Chapter 1
The Devil had owed him a favour. He had come to collect that favour.
That had been hours ago. Just hours ago, he had been firing his gun at full speed, reloading his stock every few minutes. Frank had found out about quite a big gang war, and he knew he would have needed help. So of course, he had thought of Red. Even though the vigilante insisted on keeping everyone alive, though not afraid of hurting, he was definitely the best ally Frank could wish for. And hell, had Red been angry with him. Yes, he owed Frank a favour, and no, he didn’t have anything better to do, but teaming up with him? Hell, he would probably rather die than teaming up with Frank again, and even though Frank knew that, he had convinced Red of joining him in his ever- lasting crusade.
So there they had been, fighting side to side, like war buddies. Frank and Red could have been good friends, but they both annoyed the hell out of each other. Though, Frank did respect Red’s moral code, and he understood the man even more when he had found out his identity. Sure, he was in his late-twenties, but damn, he was young. Matt Murdock, a catholic lawyer over day, a law- breaker, a vigilante, at night. Frank respected him, probably always would. The fact that he might have been a little into the handsome, leather- clad vigilante didn’t help Frank either.
It didn’t help him when they first met, when he could have put a bullet through the head of his new- found enemy, but also his new- found ally. It didn’t help him on that damned rooftop either, where and when he could have killed some random thug, right in front of the goody-two-shoes. It didn’t help him when he found out that his own damn lawyer was the annoying shithead that prevented him from doing his damn duty. It didn’t help him when he confronted Red with the fact that Frank knew who he was. But most of all, it didn’t help him right now.
Right now, when he was looking- staring- at the clock, fidgeting with the bottle in his hand. Counting away the hour- lasting seconds, fidgeting with the cords of his oversized, grey sweater. Watching the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, strongly wishing Matt would be back before 2 AM- the time they had both agreed on as the time where they could go looking for each other, when they hadn’t came back to Matt’s apartment- while drumming his fingers on the windowsill. Slowly driving insane at images of Matt bleeding out somewhere where Frank would never find him. Frank had to find Red. Had to find his Red.
Fuck Red’s rules- not like he ever listened to the vigilante, if he had the possibility not to- he had to go looking for Matt immediately. It was 0:54 AM. Over two hours since he had last seen the Devil. 120 minutes since the Devil had disappeared.
Frank walked stamping to the big closet on the wall, opening his damned bag, putting in every fucking gun that fit in, taking another revolver to hold in his left hand, while he climbed up the stairs to roof access. He took a deep breath in, focussing on the task that lay ahead of him.
All he had to do was to find the Devil.