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peejay-docs · 2 months ago

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[2 - Brewing Bonds]

A Daredevil X Vigilante!OC series

Summary: Our OC gets better acquainted with someone she met during her nightly endeavours, and also with our dearest Matt and Foggy.

Word count: 2.5k

Author's Note: Hi, I deeply apologize for posting this later than expected. But here's part 2 finally! I already have a lot of ideas for part 3. Anyways, hope you enjoooy! Also don't forget to share your insights and thoughts.

Also wanna thank @sleepyflorian for helping me edit and proofread! Love ya always.

After my brief encounter with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, I wasted no time changing into my suit once I got home. I used the rooftops of the city's shorter buildings to get around faster—and to keep a better eye on things. Luckily, my apartment sat on the top floor of my building, allowing me a convenient entrance and exit. I patrolled the surrounding blocks, scanning every corner of the neighborhood for signs of trouble. It was rather peaceful. Aside from the five thugs earlier today and the unexpected meeting with Daredevil, the night had been quiet. The most I've done was follow the sound of barking dogs to make sure nothing suspicious happened.

Beyond that? Hours of rooftop-hopping led to nothing. So there I was, sitting at the edge of a random apartment building, observing the moonlit streets below—waiting for trouble to find me.

But even with the stillness, something gnawed at me. Somehow, I didn't feel at ease with the quiet. That creeping, uneasy gut feeling told me that something was out there. Something awful. Just waiting for the right moment to strike.

Just then, an idea popped into my head.

I whipped out my burner phone and stared at a business card I’d sworn to only use if absolutely necessary— and tonight felt like it. Something didn’t add up, and I needed help figuring out what I was missing.

Before I could second guess myself, I was already listening to the dial tone in my earpiece, anticipating an answer. A few seconds passed before a curious voice cut through the silence of the night.

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end.

"Good evening Mr. Cross, it's—"

"Well, well, well..." he drawled, interrupting my introduction. "If it isn't our mystery woman. Took you long enough."

I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling at his little quip.

"Aren't you a joy at this hour?" I retorted.

"Correct me if I'm wrong” he said, "but didn't you say you didn't need my help?"

He was referring to the day we first met—when I was suited up, of course.

It was right after I stopped that jewelry store robbery. Once I’d taken down the suspects, I waited around to make sure the cops would arrest them properly. That’s when he approached me, handed me his card, and said if I ever needed help, I should give him a call.

I told him I wouldn’t—but he insisted that I keep the card. And now, well… here we are. .

"Respectfully, Mr. Cross—"

"Please," he interrupted. "Call me Jason."

"I don't think that's appropriate." I politely declined.

“Come on, we’ve known of each other’s existence for…” he trailed off. I could almost picture him checking his watch or doing some dramatic mental math. “Two months—in exactly three minutes, mind you. We're practically best friends."

"No, we're not. Also, that was oddly specific." I commented to which I heard him snicker.

"I'm a cop." He brags. "That's what I do."

“Humor me then.” I began. “In the grand, majestic span of those two glorious months, how often would you say we’ve actually interacted—including this thrilling phone call, of course?”

On normal days, I wouldn't normally act like this. I’d always been the timid type—a bit of a pushover, really. It's something I discovered about myself only after spending time in the suit.

There, I felt confident. Free. Bold.

The complete opposite of the girl who worked behind a counter and handed people their coffee.

Jason remained silent, so I took the liberty of answering the question for him.

"Oh, twice. Isn't that right?"

I can already imagine him rolling his eyes, probably sitting at his desk or wherever he was.

"Listen, I—"

"No," he interrupted — yet again. "You listen."

The command in his voice left me stunned.

"From what I see, you called me."

"I called you because you made your contact information available to me. Unlike someone I've allegedly known for two months, I don't go handing mine out to every person I meet, Mr. Cross." I mocked, drawing out his name. "Now, I'm not a cop, but it looks like I beat a so-called professional to that conclusion. Isn't that funny?"

“Oh, my bad." he said dryly. “Guess I didn’t realize I was dealing with a pro here. Should’ve known you’d crack the case in no time.”

"Well, this was clearly a waste of my time." I said, just about ready to hang up. "I wish you a good night."

"No—wait!" he exclaimed.

To my surprise, I actually did wait. Despite the conversation going nowhere, I was undeniably intrigued by what he might say next.

"We clearly got off on the wrong foot." He admitted. I only hummed in response.

"Let's start over. Hi," he greeted, his tone shifting into a warm one. "I am Detective Jason Cross. You may call me Jason, and I insist on that."

Pursing my lips together, I considered how to respond.

Our little banter from earlier started because I refused to call him by his name—which felt insignificant, really. But I hadn’t planned on getting acquainted with him. All I wanted was to ask a few questions, get the information I needed, and then toss away his number. I probably won't need it in the future.

And yet, here I was. Giving in. What's the worst that could possibly happen?

"Sure, Jason."

"There you go! That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased. "Now, how shall I address you?"

"Whoa there, mister. That's the most you'll get out of me tonight."

"Tonight, you say. An implication of another chance, perhaps?"

