#mattdad

the cold metal of the bracelet reminded Matt that the ballerina was out there still, waiting for him, praying maybe. he tucked the bracelet into his pocket, he’d give it back to her himself when he found her, and her friend. the tunnels were becoming a hard to decipher jumble of voices, footsteps and occasionally search dogs barking. each new sound layered atop the last, making an ever growing pressure build in Matt’s head, something he didn’t need. still, he pressed on.

the sound of running water finally hit Matt’s ears as he kept creeping further into the tunnel system, losing hope and determination with each step. the scent of the ballerina’s perfume had become dampened by the cold air and the stench of what Matt could only hope was sewage, not bodies of enemies of the gang. as he got closer to the running water sound, his foot stepped on something soft. he immediately bent down, hands landing on something wet and furry. his hands recoiled, believing he’d just fondled a drowned animal, but then he caught that smell. the ballerina’s perfume was all over that furry object, and Matt suddenly knew exactly what he was faced with. her favourite fur coat that she’d bought for herself after her first successful show.

Matt picked it up, it was soaking, and now reeked of dirty sewage water. still, there was a tang of something in the air, a more subtle metallic smell... blood. Matt’s hands desperately clutched on the material, and he found patches of recently lost blood on the sides of the fur coat, much to his weakening resolve. still, he left the coat there, now ruined by the water, and carried on. all he could think about was where those blood patches could’ve originated from, was it her side, her arms, her hands? who’d hurt her? was she getting away, was she already back at his apartment crying for him?

he wished he knew.

the tunnel came to an end. why did it abruptly end here? Matt could sense a change in the space before him, there was a tall object attached to the wall, his hands landed on a ladder. it was old, rusted, creaky. the texture on his gloves was awful, let alone bare skin, he thought. there were no traces of blood on the ladder rungs as far as he could sense, as he made his way up in a hurry. he was rushing so bad that he didn’t stop to take in the surroundings ahead of him. just before his head would’ve surfaced into an above ground building, he paused. the lightest sound of footsteps above him. his heart pumped faster, and he backed down a few steps.

the manhole above was wrenched open and he was hauled upwards, thrown onto concrete and surrounded. guns cocked and clicked, Matt put his hands behind his head and grit his jaw together. he’d walked right into whatever this was, like an idiot. an unprepared, unfocused idiot. what a rookie mistake. as Matt’s self-inflicted insults ran through his head, the men around him shifted as another person entered the room.

“so good of you to finally make an appearance,” the voice was one he’d never heard before in his life, “I don’t know what to call you, so masked man will do.” the voice added quietly, before taking a deep breath to project their voice. “well, it seems we’re at a bit of a crossroads, I have something you want, you have something I want. see what I’m getting at?” Matt stayed silent, only breathing filled the room. “the silent treatment, right, okay.” the voice made an exasperated sigh, and footsteps echoed around the room. “let’s show you instead then, hmm?” the voice was then joined by sets of footsteps, and Matt immediately recognised the ones he’d been listening for all night.

the ballerina was being manhandled into the room alongside her friend, who looked much worse for wear. Matt could instantly sense the fear running through both of the girls, and it made him desperate to get out of here as quick as he could, but a survey of the room gave Matt a rough headcount of twenty men armed with various weapons, not to mention the ones upstairs and the owner of the voice. “now, whether or not you can see through that ridiculous mask of yours, I’m certain you know who stands before you at gunpoint.” Matt froze, suddenly realising the odds of this ending in an acceptable way. “oh, I do believe he’s realised how fucked he is!” there was a stark silence save for the laughter of that voice. it must be the leader’s voice, since no one else dared to speak.

“let the girls go and take me.” Matt said, breaking the laughter of the voice short. a tension settled over the room. Matt got the idea that no one had ever interrupted the maniacal laughter before, and he’d just been the first. “I know you want nothing to do with them, you want me, don’t you?” Matt continued. the voice had gone silent.

