aworldonfire: (can't silence all my rage)
Matt Murdock ([personal profile] aworldonfire) wrote2015-12-05 03:01 pm

rp | all the hurt that brought me here

It's a miracle, he thinks, that he got away from Nobu, from Fisk. It's a miracle that he made it back to his apartment, as beaten as he is. It's a miracle, but singing the praises of God doesn't follow him much past the door, not because he doesn't want to but because, while he's still alive, still fighting, he's rapidly devolving into hysterical thought thanks to the blood loss, and what he's stricken by, standing in the doorway of the rooftop access, is that he remembers what red looks like, would swear he could see it.

It's in the taste of his own blood in his mouth, after all, the wash of pain in his stomach and chest that rushes over him whenever he draws breath, the smell of metal (not his own, not copper, so much blood, oh, God), clinging to his wounds, where he was stabbed again and again and again. It all permeates as much as Clint's cover's body spray did, the red, making it hard to think, hard to see beyond his absent sight, and he takes a drunken step forward, presses his fingers to the wall that runs alongside the steps that come down into his apartment, hoping it will help, praying for a touchstone. He makes it down a handful of stairs, something like wild optimism rising in his chest, alongside the pain (he can make it, if he can just make it to the phone, make it to Claire), before it all goes to hell.

His foot catches on something, something likely broken by him, by Stick, less than a handful of days ago, and he trips. He hits the remaining steps face-first, so fast it takes him a moment to register what just happened, to grunt, no more winded that he already was (is his lung punctured? he can't tell. it hurts. father forgive him -- both of them), and try to sit up. All he manages is to slide the rest of the way down the steps to the ground and for black to join the red, a memory of tunnel vision closing in on the edges of his mind's eye, as what little he can get from his other senses slips, stutters, unconsciousness creeping up on him. He doesn't try to get up again, after that, just lays there, panting. He doesn't even hear the door opening again above him, practically miles away.

He doesn't know how many minutes pass, him laying there, but eventually and what seems to him suddenly, something occurs to him. He shifts again, not trying to get up this time but to press his shaking fingers to the comm at his ear, always worn, just in case, but rarely used outside of his team ups with Clint and Natasha. It takes him three tries to actually get there, actually find his ear, and when he manages, it takes a moment more of false starts to fight past the black and find the breath for his words. It never occurs to him to think that the Avengers, if they're listening, already know what's going on, if only to a certain degree, that the comms are always transmitting, always receiving, that help may already be on the way.

"Little -- little help here?" he chokes out. "I need help. Please."

The red and black catch up to him, after that, as relentless as he's ever been in the same colors, and he slips into something like twilight.
avocado_atlaw: (pic#)

[personal profile] avocado_atlaw 2015-12-06 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
While Matt doesn't hear the noise at the door above him, Foggy does hear the noise from inside the apartment. He stops at the door, hand on the knob, frowning at it for a moment. "Matt?" he calls, tentatively.

There's no response, no further noise from inside the apartment, and Foggy goes for his pocket, for his keys, to open the door and let himself in, as he's done so many times over the years. He stops just inside the door to listen again, repeating, "Matt?"

Foggy wanders farther in, keeping an eye out for whatever he heard - and it's only a few more moments before he sees the figure collapsed at the bottom of the stairs - and then only a moment after that before he recognizes the figure from the news. He goes still, breath catching as he watches him for a moment - only exhaling and moving closer when he doesn't seem to be moving.

"Matt?" His voice is quieter this time, and he sets his satchel down, peering into the kitchen. "Please don't be dead because of the crazy vigilante."

He goes still again at a sound from the lump at the bottom of the stairs, and he pauses - and then huffs out a sigh, frowning. Even with how the media has painted the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, he can't bring himself to just leave him laying there without at least checking if he's breathing, and he moves carefully closer.
avocado_atlaw: (pic#)

[personal profile] avocado_atlaw 2015-12-06 06:34 am (UTC)(link)
"Okay, you're not dead," Foggy tells him. "Just. Stay right there and please don't suddenly attack me when I turn around."

That said, he doesn't actually turn around, walking backward a few steps as he skirts around the man on the floor to peer into Matt's bedroom, to see if he's there, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone to hit the speed dial to call Matt.

It's only a moment later that the sound of his own name in a computerized voice reaches Foggy's ears. He turns to find Matt's phone on the coffee table, ending the call once it goes to voicemail. "Where are you, Murdock," he mutters, his eyes fixing again on the other person in the room.

"I should call the cops," he tells both of them, but he also can't stop himself taking a step forward - and then another. It's a terrible idea - but he can't quite stop himself wanting to know just who it is that's been terrorizing the Kitchen.
avocado_atlaw: (pic#)

[personal profile] avocado_atlaw 2015-12-06 07:19 am (UTC)(link)
Foggy continues forward until he's by Matt's side - and then he carefully crouches, a shaking hand reaching out for the mask - and, before he can stop himself, he takes hold of the bottom edge, to pull it up.

For a moment, he can only stare. There's an instant where he can't reconcile what he's seeing, can't put together the image of Matt in front of him where the Devil of Hell's Kitchen was a moment later - and then, before he has time to do more than breathe out "Matt?", the door above him opens. There's the quiet sound of a footstep, of someone obviously moving quietly, and Foggy straightens hurriedly, backpedaling a few steps as he grabs for the first thing that comes to hand - in this case, one of Matt's canes - as he backs into the kitchen, out of sight of whoever's coming in.

