Dex had the curtains of the windows in his living room pulled open, and he stood in front of the one on the right, waiting patiently. From across the street, he had a perfect view of the back of Clinton church and the little garden behind it. The sky was overcast this morning, dense clouds of dark grey blocking the golden rays of daylight, but Dex knew she would still be there. He’d been watching her for two and a half months now, and he knew her routine like the back of his hand. Every Saturday morning, from nine thirty to ten, she was out there. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, and delight curved at the edge of his mouth.

9:29 am.

The heat from the coffee in his hands permeated through the paper, warming his fingers and his palm, and the scent of hazelnut escaped through the small hole towards the edge of the plastic lid. The flavor had grown on him. He’d gotten a headstart this morning, heading down early to the cafe two blocks over so he’d be back in time to see her. His eyes flickered to the clock once again.

9:30 am.

When she finally appeared, Dex felt the coils of anticipation unravel within him, and his posture relaxed as if the air of calmness that always followed her made its way to him through the pane of glass. His own lips spread almost instantly to mirror the smile present on hers. It didn’t matter that the sun was still hidden and the absence of it created a faint chill, she brought the warmth and light with her wherever she went. 

She always started with the flowers. He often wondered what it would feel like for her fingertips to gently caress his skin the way she did those soft petals. He’d snuck into the garden after hours a few times, following the path she took every week through the garden, letting his own fingers brush over the velvet vibrancies as he looked between them and the book he’d gotten from the library to learn what each one was. Dahlias and peonies, a couple Chrysanthemums, some Roses and Marigolds, and a few Dandelions.

After watering the soil and deadheading the wilting blooms, she usually cut a few stems for the arrangements she made inside, and then ventured over to the side where the herbs grew. He watched her cut some stems from the Rosemary and Sage, the staples she used in a lot of her breads for the church bake sales, before turning her attention to the Lavender and Eucalyptus. Every move she made was so effortless and graceful, and it was incredibly soothing to him to watch. When she got to the Basil, he knew it was time to leave. She always saved Basil for last. 

Dex looped around the opposite side of the church and went down a block before turning to head back so that it would look like he was coming from the direction of the cafe. He held the coffee cup in his hand, the logo intentionally facing out, and reached the wrought iron fence surrounding the back of the church right as she was finishing up.

“Good morning, Sister Y/N.”

As she turned her head, a bright smile stretched at the edges of her mouth, the same one that always appeared when she saw him. He still remembered the first time she’d gifted him with it two and a half months ago, the one that had initiated this unrelenting magnetic pull in his chest. It still felt electric every single time.

“Oh, good morning, Ben.”

Dex leaned casually against the fence, taking a sip from the coffee cup before gesturing towards the garden with it.

“So, you’re the reason this always looks so good.”

He caught the way her smile dimmed slightly with modesty, and she averted her gaze to her own work with a flush beginning to tint her cheeks.

“Well, the other nuns help too, but I do love gardening. It’s relaxing for me. And I like to use the herbs when I bake.”

Dex’s lips spread into a charming grin.

“The fresh herbs definitely make a difference. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as good as that Rosemary parmesan sourdough you made for the last bake sale. I should’ve bought two.”

He relished in the way she subtly bit her bottom lip before her lips spread into something bashful, a hint of pride sparkling in her eyes.

“You don’t have to wait for the next bake sale, I could always make you another.”

Dex turned to face the fence fully now, resting his elbows on the dull speared tips of the posts, looking appropriately grateful but purposefully hesitant.

“I wouldn’t ask you to go through all that trouble just for me.”

“It’s no trouble, I make fresh loaves every week.”

“Well I can’t pass up an offer like that.”

He lightly tapped his index finger twice against the cup, a gesture that would appear unconscious, but it was an intentional signal to draw her attention to it. He watched her eyes drop down to it just as he’d intended, seeing the recognition sparking in them, and he had to make an effort to contain his pleased smirk when he saw the excited smile on her face as she pointed to it.

“I love that place.”

Dex looked down at the cup, feigning surprise as if he’d forgotten it was in his hand and dangled right in front of her like enticing bait.

“Oh yeah? Me too. Best coffee I’ve found in the city. You ever tried their pastries? They have a pretty good chocolate croissant.”

He watched her face light up with the same elation that always appeared on someone’s face when they discovered they had something in common with someone. It was a universal desire in the human experience, finding invisible tethers of connection that reduced the ache of loneliness. As she slipped off her gardening gloves and came closer to the fence, the sound of her soft laughter ignited a thrill that rushed through him.

“I love their chocolate croissants. I always get one with my hazelnut cappuccino."

Dex let out a dry laugh, feigning disbelief at this revelation he’d known for two and a half months already. Every Saturday when she finished up in the garden, she walked the two blocks to the cafe to get a chocolate croissant and a hazelnut cappuccino, every single time, which had consequently become Dex’s order. 

“You’re joking. That’s what I get.”

She seemed genuinely surprised by this, and he watched that effortless excitement fade just slightly. It would’ve been almost imperceptible to anyone else, but Dex never missed anything. She looked him up and down as if studying him, and there was just the faintest sliver of suspicion in her gaze.

“Really? I pictured you as a black coffee guy.”

He knew she was thinking the odds didn’t seem plausible, or that he was lying, feigning a shared interest in the way people did when they wanted to get closer to someone, which…he was doing. But he’d prepared an explanation for that. He gave a subtle shrug of his shoulders with an easy smile.

“No, never been a black coffee guy. It’s too bitter for my liking. Tell you the truth, I was on a vanilla latte kick for a while, but they gave me the wrong order by accident one time, and I was quickly converted. Turns out I really like hazelnut.”

The rehearsed lie slipped from his tongue with ease, and the bright smile that returned to her lips told him she bought it.

“Blessing in disguise.”

“It definitely was.”

He let just a hint of the burning intensity he felt for her flicker in his eyes and dropped his voice to a more intimate tone, just to gauge her reaction to the dual meaning. He saw the subtle working of her throat as she swallowed, averting her gaze for a moment as that heat returned to her cheeks. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t overshot his little experiment too much.

“I…I usually go there every Saturday, after I’m done here.”

He detected a trace of hesitance in her voice, and he could see it when she looked at him again. His lungs were beginning to burn from depriving them of oxygen, but he was waiting to see which direction she was taking with this. She fiddled with one of the fingers of her gardening gloves, a subconscious action he’d learned to associate with anxiety or lack of confidence in a situation.

“If you…I mean…you just went there this morning, so you might not want-”

“I could go again.”

Dex quickly interjected before she talked herself out of what he hoped she was asking.

The apprehension seemed to fade with his reassurance, and as if she held some kind of divinity in her fingertips, the clouds finally divided to let the sunlight slip through when her sweet smile parted her lips, like she’d commanded the heavens to reopen with just one gesture. The golden rays that were suddenly cast upon her face made her look like an angel standing in front of him.

“Okay. Just…give me a minute to clean up.”

Had you been scared of it? Yes. Of course. Especially in the beginning, when you thought you were crazy for risking your life again when you were already on borrowed time. But as confidence grew and your clumsiness got under control, you became like a shadow in the city of New York. Or at least, that’s what the papers called the mysterious ghost that broke into mob hideouts and delivered evidence at the footsteps of the press.

It was a lonely life you led, although whether it was out of necessity or a preference, wasn’t a question you knew the answer to. The void was all you knew at this point, after years of hiding from the powerful people who only saw you as a liability that should have been eliminated ages ago.

But at least you had found a purpose, a small way to make the community a safer place, whether you were an active part of it or not. Even if you’d never be able to step back into the light, it still helped make the hollowness of your heart an easier burden to bear.

Holding your breath, your eyes flickered up from the lockpicks, jammed inside of the door in front of you, to peek hesitantly at the guard around the dark corner, his heavy footsteps slowly pacing up and down the long hallways outside of the district attorney’s office.

Once the door clicked open and you slipped inside, it didn’t take too long before you found what you were searching for, though as you cracked the procured folder open in your palms and began to skim through it, a thump found your ears and caused you to slam the file shut again.

Your head snapped up in the direction of the ajar doorway, only a beat passing before you heard the security guard from out in the corridor call out over the radio.

Feet rooted to the ground, your only path of escape was swiftly blocked by the blur of a scuffle, now several guards attempting to overpower an intruder dressed in deep, dark crimson.

A gasp escaped your seized-up lungs as you recognised the brutal fists of the devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Apparently, you hadn’t been the only vigilante in New York suspicious of the crooked politician, though never in your wildest dreams did you think that Daredevil’s path would ever cross your own.

Half frozen in fear, another part of you couldn’t help but marvel at the precision of his skills, as combat had never been something you’d refined to that degree. Sure, you had tried, just in the rare case that you were ever noticed, but in no way could it compare to the whirlwind before you now.

Once everyone but the devil was unconscious on the ground, you saw as his broad, panting shoulders appeared around the corner, his hulking form slowly stepping over the threshold.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you stayed frozen in the corner, watching as he paused on his way to the desk, tilting his head a moment before it twisted in the direction of you.

“Give me the folder,” the devil demanded straight at your invisible form. Holding your breath, your eyes were the size of saucers as the infamous vigilante continued to speak, “come on, I know that you’re scared,” he tried to soften his tone as he extended a hand, “you don’t have to end up like your buddies if you just hand it over.”

Blinking hard, your neck twisted just to make sure that he was in fact speaking to you and not some person lurking in the background, “you–…you can see me?”

Cocking his head, Daredevil murmured, “w-what?”

“How?” you panted as he closed the distance between you, “I–, hey!” he promptly snatched up the folder your stunned fingers had slackened around.

“You should probably call an ambulance for the others,” he noted before turning on his heel.

Face completely muddled with confusion, you sputtered, “wha–, I don’t work here–, give that back!” you lunged to try and steal back the file.

And though you tried your hardest to keep up with the devil’s quick reflexes, the tussle that rapidly unfolded didn’t last too long before he knocked you on your ass and escaped into the dark of the night.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” you murmured just beneath your breath as soon as you found your way inside of the DA’s penthouse, the very next night, only to discover the unconscious frames of two security guards on the floor.

But before you could even draw another breath, your invisible frame was slammed up against the nearby wall, your powers flickering at the impact, revealing your form.

“Are you following me?” Daredevil grunted as his forearm held you pinned. 

Stiffening up, “me following you? In your dreams,” you gasped before attempting to give him a shove, “get off of me!”

With a faint huff, the vigilante complied, lowering his grip and taking a single step back.

“I–,” you panted as you glared back at him, “how the fuck did you manage to spot me? I mean, even with my invisibility up, I always make sure to be careful, especially after running into someone like you who can apparently see straight through all of that.”

“Invisi–,” he echoed, clearly taken aback, “wait, you’re invisible?”

“Well, yeah…” your eyes shifted as you pointed out the obvious, “or well,” concentrating a moment, you then turned your physique transparent once more, “now I am.”

Tilting his head, the devil listened closely before murmuring, “huh… so that’s what that buzzing was…”

“Buzz?”

“Yeah. It sounds like your body’s vibrating when you do that…” he pointed out the detail which your own hearing wasn’t sharp enough to be aware of, and your heartbeat began to pick up as the reality of his heightened senses dawned on you. When he parted his lips again, he almost sounded starstruck as he put the pieces together, “…you’re Shadow… the vigilante that brought down Vladimir Rozanov…”

“Uhm, yeah… I thought you figured that part out when you saw straight through the whole invisibility thing,” your feet shifted slightly beneath you, “or do I just look like any other person to you when I switch it on?”

“Well, not exactly,” he briefly pursed his lips, “I could hear you,” he then shared, “your breathing… your pulse… and what I now know is what your powers sound like.”

“Seriously?” your nerves only grew at the thought of him being capable of reading you like a book, “and here I thought you could just see me. That is so much more intimate…” heat swiftly rose in your cheeks as you realised how that must have sounded, “I mean–, uhm… so you can’t see me?”

A chuckle swiftly escaped him because of how ironic that question was if you knew the man behind the mask, “no. I can’t.”

“Well… that’s comforting, I guess…” you coughed before an awkward joke slipped out past your lips, “then again, with those kind of senses, you probably know what I had for breakfast this morning–”

“Sourdough toast with butter, a sharp cheddar and half a pickle,” he slowly took a single step closer as he actually answered your jest, “although all I can really focus on right now is the chocolate bar you were gobbling down on your way here.”

“I–…” your eyes flickered across his partially obscured features as you stood completely frozen in front of him.

