xp_logs | With Extreme Prejudice, chapter 1 (Reply)

Worried that Foggy will be the serial killer's next target, Matt spends the night. His suspicions are confirmed and Matt outs himself to protect his friend.

Stretching as he padded from the couch to Foggy's bedroom in his socks, Matt yawned, "Sleep, I think," he murmured through the end of the yawn, going into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Minty fresh breath was all that much more important when you had enhanced super-senses, not that Foggy knew that. He probably thought Matt was just obsessed with oral hygiene or something after all these years. Really, whatever Foggy thought about him, Matt was sure it would be amusing and incorrect. It was almost too bad that he couldn't read Foggy's mind. Almost.

"Sleep! How can you think of sleep?!" Foggy was pacing back and forth in his bedroom as he appealed to Matt. Each squeal of tires, each clang of trashcans falling over or footsteps outside his front door had the lawyer jumping out of his skin as he shot furtive glances out of his window. "I should never have taken this case," he scrubbed his hands across his face, "it was always going to end badly, going after a cop like that. Even in an open and shut case, what I thought was one anyway. I just....I thought it had to be done." Foggy collapsed onto the foot of his bed cradling his head in his hands. "You shouldn't be here Matt...I don't want you to get dragged into this mess. No need to tar us both with the same brush."

"Because I'm tired and I'd like to rest," Matt replied dryly. Smartass. None of the noises he heard were anything out of the ordinary. "No one is going to do anything now, Foggy," he said, trying to appeal to his best friend-turned-whatever's sense of logic. "It's 10pm. Too many people are out. They'll wait a few more hours IF anything happens at all. And I doubt it will," a small, white lie. He did think something would happen in a few hours, which was why he was here. And he did want to get in a nap before then. "And you should take this case. It was the right thing to do. You and I both know that. That's why we went into law."

"I know, I know," Foggy rubbed at his eyes and looked dolefully up at Matt, "I just don't want to see anyone, see you get hurt Matt. And someone's going to get hurt in this, I can just feel it and then how'm I going to live with myself? " Foggy got up to pace one more time before sighing and nodding his head, "I should get some sleep, but I don't know if I'll be able to. I'm just going to start at the ceiling and count sheep and nothing's going to happen. I'll just keep replaying the trial in my head again and again and again trying to figure out where I went wrong."

"Foggy," Matt got up and led Foggy to bed, practically having to push him to sit down and he didn't even consider trying to get the other man to lay down, "You're not the one hurting people. You are not responsible for starting this or for the current violence. You did nothing wrong. And I will argue my case if I need to, counselor," he teased lightly, letting Foggy get up if he had to, "You won't be good to anyone in the morning if you don't at least rest though."

Foggy sighed and shook his head, "You're right, worrying about it isn't going to help anybody, although," he grimaced and glared at Matt, "don't get too used to me saying that. This is a special exception for a one off situation." He wagged a finger at Matt before smiling, "Seriously Matt, thanks for this."

"It's what friends do," he replied easily with a shrug. It helped that he had experience with this sort of thing, too. In a weird way. "Now. Do not make me use my dad-voice. Go to bed." He lay down, hands under his head to punctuate his words.

***

New York was Disney World, some people said. It wasn't the grimy, crime-ridden city of the 80s, the reasoning went. In those days, something sinister was around every corner, and the shadows in every alley posed a threat. Now, money had remade Manhattan in its image, pushing the darker elements to the fringes, and the danger was gone. That's what they said, and it soon became a kind of gospel, its simple message drawing people into a kind of secure comfort that could only once be found at the end of the Metro-North or the LIRR.

But this man knew otherwise. But the false sense of safety helped him. Even in some of Manhattan's less reputable neighborhoods, the message drifted into the public consciousness, and it made people less vigilant. They didn't invest in security systems; sometimes they didn't lock both the bolts on their doors. And every now and then, they forgot to check the locks and the gates on their windows.