“wrong.” the sound of a gun being loaded filled the room. “I want everyone in this room right where they are.” the voice had a very unhinged tone to it now, and Matt sensed that things were about to go bad, quickly.

“you’re a freak, you know that?” a new voice hit Matt’s ears. he realised it was the ballerina’s friend. 

“don’t–” the ballerina hissed, but her friend had reached breaking point.

“you keep us here for no reason, laugh at everything you say, but you’re just a sad, lonely freak who has nothing better to do with his time. how shit do you have to be at your job to be demoted to kidnapping girls, ballerinas at that? I hope your boss has your name written down in a little black book with three strikes through it because you’re useless, you know that?” the voice broke out into laughter again, and Matt waited in absolute tense suspense. “what? is that all you can do, laugh at me? you’re pathetic–”

“oh, you were a funny one.” the gun clicked and a shot rang out, followed by a thump, then a scream. the voice was laughing again, harder this time, and Matt was having trouble registering what had just happened. the men around Matt shifted uncomfortably, obviously not expecting that either. Matt was guessing that it hadn’t been part of the plan. screams filled the room, the building, as the ballerina dropped to the floor to cradle her friend’s body. Matt listened out for the friend’s breath, heartbeat, anything but there was nothing. other than the racing heartbeats of everyone else in the room. “now, onto the main event.” the voice had stopped laughing and was now focused, serious.

a rustle of clothing and the sound of pages flipping, the echoing cries of the ballerina. Matt was losing time to figure out an escape, yet he couldn’t do anything from the position he was in, outnumbered twenty something to one.

think, Murdock, think.

“what are you doing–” the ballerina sobbed as movement sounded from her direction. she was being dragged up from her friend’s body and made to stand up straight.

“hold on a moment, I’m reading.” the voice snapped, before clearing his throat. what he said next was not what Matt expected, or the ballerina, but it changed everything. “longing,” the word was in Russian, and more followed, “rusted, seventeen,” Matt heard the slowing of the ballerina’s heartbeat, “daybreak, furnace,” the voice got more and more dramatic with each word he spoke, “nine, benign,” Matt didn’t understand what was going on, but it scared him, “homecoming. one. freight car.” the voice went silent, only heavy breathing remained. “now, my little ballerina, are you ready to comply?”

“ready to comply.” the ballerina replied in Russian.

“execute the masked man.” the voice ordered, excitement evident in his tone. Matt listened as the ballerina approached, taking long striding steps.

“wait–” Matt got out before the ballerina had him by the throat. Matt’s hands went to hers, and held her back, but she was fighting him. where had this strength come from? Matt was astounded, but also confused. why had those words changed the ballerina? why was she now acting on the voice’s orders without question? Matt could sense a change in the ballerina’s demeanour, but it was something deeper, something in her mind that she had no control over. she would never harm someone else, not unless her own life was on the line, even then she was scared to hurt others because she’d get into trouble. now, that sweet girl was gone, and left behind was something entirely different.

“I said execute him, girl.” the voice sounded from behind the ballerina, which spurred her to latch her hands onto Matt’s throat again and start squeezing. “yes, yes, do it!” the voice was overjoyed at what it was witnessing, but the ballerina was still not outright killing Matt as expected.

“listen to me, he’s done something to you, this isn’t you at all. you don’t hurt people, that isn’t who you are, why are you listening to him?” the ballerina’s hold remained firm, but Matt still fought to speak to her. “remember when I came to you on that rooftop the first time about your case? then when the case was finished you danced, and I danced with you? remember that?” Matt was wasting valuable oxygen, but he found that he didn’t care. he’d do anything to get the ballerina back, even if it killed him.

“what are you waiting for, ballerina? kill him!” the voice demanded.