When he finally began to back away from you, he didn’t stray too far from your orbit, only shifted slightly as he did a half turn and parted his lips again after a beat of silence had consumed the space between you,  “well, I guess an apology might be in order, seeing as I didn’t realise who you were and just took that file from you…”

Swallowing hard, you found the courage to speak to the devil once more, “that and how you swooped in like a fucking hurricane, nearly killing everyone.”

“Wow, wow, I didn’t kill anyone,” he swiftly shot back, his palm drifting up defensively.

“Maybe not, but you did beat them half to death,” you gestured to the unconscious security guards, lying like rugs on the floor.

“What, are you seriously gonna stand here like a pot calling the kettle black?”

“I don’t hurt anyone unless I have to,” you pointed out, “and even then, I don’t black out until they’re basically pulp.”

Letting out a sigh, Daredevil twisted his body further away from you till his silhouette caught the moonlight streaming in through the windows, “alright…” his hands came to rest on his hips, “…well, I was gonna suggest lending you a hand tonight, seeing as we’re obviously after the same thing, but sure, if you instead wanna just stand there and critique me, go right ahead.”

A scoff left your lungs faster than your eyebrows managed to soar up towards the sky, “you help me? Please. I don’t need your help, much less want it,” you crossed your arms heatedly.

Pursing his lips, he simply uttered, “suit yourself, then…” before you watched him saunter over to the plush armchair in the corner and drop down into it, his feet swiftly swinging up upon the coffee table as his fingers interlaced behind his head.

A sharp huff escaped you as you stared back at him, momentarily stunned by his audacity, before muttering, “asshole…” which only made the petty devil smirk, although that wasn’t a reaction you managed to spot before you turned on your heel and began to search the place.

Trying your best to ignore the comments the other vigilante occasionally threw out simply to get on your nerve, your eyes nearly rolled out of your skull by the time that you eventually found the hidden safe in the study.

And when a curse left your lungs as you struggled to unlock it, or even track down some clue as to what the combination was, the devil suddenly appeared over your shoulder, his low voice tickling the shell of your ear as he asked teasingly, “you sure you don’t need my assistance?”

“Unless you can crack a fucking safe, then no,” you begrudgingly admitted defeat, “we might as well just leave.”

To which Daredevil simply smirked and told you to step aside. You stood utterly dumbfounded beside him as he just walked up and began to twist the lock, his other palm flat against the safe as he listened closely as the springs inside virtually bent to his will.

And as the only sound that echoed throughout the office was the dull clicks of the lock beneath the devil’s touch, you let your stare drift down over his silhouette. From the stubbly jaw that poked out of the bottom of his mask, to the way his suit moulded against his broad frame, your eyes didn’t snap away till his voice suddenly found your ears.

“You okay?” he briefly paused as he fought a blooming smirk.

“Of course,” you coughed, forcing your vision upon anything else, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your adrenaline’s high…” he gave you the benefit of the doubt, even though he had picked up on how your heart was still nearly thumping out of your chest, and not because of any nerves.

You couldn’t help but chalk his comment up to just yet another jab at your capability, which promptly sent you crashing down onto earth with a huff, “I’m fine.”

When the safe finally clicked open, and Daredevil picked up the thumb drive resting atop the stack of cash inside, your fingers swiftly snatched it up before you spun around and turned on the computer on the desk behind you.

“What’s on it?” the devil asked as he slowly wandered to the other side of the desk, looming behind the monitor as your eyes briefly strayed from the screen to glance up at him.

“Well, let’s see…” your eyes narrowed as you opened up the contents, “…at least enough evidence that he was in cahoots with a–, uh, William Rawlins,” you carefully read the name out loud, “do you have any idea who that is?”

“Yeah, a bit,” he tilted his head, “he’s CIA, but not the good kind.”

Opening up another document, you skimmed through it and uttered, “…says they’re overseeing some sort of weapon development for an unsanctioned military operation.”

“A weapon? What kind?”

“Doesn’t say, it just says–…” your fingers on the mouse then suddenly froze, a small gasp too slipping from your lips as your eyes landed upon a familiar name that had haunted you for years.

“What? What did you find?” the devil shifted his stance, waiting for you to share what discovery you’d stumbled upon. But as not a single word escaped you and the terror taking over your soul became the only thing thumping in his perceptive ears, the vigilante slowly inched closer, drifting to the corner of the desk as he kneeled down beside your panicking form and softened his tone, “Shadow, what is it?”

Hyperventilating as you fought to tear your wide eyes away from the font glowing on the screen, you eventually managed to utter, “…it’s nothing,” before you rapidly pulled out the thumb drive and turned off the computer, “there’s nothing on here.”

But as you got up and tried to slip past the devil as he straightened up as well, he managed to catch your elbow, “wait–”

“Look,” you whipped back at him and lashed out, “I don’t work with anyone else, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t do it with you,” before you ripped yourself free of his grip and switched on your invisibility.

It was a sudden downpour which had drawn you into the random bar by the name of Josie’s for shelter. And with the dark storm that had already been brewing inside of you, since the moment you had discovered that the mission you were on had actually been bringing you right back home all along, you swiftly found yourself ordering drink after drink to try and numb the pain. Though alcohol wasn’t the wisest choice, you weren’t in a position to be picky about how you got to tend to your wounds.

When your third shot of tequila burned in your throat and the small glass slammed back down against the bar top, the front door to the establishment swung open and in flooded a jovial trio, drenched from the rain.

“Matt, you gotta promise me, man,” you overheard one of the suit-clad men say to the other one that held onto his elbow as a guide inside, the cane in his palm only resting there instead of tapping the ground, “this is the last time you were late for court.”

Slipping off her dripping coat, the blonde woman piped up as well, “I’d like to add in, not just for court, but other engagements in general as well.”

“Hey, hey, we won the case, didn’t we?” the blind man, they called Matt, replied with a playful grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his tinted glasses, “or are we not here for celebratory drinks?”

A shiver trickled down your spine at the familiar sound of that low timbre, making you glance over your shoulder as the group crossed the room to reach the pool table towards the back of the establishment.

“Just because you can charm your way through an improvised closing argument doesn’t mean that’s how our firm’s standards should be,” you heard the floppy-haired man point out.

“Yeah, at least for the sake of our sanity,” the woman tilted her head, “I mean, this is probably the fourth time I thought Foggy was gonna have a heart attack right then and there in the courtroom.”

Shrugging off his jacket, Matt threw up his hands, “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do better, I promise.”

“Hmm…” the man, presumably by the name of Foggy, narrowed his eyes at his friend as he reached for one of the sticks on the wall, grabbing one for the woman as well, “I’ll believe it when I see it…”

“Well, how about this for a start,” Matthew loosened his tie slightly and began to roll up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, “I’ll pay for all of the drinks tonight, huh?”

His two pals then exchanged a playful glance and crossed their arms, before each of their eyes returned to the blind lawyer, “…make it top shelf and maybe we’ll consider it.”

The alcohol certainly didn’t help matters as you put the pieces together and promptly began to panic.

You knew who that voice belonged to…

Freezing up, it took everything in your power not to instinctively turn invisible as he wandered up to the other end of the bar and ordered a round of drinks, even trying to hold your breath till he disappeared once again with glasses in his hands.

The man behind the devil mask was a lawyer? Why was he pretending to be blind? And most importantly, why in the world was he here?

You didn’t believe in coincidences, certainly not when it came to people like you and him… the only logical explanation must have been that he had seen you come in and followed after with the intent of stealing back the thumb drive that was still burning a hole in your pocket, purely out of paranoia to leave it in your slummy apartment, so that he could push you out of the way and do the job himself.

Your terror soon melted into rage as you watched the trio from afar, silently seething as they played a game of pool, joking and laughing, the devil even playing up his cover and asking the tall blonde for assistance on finding the right angle to shoot his shot.

So by the time they began to set up for a second game, and you watched Matt excuse himself to go to the lavatory, your feet acted of their own accord as you suddenly found yourself storming across the room, and catching the bathroom door before he managed to slam it shut behind him.

Pushing your way inside, your fingers swiftly twisted the lock before pushing the object of your ire up against the tile wall.

“Why the fuck are you following me?” you snarled, your fists buried in his shirt as your heated pants fanned across his face.

“Fuck–,” a faint chuckle broke up his gasp at the impact, “I thought you’d at least let me take a leak first,” he croaked, your presence clearly not coming as a surprise to him.

“Answer the goddamn question, Daredevil,” you spat, your face inching in close to his own, “or do you prefer to be called something else, counsellor?”

“Christ, I’m not following you!” he swore, before his own hands came up and flipped you around with ease, promptly trading places and pinning you against the wall instead, “I always go to this bar, something you’d probably know if you were stalking me,” the lawyer accused.

“Oh, get over yourself!” you fumed, “I’m trying to stay away from you, not worm my way into your weird little charade of a life, which I must say, the fake blind thing is very extreme just to make people not suspicious of what you do at night.”

A scoff then bubbled in his throat, “I’m not.”

“Yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes, “there’s no way you would be able to do all of that if you were blind,” you then snatched off his tinted glasses, though instead of confirming your accusations, the brown eyes that were revealed beneath didn’t meet your own stare, promptly causing your brows to knit together in confusion.

“Well…” Matt exhaled slowly, “…sight is overrated.”

Blinking back at him a second, it took you a moment to utter, “…so your freaky senses, how you could hear my heartbeat and shit, that’s how you see?” still completely stunned by the revelation.

“That’s certainly one way to put it, yeah,” he tilted his head.

As you then felt his grip on you loosen, though he did let go, his feet didn’t shift an inch, still rooted close enough to you for goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Letting out a low sigh, you eventually uttered as your gaze stayed locked upon him, “…I’m not giving you the thumb drive.”

“Alright,” he murmured in a calm yet cocky tone, “I’ll manage.”

“No, what I mean is that you need to drop this and let me be the one to handle it, alone,” you pointed out, a heated breath huffing out of your nostrils.

“Why?”

“Just because–… look,” you seethed, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut, “this job, it’s personal for me, okay? I don’t want you fucking it all up,” your eyes flickered open once more to glare back at him, “so please just go back out there to your little girlfriend and stay the hell out of my way.”

“The fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay away!” you hissed in a hushed tone when none other than the devil of Hell’s Kitchen snuck up on you as you lurked outside of Onyx Corp’s old headquarters, scoping out the rundown place from the shadows in hopes of finding a way inside past the guards that wandered the grounds of the abandoned building.  

“I know,” he simply answered, his tone calm as opposed to your own.

His ego truly must have been as big as you assumed, seeing as he couldn’t let himself stay out of your hair and complete the job all on your own.

And with your paranoid thoughts dragging you further down into your own personal hell, you swiftly heard yourself growl, “please, just go.”

But instead of turning on his heel, the devil just settled in against the chain-link fence, his burly arms folding across his chest.

A long sigh slipped from your lungs as you bowed your head in defeat, “I don’t have time for this… if you’re not gonna leave, then please just stay out of my way, okay? And if I can’t stop you from going in there as well, then just don’t act like an idiot around the place. They had to close down this location a few years back after a quote on quote chemical accident, but seeing as there are still a fair bit of guards posted about the perimeter, they probably haven’t found a way to safely clean it yet,” you impatiently told him, “so if you run into a blue and potent substance, do not get into contact with it, okay?”

“Aw…” a smirk then blossomed on his lips, “is that concern I hear in your voice?”

“No!” you shot him a glare, “I just don’t wanna be blamed for killing Daredevil.”

“Matt,” he suddenly corrected you.

“What?”

“My name, and the other person you would hypothetically be killing,” he leaned in slightly to utter, “Matthew Murdock.”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you simply grumbled, “yeah, I know what your name is.”

“Then why don’t I know yours yet?”

Letting out a sigh, “I don’t have time for this…” you then switched on your powers and slipped through the nearby hole in the fence.

Though it took a bit of finesse, you managed to sneak past the various guards and into the old headquarters, the very same place where you were held captive as a child.

A chill ran down your spine as you stepped inside the musty building, and paralysing memories flashed within your mind.

“Hey, you alright?” Matthew’s voice then suddenly echoed from behind you, ripping you enough out of your terror to shift your feet across the floor once more.

Avoiding his question, you instead accused, “did you beat up those guards just to follow me in here?”

“No, they’re fine, I tried to do it your way,” you heard him say, though still couldn’t help but imagine the degrading things he stopped himself from adding, how he thought your method of doing things was surely idiotic compared to his own brutal one, “you didn’t answer my question.”

The silence in the room drew out before you finally answered him with a low sigh, “…it’s Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,” before you strayed from his side and disappeared into the office directly to the right, swiftly tearing open the closest file cabinet before you could spot the faint smile on Matthew’s lips.