"I'm not implying any—okay, you know what? This is not why I called you." I protested, quickly pulling myself back to the reason I reached out in the first place.

"Right, what can I do for you Madame?"

I rolled my eyes at the way he addressed me.

"So, I was in the middle of nightly patrol—"

"Figured as much."

"How many times are you going to cut me off during this conversation?"

"Sorry..." he apologized. "Proceed."

I sighed. "It's just been so quiet out here lately, and I don't know—it feels wrong."

I stated, feeling the cool breeze against the upper half of my exposed face, the rest hidden beneath my make-shift mask.

"Here's a thought. Maybe we're just really good at our jobs."

I huffed. "Yeah, right."

"Hey." he replied, mock-offended.

"Anyway," I ignored his reaction. "I wanted to ask if you’ve come across any suspicious activity in the area—anything unusual you've observed or noticed. Maybe I can check it out."

"Hmmm... can't say I have. That's why I'm still here at the precinct, sitting at my desk. It’s been quiet on our end too."

"And you don't find that strange? At all?"

"I guess it is,” he admitted. “But I'm sure we'll be ready for anything. So, relax a little."

He paused before adding, "Tell you what—whatever we come across, I'll make sure you'll be the first to know."

"And how are you planning to do that exactly?" I asked with a brow raised.

"I'm assuming our mystery woman is using a burner phone right now."

"Spot-on deduction, Detective." I teased.

"How 'bout a trade? I'll give you updates whenever needed, and you give me an email—preferably a phone number." He suggested.

"Nice try." I said. "I'll call you."

"Is that an implication of a partnership—"

I rolled my eyes ending the call, without bothering to let him finish.

Gaining an ally from the police was not how I imagined my night going. Yet here I was.

I guess… It's a little comforting. Knowing someone’s on my side during all this.

It gets lonely out here sometimes.

But the sinking feeling in my gut remained.

Something wasn't right—like something was keeping guys like the ones from the alley off the streets. And not for good reason.

Whatever it was, I needed to get to the bottom of it.

Left alone with my thoughts, with only the New York City air for company, my mind drifted back to the Devil himself—the image of him standing in front of me still vivid. I hadn’t had the time to fully process what happened earlier tonight.

I just met the Daredevil.

Though many are against what he does, he was the one I looked up to—the kind of vigilante I aspired to be.

But the way I acted in his presence? Embarrassing. I was a nervous wreck—fidgety, stumbling over words—a far cry from the composed figure I imagined myself to be. And to think, that's the version of me my hero met first.

Ugh. Stupid.

Why did I have to be such a stammering mess? Why couldn't I always be the version that comes alive in the suit? That version is bold. Sharp. Fearless. Out there, I am someone. But in front of him? I folded like paper.

After a while of sulking and overthinking, I finally decided to call it a night. All this nothing was giving me too much time to think—and I didn't like where it was going.

I jolted awake from my phone's alarm sounding through my bedroom—the sound aggravating my irritation each passing second as I lie still, refusing to part with the comfort of my bed. Eventually, I groaned, reaching for my phone on my nightstand, half-tempted to fling it out the window just to shut it up. Once silence finally reclaimed my room, I lay there staring at the ceiling, early morning light casting streaks of blue and orange against the walls.

As much as I wanted to stay curled up in bed, being assistant manager didn’t afford me that luxury. So, with an exasperated sigh and every ounce of willpower I could muster, I dragged myself to the bathroom to get ready.

I’d gotten home a little over 4 AM, and the exhaustion hit the second I walked through the door. Three hours of sleep—on a good day—was my norm. Some nights, none at all. In my earlier days of being a vigilante, balancing it with work and life—not like I had one anyway—was chaos. I was always tired. My focus was constantly scattered. It got me into trouble more times than I could count. But after a few—okay maybe a lot. Like a lot a lot—of trials and errors, I finally had it down.

Sure, I missed the luxury of eight solid hours of sleep. But I'd chosen this path—and I finally felt like I had a purpose.

Still, this wasn’t the time for deep thoughts. I had a shift to catch.

The café smelled as familiar as ever—coffee beans and pastries welcoming me the moment I stepped in. Being a 24/7 place, we always had a steady stream of customers, especially those trying to beat the morning rush.

"Good morning, Ma'am." Kyle greeted me from behind the counter.

"Don't call me that. I'm not that much older than you." I said with a half disapproving tone as I put my things aside and wore my apron.

"But you are my superior." He replied, with a sly grin.

"Just don't." I huffed, amused.

As I manned my station—wiping counters, sterilizing coffee machines— the café doors opened, and the noise of New York spilled in: honking horns, hurried footsteps, irritated commuters. The usual.

Then, just as quickly, the doors shut, and the chaos faded into a distant hum.

I looked up out of habit to greet the newcomer—a simple good morning paired with the go-to service grin—only to find myself staring into a pair of round, red-tinted glasses, softly catching the morning light.

"Hi." He greeted with a warm smile.

"Hi." I echoed, a little too softly. There was a pause—but to my surprise, it wasn’t awkward. His smile lingered, patient but not expectant, like he was used to giving people time.

"Am I too close to the counter, or am I about to knock over a pastry display?"

