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***
A light two-handed push swung the dojo doors open before me. It was the usual semi-darkness inside, unusual for the sighted, but no big deal for blind Murdoch.
My foolish habit of constantly adjusting my gloves and hat played into my hands when the staff struck me in the chest.
I intercepted it, twisting it to the side and taking a step closer to my attacker, and used to strike with my fist, duplicating it with my claw, but it was only a moment later that I remembered that I'd removed the tentacles before the dock left, leaving the dangerous and remarkable equipment in the lab.
-What kind of dance was that, Shawn? Or in your victories have you become so caught up in your pride?
The ingratiating voice of the 'devil' whispered from all directions, occasionally accompanied by the tapping of his cane on the floor or walls. He was everywhere and nowhere, lurking in the shadows, hiding from my gaze, realising that open combat would not be easy for him now.
But I wasn't easy myself.
Several small balls shot out of my wrist. A small device, modelled after Pete's web shooters, sends sticky gift bombs towards the flickering silhouette.
A true miracle, left as a gift from Mr Sticky Tube.
Splash.
Reaching their target, with a hiss and increasing noise, several bombs explode in the darkness, decorating the dojo with grotesque shadows.
-What the hell is that?
There was more surprise and incomprehension in Daredevil's voice now, though I thought there was some respect there as well.
All but the last charge went into the darkness, bursting and hissing, forcing Murdock to be more active, changing his usual tactics of confronting strong opponents.
Out of the darkness, doused in solidifying foam, he tried one last bite, mimicking the "head of the wolf," but I only had to hold on for a couple of seconds before the foam completely engulfed his torso and left arm, after which the disarming of his mentor was a cinch.
-That wasn't fair.
-Yeah.
-It was mean and aesthetically unpleasing.
-Yeah, well.
-I like it. Got any more?
-Ha-ha.
A spray can was pulled out of an inner pocket, rapidly corroding the solidified substance and eating away some of the red paint.
-Yeah, I guess there's no such thing as minuses, right?I shrugged at that silly claim and simply walked around Matt, turning on the light and removing the mask from his head.
-It's a small price to pay for such an effective product.
-I can't argue with that. - Tapping his cane next to the remnants of foam, he scrutinised the liquid, sometimes even poking at it with the tip of his weapon, -interesting effect. Where did you get it?
-I took it from the body of a dead criminal, and my friend finished it.
-I see. Glad to see you're not just relying on your fists.
I open up my coat and show Murdoch my paranoid kit. Bundles of fishing line, rags, pepper spray, Tasers, a spare telescope, and even a simple brass knuckle.
-How do you carry all this stuff?
-With time you get used to it, -I smiled slyly and pulled up my jumper, showing pieces of implant, on which I tapped with my fingernail, -but I didn't take the most important weapon.
-Yeah... Heard it from our chatty friend.
Like an old cat looking at a puppy, Murdock circled the implant, occasionally clucking his tongue and muttering to himself.
I'm not as tech-savvy as you or your friends, but even to my layman's eye, this is impressive.
-Oh, you'll see the tentacles themselves, it's a hoot. -Yeah, trust him.
-Yeah, take his word for it, cos getting to know them is a below-average experience.
-Danny.
I spread my arms happily so I could embarrass a satisfied Iron Fist, who returned the favour.
With his hands firmly clasped behind my back, Rand lifted me off the ground and sent me to the floor in a single throw.
-"Don't relax, dude.
-Some kind of wrestling thing...
-Rand gave me a hand with his thumb, but instead of accepting my help, I kicked him in the knee," the little fucker said. Well, at least it wasn't in the balls....
-Heh-heh.
-Stop playing games. This mating game of yours is not going to end well.
Shaking his head sternly, Murdoch beckoned us to follow him, leading us deeper into the dojo, into a small room with a pile of junk. There was an antique desk with a brand-new laptop sitting lonely on it.
-You're living large.
-Danny," Matt waved away a frowning Fist and sat down at the head of the desk, turning the laptop screen towards us without looking, "I want you to take a look at this.
Pressing the space bar, Murdock launched a video showing a large warehouse littered with all sorts of crates and equipment from the old days. Machines, cranes, and rudimentary work tables for turners and fitters. Cracked paint, cobwebs and other signs of antiquity clearly indicated that this place had not been used for a long time.
But a minute passed, and the warehouse was illuminated by a bright light from a slowly widening opening. The hangar doors opened until it was as bright as daylight inside.
The first shadows appeared immediately. Large silhouettes strode in, and as they approached, Danny and I's eyes rounded.
A veritable parade of evolution, or in other words, mutants of all sorts.
