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‘You’ve got to be shitting me.’ Was what went through Frank’s mind as he caught sight of none other than Matt Murdock across the diner he’d just left.
He was comforted by the fact that his presence also seemed to catch Matt by surprise as the Devil was wearing his lawyer costume and stood frozen at the corner. He had on his usually clothes: dark pants and suit, white shirt and a red tie. It was getting chilly and he had a thick jacket on, a faded brown satchel hanging from a shoulder. Red lenses gleamed under the streetlights, hands clutching at his white cane. Even from afar Frank could make our his furrowed brow.
‘Definitely surprised.’ Which was good. It meant the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t stalking him.
Still, now that Red had caught his scent or however it was he ‘saw’, there was no way he was letting Frank walk away without at least one or two speeches about morality. He groaned at the thought, especially since he was on the prowl that night. Not for anyone specific, but he could use the exercise.
He pulled his baseball cap further down his face before walking down an alley that opened into a relatively empty street. There was a small parking lot where he’d left his newly acquired-stolen-car. It was close to eight at night and it was mostly deserted. He didn’t need to hear the click-clack of Matt’s cane to know the Devil was on his tail.
‘Fantastic.’
As he crossed the street into the parking lot, he heard laughter further down the street the alley opened up into. He turned his head to do a quick recon. Four young men-punks really-were heading toward said alley drinking and shouting as they went. They all had to be in their mid twenties or something. Tall and their gait was full of arrogance. One of them, Punk 1, had an awful red mohawk. Two others, punks 2 and 3, had black hair-one with a crew cut the other long and wild and had a terrible neon green t-shirt that seemed to flash in the dark. The fourth was shaved, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. They seemed on the tipsy side and were loud enough to be a disturbance.
‘Fucking punks, bothering the neighbors.’ He really hated their type. But they were soon going to be Red’s problem. He went to the far side of the parking lot where the car was and got in, not bothering to turn on the ignition yet.
A few seconds later Matt came out of the alley and stopped, probably reorienting himself or looking for Frank. The four punks had also stopped at his sudden appearance and Frank could see them whispering and pointing at the blind lawyer. Meanwhile Matt turned his body in Frank’s direction and started toward him.
‘How the hell can he tell?’
The punks though, stopped Red before he could cross the street into the parking lot. He must have been completely focused on Frank because he actually flinched when they surrounded him. For a second he smirked at Murdock’s predicament. Until he realized how bad this was. Because those kids didn’t know he was Daredevil. They didn’t know he could beat their asses without breaking a sweat.
No, the assholes were purposely going after a blind man. Blind men can’t defend themselves. They can’t sense people around them and unleash hidden ninja skills that would leave them weeping in fear. If a blind person decided to fight back they might get a good hit with their white cane. But there were four of them. Four sorry excuses of human beings going after a defenseless blind man!
Because Frank knew Matt would not fight back, he’d try to talk them down. He could see it happening right now.
The punks’ noise level reached across the parking lot but he couldn’t make out the words. Matt’s lips were moving though. Frank could practically hear him, voice soft as if anything louder or firm would scare them.
He was probably saying something idiotic like, “You don’t have to do this.” or “I don’t want any trouble.” or stupider still “You’re making a mistake.” Some shit like that.
Frank’s trigger finger twitched. Something must have tipped Red off because he looked straight at him-or rather, turned his head in his direction. He had the gall to shake his head ‘no’ once, strong and threatening.
‘Well, tough shit.’
Then one of them, the one with the ridiculous looking red mohawk, threw his arm back and punched the inoffensive blind lawyer to the ground, satchel and cane dropping around him.
‘Son of a-,’
Frank got out of the car and slammed the door shut. He had enough presence of mind to keep his baseball cap on as he stomped toward Red and the four soon to be broken punks.