He might still be reeling, still trying to accept his discovery, but even if his best friend is also a terrible, feared vigilante, he's not about to let anyone in to finish what they started without a fight.

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thehawkinhisnest: (Talking)

[personal profile] thehawkinhisnest 2015-12-20 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
It's some time later that Clint and Natasha get back - and, after a brief stop at the Tower to get some sleep of their own, to the apartment.

Not that Clint wasn't more in favor of going straight to Matt's, but he didn't want to actually fall asleep in the middle of keeping watch, either. They had their own explanations to make to Foggy when he woke up during the changing of the guard - and then some convincing to get him to leave the apartment for any time, even if just long enough to get coffee.

It's during that time that Clint gets hungry, having foregone eating at the Tower in favor of getting to Matt's sooner. And, since he had instructions to see if he could get Matt up long enough for a round of medication, he's not being particularly stealthy about stealing Matt's food.

It's better than actually poking Matt and getting punched for his trouble, after all.
thehawkinhisnest: (Default)

[personal profile] thehawkinhisnest 2015-12-20 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
"Hey, he's alive," Clint returns around a mouthful of cereal. "Yeah, moving's probably not the best idea right now, all things considered."

He wanders out of the kitchen and back into the living room, rounding the couch to perch on the arm of one of the easy chairs, facing Matt, and take another bite of cereal. Even if Matt can't see him in the traditional way, he doesn't want to put more strain on him by making him yell across the room, either.
thehawkinhisnest: (Default)

[personal profile] thehawkinhisnest 2015-12-20 05:34 am (UTC)(link)
Clint chews noisily for a moment, stopping himself from making the comment he almost does when Matt stops himself from going for the bandages. "I'm pretty sure you got hit by the whole fleet," he replies, anyway, and swallows before he actually answers the question. "He went out with Nat to bring back coffee. We thought he could use a few minutes out of the apartment while things were calm."

None of them were really expecting ninjas to descend in the middle of the day, but even Clint wasn't entirely comfortable with Foggy going out by his own.

Not that Foggy would have gone out on his own without some nudging, anyway, but.

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withmoreme: (Default)

[personal profile] withmoreme 2016-01-02 06:45 am (UTC)(link)
The elevator does bypass Pepper's floor, continuing a few more above where Matt likely remembers the holodeck to be, to slow to a stop on the floor containing Tony's workshop. Before the doors open, Matt can likely hear the Who at a decent volume - that drops when the elevator doors open.

"JARVIS!" Tony's voice comes right on the heels of the volume change. "We've had this conversa-oh."

"Right this way, Mister Murdock," JARVIS says, bemused, over Tony grumbling something in the background about not needing his AI to be considerate for him.
withmoreme: (This is how we get this done)

[personal profile] withmoreme 2016-01-02 07:25 am (UTC)(link)
The lab is actually well organized, so there aren't likely to be too many things for Matt to trip over. It makes it easier for the bots to get around, after all, and Matt might hear Dum-E moving on the other side of the lab. He'll probably be over to examine the visitor in a minute, but for now, he's busy with something else.

"Thanks," Tony returns with a grin. "If I'd noticed the time it would have been the Stones." "Sympathy for the Devil", because Tony is hilarious, at least in his own mind.

"And thanks for coming all the way over here," he adds as he sets down his soldering iron, pushing himself up off his stool to round the table, to actually give Matt his attention, and the music volume fades farther.

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avocado_atlaw: (pic#)

[personal profile] avocado_atlaw 2016-01-11 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
Considering everything that's been going on, Foggy hasn't been in his apartment all that much lately. He's just getting back there tonight, though, and he dumps his briefcase in its usual spot by one of the leather easy chairs in his living room, reaching up to tug his tie off as he heads for the bedroom, intent on shrugging out of his jacket and then heading back to the kitchen for something to drink.

He's probably going to wish he had turned the lights on here in a second.
avocado_atlaw: (pic#)

[personal profile] avocado_atlaw 2016-01-11 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
Foggy catches the movement in the kitchen as he steps back into the living room, and he startles, grabbing the first thing that comes to hand - in this case, a law book he had been using for reference one night - to pitch it blindly at the dark shape ahead of him as he spins to go back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Shit. Shit shit shit.
avocado_atlaw: (pic#)

[personal profile] avocado_atlaw 2016-01-11 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
There's another thud as Matt opens the door, as Foggy throws something else. There's also the sound of him hitting buttons on, presumably, his cell phone. Now might be a good time to say something, Matt.

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thehawkinhisnest: (Default)

[personal profile] thehawkinhisnest 2016-02-13 09:18 am (UTC)(link)
Clint lets himself in the roof top door, closing it behind him, looking for Matt. "Hey," he calls when he spots him, heading down the stairs.

He's in all black, not that far from Matt's outfit if a little sturdier, considering it's all S.H.I.E.L.D. issue. Matt will have seen him in it before, anyway, for the nights they've gone out that he didn't want to advertise.

"How's it going?" He mostly means that casually, even if he's probably asked it a lot lately in reference to Matt's healing.
thehawkinhisnest: (Default)

[personal profile] thehawkinhisnest 2016-02-14 05:35 am (UTC)(link)
Clint shoots him a sympathetic look as he moves to sit down on the other couch. "Getting benched sucks."

He grins at that. "Yeah, y'know. Long walks in the moonlight, possibly some tandem face punching, that kinda thing."

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