When he followed you into the room, your search went on for a while without any success before any of you uttered another word.

“So…” the devil eventually broke the silence, “tell me again why you’re looking through whatever’s left in here instead of just sneaking your way into Onyx Corp’s new building?”

“Because, firstly,” you muttered as you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “they’ve built precautions in case someone like me tries to waltz in or out of there. They’ve used those for years, whether it’s as collars to keep subjects under control or if it’s on a larger scale, devices that essentially block off entire areas,” your body tensed at the traumatic memories that still lived on under your skin, “and secondly, even if I did find a way inside, that office wouldn’t be the right one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that after this place shut down, they received too much of the wrong attention, so then, when they rebuilt, they split themselves up into separate locations. The official office, showcasing the polished front of a pharmaceutical powerhouse, and the secret lab, where they develop chemical weapons and test on innocent people, which I’ve been trying for years, but still haven’t been able to track down.”

“And so, you think that maybe the address is somewhere in here?”

“What, do you have a better idea, counsellor?” you swiftly turned to glare at him.

“I mean, I don’t have powers like you–, unless my heightened senses also triggers whatever alarm or trap or what they’ve got rigged in there,” his hand gestured alongside his words.

“It wouldn’t,” you uttered coldly and turned back to the files you were thumbing through, “you got your abilities in a–, different way than me, so you’d be fine.”

His body continued to stay twisted towards you as you soon heard him speak once more, “…how do you know so much about all of this?”

“What do you mean?” your back stayed turned to him, “I do my research for these types of things, don’t you? Or do you just go in there and swing your fists, hoping that you hit the people that deserve it?”

“I just mean that you know a lot,” his jaw clenched at your verbal jab, “your sources must be incredible.”

“They are,” you shot back at him coldly, keeping your guard up.

As the morning grew closer, and you began to run out of stones to turn, the two of you hit a dead end.

Perhaps it was your own stubbornness, straining yourself and keeping up your invisibility long enough for a migraine to begin to throb within your head, simply to somehow prove the speculated assumptions of the other vigilante wrong, but the traumatically nostalgic surroundings you still found yourself in certainly didn’t help matters either.

“Hey…” Matthew then paused and twisted towards your frame, “…you good?”

Cracking your tense neck with a sigh, you muttered, “why wouldn’t I be?”

And with a faint nod of his head, he pointed out, “you’re bleeding.”

It wasn’t till now that you felt the crimson that slowly leaked out of your left nostril, your touch swiftly drifting up to check. It wasn’t the first time that your body had complained about you straining your abilities till you were stretched too thin, but at least this time the consequences wasn’t anything you couldn’t power through, “it’s nothing…” you attempted to downplay it as you wiped the blood away, though the devil on the other side of the room didn’t stop looking concerned, “I’m fine!” you swiftly snapped, “it’s just a nosebleed. The air in here is fucking dry or whatever.”

And with a reply on the tip of his tongue, Matt instead swallowed it and simply uttered, “okay…”

But as he then turned back to continue the search, his head soon twisted before he took a sharp detour into the hallway. Directly on the other side of the threshold, he then kneeled down and picked up a small chain with some rusty dog tags dangling on the end.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he caught the metal and gently brushed his thumb over the raised letters on it.

“Y/n Y/l/n…” he read out loud, the sound of your name causing you to freeze as you turned to spot what it was that he had found. Tilting his head in your direction, the puzzle of your past began to fall into place, “you–… this really is personal for you, isn’t it?”

You’d completely forgotten that you’d lost it back in the chaos of your escape, “…they made us wear those just to be able to tell us kids apart…” you bowed your head.

Slowly rising to his feet once more, he uttered, “so this is how you got your powers? How you became Shadow? You were a test subject?”

“Well, I didn’t wish upon a fucking star…” you exhaled slowly, “…do you get it now? Why I need to be the one to take these fuckers down?”

“And here I thought I’d finally gotten rid of you,” the words left your lips as soon as you saw Matthew show up in your periphery again the very next night, “don’t you have a better way to spend your Friday night?”

A faint smile twitched at the corner of his lip as he came to a stop beside you in the dark alley, “nope.”

“Really? You’d rather be slumming it with me yet again, breaking into some CIA idiot’s home, instead of going on some hot date with your little girlfriend?”

“What?” the devil nearly laughed.

“The leggy blonde you played pool with at the bar.”

“Ah, yeah, no. Karen’s just a friend,” he shook his head as a playful smile finally broke through and bloomed on his lips, “so I’m sorry, you’re out of luck, there’s no girlfriend to spend my Friday nights with, so I guess you’re stuck with me instead.”

You climbed up onto the fire escape in order to break into Rawlins’ apartment, and though Matthew was tall enough to jump up and catch the ladder, your frame had to be boosted up, a detail you prayed he wouldn’t revel in too much.

Since the CIA agent was tangled in the mess you were trying to sort out, your mission had led you here to his home, to hunt down a keycard to gain access to the inner sanctum of the Onyx Corporation, where hopefully the answers would be within reach, even if it came at a grievous price.

The pursuit, however, for the keycard wasn’t as fruitful as you’d hoped, as it wasn’t even hidden away in the personal safe Matt cracked open in his bedroom.

And even though you had been careful and made sure the agent wouldn’t be home this night, the front door still cracked open before the two of you were able to clear out.

“Fuck–,” you scrambled a moment before you made a split decision and shoved the devil into the nearby closet as footsteps began to echo out in the hall, slipping your own body inside as well before quietly yanking the door closed behind you.

Your face stayed twisted towards the door, listening intently to the murmured voices that reverberated throughout the apartment. It wasn’t till you finally shifted your neck and looked back at Matt that you realised just how tight the closet actually was. Your body was plastered against his, standing so near that your noses nearly brushed against one another when he tilted his head to listen closely. You could feel his breath fan across your cheeks, causing them to heat up as your own pants began to pick up. In the low light, you couldn’t help but stare as he concentrated.

Your head was spinning by the time your gaze dropped to his lips. You hadn’t been this close to someone else in a very long time, and seeing as your senses were that starved, your body couldn’t help but react, which soon caught the devil’s attention, distracting you both long enough to get caught when the closet doors suddenly swung open.

It wasn’t just Rawlins that had come home early for a brief pitstop till his night continued, but a few of his military brats were waiting by the door as well, making the fight that promptly broke out a little less fair.

In the beginning of the struggle, Rawlins’ jacket flung off his shoulders as Matt tried to grab him, but as the coat crashed to the ground, his wallet tumbled out of the pocket and slid across the floor. And with the hopes that the keycard was hidden in there the whole time, you swiftly went invisible, hoping you’d be able to avoid the many opponents as you rushed to snatch it up.

But just as you managed to grab it and it flipped open to reveal the very item you needed to steal, one of the foes saw the floating wallet and tackled you to the ground, knocking the air clean out of your lungs, the blow causing you to lose your grip on both the item and your invisibility, the wallet promptly tumbling from your flickering fingers.

And when all hope seemed lost, and Rawlins had called in reinforcements, more folks storming in through the front door by the second, you felt Matthew grab you before you could even think, as there was no other option but to flee from the fight.

Bloodied and panting, it wasn’t easy to escape up onto the rooftop. In the haze of it all, you weren’t even sure how you managed it at all.

But just before you could yell at him for dragging you up onto a dead end, the devil pulled out his billy clubs, twisted one of the handles, and flung across the night sky for the cord in between to extend and the far and to tangled itself around something in the distance like a grappling hook. Wrapping his arm tightly around your waist, he didn’t offer you a warning before you both went soaring, your fretful eyes not daring to peek back open before you felt your boots land on the next rooftop over.

Your lungs burned as you kept on running, swinging from building to building till you couldn’t even spot the one you’d fled from any longer as you glanced over the glinting horizon.

“Damn it–,” you cursed when you finally slowed down to catch your breath on a rooftop, “I almost had it!”

Breathlessly, Matt only grinned at your frustration before he dripped his fingers into a pocket and uttered, “you mean this?” as he held up the keycard.

Eyes widening in disbelief, you panted, “how did you–”

“You’re not the only one who can be sneaky,” he smirked before you snatched it out of his grasp to look at it closely.

“Oh my god…” a soft smile appeared on your lips as you stared down at the small card, “I can’t believe we did it…”

“We?” Matthew’s head cocked slightly as he echoed.

A breath caught in your throat as your eyes flickered up from the keycard to blink back at him, “…maybe–, maybe, we aren’t such a bad team after all…” you admitted, tugging the card into a pocket of your black cargo pants as the man across from you on the rooftop simply smirked as you finally began to soften up, “…look…” you hesitated, your gaze averting, “…I know I said that I wanted to work alone, and I know that you hate me, but–”

“Hold up,” Matt swiftly interrupted, “you think I hate you?”

Glancing up towards the stars above, your arms briefly raised in an exhausted shrug, “well, what other explanation is there?”

But instead of answering you, Matt instead just stood there for a second, before he slowly closed the distance between you both, grabbed your face and leaned in to press his lips against your own.

You were nearly too stunned to react as he stole your breath away. It wasn’t till he pulled back slightly and the whole city froze for a moment around you, his palms still cradling your jaw as you blinked up at him, that you finally found your footing.

And when you raised yourself back up to kiss him once again, your touch drifting up to rest against his bent arms, you felt his lips smile against your own.

The simple kiss, however, swiftly spun out of control.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline that still pumped in your veins from the fight that was to blame for when it exploded, and you found yourself pushing Matt up against the nearby brick wall as you made out.

Perhaps it was your loneliness that was at fault, as you eagerly let him pluck your body up off the ground, and your thighs wrapped around his hips, a faint whimper crawling up your throat and vibrating against Matt’s tongue as your core pressed against him, your throbbing cunt promptly clenching around nothing as his gloved grip dug into your ass and drew you even closer to his growing hardness.

It had been ages since you’d been touched like this, so naturally it would have probably felt this amazing no matter who it was that satisfied that deprived urge… right?

Your hips rocked down against his own as you made out, his hold on you too grinding your core feverishly against his. As he twisted around for your spine to now instead be pressed up against the brick, your fingers grasped his stubbly jaw and hazily strayed up to claw against the sides of his helmet.

Soon you were both so riled up, the sloppy kisses and heavy petting only scratching the itch just enough to drive you mad, your fingers desperately shot down between your bodies to reach the tent in his pants. Straying from your lips, the devil let out a low groan as your palm brushed against his hardness in your frantic mission to free it. Bowing your head, your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to tug at his belt without much success, but luckily, before a pout could find your lips, Matthew got the message and readjusted his grip on you, balancing you with just a single arm, as his free one reached down to undo his pants for you, his swift fingers flicking open the complicated suit effortlessly.

That same wide palm then drifted up to brush against your blushing cheek as you let yourself blink down at the fat cock that sprang out, your mouth agape as your impatient fingers wrapped around the girth, though you only got to gawk a second longer before he tilted your chin and reunited his lips with your own.

“Fuck,” he panted into your mouth as your touch slowly twisted up and down his throbbing length. Dropping his hand back down near his other beneath your ass, he shifted his grip on you, juggling you like a toy in his grasp, to let himself nearly tear your black pants in two as he ripped them down just barely low enough for your soaked panties to be revealed.

Though as he yanked that drenched cotton to the side, before he even got the chance to touch you at all, you tilted his cock in your grasp, angling it for the tip of him to slide against you instead.

But even as you began to rub his head against your clit, his own palm didn’t stray yet, but instead rested over your own as your dripping pussy soaked him, and didn’t wander till your patterns grew more zealous, angling further south to your drooling hole. And as you rubbed him against your entrance, his gloved fingers dragged over your puffy pearl, though only for a moment before soaring up to his lips, his teeth hastily tearing the one glove off and letting it drop to the ground beneath you, for his touch to then reunite with you without any barrier.

“Oh my god,” your eyes fluttered as he drew slow, firm circles over you, “don’t stop–”

Bowing his head to kiss along your neck, a devilish smirk flashed across his face, “yeah? You like that, Shadow?” he let himself revel in your euphoria.

“Shut up,” a whine vibrated in your throat, “just don’t stop,” you mumbled as you then slipped the very tip of him inside of you.

A breathless moan escaped the both of you when your warm walls finally clung around him. Re-adjusting your grasp on his broad shoulders, joining your hand with the one still locked around his neck, his fingers continued the careful pattern over your clit as you slowly, and shallowly, began to lower yourself down upon him. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt his forehead tilt back up to rest against your own, panting into each other’s mouths as you gradually stretched yourself out on his cock.