See, he’d happily beat the shit out of Red any day. He’d probably leave him to fight a dozen or so armed men. Maybe even smirk about it. But this wasn’t the Devil. And even if Matt might roll with the punches and shrug later saying something goddam idiotic like “I’ve had worse”. This was still about a group of no good morons picking a fight-for sport-with a fucking blind man.
Frank wasn’t going to let it stand. Fuck he was angry. Blood was pumping in his ears and his fingers had curled tightly into fists. What right did they have to go harassing and punching people? What made them think they could get away with the shit they were pulling? They were going to regret ever getting out of bed that morning.
Punk number 3 and his neon green shirt kicked Red’s cane away while punk 1 and 2 roughly ‘helped’ him up. Then punk 4 went and ripped Matt’s glasses from him and put them on. And seeing those red lenses on somebody else’s face rubbed Frank the wrong way. Still, the dumbass wasn’t doing anything to fight back.
‘Red, you fucking moron.’
He looked again toward Frank and now mouthed the word NO.
“Screw you Red. I’m doing my civic duty.” He snarled under his breath, knowing he’d be heard.
He was now close enough to hear some of the things being said, and that only made him more furious.
“Come on you disabled freak! Just throw a punch. It doesn’t matter if you can’t see, it’s like trying to hit a piñata!” Mohawk said.
“Does he even know what a piñata is?” Punk 2 asked sounding genuinely confused-like maybe he didn’t know.
“Come on man let's just go.” There might be hope for punk 3. “It’s no fun hitting someone who won’t fight back.” Maybe not.
“Why are we even bothering with this freak. Let’s just put him out of his misery.” Punk 4 said with too much calmness as he pulled out a pocket knife. Frank felt rage well up in him. He was going to carve the fucker’s eyes out and make him beg for death.
“Please, don’t do this.” Now there was a spike of fear in Matt’s voice, and what made Castle want to forget the garbage and punch Red until he lost consciousness was that Frank knew the words were directed at him, and the fear was for said garbage’s lives.
‘Fucking altar boy.’
Matt struggled against Punk 1 and 2’s rough handling, and maybe some of the Devil was coming out to play because they both frowned at his sudden strength, but punk 4 quickly quelled it by punching Matt in the face and stomach causing the kid to groan in pain.
‘That does it.’
With a snarl Frank ran the last steps to send the closest moron flying (sadly not punk 4 wearing Red’s glasses). Only then did the idiots finally realize he was there and dropped Matt in haste before they were all taking knives out of their pockets. Punk 2 scrambled to get up and stand behind his buddies, lip split and blood dripping onto his shirt. A shark like smile came to Frank’s face.
“I also like it when they can fight back.” He said, deep voice full of meaning.
“Hey asshole back off!” Punk 3 said as he realized those were his own words.
Red was still on the ground, head doing that weird cat-like tilting thing it did when he was listening intently. Probably didn’t bother to get himself off the dirty floor incase he spooked someone into doing something rash.
Oh they were having words later.
“Did he ask you the same thing?” He asked.
Punk 4 scoffed. “This coward?” He was going down first. “Nothing past ‘Can I help you?’, I mean are you serious?” Right after he ‘accidentally’ kicked Red in the face. Hey, rescues like this, people sometimes get hit when they’re being protected. “Fucker had it coming, blindly walking into our turf.” He’d cut his throat with the asshole’s own knife.
Punk 1 snickered. “I see what you did there. Hey blind man, did you see what he did there?” Then he cackled along side the other three stooges. Frank casually put his hand in the pocket of his jacket, feeling the metal inside.
Punk 2, probably in a show of protest against being punched, walked over Red, literally stepping on him and causing a hiss of pain. Murdock had been fighting a gang a few nights ago hadn’t he? Shit, dumbass was probably hurt.
The rest joined in the blind jokes, and Punk 1 even aimed a kick at Red’s side. Frank narrowed his eyes, every muscle in him ready to pounce.
“Oops, sorry man didn’t see you there!” Hoots and yells joined him, each celebrating their own sorry intelligence.
Frank had had enough.