So he didn't think he'd have a particularly hard time breaking into Foggy Nelson's place, though, of course, he'd come equipped with his usual bag of tricks. The windows didn't look like they'd been replaced too recently, and it didn't take too much equipment to release the locks. In a matter of minutes, he'd managed to gently slide a window in the kitchen open, careful to ensure he didn't make a sound. Then, holding his breath, he climbed inside.

Matt had been laying in bed listening to Foggy well....earn his nickname. How he had survived sharing a room with him in college, Matt had no idea given the snoring. Now though, it was both familiar and still completely ridiculous. Ignoring the foghorn snores, he focused on listening around the apartment, slipping out of bed as he grabbed his cane and heading into the living room when he heard things outside the window. Even wearing his boxers and a t-shirt, he knew he was able to deal with this. His cane was in its billy club configuration in anticipation of the inevitable.

"You're not subtle," Matt said, voice low to try to avoid waking Foggy. Still, his words carried through the space. "Leave. He's under my protection."

The invader snorted. As if that concerned him. He'd dealt with worse than a man in his PJs; there was no doubt he'd make quick work of this one. But he was hoping to avoid making any noise that would awake the target, and so he started small. With little fanfare, he hurled a bola toward the other man's legs.

Jumping, the bolo immediately twisted around one ankle, not enough to truly hobble him, but enough to cause problems from the start. Just as the intruder didn't want to wake Foggy, neither did he, but for entirely different reasons. Instead of trying to unwind the bolo from himself, he launched himself at the assassin, trying to almost push him back out the window.

Well, this was a live one. Good; this job had seemed too easy. Not that fighting this man was a challenge. The man clearly didn't know he was attacking a man with extra strength and enhanced reflexes. As if the bolas hadn't given him enough of a clue that this invader was a professional, and not your average street thief.

In any event, the intruder managed to dodge Matt's attempted attack fairly easily, moving out of the way, knocking into a table as he did and sending a picture frame to the ground, where it landed with a thud. That wasn't part of his plan, but he tried to use it to his advantage, hoping any sound would disorient the other man enough that he wouldn't see the electric prongs of a taser coming at him.

Seeing wasn't a problem for Matt, not in the way that this guy thought anyways. Night time was just part of a clock. With his sonar, he had a 360-degree 'view' of his surroundings at all time. It was limited by being sonar versus real vision, but better than real vision in some ways too, so it balanced out. Adding in his other enhanced senses and he was not a typical guy trying to stop someone either. The end result right now though was he moved just as easily through the dark apartment as if it were high noon and the taser stood out to him like fireworks. Roundhouse kicking his arm to knock the taser from his hand, Matt followed up by sweeping the would-be assassin's legs out from under him, turning this fight into a grapple.

The other man grunted as he hit the ground, and the taser fell to the ground, just out of his reach. With Matt now over him, the attacker thrusted the heel of his hand toward the man's solar plexus. He had a hunch the punch would be easily dodged, but it was a kind of gambit; he used his free hand to grab the bola that was still dangling off Matt's leg, dragging him onto the ground with surprising strength.

The smack of Matt's body hitting the ground was enough to rouse Foggy from his slumber as he sat up in bed Bleary eyed and blinked lazily, "Matt? Did you fall off the sofa I told you you should...what the hell?!" All traces of sleep fled the man's system as she say the two combatants tussling on the floor, "Whaaa?" it seemed that temporarily the ability for speech had fled Foggy as he made a wordless sound of enquiry and scrambled out of his bed on the far side of the mattress casting desperately around for something he could use his hands grabbing hold of his phone desperately stabbing at the keys. "Hello, police? Someone's broken in, they're trying to kill me. They're fighting my friend right now, oh God, please we need help." The man's eyes were fixed on the scene on the floor, as Matt tussled with the intruder.