He didn’t stop touching you till you were whimpering in his arms and trying to bounce on his dick. Your legs trembled on either side of him as he then dug his grasp into the plush of your ass and began to move you, his own hips too bucking up to meet the desperate movements as he fucked you.

It was all just a haze of heated pants, curses and moans melting and mixing with the wet, sloppy noises of his cock splitting you open, with the night noises of the city around you only a mere memory in the background.

Not long passed before you came undone on his fat cock, your powers momentarily flickering as you writhed in his arms, and your cunt fluttered around his girth, pushing him over the edge as well.

His face stayed buried in the crook of your neck, catching his breath, as you both stayed frozen in each other’s arms, your poor pussy nearly choking him to death as his cock remained inside of you, but neither one of you dared to speak or even move an inch.

But when you finally did, it was slow as you began to peel yourselves away from one another. He began by carefully lowering your one leg, though as it shakily reunited with the flat rooftop below, you failed to stifle a groan as his cock slipped out of you.

You could barely look at him as you realised the line you’d just crossed, or more like set on fucking fire, silently panicking as you scrambled to cover back up.

Tugging your panties back over your messy pussy, you promptly clenched around nothing as you felt his hot load begin to leak out of you and ruin your underwear even further.

And when a hesitant squeak finally found its way to your lips, “that–…” your eyes stayed averted, even as your words faded.

Tilting his head, a smirk bloomed on Matt’s face, “yeah?” he uttered as the single word that had bubbled up your throat hadn’t yet made him doubt the rest of your pending sentence.

“…was such a mistake…” you apprehensively finished, eyes still glued to the ground, “we can’t–… we can’t let it happen again.”

Sucking in a sharp breath as his smile faded from his lips, on his exhale, Matt murmured, “…right…you beat me to it…”

“I mean,” you finally glanced up at the man in front of you, “it was just the adrenaline of it all that got to us,” your head nodded slowly as you tried to convince yourself.

“Mhm,” he hesitantly hummed, barely moving at all as he listened.

“So, we should just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His broad chest then shifted slowly beneath his suit as his lungs filled up with oxygen, letting your words settle in his soul before he agreed with a quiet, “…okay.”

“Get up.”

Arms crossed tightly over your chest, your invisibility faded just as you kicked the bedframe.

“What the–,” Matt swiftly shot awake, the slumber still muddled on his face as he initially jerked in alarm till he realised who exactly it was that had snuck into his apartment, “what are you doing here?”

But instead of answering his question, you just huffed impatiently, “we gotta go, come on.”

“Wha–,” he pushed himself up to a sitting position, “what time is it?”

“Four in the morning,” you briefly glanced down at the watch on your wrist, “which means we’re already running late, so let’s go.”

Letting out a low exhale, “okay…” he tore off the covers and begrudgingly swung his legs over the side of the bed, “is it a surprise or are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Standing a little taller, you informed him in a clear tone, “I got a lead,” and tried your best to ignore his state of undress, how, even in the low light pouring in from the windows, you could make out the scars starched across his bare chest, one even dipping down below the black boxers that clung around his hips.

But his expression didn’t perk up at your news as his dark brows only furrowed faintly, “…you know you could have just called me about this, right?”

“Didn’t have your number,” you shrugged. Tearing your eyes away from him, you ripped open your dark backpack, “put this on,” you ordered after you’d tossed a faded blue uniform at him.

“Uhh… no thanks?” he cocked an eyebrow as he peeled it off of his shoulder where it had landed and held it in his palm, “I’ve got my own clothes, ones that don’t reek of industrial cleaning products.”

Exhaling sharply, your jaw clenched, “look, I know that you just woke up, but some of us haven’t slept at all yet and have instead stayed up just to string this whole plan together,” you fished out a white undershirt as well for him.

“And are you gonna share it with me or what?” he asked before being hit in the face with the tank top.

“I will when you put that fucking uniform on,” your hands landed on your hips as you waited a tense moment before he rolled his eyes pettily, yet finally complied. And as you watched him change right in front of you instead of shifting to somewhere more private, you began to tell him, “every morning at five, the janitorial staff at Onyx Corp shows up for work. One of said staff members is now missing a uniform, and has magically had their schedule tampered with, giving them a day off,” you tilted your head, “so you’re gonna show up instead, slip in with the crowd, use the keycard, sneak into the CEO, Richard Weiss’ office and steal his personal laptop. All the info we’re missing should be on that thing.”

“Okay…” he drew out a breath as he moulded over your plan, “or, I mean, I’m a lawyer, why couldn’t I just walk in there as myself, make up some legal bullshit or something–, ouch!” his offhand suggestion halted as you promptly smacked his shoulder.

“And have you then be added to their radar for sniffing where you shouldn’t, have them hunt you down till you’re dead? Believe it or not, I am trying to protect you, you idiot,” you growled as you plucked the last few items out of your bag, a baseball cap and a pair of plain sunglasses, and shoved them into his lap, “so could you at least not be a fucking dumbass about it and just say thank you?”

The sun was slowly rising as you sat, cloaked by your powers, on the roof of the opposing building to the Onyx Corporation’s official headquarters, and watched from afar as Matthew successfully slipped inside among the small morning crowd of workers.

The large structure in the middle of the city was mostly made up of wide windowpanes, making it easier for you to track the disguised lawyer as he made his way through the fishbowl, although it still didn’t help calm the terror that wrecked your body.

Being this close was frankly one of the most reckless things you’d ever done. If anyone saw you, if you let your invisibility so much as just flicker, you’d be a dead woman.

But when you saw Matthew inside covertly reach his destination, the keycard working as he slipped inside of the CEO’s office, when the laptop was under his arm and he pushed the door open once more to exit, a pair of guards caught him red-handed and a fight promptly broke out.

Your hope, however, faded rapidly as it didn’t take long before more security was alerted and piled on the vigilante. But even then, you still tried to stay optimistic, having witnessed first-hand the dreadful messes Daredevil was capable of getting out of on his own.

But when his form was pinned to the ground by enough people that he stood no chance, and the door on the opposite end of the floor swung open, revealing the bone-chilling visage of the boss himself, slowly marching down to the wreckage on full display through the agape doors of his office, you were then left with no choice on what to do next.

You held onto your invisibility for as long as possible, but after you’d only taken a few steps inside of the building, a sharp and sudden pain began to throb within your head, drawing a groan from your trembling body as you tried not to scream as it nearly felt like something was trying to crush your skull, your powers promptly began to flicker.

Trying to fight against it and somehow attempt to keep your cloaking up, it kept on flickering as you rushed to the stairwell.

You were panting and dizzy by the time you reached the top, though it wasn’t because of the numerous steps. Blood trickling out of your nose, your hand shook violently as you reached for the doorknob, your eyes landing on it as your powers kept on flashing, and you waited till your palm disappeared once more, hopefully timing it just right as you pushed the door open to dip into the hallway and enter the chaos.

Passing the janitorial cart he had pushed around to keep up his cover, your hands swiftly seized the mop that stuck out of it, and as your stomping feet dragged you closer to the fray, you swung the mop like a golf club, striking the guards pinning Matt to the floor.

Though, as you freed him, the long handle of the mop splintering in the process, your powers faltered once more, revealing your form to everyone in the office, including the very man who had once fooled the innocent little orphanage you used to be, condemning you to an adolescence of torture, the one and only, Richard Weiss, head of Onyx Corps.

“Well… if it isn’t our little Shadow, come back home at last…” he nearly chuckled as his stare held you frozen in terror, “should have known you were the troublemaker behind all of this.”

And though Matthew’s fists began to swing again as soon as he was able, it didn’t take long for him to conclude that you were severely outnumbered. It didn’t matter that the laptop wasn’t in the possession of either of you, at this point, your lives mattered more.

But when Matt’s attempts failed, you decided to try something, even though you were barely hanging on any longer, it was almost like an instinct kicked in and you grabbed Matthew’s hand in yours, somehow turning him invisible as well, just long enough for your initial escape to become possible.

But as soon as you got out of dodge, slipping into the elevator, you let go of his wide palm and your powers flickered out once more.

Both of you were panting and hunched over as Matthew stayed busy, reached over to hit the emergency button, stopping the elevator, before his body elongated, briefly jumping up to pop open the latch at the top.

It wasn’t till his fingers laced together and he waited for you to bend your knee and let him boost you up first, that he slowed down enough to notice just how beaten you were.

Though you had previously experienced these waves in the more compact package of the collars Onyx Corp used to control their test subjects with, it was something else entirely to try and be submerged inside an area protected by the same rays, and on top of that, attempting to fight against it, torturing your body that much further.

There wasn’t just blood dripping out of your nose, but your ears, the corner of your mouth, and even your eyes as well.

“Y/n, are you–,” worry twisted Matthew’s low timbre in a way you didn’t think possible.

“I’m fine,” you tried to dismiss through your pained whimper, “I just need to catch my breath,” you clutched the steel wall, “you go up first, I’m right behind you.”

Although he hesitated a moment, he eventually did as you wished, pulling himself up through the narrow latch and groaning lowly as the strain tore at the injuries he himself had sustained. But when his arm shot back down to pull you up as well, your body finally gave out when he’d lifted you up to join him in the elevator shaft, and the world faded to black.

It was full daylight by the time you stirred, though you weren’t on the roof of the elevator any longer, not even inside that horrific building anymore, as it finally felt as if you were able to breathe again. It was instead Matthew’s apartment that met your hazy gaze as soon as your eyes fluttered open.

Squinting a moment at the bright light pouring in through the tall windows, you realised that you were lying in his bed, the very same one he had been resting in when you’d disrupted his slumber earlier that day.

For a moment, you thought you were all alone till your neck twisted to the right and you saw the man further into the depths of the apartment, sitting at the humble dining table. He was shirtless, with only the glint of a cross necklace resting against his pecs as he patched himself up. And as you felt yourself begin to breathe more easy at the discovery that you hadn’t woken up to any imminent danger, you let yourself relax, and for a flash, stare at Matthew before any of your guards could shoot up and hinder you from taking in the vision his half-naked and bloodied form, quietly groaning as he concentrated on his stitches, the whole display making your heart beat louder, though not in your chest, but between your thighs.  

Tilting his head suddenly, the needle in Matt’s fingers paused as he noticed you were finally awake, “hey,” a soft smile appeared on his lips.

“What happened?” you asked weakly in a hoarse tone.  

“You passed out,” he paused his patching up, carefully tearing the thread on the needle before he had finished all of the stitches.

“I did?” your brows furrowed as you tried to recall, hazily attempting to sit up, only realising now that you were still clad in the same black, utilitarian outfit as before, blood-soaked and torn from the fight.

“Whoa, whoa, no,” Matt hastily rushed to your side, “your stubborn ass essentially just tried to power your way through a meatgrinder, so lay back down.”

“God, I’m fine,” you tried to push away his palms as they came to rest against your shoulders.

“No, you’re not,” he uttered firmly.

“Matt–”

“Jesus! Would you just shut up for a second and let me help you?”

Your eyes snapped up to his worried expression as he raised his voice, and you finally gave in, carefully lowering back down upon the pillow.

Blinking up at him a moment as his broad, bare shoulders relaxed once more, his feet staying glued beside the bedframe as he loomed above your horizontal form, you then asked, “how did I get out of there?”

Drawing in a breath, he shared, “well, I carried you,” as if it was the obvious answer.

“You should have just left me,” your head began to shake faintly as you squeezed your eyes shut, “it would have been safer if you were–”

“You risked your life coming in to save me,” he interrupted you, “so this just makes us even.”

Eyes fluttering back open, your chest slowly rose and fell as you simply stared up at him for a moment, completely lost for words as he continued to stand by your side.

And when he finally broke the silence, it was to utter, “it’s mostly bruises you’ve got, but there is a cut on your shoulder,” his chin tilted in the direction of that side, “I tried to just keep it wrapped while you were unconscious, but I should probably stitch it up for you.”

Nodding slowly as your stare stayed on him instead of straying to the bloodied dish towel tied around your side, you murmured, “okay…”

Once he’d helped you sit back up, he only disappeared into the living room for a moment to grab the first aid kit, your own fingers slowly unlacing your boots and dropping them to the floor, before he returned to your side and planted himself on the edge of the mattress.

A sharp hiss escaped you when you tried to peel your long-sleeved top off. But your movement paused when the hem reached your ribs as you felt Matthew’s palms suddenly land atop your own, silently asking you for permission to help. Instead of uttering a word, you simply let your own hands slip out from under his touch, letting him take over and slowly pull the shirt over your head, leaving you in just pants and a sports bra.

