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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 - the devils decision
━━━━━━━
𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀 mere minutes to reach Matthew and Fisk. The sound of crashing and fists being landed led the way and she wasted no time in promptly following.
She paid no mind to her uncovered face, she had faith that Matt would come through and stop Fisk.
She was right. The scene that she saw the moment she entered the penthouse spoke a thousand words. Fisk was on his knees; vibrant red blood stained his once pristine white suit and it dripped down his face like a waterfall. Vanessa was stood on the stairs, watching on with anguish.
And Matt. He stood tall, towering over Fisk, the black of his suit a complete contrast to the white and crimson man in front of him. His blood-stained rope-covered fists pounded against Fisk's face relentlessly. The vigilante grunted and yelled with every hit; all of his pent-up anger at the man finally coming to the surface and overflowing into the room in crashing waves.
Even with the mask obscuring his face, Olivia could see the pure rage and frustration. Each hit grew harder and stronger as he continued on.
Her eyes drifted towards Vanessa who stood in her wedding dress, watching the scene unfold, watching every splatter of blood sink into her husband's suit. "Stop," Vanessa whispered and though Olivia knew Matt could hear her, he continued on.
Olivia slowly made her way over, as if she were approaching a wild animal. Matthew's fists continued to collide with the man's face, blood splattering on the pure white painting. "Matt." She whispered beneath her breath, loud enough for only him to hear. His Fist stopped midair, hanging suspended as droplets of crimson liquid dropped to the ground.
Olivia stepped closer, her eyes glued on Matt's hands that had moved; one on Fisk's neck and on his head, ready to snap. She slowly placed a hand on his shoulder and his muscles tensed beneath her touch before a sharp breath was exhaled and he loosened.
"This isn't you. Don't let him turn you into a monster; into him." Olivia muttered, her hand jolting back as the vigilante stumbled backward, onto his knees as he let out a guttural yell.
The turmoil inside of him was at a tipping point. It was time for him to decide and he couldn't lie to himself any longer; he wanted to kill Fisk, he wanted to rid the world of a monster. But he couldn't. Olivia was right; that wasn't him and becoming that person wasn't what he wanted.
Killing somebody, being the reason why life faded from another person's eyes wasn't him, it wasn't who he wanted to be and he most certainly wouldn't let Fisk turn him into that person.