A large, beastly-looking man, his nose swivelling from side to side, baring his fangs and snarling. His wild, dashing appearance conjured up images of a rabid dog or other predator, obviously larger and more dangerous.
A boy was hanging around him, spikes growing on his skin in random places. They spread out from his chest in waves, following the rhythm of his breathing. Unlike the first, wrapped in a cloak and army boots, the second was dressed lightly, even too lightly, especially considering the frost outside.
The third was an extremely fat, huge man, chewing some kind of nachos. In a tight tracksuit that barely held his body, he staggered from foot to foot and strode inside.
"What a coward, a goofball, an old-timer."
The thought flashed and the comment aloud was interrupted by the appearance of a fourth face, hiding behind the fat man's back for the time being. Stepping out of his shadow, the member of the "evolution" gang strode forward.
Chewing on a toothpick, eyes spinning frantically, a very ordinary man of good physique was fiddling with the coins in his hands, playing with them in a way that would be the envy of any Captain Jack Sparrow.
He was dressed in the costume of a football team supporter, but from beneath the garment a semblance of a suit covering his throat was visible. He probably had a mask, too: a peculiar lump of clothing sticking out near the back of his head. But now the man was relaxed, if you could say that about a guy with a crazy look and a nervous tic.
But as soon as they all got inside, the "simple guy" tossed a coin into the camera without looking. I barely had time to catch his movements, so quickly he got rid of the tracking device.
A black screen flashed on the screen, and then we were presented with the classic view of a turntable and desktop.
Covering the laptop, Murdoch began answering our questions in advance.
-The last one, this is Kingpin's mercenary, Swordsman. The warehouse itself also belongs to the criminal kingpin of New York. He's got thousands of them and I stumbled upon this footage by accident," Matt tapped his finger on the laptop and crossed his palms in front of his face, covering his jaw and mouth, "When I arrived at the location, it was empty inside. All the crates were gone, only the old machines were left.
-Any idea what was in the crates?
-Drugs, guns, people," Matt's casual enumeration was trying to disengage, but I could see how painfully he was taking his failure, even though I didn't think it was his fault, - "anything illegal.
-Okay, what about the others?
-I don't know their exact names. But I've heard of them. These guys belong to a very radical group...
Unconsciously, Murdoch and I leaned forward, ready to hear the answer. There was a whiff of intrigue and the coming mess in the air, so I wasn't in a hurry to spoil the moment, though the names of some of the participants were popping up in the back of my mind.
-Mutants.
All that was missing after Rand's words was the sound of crickets chirping. For a moment, I seriously considered banging my head on the table.
-We guessed they were mutants. -We guessed they were mutants.
Murdock explained our reaction, as if to a lunatic, but Daredevil's was even more colourful, thanks to his rich facial expressions and rare displays of emotion.
-Not just mutants. It's the Brotherhood of Mutants.
-Oh, for fuck's sake, Danny-
We stood up from the table, and Matt followed suit, and headed out of the den.
-No way! I'm not joking now!
Not listening to Iron Fist's lamentations, I turned to Murdoch, lowering my voice to show the seriousness of the situation.
-As much as I hate to agree, my clown teacher is right. I've heard of them, too. Radicals and xenophobes. Don't even take people for shits.
-Hmm.
-They've got a large group and it's probably just a small fraction of their strength. If Kingpin could somehow get them on his side...
The unspoken hint was left hanging in the air. Even though the war had already fallen and the King of New York had lost a lot, he could still keep fighting. He had plenty of men, power, influence, and money.... Which Matt knew he had.
-I don't think so, they're more likely to work for a fee, or have agreed on one-off actions, or maybe...
-Could he have hired them to get rid of you? You've bled him dry.
-That's the most realistic option," Murdoch grasped his chin and sat cross-legged on the floor, "then that makes it easier. If you say so, they don't like humans.
A questioning glance at Danny and me got a synchronised nod, though Rand tried to give me a discreet shove or grab my head. A mock wrestling match ensued between us while Daredevil mused aloud in serious cheeks.
-It must be a small group. I wouldn't be surprised if these three are the only representatives of the... of the Brotherhood. That makes it easy," Murdock bowed his head in a quiet, tense tone, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for your help. I can't handle them all alone. Swordok alone....
-No problem, old chap.
-No problem, mate.
-Don't repeat after me. The end line is my thing.
-Let go of my leg!
Matt looked up and found us on the floor, where I was on Rand's back, taking him down for a painful takedown. We weren't using Qi and were just freaking out, happy not to have to hold serious mien all the time anymore, especially around friends.
-You... Indeed," he bowed again, with more pathos and solemnity, "I am grateful for your help. And I won't forget it.
-Then make us your speciality tacos. And I want one of those masks. And a cane. И...