Your breathing was ragged as you simply stared at him the whole time he tended to your wound, and by the time that he finished, the silence continued to draw out, growing thick in the air between you both, as neither of you dared to move a muscle.

“…you should try and get some rest,” he eventually uttered, nearly in a whisper.

“Right…” you exhaled and finally tore your gaze away from him to glance down at the remanence of your clothing, not exactly comfortable against your skin, “…do you maybe have a shirt or something that I could borrow?”

“Sure,” he breathed, then got up to open his closet, plucked out a t-shirt and handed it to you, “here.”

“Thanks,” you grasped the soft cotton, bowing your head to glance down at it.

And as you simply stared at it a moment without shifting to put it on, “do you–…” Matt hesitantly offered, “do you need a hand?”

“I–…” you let out a sigh, flirting momentarily with the idea of your usual tough shell, but fortunately, you were so exhausted that you couldn’t resist, “…okay.”

His touch was like fire as it ghosted across your skin, making your pussy throb between your thighs as he carefully helped you first out of the black pants, slowly tugging them down your legs, before he pulled the tight sports bra off, your own breath hitching as your soft tits dropped from the confines. Matt tried to stay strong as he lastly helped you into the borrowed shirt, swallowing hard before he finally let go of you, even though that was the very last thing he yearned to do.

When you layed back down under his covers, you couldn’t fall back asleep even though your body was screaming for the rest, your stare instead staying glued on the lawyer as he returned to the living room and went back to patching himself up.

It was then that it hit you what that feeling that fluttered within you truly was.

You felt safe.

For the first time in forever.

With him by your side, you felt safe.

It was evening by the time that you woke up again, the sun once more setting, dipping down below the towering buildings outside.

“You okay?” you heard Matthew’s voice and twisted gently in the sheets to find him sitting on the couch just on the other side of the open sliding door, leaned over the coffee table and going through some stuff.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you curled onto your side to face him more, your knees bending up towards your chest.

“Well…” he exhaled slowly and let the papers in his hand drop to the rest on the tabletop below him, “since we didn’t get the laptop, I’m trying to find another way to locate that lab.”

Tears then welled up in your eyes and thickened the words in your throat as the level of just how much he cared came as a surprise to you, “any success?”

“Uh, maybe. There is this one scientist who worked there, but he was arrested for something else,” he clicked his tongue, “currently sitting pretty in prison.”

“Wait, are you saying–,” you caught onto what he was hinting at, “do you wanna go in there and pretend to be his lawyer? Do you think that’d work?”

“Well, if reasoning with him doesn’t work, then I can always just let the devil out, see if that’ll loosen his lips.”

Staring at him in pure and unadulterated amazement, the tears in your eyes escaped with a small sob and began to roll down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he promptly darted to your side, sitting down on the bed beside you, “what’s wrong? Is it–, do you not want me to go? I’m sorry, I–”

Shaking your head, you sniffled, “no, it’s not that–”

“Have you changed your mind?” he tilted his head as you then pushed yourself up to a sitting position next to him, “you wanna go back to being a lone wolf? Because not that I don’t believe you’re strong enough to take these people on all on your own, you are, you really are, but I just–… I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” he choked on his words, “so please. Please let me help. Let me–, let us work together. Make these people pay for everything they’ve done. Everything they’ve done to you…”

Sucking in a breath, you stared back at him, unable to find the words, before you felt your spine begin to slant forward as you let your forehead simply rest against his own.

“…Matt–…” your voice was barely a whisper as finally filled out the sparse space between you both, “…you’re the first person that I can’t hide from… and not just because you can sense me even when I’m invisible, but you see me…” another tear escaped the corner of your eye, “…truly see me…” you then felt him grab your cheek, your glossy eyes briefly fluttering closed at the contact, “I’ve never–…” you blinked back at him again, panting as your gaze then dropped to his lips, “…you–…” you felt him slowly begin to drag you closer, but just as the tip of your nose brushed against his own, your eyes squeezed shut as you whispered once more, “we shouldn’t…”

“Why not?” he breathed, his wide palm remaining against your cheek as his fingertip slowly stretched up into your hairline.  

“Matt…” you exhaled, but instinctively leaned into his touch.

“Don’t you want to?” he croaked hazily, “doesn’t it kill you too, this thing between us?” a fresh blubber of tears sprang forth from you as his words struck true, “I know it’s not just me, I know… I can feel the way your breath hitches when you look at me… I can hear the way your pulse picks up when I’m near… like a fucking drum between your legs…” his nose twitched gently as he nearly growled.

“…still doesn’t mean we should give in to it…” you whispered, “…Matthew, I–… these people have been after me for most of my life. I can’t risk putting anyone else in danger simply for caring about them,” your tearful eyes blinked back at him, “I know first-hand what they do to someone, someone like us. I can’t let you go through that as well.”

Letting his grip glide into your hair completely, he let your words sink in before he eventually uttered, “…if it means having you, then that’s a risk I’d be willing to take…”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, slightly doubting whether you’d heard him correctly, before something inside of you finally unravelled and you leaned in to press your lips against his own.

It was slow yet rumbling with passion. His thumb gently wiped away the last few tears that rolled down your cheeks before the kiss faded into small, unhurried pecks. Your palm floated up to caress his burly forearm as he continued to cradle your face, drawing out the kisses for as long as possible.

Soon, your limbs were tangled around one another, hugging each other’s forms as your lips stayed locked, occasionally pausing for a breath to let a gentle smile take over.

But when you felt as if you still weren’t close enough to him, you found yourself carefully crawling into his lap, a shift he couldn’t help but aid as his arms around you tightened and he drew you in flush against him, your thighs on either side of his hips on the edge of the bed.

But it still didn’t scratch the itch enough, leading your breath to grow ragged as your fingers tangled in his shirt and your lips wandered down the side of his neck.

“Are you–…” he breathed heavy as you kissed along his throat, his fingers instinctively denting low on your hips, “what can I–, what do you need?”

A sly smirk then bloomed on your lips as you kept on kissing his skin, “you really gonna sit here and claim that you don’t know what I need right now?” a faint giggle escaped you as even you had already noticed the dull throbbing between your thighs that was nearly making you drool.

“No, I mean–, are you feeling better?” his grip on you tightened as he tried to keep cool and hold onto the fact of all the trauma your body had just sustained.

That made you pull back a bit as a gentle smile lit up your face, “yeah,” you uttered warmly, “I’m not a hundred per cent yet, probably won’t be for a while, but the sleep really helped.”

“And how about your shoulder?” he cocked his head, gesturing faintly towards it.

“It’s fine,” you breathed, “I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” you then saw as Matt mirrored your smile before he dipped back in to steal another kiss. But then, as the brief break had cleared enough of your fog as well, you cut the peck short before your mind could get cloudy again, “wait, but what about you?” you realised, and glanced to his injuries, only some of them not covered by his t-shirt, “you got way more banged up than me.”

“Oh,” he continued to grin, “I’m just fine,” he told you as he then slowly leaned in.

“You sure?” you asked, your lips curling into a smile as he continued to slant closer.

“Well, I mean,” he tilted his head as he smirked, “I could be better…” he then began to plant a trail of slow pecks all along the length of your neck.

“Oh yeah?” a breathy chuckle escaped you.

“Yeah…” his palms caught your cheeks as his lips travelled up your throat till they were pressing against your face once more, “there might be something you could do to help…”

And as you then playfully slipped your arm down between your forms to reach for the hardness that had been nudging you, “…something like this?” you grinned as you palmed the tent in his pants.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his head tilting upwards to share your breath, “yeah, exactly something like that…” he smiled as well before he collided his lips with yours once again.

His broad palms coasted all along the shape of your frame, finally letting himself touch you the way that he had yearned for, all of his thoughtful reservations dropped to the floor, just like his tight t-shirt, as you soon peeled it over his head, your heated kiss only pausing a moment before you both dove right back in.

You gasped against his lips as his wide hands strayed from their kneading of your soft ass, for his fingertips to stretch down over the cotton of your panties, reaching between your legs and teasingly brushing over the soaked fabric. As he pressed down harder, rolling your clit through the material, your hand flexed against his hardness.   

“God, I wanna taste you so fucking bad…” he then panted against your lips as you wiggled down into his touch, “can I? Please?”

Breathlessly pulling back to let your hazy eyes sweep across his face, your head tilted in a faint nod, “o-okay,” before a grin then flashed across Matt’s face and his burly arms tightened around your frame, taking you with him as he flipped you around and layed you down on the mattress.

Still slotted between your thighs, Matthew only loomed above you for a moment before he sank down to kneel on the floor beside the bed. Catching your hips, he yanked you closer to the edge, drawing out a giggly yelp from your lungs.

Peeping down at him, your chest rose and fell rapidly as he slowly peeled your panties down your legs, webs of your want briefly clinging to the cotton as it was torn away from your drooling pussy, before the glinting strings snapped back against your throbbing core.

“Holy–, fuck!” you gasped as he buried his face between your legs, his sweet tongue dragging through your wet folds, tracing your clit before it slipped down to lap up the nectar leaking out of you, groaning against your heat as his nose nudged against your puffy pearl.

His grip dented your waist as his mouth tilted back up to overwhelm your clit, the borrowed t-shirt you still wore bunching up beneath his fingers.

The man was eating you out as if it were his last day on earth, his facial hair rubbing your poor pussy raw as you wiggled beneath him, dizzy against the sheets as one of his hands glided down between your quivering legs.

For a moment, the tips of his fingers traced slow circles over your entrance, before one of them then eased inside, just to the second knuckle, gradually opening you up for him.

By the time your cunt was clenching around two of his digits, sunk deeper inside of you than your own touch could ever reach, your arm fluttered down to tremble against his palm that still remained splayed against your abdomen. You clawed at his skin till he flipped his hand around and clutched your own tight, his broad thumb briefly brushing over your knuckles as you moaned beneath him.

But as you felt yourself near the edge, you lifted your head just an inch above the sheets and cast your hazy gaze down to the man blissful between your legs.

Even though this was more than you could ever dream of, there was something else in this moment that your soul was screaming for.

Letting out a whimper, your other hand shot down to tangle in his dark hair right before you gasped, “wait–, stop–,” and his mouth let go of you with a pop, “come here,” you whispered breathlessly as your fingers let go of his locks, and you caught onto the cross necklace dangling from his neck. Pulling on it as if it was a leash, you dragged him till he was hovering above your splayed-out form, and his lips came crashing into yours.

The entire lower half of his face was soaked in your juices, making you mewl against his tongue as you tasted yourself on him.

“Please fuck me,” you panted when you finally parted from the sloppy kiss, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Yeah?” Matthew smirked above you, his fingers catching the hem of your shirt, “you need me inside of you?” he tilted his chin as he dragged the last shred of clothing over your head and flung it onto the floor.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded as you foggily reached down to fumble with his pants, but before you could manage to undo them, his own fingers nimbly took over.

“You wanna feel me stretch you out again?” he grunted, your eyes fluttering as you watched his heavy cock spring forth and slap him in the abdomen.

Your head was spinning as he then suddenly flipped you around, manhandling and moulding you beneath him till he had you bent over the mattress, your legs now dangling off the side of his bed next to where his own stood rooted, “Matt–”

“You wanna cum on my cock?” he finished pushing his pants off completely and you twisted your neck to catch a glimpse of him behind you.

“Y-yes!” you slurred breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt him tap the weight of himself against your soft pussy, your drool nearly dripping down over him like honey before he finally nudged at your opening and the tip of his dick slipped inside, “oh fuck–”

“Oh my god…” he groaned as he gradually split you open on his fat girth, “of course you somehow feel even fucking better than I remembered…” his upper body melted down over you, his glinting necklace tickling your skin before his soft lips pressed against your spine, “so fucking wet and warm… you’re fucking perfect…”

You were grabbing the sheets by the time his thrusts had gained such ferocity that his heavy balls were smacking against your throbbing clit each time he bottomed out within you, making you whimper rhythmically beneath him with each maddening buck.

Slipping his hand beneath your chin, he tilted your face up towards his own, arching your back for him to steal a messy kiss from your lips, though he held you captive there a moment longer afterwards, letting you blink up at him as each time his hips snapped against your ass, it made it harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open.

That first orgasm hit you like a freight train, after you’d initially denied yourself of the ecstasy, it only rocked you that much more fiercely when you finally let it, your powers flickering as you lost control, turning your body transparent a dozen times in your swift descent as you came crashing down against the mattress.

Before you’d caught your breath, Matthew gently flipped you back around and scooted your frame further up upon the bed as he joined you as well.

Your legs clung against his hips as he crawled above you, and you felt his arms curl around and beneath your form, hugging you close as his cock throbbed against your pussy.

