Chapter 10
Whenever Clint got a second or two, he'd look over to watch Daredevil fight. That's why he had wanted to meet him after all, and this was a good opportunity see him in action. However, he got the impression, that the devil hadn't really let loose yet. This whole time, he had been fighting with a faint smirk playing around his lips, sometimes growing wider, when his opponent landed a hit.
It was both exhilarating and concerning to watch.
At some point though, when there were only about twenty criminals left, something about Daredevil changed.
Clint had just rammed one man's head into the floor, when the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked shot through his hearing aid. He looked up just in time to see Daredevil leaping in front of him, as the gunshot reverberated through the building.
The vigilante grunted, audibly in pain, but he hardly slowed down and pounced on the gunman like a puma, knocking both of them to the floor.
When Clint caught a look at his face, Daredevil wasn't smiling any more. His jaw was clenched tightly, while his lips were forced apart by heavy panting, his hands flexing continuously before landing punch after punch on the gunman's face. The sound of wet blood splattering with each hit, cut obscenely through the momentary silence.
As if on cue, more than half the men currently coming at Clint, turned and redirected towards Daredevil. He was about to rush over to help, when the vigilante let out a growling yell and charged at the criminals.
Clint dealt with his left over enemies as quickly as he could, zip-tying them together in a hurry, before he could finally help his new ally.
But when he saw the scene in front of him, he froze.
Daredevil was jumping through the air with such speed it was dizzying, his punches flying without break, and that even though he was favoring his right arm.
When Clint looked a little closer, he could finally see the blood spreading through Daredevil's armor, leaving a slightly darker patch of red on the fabric.
However for some reason, the vigilante seemed to simply ignore it. He whirled around like an acrobat on speed, with no concern for casualties and all Clint could do, was stand there and watch.
Slowly, he pulled out his phone and started filming.
This was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen in all of his glory and grace, letting out all of this rage bubbling beneath the surface, in a raw implosion of power and purpose; and Clint would be damned, if he didn't get a video of this. He never would have thought, that such violence could contain such striking beauty.
Criminals were dropping left and right, until it was only Daredevil and one rather large opponent left.
They danced around each other, dodging and blocking the other's hits, while trying to find an opening. Despite it being obvious, that even he was tired by now, Daredevil got a couple good punches in and managed to keep his defense up reliably.
Clint was watching on in excitement, waiting to see where this was going. Unfortunately before either of them got a chance to end this fight, a window shattered and Iron Man came flying in, blasting the last criminal without second thought.
“What did you do that for?” Clint yelled and threw his arms into the air. “It was just getting interesting!” Disappointment clear on his face, he turned off the recording on his phone.
“I had it under control, Stark,” came the grumpy reply from Daredevil.
Tony landed between them and opened his helmet. “Oh I'm sorry, I thought I'd be nice and help you out.” He turned towards Clint and asked: “Why were you just watching?”
The archer waved him off and replied: “I'll show you later.”
Daredevil immediately noticed something was going on and asked with a suspicious tone: “Did … did you take a video of me?”
Clint swallowed hard. “I uh … maybe? I might have – just a bit though, so. Yeah.”
With a shake of his head, the vigilante pointed a finger at them. “That video had better never see the light of day.”
A nervous laugh bubbled out of Clint and he nodded. “Of course, I just couldn't resist.” He ran a hand through his hair as he added: “I could watch you fight a thousand times and never get enough.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, bud.”
Unable to hide his smile completely, Daredevil turned slightly pink. “Thank you. I guess.” He cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter, before saying: “I'll let it slide this time.”
“So uh.” Tony gestured vaguely at the vigilante. “Did you get stabbed, or what's happening there?”
“No, I got shot.”
Clint raised his hand. “Actually, he took that bullet for me.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “Right. Did it go through?”
With a light chuckle, Daredevil replied: “Oh no, it's still in there.”
“Do … you need a hospital?”
Daredevil shifted his weight and put one hand on his hip. “Look at me and ask me that again,” he said dryly, but before he could get an answer, he continued: “It's not even that bad, so I can do it myself when I get home.”
“Dude,” Clint said. “We have a med-bay at Tony's tower. We can patch you up there without anyone knowing or talking.”
Skeptically, the vigilante stared at them. “And how would I get in?”
Evidently embarrassed about it, Tony replied: “I'd fly you in through the roof.”
He shook his head vigorously. “Absolutely not.”
Ten minutes later, Tony set down Daredevil on the landing pad of his tower and stepped out of his suit. With a worried glance at the vigilante, he said: “Follow me, we'll take the elevator. I called ahead.”
They had left Clint behind to get back on his own, but not before calling the police.
With a sharp nod, Daredevil obliged.
When they stepped into the med-bay, it was empty apart from none other than Bruce, who just finished preparing all the tools he'd need. At their entrance, he smiled warmly and said: “I've been expecting you.” He turned towards Daredevil. “I have heard a lot about you, so it's nice to finally meet you in person. Please take off your chest piece and sit.”
“Right.” Begrudgingly, the vigilante started undoing some of the buttons and straps all over his torso, until he was finally able to wriggle out his shoulder. “This enough?”
Slightly taken aback, Bruce nodded. “I'll have to cut your shirt, though.”
“I don't care.”
“Alright, then.” While quietly narrating his process, he carefully got to work.
During the ordeal, Tony was standing behind his friend, watching on with a mixture of disgust and fascination, as a rather sour looking Daredevil was being stitched back together. Even though only a small part of his left chest was visible, it was clear that his skin was littered with scars. One stood out especially, long and clean, almost parallel to his collarbone.
Tony couldn't help but wonder, what the rest of his body might look like, underneath all that armor.