“don’t listen to him, you never listen to bad men, not like him. you remember him, don’t you? don’t make me say his name, I don’t want to do that to you but if I can’t get you back–” the ballerina knelt down to Matt’s level, staring at him through the mask. “I’m sorry for this.” Matt then spoke the full name of the ballerina’s abusive ex-boyfriend who’d made her life a living Hell in and out of court. he was gone now, but still existed in the ballerina’s memories and nightmares. Matt felt the change happen from inside of her, first her heart, then her head, then the rest of her body followed suit. she began panicking again, rather than being stone cold serious.

“oh my god.” she said, looking around the room, her eyes landing on her dead friend once again. “what did you do to her?” she asked, voice shaking as she went to her knees halfway between Matt and her friend’s body. “what did you do!” she demanded, in a way that Matt had never quite heard before.

“why are you talking?” the voice asked, sounding as confused as Matt felt. “why isn’t it working? what did you say to her?” the voice made a path for Matt, but was abruptly stopped. the ballerina had grabbed the voice’s leg on his way past and held him there.

“I asked you a question.” she stood up, iron grip on the voice’s clothing, before slamming the voice back into a column of bricks. “what have you done?” she repeated, voice broken but body rigid. Matt started to get a sense of the situation, and got himself ready for a fight, because one was coming soon.

“I woke you up, you oblivious little bitch.” the voice started laughing, but was cut off as the ballerina slammed him into the floor, about to land a deadly blow when the nearby armed men jumped in. one dove at the ballerina, but she simply rolled and threw him off, getting back up to her feet without so much as a side glance. Matt swung out his leg, taking out some of the armed men, but not all of them. he ducked as bullets started flying, no longer questioning the ballerina’s persona change. if she could fight now that was only an improvement in this situation, and Matt wasn’t complaining about it.

the ballerina took on as many men as she could, evading their clumsy attacks and flooring them at each turn. she disarmed them easily, throwing unloaded pistols aside and emptying the clips into the bodies of her attackers. she even swung up on one’s shoulders using her legs alone, breaking the man’s neck and letting him fall to the floor. she had not a scratch on her, and any blood that landed on her was not her own. Matt was doing well on his side of the room too, knocking out men with his kicks and slamming them into walls. by luck neither Matt or the ballerina had caught a stray bullet, and it was when they realised this that the room was empty of conscious or living people.

the owner of the voice had fled, that much was evident, leaving behind twenty-ish dead or beaten men and one dead ballerina. Matt kicked in the head of one last attacker, silencing him, before turning in the direction of the ballerina. she was knelt over her friend’s body again, tears running but no audible sobs. the ballerina smoothed the hair out of her friend’s face, smiling sadly. the single gunshot to her chest had killed her instantly, at least she hadn’t suffered, but she was still dead.

Matt slowly came to the ballerina’s side, unsure of what state she was in now. she’d just fought off grown gang members with loaded weapons like it was just another day, when before she wouldn’t have dared look at someone the wrong way.

“I got her killed, he wanted me, not her.” the ballerina said with a small voice. Matt immediately recognised the ballerina that he had first met.

“he shot her, it’s his fault. I’ll find him, but we need to go.” Matt was knelt down next to the ballerina, and could sense the presence of the body right before him. it was a horrible feeling, being in the presence of the recently departed. it was like there was a black hole in the room, drawing in all of the warmth and love and leaving nothing there in turn. not that there was any warmth or love in this godforsaken abandoned building in the first place, but the ballerina’s heart was obviously breaking. “we’ll take her to the city coroner.” Matt said, reaching out to pick up the body, which was cold. the poor girl had lived her last few moments making a stand for her life, but she’d endured barbaric treatment from the gang, been shivering in the cold and probably wishing for a way out in her last few days.

yet, Matt was relieved that it wasn’t his ballerina’s body he was carrying.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

the ballerina burst back into Matt’s apartment, despite it being early morning. she was desperate to tell him about what the fuck had just happened, but found the place empty. she cried her heart out at being alone, and she thought about her now dead friend each time she closed her eyes. the ballerina cried herself to exhaustion, and eventually sleep, though it was fitful and cruel. she had fallen asleep on the couch, but woke up in Matt’s bed. she opened her aching, swollen eyes to see Matt in the kitchen. she rolled over, trying to dispel the mean headache that had formed overnight, and sighed when it only got worse.