And as you briefly reached down to slip his length, glistening and covered in your cream, back inside, he continued to let himself finally hold onto you for dear life as he nearly fucked you straight through the mattress in maddeningly slow and deep strokes.

“O-oh, Matt,” you whimpered, his forehead resting against your own as your mouth stayed agape in a silent gasp, completely lost in him.

Nudging your legs to part further for him, you then heard him command, “play with that pussy for me,” in a similar, dark grunt as when the devil mask was obscuring half of his face. But when his words washed over your dazed form and sent a shiver down your spine, he ghosted his lips against your own as your hands stayed locked around his neck, “earth to Shadow…”

“Huh?” you sluggishly blinked back up at his brown eyes.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

Head spinning, you gasped, “uhm, uh-huh,” and nodded hazily, your nose nudging against his own, though your fingers still didn’t spring to life yet.

“Then go on,” he chuckled breathlessly at the state he had put you in, “make that pretty pussy cum on my cock one more time.”

Your eyes soon rolled in your skull as you then rubbed your puffy pearl raw and cried out beneath him as you tumbled over the edge once again. Your cunt choked his girth so fiercely that he couldn’t help but promptly cum as well, his dick twitching inside of you as you milked him of all of his worth.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before either of you finally moved, but you nearly managed to fall asleep while his cock was still splitting you open and his load was slowly leaking onto the sheets.

But when you eventually settled into Matthew’s side and your weary stare blinked up at his serene features, you found yourself whispering into the night, “…you really think we can do this?”

Twisting his head slightly, he uttered, “what? Take down Onyx Corp,” his arm around you tightening slightly at your lasting gloom, “or be together?”

Drawing in a breath, you averted your gaze as you admitted dimly, “both.”

Lying still a second, you then felt him shift beside you, snaking his grip around your frame before he then dragged you closer till you were splayed out directly on top of his chest. Gliding his touch up to catch your face, he waited for your stare to return to him before he uttered, “…I think that together, we can do anything.”

And while sleeping with his resident wasn’t the best idea, especially one that was almost half his age, Jack couldn’t bring himself to regret it. You were a grown woman in your late twenties, prefrontal cortex fully formed, more than capable of making your own decisions. And you’d chosen him. A middle aged, widowed, PTSD riddled amputee that was always one really bad night away from taking the shortcut to the lobby from the roof. So yeah, a pretty little thing like you wanting him astronomically inflated his ego. 

But it wasn’t even just the incredible sex, which was incredible. You both genuinely liked each other. You got along really well, the banter between the two of you came effortlessly, and you just seemed to…click. Right from the beginning. The morning after that first time had definitely been awkward, but neither one of you had felt any remorse. As a matter of fact, all you’d felt waking up was Jack’s morning wood pressed against your ass. In the absence of regret, the two of you had come up with an agreement. You’d keep this thing between you a secret, and neither one of you would tell anyone anything. Not even Santos or Robby. Especially not Santos or Robby. They were worse at gossiping than Princess and Perlah. 

Nothing changed while you two were on shift together. There was no weirdness, no special treatment, and no fooling around at the hospital. Granted, there was no time for that anyway. The Pitt was so busy you barely even had time for a bathroom break, let alone time to sneak off for ten minutes to fuck in a supply closet. This wasn’t Grey’s Anatomy. Everything stayed the same until after hours. Then, he wasn’t your attending, and you weren’t his resident. You were just a normal couple.

And you did normal couple things, like argue. 

He must have known you’d still be annoyed by his little stunt earlier, because when you stormed in through the front door of his place, he was sitting at the dining table with two wine glasses and a bottle on the table, and an infuriating smirk on his lips.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Hi honey, how was your day? Anything exciting happen?”

Jack’s voice had a teasing lilt as he pulled the cork from the bottle and generously filled each glass. He was sitting far too calmly for your temperament. Dropping your bag onto the floor, you marched right over towards him, pointing your finger accusingly. 

“You let me do a risky procedure on a patient that I’d never done before, because you wanted to avoid the fucking liability? I could have killed him-”

“But you didn’t. You were brilliant. C’mon, sit down, we’re celebrating.”

“Jack, this isn’t a game. This is my job. If something had happened-”

Jack let out a deep exhale through his nose and pushed his chair away from the table, the wooden legs scraping lightly against the floor as he turned to face you instead.

“Sweetheart, do you really think I would jeopardize your career by letting you do a procedure I couldn’t jump in and take over if something went wrong?”

For the past six hours you’d been simmering, your frustration steadily mounting and anxiety fueling the rant you’d been rehearing in your head. But it abruptly died on your tongue as creases of confusion settled in the middle of your forehead.

“But you…you said it was too risky for you to do yourself-”

“I was just joking, honey. I’d never actually let you do something that I couldn’t help you with.”

Earlier in the middle of your shift, there had been an unconscious GSW patient brought in that had air caught in his heart. Jack had guided you through the process of using a pigtail catheter to aspirate the air trapped in the heart, which was an extremely rare and high stakes procedure, and after you’d successfully done it, he’d made the joke that he’d had you perform it because it was “too risky” for him to do it himself. It was just his way of trying to bring levity to the dire situation. 

But the whole experience had been intense, and he should’ve known better that when your anxiety crept in like that, you would've been too high strung to process the intended humor. In the moment, you’d taken his words literally, and he could see now that he’d missed the mark. He also hadn’t done his due diligence of checking in with you throughout the rest of the shift. The Pitt had gotten so chaotic, and he knew you were coming over after you both left anyway, so he’d rationalized that he’d check in with you when you were alone. 

He’d known earlier that you were frazzled, and probably a little irritated, that he’d thrown you into such a stressful sink or swim situation without warning, but that’s how it went at a teaching hospital. He hadn’t expected you to actually be upset with him though, and given that the adrenaline had more than worn off by now, he suddenly realized that you’d been upset for the past few hours.

Standing up from the chair, he walked closer towards you, the earlier teasing smirk gone and replaced with a more gentle and understanding expression.

“Look, it was risky, yeah, but everything we do is risky. We’re humans trying to save other humans with the limited yet ever evolving knowledge we have on how to do that. The chance for human error is always present. You’re still learning, okay, we all are. Everyday. You’re gonna fuck up and make mistakes, it’s inevitable, but you didn’t today. You knocked it out of the fucking park, sweetheart. Seriously, you were perfect.”

All the tension that had been coiled tightly in your body seemed to slowly unravel, and you felt the weight of your own shoulders dropping. 

“A million things could’ve gone wrong.”

“A million things can always go wrong. It’s the ER.”

“But you had no way of knowing I could pull that off-”

“Yes. I did.”

The firm conviction in his voice tugged at something in your chest. Jack was a great teacher. He was patient, as patient as he could be in such a chaotic environment, and somehow always remained calm. The Pitt was probably a daydream compared to a combat zone, you surmised. But the thing you appreciated the most was how encouraging he was. If you answered a question wrong, it was a learning opportunity. If you froze up during a procedure or made a mistake, it was a learning opportunity. He only stepped in when it was absolutely necessary, and even if you fucked up, there was never any admonishment or reprimanding. Just gentle guidance.

And he never failed to acknowledge or reward successes with recognition and praise. Still, that unwavering faith in your abilities took you by surprise, because you didn’t have that in yourself. Jack knew that. He’d known that from your first shift. It was why he gave you slightly more attention than the others. Call it favoritism, but even before you’d started this relationship, he’d had a desire to cultivate your confidence in your abilities. It’s why he showered you in so much praise. He knew you responded to it. In more ways than one.

“I told you, sweetheart. You’re fucking brilliant.”

Jack reached out to take your face in his hands, dipping his head slightly so he could look right into your eyes.

“Maybe I pushed you too far outside your comfort zone tonight, but look what you did. Look what you’re capable of. My job is to teach you, Y/N. Not just how to treat patients, but how to be a good doctor, and part of that is self confidence. And that’s your weakest aspect. You know what the hell you’re doing, but you question yourself far too much, and those seconds of hesitation are precious. They’re the fine line between making a good call and making a mistake, and there’s going to be times when there isn’t someone around to reassure you. You’ll have to make that call yourself and trust in your own knowledge. I’m trying to get you there, alright?”

You let Jack’s smooth cadence and the gentle gravel of his voice lull you into a calmer state, and you involuntarily melted into his touch, your hands coming up to grasp the front of his scrub top. Letting out a deep sigh, you closed your eyes for a moment and nodded. You understood what he was saying, and you knew he was right.

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

Jack echoed, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. He took your hand and silently led you over to the table, but instead of letting you sit next to him, he grabbed your hips and pulled you to sit down in his lap with your back against his chest. He reached for one of the wine glasses and handed it to you, encouraging you to unwind. While you let the merlot mellow you out, Jack slipped his hands under your scrub top to stroke your bare skin gently while his lips trailed down your neck. 

“Forgive me?”

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you melted against him even more, his chest firmly flush against your back. 

“Yeah.”

Even through the layers of clothing, you could still feel the warmth that naturally radiated from him. He paid close attention to your body, noting how relaxation had made you pliant, and how your breathing had become a little heavier as he continued to trail his lips along the underside of your jaw.

“Say it.”

His teeth intermittently grazed along your pulse point, his tongue tasting the way it thrummed under your sensitive skin, and it made you inhale sharply and shiver despite the heat building within you.

“I forgive you.”

One of his hands slipped down to give your thigh a gentle squeeze, and you instinctively spread them apart so that your knees were on either side of his. You could hear the grin in his husky voice.

“There’s my girl. Just relax for me.”

He didn’t tease. He knew what you needed after a night like tonight, and he still felt guilty about his role in it. He pulled the string on your scrub pants, untying the loose bow, and slipped his hand inside and beneath the waistband of your panties. He let out a quiet groan and pressed his forehead against your shoulder when he was rewarded with your drenched cunt.

“Jesus, sweetheart. I love how fucking wet you get for me.”

His index and fourth finger spread you open so his middle finger could glide through your slick, circling your clit with the pad of his finger that was lubricated in your own essence. A soft moan escaped your parted lips and you arched your back, making you lightly grind your ass back against his hardening cock. He let out a quiet grunt in your ear, his warm breath caressing the shell of it. 

“That’s it…good girl, take what you need.”

The half drunk glass of wine was abandoned on the table. One of your hands reached behind you to grip onto the back of his neck while your other gripped onto his muscular forearm. A louder moan filled the quiet that had only been interrupted by your concurrent panting as he slipped two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly at first then gradually picking up speed while grinding the heel of his palm against your clit.

“C’mon honey, ride my hand. I know you’re gonna come, yeah? I can feel it. Go ahead, come for me, sweetheart.”

His other arm banded around your waist, holding you firmly against his chest while you rocked your hips against his hand that was still frantically working inside your panties. He groaned when your moans echoed in his ears, feeling your fingers tug at his hair and your nails dig into his skin. You’d been grinding your ass so deliciously against his lap that he’d nearly come himself. 

Normally he’d give you a moment to recover after an orgasm, but he was so hard it hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside you. Pulling his hand out of your panties, he brought his soaked fingers to his mouth and slipped them inside, sucking them clean with a moan. He didn’t waste a second, gripping your hips and standing, pulling you up with him, turning you slightly to bend you over the dining table. He yanked your scrub pants and panties down to your knees in one swift pull, shoving his own pants and boxer briefs halfway down his thighs, just enough for his aching cock to spring free.

One thing Dex had learned from working with rich people was that they spent a lot of money on stupid shit, and oftentimes they only bought things that were expensive just for show so that other people would know how wealthy they were, like with this piece of “contemporary abstract art”. 

“Alright, turn around.”

Dex kept his arms folded behind his head as he turned away from the painting on the wall to face the bodyguard that was patting him down. It never failed to amuse him every time he got searched before meeting with a new client. He didn’t carry a gun or a knife or any other kind of weapon when he met with someone for the first time. He didn’t need to. Any room he walked into was his own personal playground. Even the most seemingly harmless of objects was lethal in his hands, and they all knew it, so this whole process was redundant. The only metal that ever showed up on their detectors was in his spine. 

While he was getting patted down, Dex’s gaze dropped to the gun in the holster on the bodyguard’s belt. He could swipe it in two seconds, and all four of these men would be dead in the next five. The thought made him let out a short dry chuckle, which made the bodyguard’s focus instantly snap up to Dex’s face. He quickly straightened up, clearly not liking the faint smirk Dex wore on his lips. 

“Something funny?”

The other three men tensed up in response, and the one to the immediate left of the bodyguard reached for his gun, not pulling it out, just resting his hand on it in anticipation. Dex calmly unfolded his arms and let them drop to his sides, meeting the intense scrutiny of the bodyguard with an unbothered expression of his own.

