Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

4. Shadows of the Past

A shadow passes somewhere on the roof, unnoticed by the three men.

"Listen, dude, I told you, I'm out of the stock tonight. I'm getting something on Tuesday, but Lil Marco is not someone to be trusted on the business." A guy with a brown jacket leans on the doors of the shabby motel and inhales the cigarette smoke.

"Yeah, Marco ain't the man. We gotta replace him." Another man with long, greasy hair nods aggressively, smoking as well.

"No other idiot would want to risk his ass when the cops keep sniffing everything around. Marco will deliver it on Tuesday, my word." The bald guy puts his phone in the pocket of his jeans and drops the cigarette on the ground.

"Ay, listen, man, what happened to you?" The brown jacket guy points to the bald man's cheek.

"Some crazy chick wanted to burn a hole in my face." The latter spits.

"Eh, Jeff, that's shitty, man. Did you get back at her?" Greasy hair asks, looking very interested in the sudden change of the topic.

"Yeah," Jeff blows a raspberry, "of course. That bitch will have to wear makeup for the rest of her life."

"Damn, right. Can't let them get on your head. I swear, they keep getting crazier and crazier." Greasy hair laughs, also dropping his cigarette on the ground.

"Alright, gentlemen, see you on Tuesday. If Marco ain't delivering that cocaine, I'm going to hang him on his balls." Brown jacket looks around a couple of times and the gets inside, closing the door quickly.

"Aight man, don't get yourself killed, or burned." Greasy hair taps Jeff's shoulder and disappears behind the garbage cans.

"Fucking idiots." Jeff mutters and gets going, whistling under his breath. Upon reaching a tunnel that takes a sharp turn left, he is met with a fist to the face and, shocked, drops to the ground.

"Hey, Jeff." a gruff voice says out of nowhere, and just a second later, regaining his sight, Jeff notices a man dressed in black.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Jeff backs up into the wall, hands spread out, gripping the cold stone.

"It's not nice, lying, Jeff. It's also not nice harassing women." Matt throws another punch, this time to the stomach, and Jeff drops to his knees, groaning loudly.

"Leave me alone, you freak!" he rasps out, feeling as if the organs inside of him have been rearranged.

"Like you left that girl near the bar alone?" Matt grabs him by the collar of his jacket. "Delivering drugs? I wonder how many years you and your pathetic friends would get behind the bars." Matt punches him again, aiming at his face, which soon becomes all bloody.

"I swear I'm not in this shit, just let me go."

"I think, Jeff, you'd look nice in a hospital bed." Matt punches him again, and again, letting out the rage he kept since the accident in the bar. Jeff barely makes a sentence, spitting blood and a couple of teeth out, desperately gripping Matt's leg.
"I ever see you out there doing shit again, I'm not going to be so merciful, you trash." Matt pushes him to the ground with force, hearing how Jeff struggles to breathe in, almost choking on his blood, and a look of disgust paints his face.
On his way out of the tunnel, Matt kicks Jeff in the leg, earning another pained groan.

Devil's job was done, but Hell's Kitchen never sleeps.

***
You sleep restlessly, tossing and turning in your bed, feeling as if every piece of material of your mattress is burning your skin.

Weird thoughts reach you in your dream, but you can't make the sense of them. Living in the world of Avengers with alien threats hasn't made your life easier. When you weren't busying yourself with all the paperwork and cases, intrusive thoughts crawled in your head, and you felt like this hour was going to be your last one on Earth, and any minute a huge alien ship was going to land on your firm's roof and destroy the whole Manhattan.

You sit up and look at your hands in the darkness, illuminated by the shy lights of the city that reach your bedroom. For a split second there's something dark on them, a red color, dripping on your white covers and thus, destroying them. You feel the sensation of thickness on your palms and blink a couple of times. Everything returns back to normal again. Sighing loudly, you fall back onto your pillow, and rub your eyes furiously until you begin seeing stars and dots. Drinking nights were not the best, especially when you didn't have where to put the suddenly built-up energy that alcohol gave you a couple of hours after drinking.

You felt like you could run the marathon or punch someone in the throat. Like that guy outside Josie's. Maybe you should really invest into a pepper spray.

You felt the sudden urge to call your parents. Your dad, mostly. He was the one who expressed his feelings through mostly silent nods of approval or disappointed shakes of his head. He was the one who made you the person you are now. Someone who puts feelings in the last place. And you saw nothing wrong with it. If it didn't involve you, it wasn't your problem. Maybe that was one of the factors that played a big role in you getting a job in Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz. The other one was your daddy's money.

Retired at the 'young' age of 50, the former head of police department, and brilliant detective did what every parent would do - anything for his child. You felt like you were in eternal debt to him, but you knew deep inside - he wouldn't hesitate to do the same again. He inspired you to choose lawyer's career, to establish yourself in the field and earn a good name for yourself. Your mother was just proud of her child and was a typical housewife - phenomenal cooking skills and never ending bag of hugs and kisses. And not a very useful advice, pulled straight from the heart.

You never wanted to be like her. You desired to be like your dad. Respected, trusted and stoic.
And that's exactly what you became. Or were trying to become. Although, Matt's words about your lack of compassion really didn't make things better.

Why did you care about what that catholic guy said about you? You never cared about what anyone had to say about you. Well, at first you did, until you... Didn't.

Maybe this was because Matt took a punch to his face? He didn't have to. You were perfectly handling things yourself. Probably.

You toss to the other side of the bed, cursing how big it is. Since your return to Hell's Kitchen, you lived alone, in this huge bed. Maybe you should really adopt a cat. Someone to keep you company in nights like this.

Uneasy feeling fills your chest. Something had happened. Something the news will talk about this week. The beginning of something much, much bigger.

While you finally succumb to sleep, Matt makes his way to the church. Ready to pour out his heart in a confession. Because Father is the only one he trusts with his deepest secrets. For now.