Matt then appeared at the doorway, holding a tea and breakfast.

“where were you last night when I came in?” the ballerina demanded, sitting up and squinting at the bright New York light coming in through the windows.

“I was out looking for you, you did go missing last night, remember?” Matt replied sternly. “that was dangerous, you realise that, right? we’re lucky you came back on your own.” he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the ballerina’s response.

“you have no idea what happened, do you?” the ballerina asked, voice deadly quiet. she’d changed, Matt noted. “I had to abandon my best friend’s body at the city coroner with the help of the masked man, because some fucking depraved gang leader shot her, when what he really wanted was me.” the ballerina’s voice was laced with hate, unmistakable seething hatred. “he killed her, then... brainwashed me with Russian words. I almost hurt the masked man under orders to execute him. then I snapped out of it and started fighting people who had guns pointed at me. none of it makes any sense, nothing.” the ballerina was exhausted still, Matt could sense it.

“I’m sorry,” Matt’s hand covered the ballerina’s, “about your friend, the gang, all of it.” Matt’s heart screamed for the ballerina, he could sense her pain. “we’ll open a case at Nelson and Murdock–”

“no.” Matt stopped talking, but he was relieved that the ballerina was opposed to opening a case, going to the police. “no, this isn’t something you deal with in the courts. this is... different.”

“what do you want to do?” Matt asked, a simple question, but a million possible answers. he knew exactly what the ballerina was about to say.

“right now? sleep for a hundred years. after that? kill that man.” Matt turned towards the ballerina, both of his hands taking hers and holding them. he had to put on an act, he had to try and discourage her, but he so badly wanted to just come out and say he’d help her no matter what.

“that’s not possible, I’m sorry, but you’re putting yourself in too much danger.” the ballerina leant forward and challenged Matt.

“I think I can handle it, ask the masked man.” Matt had to hold back a smile, because he knew exactly what she was referring to, yet he had to hide it. instead, he shook his head. “whatever that brainwashing thing was, it made me able to fight, and I mean fight. I just need the masked man to help me find this psycho so I can kill him.” the ballerina had never been so determined before, not even before a new show where she was performing as the lead for the first time on opening night.

Matt lowered his head, feigning defeat.

“if I call him, and he says no, that’s it.” the ballerina squeezed Matt’s hands.

“I think we both know he won’t say no.”

and she was right, because Matt was already planning his next nighttime venture.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