“You and I both know this is pointless. If it makes you feel…safer, I’ll humor you, but I got shit to do today, so why don’t we wrap this up.”

Dex intentionally emphasized the word “safer” in a taunting tone, knowing it would piss the guy off. People who emotionally reacted made careless mistakes, which he could take advantage of, or they reacted hastily, and that’s what he was banking on. He’d been standing in this hallway for thirteen minutes. He wasn’t going to wait around all day. 

“If he got cold feet-”

“He’ll be ready in a minute.”

Dex narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, making the other two men reach for their weapons. All three men standing behind the main bodyguard were rigid, hands grasping the handles of their guns. Despite trying to keep their faces neutral, Dex could see how taut the skin was over their knuckles out of the corner of his eye. The blood had become displaced, leaving a translucent curtain of flesh over the delicate bones he could pulverize beneath his boot if he felt like it. They were afraid, and he reveled in that fear.

“He chose the goddamn meeting time, and he’s late. I don’t like to be kept waiting. I’m a busy guy, and not a patient one. If that door doesn’t open in the next thirty seconds, you can find someone else.”

They were locked in a silent standoff. Dex didn’t blink. The other men seemed too afraid to blink, knowing that 0.1 second flutter of their lashes could result in a death they literally couldn’t see coming. Dex only waited eleven seconds before turning to walk back towards the elevator bank. He made it six steps before the main bodyguard spoke up without even attempting to hide his irritation.

“Alright, fine. Let’s go. Just remember whatever you see in there is confidential.”

Dex rolled his eyes as he turned back around, giving the bodyguard a pointed look.

“Yes, when I go in there to get the details of who your guy is paying me to kill, I’ll remember not to post about it later on my blog.”

For such a luxurious penthouse, it was a fucking mess. Liquor and champagne bottles were scattered on the tables, some empty, some half empty, but none of them full. The cushions on the sofa were half tucked in, half pulled out, the pillows in complete disarray. Some of them were scattered on the floor. A sheer black bra had been abandoned over one of the arms of the sofa. And right out in the open on the cluttered coffee table was a small rectangular mirror with a sizable tiny mountain of white powder. There was a hundred dollar bill that was still loosely rolled up beside it, holding its shape from repeated use, resting on top of a cherry red lacy thong. 

The bodyguard stepped further into the living room space towards where the french doors that led onto the balcony were propped open, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably, quickly averting his gaze to the other side of the room.

“Sir.”

Dex watched the bodyguard in curiosity, his knit brows creating wrinkles of perplexity in his forehead. He followed his path and stepped further into the living room space, turning his head to see what scene had caused the gruff looking older man to blush like a schoolgirl. 

Outside on the balcony, a man was standing with his back to the open french doors, holding something up to his face, while a woman was on her knees in front of him, visible between his legs. Dex’s brows lifted slightly in surprise, and then a cloud of aggravation darkened his features. This asshole had purposefully sought him out, told him when and where to show up, just to make Dex wait for fifteen fucking minutes out in the hall because he’d decided that a blowjob took priority? 

The bodyguard cleared his throat louder this time and spoke more firmly.

“Sir.”

The man swiftly turned his head, clearly annoyed by the interruption, and Dex could see now he was holding a tiny silver tray with his left hand, and a rolled up hundred was still positioned under his right nostril, which was covered in the same white powder he’d seen on the coffee table.

“What?”

The bodyguard loosely gestured towards Dex, and the man seemed to notice his presence for the first time. There was a flash of startlement on his face, like Dex had suddenly appeared out of thin air, but it transitioned quickly into confusion that rapidly became muddled with annoyance as he looked Dex up and down, all while still getting his dick sucked.

“Who the fuck is this?”

Dex’s exasperation had reached its limit. Not only had he been kept waiting for sixteen minutes now, but his cokehead of a potential client had no idea who he was or why he was there. He turned to face the bodyguard, his fingers twitching at his sides, eager to reach for the empty champagne bottle on one of the side tables. In one smooth break, he could rectify this wasted afternoon with a few sharp pieces.

“Is this some kind of joke? Why did you even arrange a meeting if you were just going to waste my fucking time?”

“Meeting? What-whoa whoa whoa, wait, are you…?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly, giving Dex another once over, more attentively this time, and then his mouth split into a wide grin.

“Holy fucking shit.”

He carelessly tossed the tray and rolled up hundred onto the round small table outside, the metal clattering against the glass, sending some of the white powder swirling into the breeze. He placed his palm against the woman’s head who’d been blowing him and shoved her away, making her fall backwards onto the marbled floor. Her face contorted in discomfort and anger at the rough action, and her bare breasts bounced from where they were spilling out of the top of her skimpy dress that had been tugged down to her waist. The man tucked his dick back into his pants and abruptly turned to walk towards Dex as he zipped them up, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he sniffed. He turned to his bodyguard and gestured his head towards the balcony.

“Leon, pay her and get her outta here.”

While Leon, asshole bodyguard number one, tended to the woman on the balcony, the man slicked back his messy brunette hair with his hand before holding it out.

“Wow, Benjamin Poindexter in the fuckin’ flesh, man. I’m Chris Cressna.”

Dex stayed silent as he stared at him, keeping his expression purposefully blank except for emissions of vexation. He glanced down at Chris’ outstretched hand, which had just been touching his saliva slicked dick, and then met his gaze again. Dex noticed the flush in his face first. He was definitely drunk judging by all the bottles scattered around, and the smell of alcohol was prominent on his breath, but his pupils were also incredibly dilated. The obsidian of them was blown so wide open from all the coke he’d been doing that the cerulean blue of his irises had been reduced to tiny rings. 

Chris finally got the hint that there would be no formal introductions and brought his hand up to rub his clean shaven jaw instead, grinning at Dex with another amused laugh.

“You’re not what I expected. I mean…you’re supposed to be some kinda…psycho killer, right?”

Dex arched one of his brows, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“And what do you think a psycho killer looks like exactly?”

“I don’t know. You guys usually have a look, right? I thought maybe you’d stroll in with a little blue and white leotard, maybe an all black leather number, a bullseye carved into your fuckin’ forehead or somethin’.”

“I think you’re confusing killers with vigilantes.”

“Same shit. Look at the Punisher, even he’s got a look, and that dude’s definitely a psycho killer.”

Dex shifted his stance, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently.

“Well, this has been a riveting debate, but you’ve already wasted twenty minutes of your consultation time. Now normally I allow at least thirty, but I’m docking nine minutes from the remaining ten for your lack of time management, so I suggest making your elevator pitch quickly. Clock’s ticking, Christopher.”

Chris’ smile faded, and he seemed to sober up slightly. Maybe sober wasn’t the right word. Focused, he was definitely more focused. And angry.

“I want someone dead.”

No shit, dumbass.

“Yeah, I gathered that much.”

While Dex appreciated Chris finally cutting to the chase, it was unnecessary. He already knew why he was here, he just didn’t know who he was here for. 

“But I don’t just want them dead, I want them to suffer.”

The aggression in his tone didn’t surprise Dex. Chris was hardly the first person to come to him seeking some kind of vengeance against someone who’d wronged him. What was intriguing to him was the mayor’s son outsourcing murder. 

Roger Cressna was a career politician. He’d started out in law, as most of the men in his family had, before leaving his practice to work his way up the political ladder. He’d served as District Attorney for almost fifteen years before setting his sights on something bigger, and he’d won his mayoral candidacy by a landslide with the aid of having an impressive resume when it came to prosecuting crime. It was an issue at the forefront of every New Yorker’s mind, along with getting drugs off the streets and lowering taxes. The holy trinity of political campaigns. 

And irony, considering a majority of politicians committed or covered up more obscene crimes than anyone, either were on or involved with drugs, and never paid their taxes. 

Dex took a step forward and cocked his head to the side.

“And does Daddy know you’re spending his money on cocaine, prostitutes, and murder hits?”

Chris let out a scoff, a cocky grin splitting open his mouth.

“Daddy doesn’t care what I do, as long as I keep it quiet.”

A sardonic smirk slowly crept across Dex’s lips, and he gave a faint shake of his head, letting mock sympathy drip into his voice.

“No, Daddy doesn’t care what you do because you aren’t worth his attention.”

The cocky grin instantly dropped, replaced by another flash of anger, and Dex’s smirk widened in return. Daddy issues. He didn’t even need to study Chris to know that. It was a tale as old as time. Respected successful father, spoiled fuck up of a son that stained the family legacy rather than carry it on. It was an ancient catalyst for bitter resentment that made princes slit their own father’s throats for the throne. 

“So, is it the old man?”

Chris’ silent fury was quickly replaced with perplexity, then shifted rapidly into appalled disbelief.

“What? No, no I don’t want you to kill my dad, Jesus.”

His immediate objection made Dex’s expression shift into a visible lack of understanding.  

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why-he’s my dad, dude. He’s a stuck up dick sometimes, yeah, but aren’t all dads?”

Dex’s brows lifted slightly up his forehead before he lightly pursed his lips and shrugged.

“I was an orphan.”

Dex shifted his weight to his other foot and let out a deep exhale through his nose, glancing around the messy penthouse. He was growing bored of his conversation.

“So, who is it then?”

“My ex-girlfriend.”

The venom in Chris’ voice captured Dex’s full attention. When he turned to look at him again, he noticed Chris was almost vibrating with rage. Or maybe that was the cocaine. Could be both. The edge of Chris’ top lip was curled in a snarl, and he clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

“Fuckin’ bitch. You know, not only does she have the audacity to steal from me, she also turns around and fucks all my-”

Dex rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms from his chest, waving his left hand dismissively to cut off Chris’ rant. 

“I don’t need the whole sob story. Just tell me her name, and how you want it done.”

“How soon will you do it?”

“Depends on you. You pay half up front right now, we got a deal, and you pay the other half when I’m finished.”

Chris uncurled his fists, and his anger quickly evaporated into dark excitement. His fingers twitched at his sides, the pads of his thumb and middle finger rubbing together frantically. He hadn’t been able to be still this entire time. He was restless, the downers clearly no match for the uppers.

“I’ll pay double your rate now, and double when it’s done if you make this a priority.”

Dex’s eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded Chris with a hint of suspicion.

“What’s the rush?”

“I thought you didn’t want the ‘sob story’?”

Pursing his lips, Dex nodded and dismissed his own natural curiosity. It didn’t matter.

“Alright. How do you want it?”

“You know how to torture people, right?”

Dex arched one of his brows inquisitively, giving Chris a sidelong glance, his eyes flickering over his fidgety figure.

“I want that. No bullet to the head, no freak accident or making it look like a suicide, none of that shit.”

“Right. Suffering.”

Chris snapped his fingers and pointed at Dex, his pupils somehow becoming even more enlarged as his eyes widened and his lips split into a manic smile.

“Yes! Go fuckin’ nuts, man. Pull all her teeth out with pliers, cut off her fingers and toes, break her bones with a hammer, or go full fuckin’ Game of Thrones, I don’t give a shit. Just make it hurt.”

He kept his expression neutral, but internally his repulsion was mounting with each of Chris’ sadistic suggestions. And I’m the fucking psycho.

“Oh, and record it. I’ll pay extra for that.”

“No.”

That was not a word Chris was used to hearing often, and Dex could see it as his sinister exhilaration morphed instantly into infuriation at the denial. 

“I said I’ll pay extra-”

“No evidence.”

Chris glared at him like a petulant child that hadn’t gotten his way, but Dex refused to budge. He couldn’t fucking stand this guy. He didn’t have to deal with his bullshit, he could walk out right now. It wasn’t like he needed his money. But he was already here, and enough of the day had been wasted already. Might as well make it count.

“So, you gonna give me her name, or are you gonna stand there and pout all fucking day?”

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On the rooftop of the building across the street, Dex whistled to the tune of New York State of Mind while pulling the bolt back on his sniper rifle to eject the bullet casing, catching it mid air to slip into his pocket. He disassembled the rifle with practiced ease, placing the pieces on top of a discarded security guard uniform in the open duffle bag by his feet. Putting his jacket on, Dex zipped it up before zipping the duffel closed, lifting it to sling over his shoulder. He pushed open the rooftop door with his elbow and slipped his gloved hands into his jacket pockets, his booted footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell as he descended the steps.

Dex was already three blocks away when clusters of blue and red flashing lights sped past, frantic honking intermingling with shrill sirens trying to cut through Friday night traffic. He pulled a burner phone from his pants pocket, flipping it open to dial the only number programmed in the contacts. When the person on the other line answered halfway through the second ring, Dex spoke before they did, skipping pleasantries entirely.