“Frank don’t!” Murdock yelled just as he pulled the Glock 42 from his pocket. He aimed for their knees, shooting at kneecaps that would take a long time to heal, and would be painful all through recovery and hopefully even after.
Their screams were sad, high and Jesus they were crying. After all their big boy talk they were crying like fucking babies. They all laid twitching between him and Red, but his focus was on one person.
He knelt next to Punk 4, taking the glasses off his face and automatically putting them in his pocket before shoving the still hot muzzle right over his eye. Punk 4 screamed in agony.
“What’s the matter boy? Does it hurt? Should know better than to take what isn’t yours.”
“Stop it.” A hand appeared on his shoulder, gripping it tight in warning. Apparently Red had gotten up, and was promptly ignored.
“Listen you piece of shit.” He snarled, shrugging the hand off at the same time he grabbed Punk 4 by his shirt collar and bringing him up so their faces were inches apart. “The only reason I’m letting you live, tonight-,” and he was very specific about his wording, Red can bitch all he wants later. “is because I don’t want to traumatize this poor bastard anymore than you four did.” He could practically feel Murdock’s offended stare. Traumatized? Him?
“Who are you man!?” Someone cried.
“Just fooling around.” Another moaned.
Frank ripped his cap off and there was an immediate increase in tension and fear.
“Pu-pu-punisher!” Stupid mohawk guy whispered in disbelieving horror.
“You go near him, or near anyone else and I will finish you off. It won’t be quick, and it sure as hell won’t be painless. I know you know I’m not bluffing. Do we understand each other?” By now they were all whimpering and shaking with terror. Frank was sure one of them had let his bladder go. It suddenly smelled really bad.
Punk 4 was mumbling something, snot covering his mouth. “WELL!?”
“Ye-yes sir, of course! Please don’t kill us!”
Frank dropped him.
“Now all of you get on your knees and beg his forgiveness.”
“That’s not-,”
“It’s vital if you want to live.” The Punisher growled over Matt, gun pointing at punk 4’s head.
In clear agony but too scared to do otherwise, the four got on their knees, barely managing a terrified ‘sorry’ before falling to the ground again, a new bout of crying and screams filling the night.
“Let’s go.” Frank didn’t let Matt speak. He walked right past him and picked up his cane and satchel before heading back to his car. There was a moment’s hesitation before steps followed him.
It was probably a minute until they were both inside. Wails and moans reached them from the downed morons, but Frank didn’t give a damn, merely starting his car and driving slowly away.
He was still pissed, incredibly so. At the punks who picked on blind defenseless men, at Red for not being defenseless and still not doing shit about his situation, at himself for not outright killing them. What did he care if it’d have gotten Red all bothered? So lost was he in his anger that it took him a few blocks before he noticed anything wrong.
It was quiet.
He was driving with Red in his car, after kneecapping and threatening a bunch of lowlifes and it was quiet.
‘The fuck?’
He looked at the lawyer quickly, eyes roaming over his body before his eyes were back on the road.
“You hurt Red?” He sounded angry.
“No?”
“That a question Red?”
“No.”
Frank took a deep breath, because now he felt like he had to ask whether that no was a more confident ‘No, I’m not hurt.’ or ‘No, that wasn’t a question’.
‘Driving me insane. Stupid kid.’
“The hell you being so quiet about then?” He gritted out.
“I just-,”
“Just what!?” He looked at Matt again, and he saw what he hadn’t before. The kid looked… confused.
“I don’t understand you.” Was his answer, face turned in his direction.
For the first time Frank was up close with reality. Yeah, he’d known Matt Murdock was blind, and he knew Red was blind. He’d seen him walking with his white cane and saw those fingers running over braille filled papers when he’d been defending Frank Castle. He’d just never really seen his eyes. He hadn’t expected them to be so… unfocused, unseeing, vacant. Except, while they were clearly unseeing they weren’t really vacant. The eyes were still the windows to the soul whether they saw anything or not, and Matthew Murdock was an open book. He looked young and frustrated and still 100% confused.