she had been sat in the police station for hours. it was overrun with calls and cops, yet no one had spared her a glance since she had reported her best friend’s disappearance. with tired eyes and permanently aching feet, the ballerina glanced at her phone screen again, seeing that it was almost morning in New York city. she had a show tonight, she should’ve been in bed hours ago and waking up soon for her morning routine. but, here she was, waiting to speak with a detective. the ballerina even asked the front desk if there was anyone available at all who would be willing to speak to her, and she was given a rookie cop in return. she tried to explain the situation, but was shot down, and told to forget about her friend as she probably did “a disappearing act over a boy and didn’t want to tell anyone”. the ballerina was then dismissed out of the police station and back into the streets of NYC. she got home as the sun began to rise, and felt utterly helpless and hopeless. she tried to do something to take her mind off of it, tried desperately to believe the cop’s words, but her mind was stuck on her friend. her best friend wouldn’t just up and leave like that without saying something, she knew that. she’d called and texted hundreds of times, and she knew that her friend would’ve picked up after even one phone call. she sat still as a statue in the apartment, thinking about what options she had. the police in NYC were a dead end, she realised that now, the good cops were too busy or too low down the pecking order, and the crooked ones wouldn’t risk upsetting the wrong people just for a lost ballerina. but who else was there? she sat there deep in thought, thinking back to when she was in trouble herself... oh. the masked man. with a jump she got out of her chair, digging around for her mobile in her handbag, and dialling Karen first. when Karen didn’t pick up, she reluctantly stared at the screen for Matthew Murdock’s number. she put the phone back down on the counter, second guessing herself. she hated having to ask him for more help when he’d already done so much for her, but what other options did she have? she was no good at doing detective work herself, and she didn’t know people like Matt did. so, she went for Matt’s number. to her surprise, he picked up before the third ring. he said her name immediately, and she sighed in relief. “I need your help.” she said in a timid voice, her heart beating at a million miles an hour as she waited for his answer. she really hoped she hadn’t interrupted him doing anything important. “where are you?” he asked, rustling sounds coming from his end. “in my apartment. can I come to you?” the ballerina asked, biting one of her nails as she spoke, a habit she never broke. “yeah, of course you can. I can call a cab for you if that’s easier?” he was so good to her, even though her own case had been tied up and was no longer Matt’s problem. the ballerina took the cab to Matt’s place, which she hadn’t actually visited before, and he welcomed her in with a hug. she felt awful for intruding but she really needed his help, she hung up her coat and took off her shoes. he made her a hot drink in his little kitchen and they sat down on the couch together, after the ballerina had calmed down. she was a silent worrier, Matt had noticed, not a loud or physical one. her cues were very subtle, but if you paid attention, they were there. tonight she was picking at her knitted jumper sleeve, avoiding eye contact with Matt as he had taken his glasses off for the evening. “what’s going on? trouble about your case?” he asked, holding his own drink in both of his hands. “no, it’s not me this time. it’s my friend, best friend, really. I saw her after the last show, and then all of a sudden she disappears. I’ve been to her place, called her a hundred times. none of our other friends have heard or seen a thing either, and the police told me to forget about it.” the ballerina realised how unimportant that sounded so she added, “something just isn’t right, Matt, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. we have a strict routine and she’s just totally abandoned it all, not a single word to me.” the ballerina said this all with a wobbling voice, and Matt reached out to her gently. she leant into his side hug, and wiped a few stray tears away, thinking he hadn’t seen them. he felt them, that tiny sliver of sadness amongst a big ball of stress and worry. “I’ll call my friend, he’ll sort everything out. he just needs time to get some information. I’ll give him what I can too.” the ballerina nodded, and when she had finished her hot drink Matt insisted that she stay for the night, so she borrowed Matt’s clean clothes, which did get a smile out of her from how oversized they were. while Matt made a show of doing legal stuff, the ballerina busied herself with daily stretches that she repeated too many times, then a few hundred practice moves. Matt knew she was calming herself through dance, and it both made him fascinated, and worried that she wouldn’t sleep. just as Matt was about to make up some excuse for leaving the apartment so late, the ballerina gave in and collapsed onto the couch. being as quiet as possible, Matt slipped out, and started his hunt. he hadn’t met the ballerina’s best friend before, but he had a pretty good idea of what he was looking for. young girls were being relentlessly targeted in NYC as of late, and this case was no exception. the ballerina had narrowly escaped her own encounter with a boy who’d had evil intentions, and Matt held that victory close to his heart, for he’d never seen someone so defeated be so brave when called upon. it was funny, because Matt had never considered having children, but the ballerina had certainly given him an idea of what it might be like, what it might feel like one day. unfortunately, that life was far off for Matt, especially as he found himself prowling the streets of cold, dark NYC in search for information on the ballerina’s missing friend. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ the ballerina called in sick to her performance that night, and knew that her understudy would be overjoyed at the news, she was always itching for a chance to perform. the ballerina waited as patiently as she possibly could for Matt to return, assuming he had left to go to work as she had intruded on him in the morning hours. he came back at lunch, and told the ballerina to pack a bag at her apartment and come back before night fell. the ballerina knew better than to ask questions, so she did just that. she took the subway home, headphones in, losing herself in the noise of the city. she liked people watching on her journeys around the city, making up lives for the people her eyes landed on. maybe other people looked at her and assumed she lived with two loving parents in some nice NYC apartment, or even a townhouse outside the city where she attended one of those good schools. the ballerina knew immediately that she’d hate that life, pretending like she lived in a happy little family when it was just the opposite. all her dreams of a happy family died when she moved to NYC–– her stop was coming up, so she stopped thinking and started walking. she felt unsafe entering her own place for the first time in a long time, but she was only here to get some things. with a gnawing anxiety she started packing a bag for a few days. she kept going back and forth for things she’d forgotten, simple things like a hairbrush or toothpaste. the floundering ballerina found herself in the middle of her now very messy apartment when her phone rang. she thought nothing of it at first, staring at the screen in mild confusion, it was an unknown number. her head was all muddled, it was wrong to pick it up, but what if it was her friend using someone else’s phone? against her better judgement, she pressed answer.