“Tell Mariah her friend got his birthday present.”

Without waiting for a response, Dex snapped the phone shut and flipped it over in his palm, removing the back plate to take out the battery and the sim card. He snapped the tiny piece of plastic in half, then subtly tossed it into the trashcan that he was walking past along with the phone itself and the battery. He casually crossed two more streets before taking the steps down into Fulton Street Station, tapping his OMNY card against the turnstile screen to slip through, catching the A train right as it arrived. 

He took an empty seat by the car doors, setting his duffle on the floor behind his feet. The car was decently full, but it was barely eight pm. Most of the Friday night crowd was out already, and wouldn’t be coming home for hours. He slipped on his headphones, letting Billy Joel continue to be the soundtrack for his evening while he discretely surveyed the other passengers. 

Even before the Army and the F.B.I., Dex had always been an observer. He’d always studied people’s mannerisms, their facial expressions, their body language, even the cadence of their voices. He scrutinized how these components changed and were applied based on a person’s emotions, their intentions, or both. Growing up, it had helped him learn how to navigate any situation that involved other people and their feelings, and how to reassemble himself to fit any societal norm. He could mimic behavior he’d witnessed and be a mirror to anyone standing in front of him, transitioning into whoever and whatever he needed to in any scenario. He’d become a chameleon that could manipulate perceptions just by being conscious of the tiny details that were invisible to most people.

You could tell a lot about a person just from paying attention. 

On the far right side of the car, a group of young guys were huddled together, clinging to the support bars for dear life, rigidly bumping into each other every time the car came to a halt at the next platform. Their eyes were darting back and forth between one of their phones that was out before the group and the digital sign above the doors that announced the next stops in pixelated yellow digits and letters. Tourists. 

Towards the middle left, a man in his early thirties was reading a book with his headphones in. Pretending to read, anyway. He hadn’t flipped a page in three minutes, and his eyes weren’t even oscillating over the text. They kept flickering up, sneaking glances at the group of women sitting across from him that were chatting, like he was waiting to be noticed. He’d even obnoxiously cleared his throat. Twice. Dex’s eyes dropped to the cover of the book in the man’s hands. Wuthering Heights. He let out a dry scoff. Pretentious asshole.

In front of him, two girls were sitting together, dressed nicely but still casually. Perhaps going to dinner or a show, or maybe a museum. Their phones were in their laps, but they weren’t looking at them, focused on each other and their conversation instead. They weren’t even listening to the platform announcements it seemed, like they knew exactly where to get off already, either from familiarity or muscle memory. Locals. Dex turned down the volume of the music so he could hear them laugh. They both had nice smiles, the kind that made you want to smile. One of them caught him looking, and he immediately noticed the blush that tinted her cheeks, the way her smile transitioned from careless content into something more bashful. A faint smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. Interested.

The older man sitting to his right had a grocery bag between his feet, bananas and cat food nearly spilling out of the top, which reminded Dex he needed to stop by the store. He was down to the last three eggs in the carton, and he was running low on paper towels. Maybe he’d stop by that pizza joint down the block afterwards. What was a Friday night in without pizza?

𖣠

Right as he reached the front door of his apartment, Dex’s other phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. Shifting his keys to his left hand, he pulled it out and saw he had a notification that a wire transfer had been completed. What he’d been paid for this job alone was considerably more than a year’s worth of his salary at the Bureau. 

Becoming a hitman had started somewhat as an accident, but had quickly become a lucrative career. In the beginning, he thought he’d miss the routine and structure of being in the F.B.I., thought he’d fall apart without it, but he didn’t miss it. At all. And he didn’t need it anymore. Dr. Mercer had been the one that influenced his decision to join the Army and then the Bureau after. Her parting piece of advice had been for him to seek out order that would help him control his darker impulses, keep him on the straight and narrow, and become a productive member of society rather than a destructive one. Save people rather than harm them. 

But she had been wrong.

Getting pushed out of the Bureau had been devastating at the time, completely disrupting the system he’d meticulously created for himself. All he’d done was his job, and he’d done it fucking well. Had he used excessive force? Had he killed people who’d already surrendered? Sure. But they’d been members of the Albanian Syndicate, a crime organization the F.B.I. had already been trying to dismantle for years. Dex had eliminated part of that ongoing problem with a few bullets. He’d done the Bureau, and the world, a goddamn favor. A good deed. And he’d been punished for it.

All that effort he’d put in over the years, all the times he’d gone above and beyond to please his superiors, all the personal relationships he’d diligently developed with his colleagues, all of it amounted to nothing in the end. They’d all turned the other way when he’d been tossed in the depths of repercussions, and none of them had offered a hand when he was drowning. 

But he’d found the silver lining. 

Now he wasn’t bound by the laws of man and bureaucratic bullshit. There was no red tape, no chain of command, nothing but newfound freedom. He’d crafted his own order, forged a new routine, and developed an original sense of normalcy. His impulses were no longer chained by outward perspectives of morality. They roamed freely, guided by his own compass. That liberation wouldn’t have happened if the F.B.I. hadn’t hung him out to dry.

Or if Fisk hadn’t fractured his body and mind.

Dex’s own human weakness for being accepted, and his desire to be understood, had lured him into the gilded scheme of a notorious conman. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Even so, Fisk had begrudgingly been instrumental in Dex embracing his capricious nature rather than masking it. Through deception and manipulation, Fisk had lifted the veil of conformity, handcrafting the key that unleashed what Dex had been trained to covet.

But the Kingpin hadn’t been prepared for what he set free. 

Fisk had overestimated his ability to control Dex, thinking he’d masterfully weaved in loyalty with his web of lies. Carelessly, he’d buried a grand betrayal in a shallow grave, and when the bones were revealed by a flood of truth, Fisk found himself at the end of the gun he’d slipped into Dex’s tenacious hand. 

Despite having his spine snapped and his mind mangled, Dex had risen from the ashes of his old life far more resilient and formidable than before. It had actually been a former associate of Fisk’s that initially reached out to Dex with a business proposal to utilize his unique talent. He’d been offered a hundred thousand to handle a high profile businessman’s blackmail situation and get rid of the evidence. It was the easiest money he’d ever made, and it led to several referrals after his success was passed around New York’s elite by his first satisfied client. Very quickly, he’d become highly sought after by the opulent dwellers in their ivory towers. They knew exactly who to ask for when they needed a problem solved with discretion. No questions, no mistakes.

Bullseye.

Even though Fisk was part of the catalyst for Dex’s new life, it didn’t stop him from toying with the idea of settling old scores. The Fisks did have an anniversary coming up. Maybe he’d invite himself to the celebration, make it a tradition of being there on the day they commemorated their happy ending, this time without the presence of a devil horned pain in the ass hellbent on ruining his fun. 

𖣠

Warm sunlight carried through the open curtains while Dex stood at the stove, flicking his wrist to flip the over easy egg in the pan with a satisfying sizzle. He had the tv on for background noise, tuned to one of the local news stations. The grim topic of the top story was completely at odds with the nice day.

“As of this morning, there has not been any development on last night’s shocking story involving the murder of Councilman Damon Boone. The NYPD have not yet identified any suspects, and haven’t confirmed if any evidence has been found, but due to the nature of the attack, they do believe it to be premeditated and politically motivated. Just a few moments ago on the steps of City Hall, Councilwoman Mariah Stokes Dillard gave a statement regarding the death of her colleague.”

Dex turned his head to look over his shoulder, his attention piqued as the broadcast cut to footage of the Councilwoman speaking to the press, looking appropriately forlorn.

“When I received the call last night, I was deeply saddened by the news. Though Councilman Boone and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye on certain politics, he was a respected colleague, and a friend. For him to be gunned down in cold blood for his beliefs, on his birthday of all days, is a special kind of cruelty. This is a tragedy that ripples into every corner of our community. Gun violence was one of the most important topics of my campaign, a topic that has become even more personal, and in order to honor Damon’s memory, and bring the community together in the wake of this senseless loss, I will be hosting a benefit-”

Turning back to the stove, Dex shook his head with a dry laugh. He had to hand it to her. The woman knew how to twist a narrative in her favor. And she certainly paid well.

The library wasn’t particularly crowded on Saturday mornings. It was usually parents with their kids, a handful of students working on projects or papers, and the occasional group of elderly coasting through retirement. As he walked through the doors, a familiar figure with a dusting of snow white at the crown of fiery red hair looked up, a smile splitting across her thin wrinkled lips while she shifted her glasses from the bridge of her nose to the top of her head.

“Well look what the cat dragged in. Good morning, Benny.”

Dex flashed the older woman a charming grin as he strode towards the librarian’s station.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henson. Is that a new scarf?”

Looking down at herself, her fingertips absentmindedly traced over the intricate pattern of yarn, pride dripping from her tone.

“My daughter made it for me.”

“Green is your color, but you don’t look nearly old enough to have a daughter.”

A bashful blush rose in the older woman’s cheeks at the flattery, accompanied by a flustered tug at the edges of her mouth while she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, delicately swiping her other hand in the air in a noncommittal dismissive motion. 

“Oh, you…stop. You’re trouble, Benny.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he grinned, flashing her a wink before turning to head off towards the computers.

“Have a good day, Mrs. Henson.”

“She’s single, by the way!”

Shaking his head in amusement, Dex took a sip of his coffee before calling out over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

In his line of work, and especially with the caliber of his clientele, Dex had to operate carefully. He couldn’t exactly just pass out business cards. Around the third hit he’d done, he’d developed a system. Anyone who wanted to hire him had to know someone who already had, and that person could pass along the instructions for how to contact him.

There was a local sports forum online that Dex used as a classifieds section of sorts. Anyone could post to it anonymously, no account needed, and the codes were simple. Once he found a new job, all communication was done through burner phones, and the target details and payment were discussed in person. Dex thoroughly vetted every location before meeting with a new client. He didn’t walk into any building that he didn’t know the layout of, or before making sure it wasn’t some kind of setup. He’d made plenty of enemies both as a federal agent and while under Fisk’s thumb.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Dex scrolled through the baseball section, his eyes scanning over different discussions until he found what he was looking for. It was incredibly amusing to him how people interacted on the internet. Strangers arguing over disagreements on trivial opinions. Arrogant attention-seekers writing ‘think pieces’ no one really gave a shit about. Entitled losers thinking the world should accommodate them personally. And this was just a goddamn baseball forum. He didn’t even want to know what real social media exchanges looked like. He did his best to interact with the internet as little as possible. It was enough to endure the general public in real life as it was.

After about ten minutes of scrolling, he finally found a post that caught his eye.

Wanting to catch a Yankee’s Game soon, heard the Field Level has a great view. Friend recommended section 103 row 2 if you want to see a strikeout. Hope to get a good seat four it.

Strikeout was code for a hit. If someone wanted to hear from Dex, they had to leave him a number to contact them. This person’s message let him know they’d left him one at Yankee Stadium. 

He didn’t have to take it. He didn’t have to take any of them. Dex wasn’t one for luxury or materialism. He didn’t recklessly spend what he earned, and the wealth he’d accumulated was more than enough that he could never work another job and still live comfortably for the rest of his life. Whenever he wanted, he could cash out, travel the world, retire somewhere and spend the rest of his days on a perpetual vacation.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t like being idle. Dex enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. There was also still a small piece of him that felt like he was doing some good. Some of the reasons his clients had for hiring him were petty, but during his reconnaissance, he always found something on his targets. Not that he had to justify what he was doing, a job was a job, and it didn’t really matter if the person deserved to die, or why someone wanted them dead. But still, when he inevitably uncovered depraved secrets and sins hidden in the shadows their own egos cast, it made the kills that much more satisfying.

𖣠

The full moon cast a silvery spotlight that illuminated the stadium just enough for Dex to see without a flashlight. He pulled the cap down low over the brim of his eyes as he quietly descended the steps towards section 103. He’d found that the devil’s hour was the most opportune for sneaking into stadiums. In the off chance he did cross paths with an employee, the security guard uniform combined with a rehearsed story about a clumsy first shift provided an easy cover.

Stepping into row two, he counted the seats and knelt down in front of the fourth one, slipping his hand underneath. Taped to the bottom was a folded piece of paper that he pocketed. When he got back to his apartment, Dex slipped a fresh sim card into a new burner, unfolded the piece of paper, and sent a text to the number scrawled on the creased page.

Still want to catch a game?

Whoever had left the number had been waiting for him, because a response came through two minutes later.

Tomorrow @ 2pm, Penthouse Suite at the Astor

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