“What don’t you understand?”
But Matt had changed tracks. “What’s wrong? Your heart just spiked.”
‘My heart?’
“Just how good is you hearing Red?”
“Good enough to hear your heart.”
‘Cheeky little shit.’
“Whatever. And don’t change the subject. What don’t you understand?” He’d get back to the kid’s insane hearing another time.
“Why did you help me?”
‘Are you shitting me?’ He thought.
“Are you shitting me?” He asked.
Matt simply shrugged. “I’ve was tailing you. You obviously noticed. You hate it when I follow you and get in your way.” He shrugged again. “You could have been long gone before they got bored and left.”
Frank’s hand tightened over the steering wheel. Of course Red thought he’d take the opportunity to get a good head start. Of course he’d jump to the conclusion that he’d leave an innocent man in a dangerous situation just to one up him. Of course the dumbass would be confused because who the fuck does that? He wondered suddenly how many times people have just walked on by when the blind man needed help. The thought is not helping him calm down.
“You’re a piece of work you know that Red?” He’s confused again and about to answer. Frank won’t let him. “I kill a bunch of people and you still try to convince me there’s still some good in me. I help a blind man in trouble and you can’t understand why.”
“I wasn’t in trouble.”
“Sure, and I hate violence.”
“I wasn’t!” The kid denies again.
“So what, you were waiting to make a move?”
Silence is his only answer and for some reason it doesn’t feel like a victory. Fuck he’s pissed again.
“You’re a goddam moron Red.”
“Language.”
“Fuck you!” Frank pulled over with a violent screech, barely waiting to put it in park before turning to glare at Matt. “You know the one thing I know about you for certain? No, don’t answer dumbass, I’m speaking!” He waited a full second before continuing. “You have zero self-preservation skills. You’ll fight for others, put yourself in danger and do crazy ninja shit that normal lowlifes couldn’t possibly comprehend. But when it comes to your safety it’s like you don’t give a shit what happens to you.”
“You’re exaggerating. I-,”
“Did I say you could speak?” Matt closed his mouth with a click. “I’m not debating this with you, you damn lawyer. You’re a dumbass. That’s a fact. I just saved your ass from something you could have gotten out of yourself. But no, you decided not to bother.”
“I can’t let people know my secret.”
“Bullshit.” Frank glared at him for speaking. “In the cemetery-,” And here the Punisher’s voice soften a bit, remembering his confession and the genuine sadness Red had displayed. The tears he’d shed had done more to earn Frank’s respect than anything else. “You could have disappeared before the cops showed up but you stayed to make sure they didn’t screw up, make sure your precious system worked. They would have known who you were in a second but you stayed anyway. The only reason you’re here is because your friend Brett is actually a pretty fucking decent guy.”
Matt looked panicked for a second, making Frank roll his eyes in frustration. “Yeah, I know who he is and no, I’m not going to do anything to him because as I just said… he’s a pretty fucking decent guy.” He took a fortifying breath. “And again, this is about you being a dumbass. Don’t get distracted. I got more to yell at you for.”
“Can we not?”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Fucking moron.” He sighed and fell quiet.
Matt didn’t know what to think. Here he was being lectured by the Punisher of all people. It felt surreal and at the same time it made him feel sad. How far had he fallen that the only person to help him when he was in trouble was someone like Frank? It seemed like not long ago Foggy would have been right beside him trying to get those thugs to leave them alone. But Foggy was gone, and Matt wasn’t his problem anymore.
“Did you hear me Red?” Oh, Frank was talking to him.
“What?”
“Apparently not.” The anger had bled out of Frank’s voice, but he was still tense and annoyed. “Listen, I don’t care what stuff you get up to as the Devil. But if you’re going to go around and put your life in danger then I’m going to have to do something about it, cause like it or not, pain in the ass that you are, dumbass and fucking martyr-“
“Get to the point Frank.” Matt interrupted in exasperation.
