Chapter 7
That night, Matt went out to gather some information on one of the gangs he was tracking. He got what he needed, although he also got a knife to the thigh, but all in all it had been a productive night.
He left the knife where it was, until he made it home. Once there, he fished out the first aid kit from under the couch and rummaged around, until he found needle and thread. It hurt about as much as he'd expected, but he was still left panting heavily, by the time he was done sewing himself up.
He took a quick shower, before limping to his bed and falling into the mattress.
On nights such as these, he slept like a rock.
The next day passed excruciatingly slowly, time flowing with the speed of a glacier. Every ten minutes, Matt checked the time, hoping to have gotten closer to closing time, but no such luck.
After a while of this, Karen knocked on the slightly ajar door.
“Uh yeah, come in,” he said.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” she asked hesitantly. “I keep hearing you check the time.”
“Oh, uh well not exactly, no,” he replied, equally hesitantly. “I'm meeting the bow-man tonight.”
“Right,” she said with a nod. “That'll do it.” She handed him a stack of files and explained: “Some new cases you need to look at.” She patted his shoulder and added: “Take you mind off things for a while.”
He gave her a smile and replied: “Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks.”
Tony felt like he was going insane. Since Clint had told him about the meetup, he hadn't been able to sit still. Furthermore, by the sounds of it, Daredevil actually seemed to be considering joining the Avengers, which in itself, was a reason to celebrate.
Unfortunately, he couldn't join Clint tonight. Daredevil didn't like surprises and he hadn't invited Tony, so he'd have to stay home.
He had sulked for a solid hour, after coming to that conclusion.
Now he was trying to distract himself, by turning his attention to some new gadgets he was working on. It worked well enough, but he kept thinking about how horribly wrong tonight would go, with no one but Clint there. It was sure to be a disaster, and there was nothing Tony could do, to stop it.
He couldn't even hold contact with Clint over an earpiece, since Daredevil would definitely hear that and beat them to a pulp.
Good times.
He sighed and lightly banged his head against the table. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well make it worth his time. He decided he'd simply start from scratch, and tossed the prototypes he had produced so far, into the trash can.
It would keep him busy, at least.
Clint was huddled on a rooftop in Hell's kitchen, doing his best not to freeze to death. He had brought a thermos with coffee, but he'd already drunk more than half of it, so now he had to conserve it, at least until his rendezvous showed up.
He wrapped his jacket a little tighter around himself and cursed under his breath.
“Should have worn a thicker jacket,” came a voice from behind him, causing Clint to nearly fall over in surprise.
“You're one to talk,” he shot back and allowed himself another cup of coffee, since he wasn't expecting this meeting to last very long. “Flipping around in that costume.”
“It happens to be very well insulated,” Daredevil replied smoothly, and patted the armor covering his chest with pride. “A very nice man made it for me.”
Clint raised an eyebrow. “And is that man still with us?”
The man in the mask wrinkled his nose and asked, slightly indignantly: “What's that supposed to mean? Of course he is, he's fine and getting married next month.”
“Oh,” he replied intelligently. “Well that's good, then.” They fell into an awkward silence, until Clint couldn't take it any longer and blurted out: “Are you really gonna team up with us?”
With a sigh, as if burdened by the weight of the world, Daredevil nodded. “Yeah.” A grin spread on his face, as he added: “Should be fun.”
A shiver ran down Clint's spine. “Please don't grin at me like that,” he said with a grimace. “Makes you look like a killer that just found its prey.”
“Lucky for you, I don't kill.”
“Right.” He gulped nervously. “About that.”
The next morning, Matt stormed into Mrs. Bloom's office with a scowl on his face. He plopped down on his chair and crossed his arms, one foot tapping rapidly against the floor.
Mrs. Bloom clicked her pen and looked at him, ready to write. “What's happened?”
“I met with Barton last night,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice calm. “We talked about the Avengers, and how I might be helpful for them.”
The air rippled, when she raised an eyebrow. “I take it, you didn't agree?”
Matt gave her a pained smile. “Very much not.” He got up and started pacing through the room, one hand on his temple, trying to massage the disappointment out of his head. “They're not like me, they don't care, if somebody in their path dies, as long as the mission gets completed.” His head twitched in anger, as he continued: “They would expect me to take out targets, by killing them!”
Mrs. Bloom shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. “Did he say that? Did he say, that killing is a requirement?”
Matt shrugged, but stopped walking for a moment. “He made it clear, that there would eventually come a situation, that would force me to kill a person.” A wave of exhaustion went through him, so he took a few wobbly steps to his chair and sat down. “I can't do that,” he said and shook his head decidedly. “I never want to be in a situation like that. If they want someone for target assassination, they should ask Frank.”
“Frank Castle?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “He's a good man, but he drives me up the wall.”
“Right.” She seemed slightly irritated, when she asked: “We are talking about the Punisher here?”
“Of course.” Matt couldn't hide the small smile curling around his lips, when he explained: “I kicked his ass into hospital as Daredevil, and then I almost got him cleared of his charges as Matt Murdock, if he hadn't completely blown it.” He rolled his eyes at the memory. “He had a good enough reason, I guess, but still.”
Mrs. Bloom nodded thoughtfully. “Not cool,” she muttered under her breath, barely audible.
Matt snorted. “Very not cool,” he agreed.
Tony was hogging the phone. Of course it was, technically, his own phone, but since last night, he had banished Clint from his lab and denied him any and every access to the one device, that could get into contact with Daredevil.
He should have seen it coming, really. The Devil of Hell's kitchen didn't kill. Never had, and it had been foolish to think, that he ever would.
Tony groaned and leaned back in his chair. He could try calling the vigilante, but going on what Clint had told him, it was unlikely the call would be accepted. Which only left one option: sit, and wait.
It was sure to be hell on earth, no matter how much work Tony might get done. There was a knot in his stomach, a tight ball of stress and anxiety, waiting for the phone to ring, so it could snap in an instant and take his confidence with it.
At this point, he was more than aware, that he would bend as many rules as necessary, just to go on a mission with the one and only Daredevil.
He rolled his chair over to his computer and cleared the keyboard enough to be usable. If he was stuck without a way to movie forward, he might as well do some research. Surely, there was some way to incorporate a man who didn't kill, into a such an esteemed task-force, such as the Avengers.
He snorted at the image of Captain America with a mustache and a top-hat. After a quick search for his coffee cup, he started brainstorming.