need you to scream as loud as you can for me, all right?" I say as nicely as I can through gritted teeth. As much as I wanted to be kind to the woman, everything in my body screamed at me to stop. I'm endangering the mission and my life in the process.

She nods vigorously, letting out an eardrum-shattering scream. I step back and scan the streets and rooftops. Nothing. Minutes pass and there is no sign of the masked man. My knuckles turn cloud white as I form a fist. He's either not nearby or not out tonight. Either way, the plan failed. I slam my hand on the ledge before me. I can't believe this is how I spent my last night on this planet. I run my hand through my dark hair and turn, "I'm sorry for any-" my words are all short when I see the masked man removing the woman's rope. 

She scurries down the fire escape while the man in black stands before me. "Who are you?" He asks, fists formed and ready. 

"No one of consequence," I say as I grab my knife from the holster and lunge at him in a swift motion. 

He just barely misses the blade, pulling me forward. He kicks my leg in, forcing me onto my knees. He wraps his arm around my neck, placing me into a chokehold. I pull him over my shoulder and the man in black lands on his back in front of me. I plunge the blade in his direction but he rolls out of the way, scrambling off the ground. He grunts as he eats one of my punches to his stomach. We both land a few blows on each other, none great enough to incapacitate the other. I throw my blade at him and he catches it with ease. I quickly run at him, pushing up on his shoulders and spinning my body to wrap my legs around his neck. I push him to the ground using my legs, landing on top of him. I reach for the knife in my ankle holster but he grabs my wrist before I can even grasp it. Using my distraction as an opportunity, he flips our positions, pinning my wrists above my head. 

"Why'd you kidnap that woman?" He pants.

I squirm under his grasp, even with my heightened strength his body weight is far greater than mine. I bring my head up and collide it with his. At that moment his grip falters, I slide my hands out and flip the positions once more. I pin his hands above his head, being on top made it much easier to overpower him. I grab the knife from my holster, gripping it tightly. 

"Leave Gwen alone or you better hope that knife kills me," he says quickly

My heart drops and the blade slips from my hand. I haven't heard that name for years. My grip around his wrists loosens as memories flash before my eyes. He quickly gets out of my grasp and grabs my head, smashing it into the ground. Everything around me instantly falls black.

"What are you doing?" I laugh. I watch as the blonde before I begin scribbling something inside her notebook. 

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm drawing you, don't move," she smiles. Everything about her makes me happy. I can't help but smile in return, her expression proving to be quite contagious. 

"You're drawing me eating ice cream?" 

"Yes, they say people are their best selves while eating ice cream," she laughs, looking between me and her notebook. The way she drew with such efficiency and accuracy is something I will never understand. Hell, I can barely draw a stick figure. 

"That is such a lie!" I chuckle, leaning forward to see the drawing. 

She leans back, clutching the notebook close to her body. "Ah! I'm not done yet! Go back," her cheeks flush a light pink as I snatch the notebook from her grasp. I set my bowl down and rake my eyes over the drawing. She drew me stuffing my face with a spoonful of ice cream, my hair flowing in the wind as I sit in a field of sunflowers. 

"There's no way I eat like that," I grin. I watch as she stands from the bed, walking over to her desk. The sun shines in from her window, illuminating her hair even more. She puts her pencil back, straightening the stray papers left on the surface.

"You do, I know first hand," she says, taking her sweater off, revealing the tank top underneath. She pins her hair into a bun before climbing back onto her bed. She lays down, wrapping her arms around a pillow, her gaze never leaving me. 

"The sunflowers are a nice touch, we have to recreate this now, you know that right?" 

"I guess we'll have to find a sunflower field," she shrugs, taking a bite of her ice cream. 

My eyes slowly open while my head droops. Everything is throbbing, I can barely think straight. I go to grab my head but my arm doesn't move. As I become more coherent I see a rope tied around me. I instantly begin struggling, using everything in my power to break free. I look up to see the man in black standing over me and I immediately stop moving. I scan our surroundings. We're still on the same roof. I'm sitting against the ledge and something tells me if I move he might be inclined to throw me off. 

