cuts ✧ matt.murdock

greys anatomy 2.0- heaps o' blood

"Fucking Russians..." I muttered as I walked through the doors of Metro General. It looked like an episode of some soap opera based in a medical wing. 

"Can I help you?" One of the ladies at reception asked me. 

"Yes actually..." I took out my badge and flashed it around. 

"Yes! Of course!" The lady straightened herself out and walked around the counter to help me get to wherever I was going. 

"I need to see a patient that was brought in a little while ago." I explained, ready to make up a few excuses if needed. 

"And this patient would be?"

"A John Doe, various injuries. Found off a rooftop near here, in a dumpster I believe."

"Oh! Two visitors just came in to see him. Are you with them?" She asked with a smile.

"Russian?"

"I believe so Ma'am."

"Shit."

--

I ran through the hospital to the room that the lady gave me. The Russians needed information from him, most likely about who put him in his terrible state. I needed to get there before they finished the job. I couldn't let him leak the identity of myself, and possibly Claire. I sort of wished that I hadn't have gotten involved. Complications were arising. Big ones.

I was pushing numerous doctors, patients, nurses and visitors out of the way as I tried to reach the room before too much shit had gone down. People were looking at me like I was a lunatic, which I admit was an appropriate reaction to my running and flailing around. 

As I reached the room, I took out my gun James Bond style. I crept to the open door. I flicked my eyes around, checking if there was anyone outside the room. There was no one. I peeked into the room and saw two bulky Russians talking to the one that was supposed to be in a coma. 

The two 'visiting' men were leaning in close to the other man, listening to what he was whispering. I was familiar with Russian, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"The devil..." The injured Russian muttered over and over to the other two. 

"Did you see anything?" One of the other men asked. "Anything that can help us find them?"

"There was another woman..." Before the injured man could continue, I stepped in.

"Actually, there are many females within this city!" I tucked my gun into my back pocket. I wanted to distract them for as long as I could. 

"Who are you?" The two turned to me, fists raised. The injured man's breath hitched as he saw my face.

"You..." He grunted as I took a step back, regretting my decision to not come in guns a-blazing. 

"Me." I laughed, reaching for the gun I had stupidly put away. 

Before I could do that, however, the two bulky Russians lunged at me. I ducked their first few attacks, but they landed a couple on me. I got a couple on them as well, but not enough. Within no time the two had overpowered me, slamming me against the wall and giving me a heavy concussion. One of the men kicked me in the ribs with so much power that he broke a few. I groaned in pain but didn't have enough energy to fight back. 

Soon enough, the men were back at the injured man's side. He was telling them shit. Shit about Claire. As I heard the last few words that were exchanged between the two, I blacked out. 

--

No one knew how long ago it was, not even me. I was young. Not far from the age I was now. I have been this way ever since those times. I have remained... the same. 

I was left by the people that mattered most. I was alone in a world that I did not know. I was left to figure things out for myself. It didn't work out. 

My mother, who had raised me, had left. Soon after she left, I had fallen ill. I did not get better. It was not like they cared, but there was one person that did. And somehow, in some way, my mother returned. She returned just in time to see my life swept out from under me. 

She wanted to help. She said she could help. Everyone thought she was crazy, but in my tragic and near death state, I thought that she was an angel. I thought that she was sent from up above. But when she did what she did to me, I released that was not true. She was an angel, yes. But there is more than one kind. She wasn't from up above. She was from down below. 

--

I had woken up and stumbled out through the back doors of the hospital. The injured Russian had died after the two that beat me up had talked to him. It felt like I was out for hours, but it was only a few minutes. I was struggling as I hopped down into the alleyway. I was going to have to take the dark streets of Hell's Kitchen tonight. 

Luckily my apartment was close to the hospital, so I was able to get there without too much difficulty. I definitely had a few broken ribs, and maybe a punctured lung. I wouldn't know the full extent of the damaged until I examined my wounds, but I had been through worse. It was like a sprained arm compared to what I had endured in the past. 

I made it to my apartment within around an hour. Normally it would've taken ten to fifteen minutes, but tonight was not a normal night. As soon as I got home, I took the keys out of my pocket and fumbled with the lock on the door. Luckily all of my neighbors were asleep because I didn't really want them to see me, bloody and beaten, hobbling through the hallway.

As I closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief, another heavy wave of pain fell over me. I stumbled to the kitchen drawer, clutching my tender area, and pulled out a first aid kit. Before I could sit myself down, I felt another wave of pain hit me. As I reached for the bench, darkness clouded my vision. I had lost consciousness, yet again. 

--

I woke up to daylight streaming through the open windows. I rubbed my head, which I had hit on the floor when I collapsed. I pulled out my phone, noticing that blood was covering my hands. I didn't know who to call, so I decided on a recently new 'friend' of mine. I needed help. 

The phone rung a while until a man on the other end answered. 

"Hello?" His voice reverberated around the tall ceilings of my apartment. 

"H-hey Foggy. It's me."

"Moretti? Are you okay?" His tone was a genuinely concerned one. 

"Peachy." I lied through gritted teeth. It was taking all of my might no to lose consciousness again. 

"Do you need anything?"

"Yeah actually. Is Murdock there?"

"No, he just went to the precinct to follow up on a case." He explained. "You could meet him there."

"Uh no..." I thought about what to say but gave up on thinking and just averted to the easiest option. "Actually, can you send him a location for me? It's urgent."

"Are you sure everything is okay?" No Nelson. I'm not. 

"Y-yeah. Just send him this address. 406 West 47th Street..."

"9th and 47th... Got it. Karen says hello by the way." He cheerily agreed to my request. 

"Okay. Thanks, Nelson."

"Goodbye!"

I hung up the phone as I looked around the apartment. I couldn't move, but I could definitely think up a million ways to beat up the Russians that did this to me. I was not having a good time.