“listen very closely, we’ve got your little ballerina friend here, and for her safe return we want a bit of cash.” if the ballerina’s blood could’ve frozen and sent her into hypothermic shock, it would’ve. that voice was entirely unfamiliar and yet it was as if she’d heard it in dreams, or nightmares. “how does... fifty thousand American dollars sound?” there were a chorus of agreeing cheers from the other end, and the ballerina felt sick to her stomach. she then heard something she wasn’t expecting. “don’t you dare listen to them! they’ll kill you and me and take the money, just get as far away as you can–” the phone was pulled away from her friend’s voice, but she continued screaming. the ballerina had to steady herself against the wall, feeling as if she wasn’t even in control of her own body. this was not happening. “shut up, bitch!” a different voice bellowed, silencing everything on that end. the ballerina held back gasping breaths as she tried to understand what was going on. having a panic attack was not the move right now. “right, have we got that clear, sweetheart? fifty thousand in cash by tonight, you’re gonna leave it at the address I send you after this call ends. any funny business, police, outsiders, and your friend here dies. I don’t play those games, got it?” the ballerina was at a total loss for words.”can you fucking hear me or is the signal bad at your cushty little apartment?” he asked, quietly, to which the ballerina froze. “fifty thousand?” the ballerina asked, physically shaking. “there she is! you got it sweetheart, just leave it at the address I send you, and no one gets hurt. simple, right?” the ballerina had to bite back her cry before answering. “okay, alright. I... I just want her back, unharmed.” the voice on the other end laughed before replying. “that’s for me to decide, not you. I’ll see you tonight.” the call ended, and the ballerina stared at the wall she’d been leaning on for a good few minutes, processing what she had just agreed to. the address did indeed come through on her phone, from the same unknown number, and she knew it was somewhere in the old industrial part of the city. mostly abandoned warehouses filled with homeless people, or gangs. she went to ring Matt, but remembered the part about involving outsiders. Matt was an outsider, and if the voice on the phone knew he was involved, her friend stood no chance. fifty thousand was... too much money for her to comprehend. she didn’t even have that much, even so, withdrawing all of her life savings at once was sure to raise eyebrows. she had to do it at different banks at different times all by the end of today, then get it ready for tonight. should she take protection with her in case things went sideways? it was probably best... right? but what if they were there and searched her for weapons, finding whatever she’d brought, and killed her there and then? her head span with the choices and decisions she had to make by tonight. there was one thing she knew for certain though, she was getting her friend back alive, one way or another. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ several banks later, the ballerina was almost ready. she changed into more appropriate attire for the cold New York nights, before putting all of the money into a bag and taking the subway to the address. before she arrived, she sent a last minute voice note to Matt, against her better judgement again, about where she was going. he would figure out the rest, she was sure of it. she made sure she sounded okay, not nervy or weak, to try and put him off sending help. Matt was still trying to call her as she stepped off the subway, but she silenced her phone, hid it in her bra and started walking with a bag full of cash and nothing but sheer unrelenting hope that this would play out in her favour. the warehouses were very intimidating, despite their deteriorating condition and emptiness. maybe that was what made them so... haunting. the ballerina tried to get her head straight as she counted the warehouses to make sure she left the money in the right one. there, the one warehouse with boarded up windows and signs of life around it, at the end of the row. to say that the ballerina’s emotional state was a wreck would be an understatement. she had no idea what she felt, it was a huge mix of anxiety, adrenaline, fear, dying hope and an urge to flee while she still could. she paused