"So you're the infamous Arcane I've been hearing so much about?" I notice that my mask is pulled down. Shit. Not only did I fail the mission, but he's also seen my face. Fisk might not even kill me anymore, he's going to torture the shit out of me. 

I say nothing in return, watching as he leans against the ledge next to me. 

"Why do you work for Fisk? Is it for the money?" He pauses, waiting for an answer. When he realizes he isn't going to get one he speaks up once more. "Why didn't you kill me back at the car dealership? You had the chance."

"How did you know that name?" My heart feels like it's going to shrivel up. 

"What name? Fisk?"

"No, Gwen." The thought of that name makes me sick.

"That's the name of the woman you kidnapped. If you even think-" what are the chances? The one name that I've dreaded for years just so happens to be the name of the woman that I kidnapped? That's got to be some form of karma or perhaps something else. 

"Why am I here? Why not just kill me?" I cut him off. 

"I don't kill." His voice is stern, almost as if he's disgusted at the fact I even asked. The muscles under his mask tighten as he breathes deeply. He turns against the ledge, leaning over it to scan the streets of Hell's Kitchen. His shirt is rather tight, showing off the muscles on his back. It rides up slightly, revealing a bruise on his lower back. 

"Oh that'll help me immensely," I say sarcastically. The thought of what Fisk and Victor are going to do to me sends shivers down my spine. "Would you mind directing me in the direction of someone who will?" Something tells me I didn't do such a great job hiding the fear in my voice. 

He straightens up, inching closer to me. "Wh- Why?" He stammers. 

"I failed my mission, I'll be dead by the end of tonight anyway. Something tells me my death will be far easier this way," I say, trying to mask my reluctance.

"Mission? What mission?"

"I can't-" there are so many voices in my head trying to tell me what to do. It's almost enough to drive me mad. 

"You just said they're going to kill you anyway, if you tell me then maybe I can help." He kneels in front of me.

I shake my head. "You don't understand. He won't allow it." As much as I want to tell him, everything inside screams at me not to, drowning out the desire. 

"What do you mean he won't allow it?" I bite my bottom lip, the voices in my head battling over what to do. I let my head rest against the ledge, looking up to the starry sky in an attempt to calm the war inside my head. If Fisk were to find out this conversation was even happening- I don't even want to think about what he'd do to me. "If you don't tell me, I can't help you." The sound of sirens closing it causes his head to turn. I struggle in my bindings once more, trying one last time to break free. "Last chance."

I keep silent and he sighs, walking over to me. He cuts the rope and pins me down before I even have a chance to move. The man in black pulls me up by my arm, pinning it behind my back. He walks me over to my supplies, grabs a pair of handcuffs, and binds my hands behind my back. He forces me over to the fire escape and I peek down. There are two cop cars parked beneath the building. I freeze when I spot two detectives standing by their cars. The man in black notices my hesitation. "What?"

"Nothing." This is not going to end well. 

"No, your heart rate just spiked what is it?" How the hell can he hear my heart rate? 

"Just accepting the fact that I'm not making it to the precinct." He's silent for a moment, most likely trying to piece together what I said. 

He spins me around, stopping me so I'm facing him completely. He places a hand on both of my arms. If he wasn't covering his eyes, I'd say he was trying to scan my face for sincerity. Come to think of it, how does he even see with that thing on? "You are scared, aren't you?" 

"Of course not." Of course, I'm scared. Fisk already hates me which means this is not going to bode over well with him. And Victor, he might just experiment on me beyond the point of repair. I'm not sure the man in the mask understands how ruthless these men are. The two detectives down there are going to have a field day with me. Blake would probably extort Fisk for some sort of money before handing me over. Hoffman might just shoot me to get it over with. I want to do shit with my life before I die, like travel to Paris or something. Maybe try not killing to survive. Queens a pretty good place to be during this time of year, maybe I'll go back there if I make it out of this. 

"The cops down there are on Fisk's payroll?" He questions, snapping me out of my thoughts. 

"I can't say." 

