#muredock

Matt was beginning to wonder if there was a single comfortable bench in the entirety of New York City. It wasn’t that he spent a grand amount of time sitting on benches, but he figured that at least one of them should’ve been made out of materials more soothing than rusted iron and splintered wood. In hindsight, it might’ve just been the soreness and bruises he’d acquired while gallivanting around town the previous night, but Matthew wasn’t in the mood to take responsibility for his actions. He blamed his sourness on the bench as well, actually.

In the next moments that passed by, the closeted vigilante shifted several times, as if different sitting positions would stop the aching. When he finally gave up on being comfortable, the Murdock boy decided that he’d need a better state of mind to get through the next several minutes without throwing the bench across the street. Letting out a deep sigh, he tried to focus less on himself, and more on the world around him.

… It was then that he realized someone had been speaking to him for the past several seconds. So much for superhuman senses.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Matt asked, a genuinely apologetic tone lacing his words.

Pete had been watching this guy squirm and shift in his seat for what felt like an eternity. He was hanging upside down from the nearby lamp post, a single string of webbing supporting his entire weight as he stared at the male. Even from swinging above he could see the clear discomfort of this guy. 

Upon further inspection Spider-man quickly realized this guy was blind and just looking as though he was having the worst day ever or had a personal vendetta against benches. Maybe he was the one vandalizing each bench with Jonah’s face and the phrase “Hitler’s Cousin?” beneath it, but he quickly realized that was his own doing. Can’t be a hero everyday.

“Yeah uh, I asked if you were okay. You seem a bit uh, how do I put it..” He’d tilt his head aside in an inquisitive fashion. “Ants in your pants-y..? You hiding something or nervous, pal? I swung by here a few times and couldn’t help but notice you every time. Normally guys acting antsy catch my attention because they’re about to rob someone but I couldn’t help but notice your uh..” Crap. Why did I start saying this. Just stop, Pete. Don’t bring attention to this. “Your uh, condition. So I thought I’d stop waiting for you to rob someone and just ask what was up with you, y’know?” 

Oh. Great. You’re a real hero to point out a man’s handicap, Pete.

There were no easy missions. There were simple missions, but just because a mission was straight forward, didn’t mean it would be easy.

She was running. Her black boots hitting the pavement softly with every step, not wanting to make a sound. Not that it mattered. This man knew he was being followed. He had stolen a very important suitcase from Natasha’s client and she intended to get it back with all the contents in tact. Her employer also asked that she bring the man in as well. 

She had been following him through the city all day. When he entered his hotel room he got the slip on her for a moment. Just a moment. Natasha caught up to him, close enough to see that he had the suit case that belonged to her employer.

Still running. He lead her through a back alley and took a quick turn into the darkness. She slowed her pace until she was standing still. Her eyes assessed the area quickly, the man she was after was no where to be found. She cursed under her breath before hearing footsteps behind her. Natasha waited a moment, her hand slowly reaching down to her hand gun at her waist before quickly spinning it around at the figure.