before entering the warehouse, it appeared to be abandoned on the outside, but once she stepped inside she could have dozens of guns on her. she shook her head, wrenching the door open, and squeezing through the gap she’d made. she barely noticed the massive gash on her hand from where she’d scraped it across the jagged metal door, leaving the potent smell of blood behind her. it was hot dripping from her fingers, but she ignored it. with a grunt, she hauled the bag after her, barely getting it through. the warehouse was eerily empty, and the ballerina didn’t know whether to be relieved or suspicious. she walked to the middle of the building, putting the bag down, and turned to leave when she had a bad feeling. she wasn’t alone, she just knew it, she wasn’t on her own in here. they were somewhere, they were close, but where? she turned back around, and found her answer, as numerous shadows began passing by the back windows. they were coming, and she suddenly felt like the money was the last thing they wanted. how could she let herself get into this situation? she made a break for a window, yanking it open and vaulting over the frame to land in a patch of overgrown shrubbery. the stinging on her face told her that she’d landed in something nasty, and she rushed to get free. shouting from inside the warehouse began, and the ballerina ran. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ Matt listened to the voice message again, trying to discern if it was genuine. the sounds of the New York subway screeching in the back made him think that it was genuine, but someone could’ve had her at gunpoint. gangs were rampant in NYC, and went to extremes to get what they wanted, and that alone made Matt worried. he was now out of his lawyer attire and in the masked man clothes, preparing himself for the worst night of his life. he was equally upset at the ballerina and impressed, he didn’t think she’d have the willingness to travel to a part of the city that was so dangerous, all to get her friend back. he was aware that there was probably cash or something valuable involved in exchange for the friend, as the words ‘drop off’ had implied in the ballerina’s voice message. strangely, he hadn’t heard her voice wavering like it normally did when she was nervous. Matt found that the ballerina’s voice, like so many others, betrayed her emotions at the best of times. some people had the ability to mask that weakness, but the ballerina was almost acutely aware of it, and used it sometimes to get her way. she was more than she appeared, Matt knew that, even if she didn’t. as Matt entered the warehouse district, he caught a gust of wind, and the unmistakable smell of the ballerina’s perfume. she’d heavily overdone it, he knew that instantly by how strong it was. like a dog catching the faintest scent of food, he followed. he arrived at the very last warehouse, on the end, dark, empty. if the ballerina had been here, she was gone now, but not far. he crept into the warehouse, finding it empty, but smelling traces of blood and heavy perfume in the air. he found the start of the blood trail, on a sharp metal doorframe, and followed a dripping trail that led to the basement level, and then abruptly ended by a wall. he retraced his steps, and ended up at the same spot. why did the fresh blood trail end at a brick wall? he scoured high and low in that basement level for more traces of blood, but always ended up at the same wall. in frustration, he punched it, and listened to the sound it made. it was hollow. his fingertips immediately felt around the brickwork for something unusual, something that stood out. he went over the entire wall once, twice. it had to be here somewhere, he was running out of time.  there, he just had it. he skimmed his fingers back over, and pushed down, hearing the wall move backwards. what Matt didn’t realise is that what stood before him was a complex network of tunnels. he listened out, hearing faint, faraway footsteps, and entered the tunnels. the wall didn’t move back into place on its own, meaning that someone had to do it from this side, so there had to be several people down here. Matt’s first guess would be gang members, but it could just be some loosely organised punks looking to make some serious cash off of a successful ballerina. whoever it was, they’d picked the wrong target tonight. Matt paused at the first corner. he took a moment