The Man With No Fear

Chapter Two: A Chance Encounter

Perched on the ledge of the Kitchen's tallest cathedrals one could see the whole city. It was laid out like an intricate map, the people down below going about their lives.

Or, in Matt's case, one could hear the whole city. The sounds of the night life rang out like a church choir. They ebbed and flowed, washing over him in waves. He'd long since learned how to focus his attention on specific sounds. The mental turmoil would be unbearable if he couldn't. It'd be complete sensory overload.

One sound claws its way to the front of the pack. The scream of a woman rings through, reaching Matt's ears. And with that he's off and running. He runs over the brooding gothic statues that line the top of the cathedral, and if someone were to look up at that exact moment they'd likely think he was a statue as well, one that has come to life. Jumping down from the roof he lands on the next building over.

There it is again, the woman's scream. A desperate plea for help, for mercy. That's something that this city doesn't give.

Matt pushes himself harder, running across the roof and jumping off the side onto a fire escape. Climbing over the side he quickly scrambles down, reaching the harsh concrete below.

He listens intently and hears the voices of two men mocking the woman. Demanding her purse, one of them gets lewd with a comment that demands even more. About two blocks away.

He runs, dodging the few people who are out this late at night. He feels their hearts race as he passes, not knowing who or what he is.

He comes up to the alleyway where one heartbeat races like a horse on a track. She's a mouse caught un a trap and those two men are the cats. They're armed with knives it seems. He treads quietly, keeping to the shadows, listening as their voices paint him a picture.

"Hey baby, we just wanna have some fun," says one of them. He must be 5"9, slim, and a repeat offender. He's too confident for this to be his first time.

"Hey, hey we already got the money," his friend says nervously. His heart beats a little faster, he's new to this. About 5"7, young, stocky.

"You have my money, please just let me go," the woman pleads tearfully. Fear chokes her voice, making it a feeble sounding thing. She's small, maybe 5"6, and young. Matt's fists clench as he hears the man's response.

"Baby no need to be so glum, we're about to have ourselves a party. I love blondes," the man says. Matt can practically hear the shit-eating grin in the scum's voice. That's enough to make him spring into action.

Rushing forward he reaches out and grabs the shorter of the two by the neck. Wrapping his muscled forearm around his neck he squeezes. The other man shouts in surprise and Matt senses him turning towards them.

The man struggling in his choke hold claws at his arm, desperately trying to break free. The knife he'd been holding has long since clattered to the dirty alleyway ground, and Matt makes sure to kick it out of the way. The other man however is still armed.

He steps towards Matt, sneering. "I don't know who the hell you are but you're about to get cut into ribbons," he shouts at Matt. His buddy's breathing is slowing and Matt slowly lessens the pressure, letting him slip to the cold ground.

The perverted scumbag standing before him takes that opportunity to lunge at Matt. Matt sidesteps him, barely avoiding the swing of his knife. It nicks Matt's arm, cutting through his black long sleeved turtlekneck. The thug swings again and this time Matt grabs his wrist. Twisting it the man screams out.

"You damn bastard!" he shouts through clenched teeth at Matt twists his arm behind his back. Something snaps, a bone, as Matt pushes the man down onto his knees. The knife slips from his trembling hand. Grabbing a handful of his greasy hair Matt angles his face until his mouth is inches away from the thug's ear.

"I should kill you," Matt says simply, warm breath making contact with the now terrified assailant. He can hear the rushing of blood pumping rapidly through the man's veins. He's scared out of his mind. He should be.

But he's not the only one who's scared. Matt can hear the woman's heart hammering in her chest. She's scared too.

"I'm not going to though because that woman over there shouldn't have to see that," Matt continues in a calm even tone. The flatness of his voice adds more to the man's fear. The gulp he does resonates in Matt's ears and he feels a strange satisfaction at eliciting such a reaction.

"Now if I find you pulling this kind of thing again, and I will find out, next time I'll drag you to somewhere nice and secluded so you can get what you deserve," Matt finishes, his threat perfectly clear. The man nods emphatically, signaling that he understands.

He stands, leaving the assailant cowering on the ground. Turning to the woman who stills stands with her back against the wall he makes a 'come here' gesture. He listens as she walks hesitantly towards him. She pauses a moment and he realizes she's bending down to pick up something, her purse it seems. She then continues walking towards him.

"Thank you," she says quietly. Her heart is no longer racing but he can tell she's still fearful.

"I'll walk you home," he offers. Telling, not asking. She hesitates for a few moments, regarding him carefully. His hand is still outstretched, and she slowly slips her slim arm around his own. Her grip tightens slightly, and he walks them out of the alley, leaving behind the bruised men with the bruised egos.

He can feel the pain from where that thug cut him. It doesn't seem too deep though. The smell of blood is waning so he knows that it must have stopped bleeding. The woman stays quiet, leading them down the city street. As if on cue rain bursts from the sky, drenching them.

"A perfect end to a perfect day," she says morosely. He can hear the bitterness in her voice and wonders what could have happened.

"I'm sorry your day's been so bad," he says in a weak effort to provide comfort. He feels her shrug and her steps begin to slow.

"No one's fault but my own. And it would have been a lot worse if not for you, so thank you again-" she says, trailing off. He realizes she's angling for a name.

"It was no problem, Miss-" he replies, doing the same right back to her. He hears her chuckle softly.

"Touche," she says, a grin coloring her voice. "Karen Page. And who are you?"

"A friend," he replies simply. He wears the black scarf around his eyes for a reason. A sorry excuse for a costume but it's the best he could do.

"Alright, friend," she says to him. Slowing down to a stop she continues, "This is where I get off."

"Okay Miss Page," he says, breathing deeply. Even with the scent of rain, being this close to her has him smelling something like pumpkin. Pumpkins and apples. He briefly wonders if it's from a shampoo that she might use.

"Thank you again," she says softly. Suddenly it's like someone's turned up the temperature. He breathes deeply again as he hears her heart begin to beat faster. Her breathing gets shallower, quicker, and he realizes she's...nervous? 

He surprises himself when he realizes that the feeling's mutual.

But before he can embark on that theory he turns away from her. She takes a quick deep breath and a sigh escapes from her lips.

"Goodnight Karen," he tells her, dredging up every ounce of willpower that he has. The rain continues to pour, and for a moment it's so quiet that he can hear each drop bounce off of her, her skin, the dress she seems to be wearing, her hair.

"Goodnight," she whispers. He listens as she turns and takes out a key. It slips into a lock, turns, and then she's gone.

And he's left in the rain with only the lingering scent of pumpkins and apples to keep him company.