cuts ✧ matt.murdock

church boy?!?!?!

(AN: I can imagine Cora saying this but instead it is my son Vincent)

"Why am I helping you?" I muttered whilst hoisting the unconscious man on to the metal frame. The young boy had helped me carry him up to the top of the roof, while the man with the mask and 'Claire' followed. She was obviously new to this since she had told me her name.

"I-"

I cut him off before he could answer. "That was an obviously rhetorical question. So either you are really stupid, or keen to talk to me." I didn't want the latter.

"Why are you here?" The man in the mask asked.

"Because a father just lost his son to the bloody Russians. I prefer to work on my own but..."

"But what?"

"I'm not letting an innocent kid get sold into slavery or some shit like that. I'm sure your vigilante ass would understand."

Claire, who was now wearing a white hoodie, hid a laugh as the masked man started pacing.

"Do you know where they went?" He questioned.

"No. I tried following but then I saw you on the rooftops. I thought you had them... so I went back to help the man that they beat up. He was bad."

"Was?"

"Did you lose them or something?" I asked, wondering why he wasn't dealing with them at that moment.

"Something..." He looked down at his chest which was covered in cuts. I had neglected to notice that, even though it was quite clear by the way he was struggling with every move.

"Here let me help-" I walked over to him, prepared to use a lot of my energy in healing him, but he walked away as I did so. "You don't understand. I can help-"

"He had a badge," Claire exclaimed as she started pacing around as well.

"So do I..." I muttered.

"What if you're wrong?" She directed the question to the man in the mask, who was staring at the unconscious Russian, hanging by his hands on the frame.

"I'm not."

"He doesn't work at the 65th precinct or... whatever you told me. He isn't a cop." I clarified.

"This is way past what I signed up for." She muttered, continuing to pace the rooftop.

"What exactly did you think that was?" The masked man retorted.

"You dragged an injured mask man into your home. You stitched him up and yet you asked no questions? You didn't rethink what you were getting into?" I explained (dragged) further.

"I found a man who needed help, and I helped him." Yeah sure.

"Oh, yeah? That simple?" The man asked her, basically questioning her strange ethics.

"Do you really want to get into this in front of him?" She gestured to the unconscious man. "In front of her?" She then pointed to me as I rolled my eyes.

I had noticed, whenever I spoke, or Claire mentioned me, the man in the mask would either flinch or tense up. It was like he knew me. Was he uncomfortable? I had no idea, but the one thing I did know was that I had to find out who he was.

"He's out." He assured her, making sure to say it without looking at me. He was definitely avoiding me.

"Maybe he's faking." She suggested, looking over at me for backup, but I just shrugged.

"He's not." The vigilante made sure, tilting his head to the man and doing some mojo bullshit. It was like he was listening to a heartbeat or something.

"Okay! That right there, that is what I'm talking about." Claire voiced the words I was sheltering in my mind. "Okay, I found a guy in the dumpster who turns out to be some blind vigilante who can do all of this really weird shit. Like smell cologne through walls and sense whether someone's unconscious or faking it. Slap on top of that, he can take an unbelievable amount of punishment without one damn complaint."

"The last part is Catholicism." The vigilante shrugged. Great, another fucking church boy.

"Blind?" I stuck to that first comment as they both turned to me in question. The vigilante looked like he was grimacing. Like those were the words that he did not want to her. Suddenly realization struck me. "Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!" It was the same voice, the same face.

"Moretti I can explain-" He tried to calm me down but failed. The way he immediately said my name was further clarification.

"You did recognize me! If that is you, Murdock, I swear to god-"

"Wait. Do you know each other?" Claire was obviously confused by my sudden rage.

"Unfortunately. He is..." I decided not to continue, I wanted to keep his identity safe; because I'm just that sorta person. A nice one who tries not to lie.

"I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? Do you have some sort of abilities or something? Because the way you knocked out that guy-"

"Okay, that's enough!" I sighed. "We can talk about this another time. In private." I gestured towards the lady and the Russian strung up on the frame.

"Why'd you help me, Claire?" Murdock swiftly changed the subject as I had advised.

She stopped for a second before answering. "I'm a nurse. Work the ER at Metro General. A few weeks ago, cops bring in three men. Said they were robbing tourists, beating them up real bad." I remembered that one, a total of 19 tourists listed as victims. "Apparently, a man in a black mask took issue with their activities and decided to step in." That was him. "I counted nine broken bones between them. A few days after that, EMTs bring in a nineteen-year-old waitress. They said some guy she knew waited for her after work in the parking lot, attacked her... tried to drag her into the alley. She said she screamed and screamed, and a man in a black mask heard her... and he saved her life. So, yeah, word's getting around." Damn right. "And I want to believe in what you are doing. I really do. But this?" She pointed to the Russian man who was still unconscious and scoffed.

"I know you are afraid." Not this bull shit. He grunted as he walked over to the both of us. I really needed to heal his wounds. "You can't give in to the fear." Oh, you've got to be shitting me. "If you do... men like this win."