“You’re a good man Murdock, don’t deserve to get beat to shit by some damn punks.”
Matt stared at him-or in his direction-with wide eyes. “You’re telling the truth.” He whispered in awe.
“Course I’m telling the truth. Why do you sound so surprised by it?” He answered with an eye roll. And he sounded angry again.
‘Kid makes me look like a piece of shit.’
It wasn’t being truthful that caught Matt by surprise but rather the words themselves. “Most people would disagree with you.” He didn’t know what made him say it, but he did and now Frank’s heart was beating in a way Matt knew was in surprise.
‘Is he serious?’
“Why does something tell me you’re not talking about the Devil?”
Matt just smiled sadly at him.
‘Fuck, I am not suddenly a goddamn therapist!’
“Whatever Red, that’s shit and you can tell those morons I said so.”
“I lied to them.”
‘Of course he thinks lying is just the worst.’
“Everyone lies Red, and you probably do to protect people. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Now quit pouting and moping and go home.” He wanted to be done with this conversation. He’d come out to hunt, found Red and thought about having a good fight only to end the night playing father to a kid who was being bullied by others and didn’t know his worth because apparently no one had told him so. He’d had to do it with Lisa once.
‘No, don’t go there.’
“Frank?”
“Get out Red, before I decide to charge you for this little pep talk or whatever the hell just happened. And next time some punks decide to use you as punching bag, fucking punch back.”
It was only then that Matt realized they stopped a block from his apartment. So focused had he been on Frank, his words and just the strangeness of the whole night that nothing else had mattered. It didn’t surprise him that the Punisher knew where he lived. It would have been one of the first things he’d do once he found out who was under the cowl. It still irked him a bit since Matt had no idea where Frank was staying at the moment.
He silently got out of the car and made to close the door before a grunt stopped him. Frank wordlessly held out his folded up cane and satchel. Matt took them with a genuine thank you, the cane’s weren’t all that cheap.
“Thanks Frank.”
“Whatever. You’re a dumbass and don’t forget that.” With those loving words, the Punisher drove off, leaving Matt on the sidewalk.
He couldn’t believe the events of the last hour and immediately felt like telling Foggy. Except Foggy didn’t want to know anything about him. With a heavy heart, he entered his building, ears following the engine of Castle’s car until it got lost in the general noise of the city. It wasn’t until he was inside his apartment, hand reaching for his face reflexively that he realized he hadn’t gotten his sunglasses back.
He sighed. “Great.”
A few days had passed since the strange evening. Matt had spent some of those days thinking back on what had happened and on Frank’s words. On this particular night, he entered his apartment and was met with a familiar scent that stopped him in his tracks: gunpowder, leather, coffee and a bit of dog. Frank. Frank had been in his home.
On his bed he found a small cloth bag and a piece of paper. His senses told him there were protrusions on it, and a quick touch confirmed it was braille. He smiled, Frank had gotten a few letters mixed up, but he got the message:
You look stupid in those
Smirking, he put the paper down and opened the small bag, taking a pair of sunglasses out of it. He knew these were his own, the smooth round lenses just as he remembered them. Carefully, he took off the ones he was currently wearing and put the red lenses on. He immediately sighed in contentment at the familiar weight. He gently folded the other ones, a pair of aviator sunglasses. They’d been the only ones he’d found stashed away in one of his drawers.
Foggy had given them to him as a joke years back, saying it made him look like one of those hipster rich kids and were too big for his face. He hadn’t had the heart to throw them away. Over the last couple of days they’d been a constant reminder of the friendship he destroyed and was both sad and glad he could put them back out of sight. Relatively speaking.
Matt had picked up that people didn’t really like them on him. Apparently Frank had seen him wearing them and thought the same. When and where he wasn’t sure, but it meant a lot that he’d returned the red ones. He ran his fingers over the lenses again, loving how they felt.
“Thanks Frank.”
He wondered if this meant the Punisher would’t mind having a tag along later that night.