to think, at worst, it was going to be a double homicide on his hands, at best he might get one of them back alive. the money wasn’t even in the question at this point, it was probably already gone. he then went deeper into the crudely constructed tunnels, ducking where he had to, and trying his best to follow the distant footsteps. all he could think about was how the ballerina had become so successful and had been prospering in her life. she’d already been ruined once, taken to her lowest possible point, and had come out the other side. Matt was only praying that she could do it again. he remembered attending her first performance. while he couldn’t see it and appreciate it in that way, he felt it, and was every bit as proud as Karen and Foggy were. in fact, he was more proud, not that he would ever say it because Foggy would ask him to prove it and then there would be a whole thing about it. but, Matt was proud, and he was reminded of how proud he felt of his dad when he won a boxing match. that feeling was a long forgotten one, and somehow the ballerina had reignited it. Matt paused at a corner, hearing voices neary. they were much closer than the footsteps he’d been tracking. the voices were idly chatting, obviously bored. Matt picked up on what they were saying. “but man, these tunnels? they go way back, I swear. my old man used to brag about running all sorts through here, and the cops had no fuckin’ idea!” the first one laughed. “man, I wish we knew about these sooner, could’ve saved us a lot of trouble.” the other one replied, sighing. “we lost a lot of guys recently, cops are cracking down. if they found out about these tunnels, we’d be really fucked.” the first guy tutted. “they won’t, we hid ‘em after the last raid. cops thought they blew up the lot, but we had backups already dug out.” they both started laughing now, that was when Matt revealed himself around the corner and surprised them both. before they had the chance to pull out their guns, they were down. they both sported an abundance of tattoos, some of which were very clearly gang related. they wore black and white, also pointing towards a gang affiliation. Matt sighed, kicking away the guns in case they got back up later. so, the cops had previously tried to end the use of these tunnels by blowing them up, but it hadn’t worked? well, Matt knew exactly how to fix that.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ one phone call later, and the police were swarming the tunnels. Matt had removed himself well before making the call, and watched in satisfaction as the police turned up in vans and SWAT teams. they entered through the warehouse Matt had used, and started flushing out the gang members from every possible angle. all across the city gang members were on the run, having heard the news from those who had been chased out of the tunnels or caught. the police were doing a lot of shooting on sight, which meant less work for Matt when they cleared out. Matt re-entered the tunnels with caution as the police were still active down there, clearing out rooms full of drugs and guns. some gang members were still hiding, or running, around the network and warning others to get out. Matt knew that the ballerina had to be down here somewhere, her scent was lingering in his head like she’d been here, but only for a short amount of time. she was smart to use the perfume as she had, it left a temporary trail for Matt, but no one else. he followed it, but it got him nowhere, and the police were getting closer as they advanced through the tunnels. Matt had to listen out for fleeing gang members, roaming police teams and any possible signs of the ballerina. it was exhausting, but only he could save her now. he was holding onto scraps of hope after avoiding close encounters with the police teams down here, when his foot scuffed something. metal, it made a nice ringing noise as it scraped across the concrete. he bent down, getting a feel of it, and realised with a start that it was the ballerina’s bracelet. he’d gifted it to her after one of her shows, he’d picked it out for her with Karen’s input one day. he’d know it anywhere, and this was definitely it. the ballerina was down here, she must’ve been. he tucked the bracelet away in his pocket, and kept walking the tunnel he was in. he was going to find her and bring her home safe. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