"Hm. I know a cop down there that isn't under Fisk's employ." He begins walking me down the fire escape, each step increasing my heart rate. I feel nauseous. I'm not sure why I'm so scared, but something deep inside the pit of my stomach tells me I should be terrified. Perhaps it's a fail-safe placed by Victor without my knowledge, or perhaps I'm just truly afraid of Fisk and his men. Either way, I should feel some sort of comfort that this is the end of me working under Fisk's rule, but I feel nothing of the sort. Just utter terror. He stops, halfway down the fire escape. "Go down there and hand yourself over to officer Brett Mahoney." The man in black points to a beat cop with dark skin. The cop is standing by his squad car, waiting for an order from the two detectives. 

"And if I don't?"

"As you said, Fisk is already after you, wouldn't want me after you too." I consider my options and decide that he's most likely right. I nod in return and walk the rest of the way down. It feels weird walking into a situation knowing you probably won't make it out alive. 

As I jump down a beat cop turns in my direction, raising his gun. "Freeze!" The two detectives turn our way, muttering something to each other before slowly making their way over. They both grab their guns from their holsters, raising them in my direction. It's too dark for them to see my face from their position, but something tells me one wrong move on my behalf

"Are you Brett Mahoney?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations, you caught me," I say, kneeling to the ground. 

He furrows his brows and cautiously walks toward me. "Holy shit," he says under his breath. "You're here. You're Arcane."

"Yes, now please arrest me."

He grabs me by my arm, holstering his gun. He strips me of my weapons, pulling me from the ground. Mahoney walks me to his squad car, all the while reading me my rights. He puts me inside and I sit and watch as he has a heated conversation with the two detectives. A couple of minutes Mahoney gets in the car, saying something under his breath. 

The ride to the precinct was silent, with no radio, no questions, just the sound of wind traveling through the cracked windows.

I walk into the precinct, men on either side of me. Everyone falls silent as they see me, watching as I'm about to be booked. Once they're done with that, two cops place me inside an interrogation room, cuffing me to the table. 

 I wait for what seems like hours until someone steps into the room. That's when I see that it's detectives Blake and Hoffman. My heart rate increases as they sit in front of me."Fisk isn't happy, you know that, right?" Blake says.

"You didn't do what you were told and now he's asked us to kill you, so no hard feelings you get it right?" Hoffman chimes in.

"Wait- wait let me out of here and I'll- I'll kill him, I won't fail again I swear," I stammer. How ironic is it that I'm about to die in a place that symbolizes safety?

"See we're not stupid enough to fall for that. Fisk wants you dead, so you're going to die, simple as that," Blake says, standing from his chair. I swallow the lump in my throat as Hoffman stands as well. My eyes flick between the two. I don't want to die by their hand. "I think it's your turn partner." Blake grabs his gun.

"No, I thought I had it last time?"

"Oh shit, you're right. You ready?" I inch back in my seat.

"Yeah."

Just as Blake is about to punch Hoffman, the door to the room opens. Blake quickly places his gun into his holster and pretends as if nothing was happening. In steps a man, he wears a black suit and glasses. In his hand, he holds a walking stick. "Gentlemen, please leave the room so I can speak to my client," he says coldly. 

They both reluctantly leave and I watch as the blind man finds his way to the chair, sitting gracefully. "Who are you?"

"My name is Matthew Murdock, I'm your legal counsel."

"I don't have a lawyer."

"Now you do. Well, that is if you decide to hire my firm."

I shake my head. "I don't have any money to pay you."

"That's fine, I'm not here for the money. I'm here to help."

"You want to help a murderer?"

"I think there's more to your story." 

I lean back in the chair, clasping my hands. "Like?"

"I think you were forced to commit those murders. Whether someone threatened your life or the life of someone you love, I have a feeling someone is pulling your strings."

Both our heads turn as the door to the room swings open, a curly-haired lady stepping through the doorway. "Mr. Murdock, this is not your client, leave, now," she says sternly. 

"She doesn't have a lawyer yet, I'm simply offering my services."

"She does. The public defender is on his way as we speak."

"Reyes, she has the right to appoint another lawyer."

"She-"

"No, I want him. He's my lawyer now," I speak up, cutting her off.