Well, the target was awake, which meant his would-be assassin didn't need to worry about disturbances. Good. The attacker shifted, reaching into his pocket and casting pellets onto ground. In seconds, they began to release a gray smoke with acrid fumes.

With the guy grabbing the bola, Matt was limited in what he could do, but he flipped and twisted, hitting the ground, but kicking the assassin in the process. He heard Foggy waking and calling the police and didn't try to stop him as he grappled with the intruder, making sure he didn't succeed in his plans.

Fog or smoke meant nothing to Matt and he laughed a little, then stopped with the smell. Ugh. That was nasty. Thankfully, he lived in New York City. Nasty smells happened. "Not good enough," he growled, grabbing the assassin and slamming his head into the floor as the sirens approached.

The killer's head hit the floor with a thud, and he went slack for a second. Then, figuring his head had already been weaponized, he headbutted the Daredevil, then tried to flip him.

Reeling backwards at the impact, Matt flipped and kept flipping, taking the intruder with him. There were some benefits to being brother's with Clint Barton after all. Simply refusing to let go had it's perks. It did make hitting him more difficult though.

The sirens grew louder, their noise filling the room. It was time for the attacker to go. Despite the tricks he had at his disposal, there was still an ace up his sleeve, and it was time to use it. In a surprisingly agile move, he grabbed a gun out of his waistband and fired it in the target's general direction twice.

The sound of gunshots sent Foggy diving to the ground with a very unmanly scream, although if asked later he would be sure that it was a manly grunt of exertion. Still clutching his phone her brought it closer screaming into the microphone, "He's got a gun! He's shooting at us now!"

"I know," Matt called back, not realizing that Foggy wasn't speaking to him. Thankfully either the guy wasn't as adept with a gun, unlikely, or this was his last ditch move before fleeing. Grabbing the intruder's arm, Matt twisted until he dropped the gun, slamming his face into the wall.

The intruder grunted on impact, but Matt's focus on the gun had left one of his arms free. He drew it back quickly, slamming it into Matt's nose and simultaneously using his legs to push off the wall.

Oh fuck that hurt and he hadn't been expecting that. Gasping, Matt automatically, his hand went to his nose, releasing the intruder. Unprofessional, but it was what it was. "Stop!" he called, not that it did any good, following the intruder out the window, stopping at the end of the fire escape. He couldn't pursue him through the city in his underwear. He needed to get back to Foggy and check on him.

"Matt,are you ok?" Foggy appeared at the window staring in confusion at the underwear clad man, "The police are just arriving, they should be just pulling up the the building now." He glanced at his friend, "What even happened here, what was all that ninja stuff!" The lawyer narrowed his eyes, glaring at the man, "You were expecting that weren't you, that's why you stayed the night You were using me as bait." Foggy's voice had gotten louder, angrier and more strident as he came to the realization. "You used me....so what you could grab this guy and be a hero?"

"I told you I did martial arts!" Matt protested, not that he really expected Foggy to believe him entirely. There was sparring in a safe, structured way and then this. "Not bait," he added, indignant. "I did think someone would come after you soon, tonight or in the next couple. And I did stay here to protect you. But never bait!" His voice rose with Foggy's, then he stopped, forcing himself to calm down. "Sorry about your living room." It was trashed, furniture upended and the coffee table broken.

"Forget the furniture," Foggy span on Matt his eye narrowing in a glare, "Matt you thought someone would come after me so you decided to wait for them, how is that not using me as bit. You could have told the police, given them your proof and done this properly. But you had to be here to show off your super ninja whatever this was. That wasn't fair, you should have told me!"

"What proof?" Matt pointed out, "I had a hunch. Worst case, this. Best case, we spend the night together," he sighed. He hated fighting with Foggy and it didn't happen very often. "What was I supposed to tell you? That I'm a mutant? That someone may or may not be after you?" He stalked over to retrieve his clothes and phone, thumbing and automatic text to Clint.