For probably the first time all night, Matt Murdoch smiled genuinely, making the atmosphere in the dojo lighter and simpler. It was going to be a tough fight, but we weren't alone, so the odds were better than good. Besides, I knew who else would be willing to help us bring some justice to this city.
***
The next morning, it was my day off, and I stood in front of the house that made my chest tingle. There were so many memories associated with this place that I couldn't even recount them all.
Clutched in my hands was a bouquet of country flowers. Which, as it turned out, is still a dick to find in a huge metropolis in winter. The fragrant array tickled my nostrils. Daisies, sunflowers, matricaria and a couple of levkoys.
"A multicoloured array, bright and sunny, just like her."
The levkoys gave off a gorgeous fragrance, something like lilacs, only much softer and more intense.
It felt heavy in my hands. And in my pocket, the heaviness of my wallet. Or rather its complete absence! Not that I was a prude, but the cost of such a bouquet clearly exceeded my expenses, forcing me to go into the piggy bank.
"But it was worth it. She's sure to love it."
I thought about asking Ned to play the double bass for us, but I didn't know exactly how the meeting would go, so I decided not to risk it.
The front door opened familiarly, and a few of the tenants I was already familiar with waved at me, whispering behind me.
My hand unconsciously traced another battle mark on my face. A thin scar, almost invisible from afar, but up close clearly turning me into a Yakuza or something. Despite all the Qi's capabilities, there was no way to get rid of it completely. The remnants of the dark energy from the mask closed that option forever, and it was too late to make a fuss about it now."If I'd had the right skills in time, I wouldn't have looked like a forensic mannequin."
My feet carried me forward, taking me to the right floor. My hands were sweating a little. It was funny to realise that I was more afraid of meeting her than I was of fighting the Brotherhood of Mutants.
A chuckle escaped me against my will, giving me at least a moment of peace and ease.
-Come on, Shawn. You're a hero. The hero this town deserves. Or better yet, the one it needs?
He struggled to get his finger on the bell. A long trill echoed through the floor, followed shortly by hurried footsteps. Someone outside the door was hurriedly dressing, grumbling and cursing at the guests at this early hour.
The quiet stomping intensified and their owner approached the door, swinging it open sharply, releasing the scents of the flat onto the landing.
My frantically pounding heart instantly calmed down and my arms regained their former strength. We stood like that for a few seconds, just looking at each other.
-Hi. Sean.
-Hi, princess.
We were silent, looking at each other in a new way, as if we hadn't seen each other in years. And if she was obviously paying attention to my new scar, I couldn't take my eyes off hers.
Without a word, I handed her the bouquet and took a bold step forward, standing up close to the girl, eliciting a heavy sigh from her.
Gwen's head cocked upwards, continuing to trace my gaze as our hands acted on their own.
My fingers ran along her shoulders, slowly trailing down her back, pulling Stacey into my arms and she didn't resist it.
Her small, delicate palm slowly reached up until it touched my cheek, stroking the scar with her middle and index fingers.
-It looks creepy.
-Scars are beautifying.
-I don't like it.
There was a double, strange feeling hanging between us. I wanted to say a lot of things, ask a hundred questions, not just to me, but to her. I saw it in her eyes, saw the pile of suggestions ready to burst from her sweet lips, but....
We were both frozen in silence.
-You're not gonna fight tonight?
-Only if you don't fight back. -I don't think so.
-I don't think so.
"She's snapping, so the guilt hasn't overpowered the rest. That's good."
-I wanted to apologise.
-...
-You're not even gonna say anything?
-An apology, too?
-All right," Gwen exhaled tiredly and looked away first, snuggling up to me, hiding behind the bouquet of flowers, "I'm sorry, I'm just thinking all the time. I'm stressed and worried and tired all the time. I don't want to take it out on you, I really don't.... But every time...
She talked for a long time. Long, and never once repeated. The words poured out in a torrent, and I only had to stand and listen, sometimes marvelling at the abundance of thoughts, obstacles, anxieties and dilemmas that she imposed on herself and put before herself.
Several times she was ready to break into tears, but clutching me tighter in her arms, as if to gain strength, she continued her monologue.
I don't know how long we stood there, but it wasn't until the locks clicked and footsteps were heard somewhere on the top floor that Gwen led me inside, pulling me into her room.
-I can't stop thinking about it. I know it's stupid, I know it's not rational, but-
-I'm sorry I can't understand you," I tucked away a loose strand of hair, bringing a smile to her face that had once won my heart when I'd first brought the pizza, "don't worry. We'll get through this, sooner or later.
Looking up, Gwen stared into my friendly face for a few seconds before resting her head against my chest.
-Yes. You're right. Sooner or later.
***
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