"Now if you could please vacate the room so I can consult my client privately, that'd be greatly appreciated." She lets out a sigh of frustration before leaving the room.

He sits down, adjusting his glasses. "Okay, why don't we start with your name? No one was able to get a match in the database, it's like you're a ghost."

"Diana."

"Nice to meet you, Diana. Now, who do you work for?"

"If you help me better understand everything then I can build a better defense that can keep you out of prison."

"And how do I know that I can trust you? How do I know you're not working for him?"

"You can trust me."

"I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"Yes. My firm and I are currently working on building a case against Fisk, anything you have to say will aid our investigation."

My eyes flick up as he says Fisk's name. "How do you know his name?"

"As I've said, I'm building a case against him, I've done my digging."

"I'll try to answer your questions."

"Great, um- how long have you been working for Fisk?"

"I've worked for him for four years but I've been with him and his men for seven."

He furrows his brows. "What did you do those three years you weren't working for him?"

My eyes travel to the table. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay," he clasps his hands. "That's fine, how old are you currently?"

"Twenty-three."

His brows furrow and he tilts his head. "So you've been with him and his men since you were 16? Where- where were your parents?" He stammers, a bit of sadness within his voice.

"Around." I adjust in my seat. "Always too busy with work," I say more to myself. 

"Out of all the murders you've committed, how many can you link to Fisk?" Matt says, changing the subject, almost as if he can tell how sad it's making me. 

"None, but I can prove that Fisk has killed someone."

"Who?"

"A Russian, Fisk decapitated him with a car door. Now he had the car cleaned afterward, but he got sloppy. There are security cameras under the bridge where the murder took place, you know for vandalism and such. Once Fisk found out about them he had me get the recording, but never told me to destroy it. I have that and a handkerchief with the Russians blood on it."

He leans forward. "Where do you have it?"

"Where Fisk does most of his business."

"And where's that?"

"I can't say." I clench my jaw. I would like to tell him, to bring Fisk and his colleagues down, to get my revenge upon them, but their influence runs too deep within me. 

"All I need is an address," he says pleadingly. 

"I'd like to take a break now." I look down to the floor. This is the most anyone's wanted to talk to me in a while. 

He sucks his teeth, seemingly frustrated. He stands from his chair, grabbing his walking stick. "Yeah, I'll come back later."

I watch as he walks out and two cops walk in. They escort me out of the room and into my holding cell. My suit isn't the most comfortable thing to sleep in, but it'll have to do for now. I lay down on the rock-solid mattress, staring at the ceiling. I'm so tired that the unsettling coldness of the bed doesn't phase me. I turn to my side, forcing my eyes shut. I soon drift off into slumber.

Someone's hands clamp down onto my shoulder, yanking me off of my bed. My eyes open to two cops standing before me, one holding a blade. I try to stand but the blonde cop grabs my hair and slams my head into the wall. I blink a few times, trying to remove the spots clouding my sight. The blonde picks me up from the floor, wrapping his arm around my neck and pinning me against him. I grunt as the brunette drives the blade into my stomach. He stabs me two more times before the blonde drops me to the floor. I groan as I slowly flip onto my back. The brunette kneels to the floor, bringing the knife to my throat. My hand flies up, gripping his wrist. I bend it, a loud snapping sound echoing off the walls of the confined space. I wince as the blade slices some of my skin. He brings his other hand up to cover his screams. I grab the knife before the blonde can retrieve it. I stab him in the leg as I feel my strength give out. My arm falls to the floor while blood begins to pool in my mouth. 

Rather than finishing the job, they both decide to leave while they still can. I lay in my pool of blood while my eyes begin to fall shut. I put my hand on my stomach, attempting to slow the bleeding. No one cares whether I live or die, especially not here. I can feel the liquid pouring out of me, my body growing weaker with every waking moment. The thought of moving never crossed my mind. Immense amounts of regret float through my mind. Is this what my victims feel? Is this what she felt while she died in my arms all those years ago? 

I close my eyes. I haven't thought about her in so long, mainly because I blame myself for her death. If we were never close she'd still be alive. I'd give anything to go back and save her. She was all I had and he took her from me. Fisk took Gwen from me.