aworldonfire | rp | all the hurt that brought me here

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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.

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Matt nods, and by way of agreement, continues with, "I ended up on the tail of the Russian mob. They were selling people -- kids, women. They were also in Fisk's pocket."

Add in meeting Karen and all that happened to her, and well, Foggy can probably figure out how Fisk ended up Johnny in this particular martial arts movie.

Foggy can, yes. "And you tracked it all around to Fisk." He pauses a beat, before he adds, since Matt was out for the explanation, "They told me about your meeting with them."

Edited 2015-12-10 03:23 (UTC)

"When I broke into the penthouse of Stark Tower?" Matt can't help but look dimly amused by the memory. It's all kind of funny, in hindsight, even if maybe it shouldn't be. That might be the drugs talking, making him loopy as they take effect. "Yeah, that -- you know how, when the office equipment first started showing up, I told you I pointed something out to Miss Potts that she hadn't considered before? That was actually mostly the truth."

He'd talked to Tony first, of course, pointed out that his money was going to Fisk's bullshit to him, but Pepper had been called in, too, eventually. She'd known what was going on. She might even have talked Tony into sending the supplies in the first place. He doesn't know.

Foggy just blinks at that, because yes, Matt gave him an excuse for the equipment showing up, but neither of them had mentioned that part of it. "Okay, they left that part out. You broke into Tony Stark's house?"

"He climbed the elevator shaft, when JARVIS wouldn't let him upstairs," Bruce points out, perhaps less than helpfully. It is funny in hindsight, though.

"I climbed the elevator shaft," Matt repeats, looking blearily sheepish. "To my credit, I thought he was working with Fisk at the time. I needed to get into his servers and find out for sure. I figured they were in the penthouse." He pauses, and then, as if it makes that whole plan less stupid, he adds, "I had a flash drive set up to download what I thought I'd need?"

So, you know. He could take it back to the office and look at it there, instead of trying to smuggle his gear in with him.

"Barton offered me popcorn, the second I got up there?"

This is Foggy just staring at you, Matt, can you see that? Because seriously, he thought you were the responsible one in this relationship. (Or, well, maybe not really, considering Matt convinced him to walk away from a cushy job with bagels to save the little people.)

"I don't even know what to say to that," he admits, finally, after a few seconds of doing an impression of a goldfish.

Steve's just trying very hard not to laugh - it's definitely hilarious in hindsight. It might not have been if Matt had actually been trying to do damage, but he figures JARVIS and Clint would have taken care of it if he had had harm in mind.

Fight him, JARVIS. He'd totally kick your ass. And Clint's ass. And his own ass.

"I never said I was any good at this whole vigilante thing," he tells him, for lack of anything better to say. Yes, he gets that it was a stupid plan, now. It seemed like his only option, then. Either way, he shifts a little, sluggishly, to gesture to himself. See also, Foggy.

JARVIS would like to remind everyone Bruce was in the Tower at the time. If things had gotten really desperate, he's pretty sure no one would have taken well to a claim that someone was after Tony. And JARVIS is really not above playing that card - sorry, Bruce, but he has his priorities.

He's also not going to argue that "kick his own ass" considering his current state. (And yes, he's joking, congratulations, Matt, he likes you.)

But anyway, as he's only in this scene peripherally:

"You seem to be doing pretty well so far," Steve returns, and he's being sincere, too. "Just because you've picked up a couple bigger targets recently doesn't mean you haven't taken care of a lot of other problems."

"I wasn't expecting some kind of ... ninja," Matt allows, more seriously and with a nod. Never mind the fact that he's probably technically a ninja, himself. He really wasn't expecting that and before it, he was doing pretty well, plus or minus ending up in the dumpster a couple of times.

"But, yeah, okay." A beat and then, with equal sincerity, "Thanks."

He wasn't fishing for praise, there, but he'll take it.

"Matt, I'm pretty sure you're some kind of ninja," Foggy unknowingly echoes, like Matt maybe took a harder blow to the head than he initially realized. "But that's back to the whole Daniel-san thing."

"Okay, I wasn't expecting another ninja," he answers. Clearly, there's only room in the Kitchen for one ninja at any given time, and he has that market cornered, thank you.

That's better. "Well," Foggy begins, "if you were going for there being only one, you did it. Just. Try not to go track down the others if there are any, okay?"

For a moment, Foggy had been freaked out because the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had presumably broken into his best friend's apartment for some nefarious purpose. Now, he's still coming down from thinking he was actually watching his best friend die. It's probably going to take him a little longer to get over that part of it.

"I wasn't planning on it."

Yet, at least. Maybe later, he'll try and find out if Nobu had any friends (he kind of doubts it, if only because he's pretty sure he would have seen them, too, if he did, and also because Jesus, ninjas, what?), but right now, all he really wants to do is pass out for as long as he can before people start poking him to make sure he hasn't died in his sleep or something.

"I think everyone would appreciate that," Steve puts in sympathetically - for Foggy, anyway. Welcome to the world of worrying about your superhero friends, Mr. Nelson. He also knows Matt's going for reassuring right now and that he's likely to make sure there aren't any others around Nobu out there, but Steve's hoping he can get Clint to be in on it with him when he does.

While he knows all of their team - and yes, that includes Matt and Spiderman, even if they haven't been able to pin down the latter yet - will deal with the occasional injury, he'd rather they all be kept as minor as possible.

"For now, you should get some rest. Somebody'll be around to keep an eye on things." Again, he's pretty sure no one followed Matt home, but he, at least, rests easier when he knows JARVIS is there to keep an eye on things, so he thinks something similar might help Matt, too.

Before Matt can start trying to get comfortable again, Bruce holds up a hand for a pause and, in case Matt's not together enough to register it (between the drugs and the trauma, he's not), he adds, "Hold on a second, before you ... "

Matt hums, staying still, and Bruce moves over to him, reaches for his wrist, puts his fingers to the pulse point there. A handful of seconds pass, and then Bruce lets him go, nodding. Matt may still be white as a sheet, but the beat of his heart isn't screaming shock anymore. It should be safe for him to sleep. "Okay."

"Okay," Matt repeats, sinking into the couch slowly but in earnest, now. He closes his eyes, lets out a heavy breath, and then -- then something seems to occur to him and he opens them again, turning his head in Foggy's direction. His eyes, as always, are unfocused but not as badly as they were when he first came to. He's out of the woods, now, albeit exhausted. "Foggy, if you want to spend the night here, my bed's open."

It's less offer, more demand. Please stay here, Foggy, at least for tonight, where the Avengers can keep an eye on you while he can't.

Edited 2015-12-17 21:49 (UTC)

"Yeah," Foggy returns immediately. He knows what Matt's not asking outright - but it's also not like it's a chore, either, when he wants to be here to keep an eye on Matt.

Not that he thinks he could do anything if someone did try to break in, especially not when one of the Avengers will be there, too, but if he did leave, if he did go back to his own apartment, it's not like he would be able to sleep for worrying about Matt.

"I'll hang around and make sure they can find everything," he adds belatedly, like he actually needs a reason than being worried - and knowing Matt is just as worried.

Whatever Foggy's reasoning, Matt breathes out another sigh and lets himself relax in earnest, sinking solidly into the couch. He closes his eyes again, and after a moment himself, murmurs a "Thank you," the words full of feeling in spite of his condition, his exhaustion.

Surprisingly (or not), it's not long after that before his breathing starts to shift towards something like sleep.

Bruce, on the other hand, watches Matt for a long moment, then turns to Steve, expression questioning. Matt's out of danger of dying, everything seems relatively safe, for the moment. What now? Do they call the others? Are they taking the first shift, as far as keeping an eye on everything goes? He, at least, would like to hang around a little while longer, just in case, but.

Foggy watches for a moment, expression concerned, brows pulled together - and then glances back over his shoulder at Steve when he speaks.

"I should get in touch with Hawkeye and let him know what's going on, and we should probably fill Stark in if he's not already listening and if we're staying here." There is a question there, and he raises an eyebrow slightly, expecting Bruce to answer it.

"I wanna hang around for a little while, just in case, yeah," Bruce answers, able to see the question for what it is.

A pause follows and then he offers Steve a meaningful look to go along with that statement -- in a medical capacity, he means, not in a Hulk Smash capacity. He'll leave that half of things to the part of the team less likely to destroy Hell's Kitchen, if and when something does happen. He's not going to hold it against Steve if he wants to cut out if and when Clint comes by, though.

Edited 2015-12-20 02:40 (UTC)

It'll depend on when Clint gets there, really, and he just nods - and then looks at Foggy.

"I do want to hang out, if I won't be in the way. I can't just go home, either way."

"You won't be in the way," Steve assures him, shifting to face him more. "He will be okay, though. If he does start getting worse, we have medical equipment back at the Tower, and we can take him there. He shouldn't need even that, though." He pauses a beat. "And I think it would make him feel better if you were here," he finishes, with a nod to Matt, and Foggy just nods again, still looking vaguely miserable.

"You won't be," Bruce promises nearly in time with Steve. A faint, amused smile follows, not something he can entirely help and as he glances to Steve, but to his credit, it fades almost as quickly as it came. Silence follows, as Steve continues, and then he returns his attentions to Foggy, nodding. "He'll be okay."

If Matt was going to crash, Bruce is pretty sure he would have already. He's not going to put it like that for obvious reasons, however, and regardless, he's quick to change the subject -- or try to. "You should try and get some rest, though." He needs the sleep as much as Matt does, he's sure, and Matt did offer him his bed.

Foggy looks immediately uncertain of that idea but sighs a moment later. Considering how long he's been awake, today, he really actually should, but even if he's staying here, he's not sure he'll be able to sleep. "You'll let me know if anything else happens." That's not a question, and he glances to each of them for confirmation - which he immediately gets from Steve in a nod.

"Of course."

"Yeah," Bruce agrees, again almost in time with Steve. He shoos Foggy in the direction of what he assumes is the bedroom, if only because that's where the blankets came from earlier. "Go. We've got him."

"Okay," Foggy says, finally, pushing himself up and heading for the bedroom with another glance back at the couch - and Matt on it.

Once he's gone, Steve turns to face Bruce. "I'm going to go call Barton and Stark and catch them up and check the block again, just in case." He really doesn't think anyone followed Matt back, but he'd feel better checking again before they settle in.

Bruce watches Foggy go; when he thinks he hears him at least sit down on the bed, he glances to Steve in turn, satisfied. A nod follows and Bruce reaches up to touch his own comm, less often used than even Matt's albeit for different reasons. "I'll be here, if you need me."

On the line, in the apartment, whichever.

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kid_from_brooklyn - 2015-12-20 04:13 (UTC) - Expand

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