I let out a soft breath—almost a laugh—and stepped forward. "No, you're good. About one step away."

His smile deepened—as did his dimple, and it was enough to make my chest flutter.

Then a hand landed softly on his shoulder. I looked up to see Foggy beside him.

"Man, I'm parched and starving." He said, scanning the menu behind me before his eyes directed toward my direction. "Hey, how's it going?"

The man with the cane tilted his head towards his blonde-haired buddy.

"You've met?" He gestured to both Foggy and I.

"Just yesterday," he grinned. "She called me Froggy."

"You did?" The eyes behind the red lenses gazed at me paired with an expectant grin.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault." I said defensively.

"Uh-huh," Foggy smirked. "This is Matt, by the way." He pointed towards his friend. "Need me to spell it out for you? It's M-A-”

"I think I got it, Foggy." I retorted.

"Oh, now you call me Foggy."

"Shut up." I blurted out without thinking, earning myself a laugh from both of them.

I blinked, surprised at myself. I didn’t usually talk to strangers like that. But something about them—so warm, easygoing—made it feel natural.

"So, what can I help you with?"

"You know what, I liked my drink from last night. I'll get that again." Foggy said. I nodded, noting it down.

"And yours?" I asked, looking toward Matt.

"What would you recommend?"

Foggy gave him a puzzled look. "I thought you liked your coffee one way."

"I thought I'd try something new today." Matt said with a light shrug.

"Whatever you say. Don't blame me if you’re in a bad mood later." Foggy teased before going to grab a seat. Matt just shook his head and softly laughed at his friend.

"So?" He turned back at me with a smile. There was something calm in the way he spoke—not flirtatious, not guarded. Just open. Curious.

"Are you in the mood for something bold, or gentle?"

"That depends." He said, a smile lingering. "How dangerous is bold?"

"Depends on how much sleep you've had."

"Let's assume not much." He replied. Something in his voice hinted at more than just a bad night’s rest—but I didn’t press.

"Gentle it is. I've got a lavender oat latte that just might do the trick. It’s my go-to on sleepless nights."

"I'd love that."

"Coming right up."

A few minutes later, I brought their drinks over to their table.

"What, no name calling today?" Foggy teased.

"Nope." I grinned smugly. "Anyways gentlemen, here are your drinks." I said, handing each of their beverages. When I handed Matt his, our fingers brushed. Just barely. But enough.

"Thank you." He said with that same warm smile.

"You're welcome." I replied, my lips stretching into a grin. "Anything else I could get you boys?"

"How 'bout your name?" Matt asked, and I blinked with surprise, catching a glimpse of Foggy's eyes rolling from my peripheral.

"...Dominique," I finally said.

His head tilted slightly, as if turning the name over in his mind.

“Dominique,” he repeated, softly.

“Most people call me Nikki,” I added with a small shrug. “Or Dommie, if you’re really trying to get on my nerves.”

I swear I saw something shift behind those red lenses—like a glimmer of recognition or something deeper.

He chuckled. “Noted. I’ll stick with Nikki—for now.”

There was a playful flicker in his expression, but something about his tone made it feel like he was filing that name away with care.

As I stood there in front of him, my expression didn’t change, but I could swear my pulse did.

……………………

Author's Note: We finally get to know our OC's name! So yes, it's Dominique. It may or may not be close to her vigilante identity, but we'll get on that! Anyways, let me know what you think! Would love to hear your thoughts.

#charlie cox #daredevil fic #daredevil one shot #daredevil imagine #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fandom #daredevil born again #daredevil #netflix daredevil #marvel daredevil #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock #matt murdock #avocados at law

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peejay-docs · 2 months ago

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Part 2 is up!

After Dark Series List

Daredevil X Vigilante!OC series

Author's Note: Hi! You can find all parts of the After Dark series here. I will keep updating blog so you can check-in from time to time for further developments in the series.

Side Note: I'll get to making a banner for this series soon so it'll stand out more lol. Anyways, love ya'll. I hope you'll join me in this journey together :>

Update: Finally made a cover/banner for this series!! This was the best I could make with limited time and sources I have. Might change or redesign it if i'm able to find the time to do so.

1 - Caffeine and Chaos

2 - Brewing Bonds

3 - coming soon

4 - coming soon

5 - coming soon

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peejay-docs · 2 months ago

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[1 - Caffeine and Chaos]

A Daredevil x Vigilante!OC series

Trigger warnings: 18+ ; mentions of violence, swear words

Word count: 2.6k

Prompt:

#9 - "Close your eyes, you don't need to see this."

Author's note:

This is my first tumblr post, and official entry for @bellaxgiornata's 4k Follower Celebration Writing Challenge! It has been quite a while–and I mean YEARS–since I last wrote anything close to this. This concept was already in my mind for a while and when I saw the writing challenge, I figured what the hell, let's do it. As mentioned, this is an OC one-shot but feel free to imagine yourself as the OC in this series. This is also my first experience writing action sequences, so please be gentle.

Huge thank you to @sleepyflorian for helping me edit and proof-read my work. I can't thank you enough ❤️

Might also continue this and turn it into a series 👀. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy.

Update: It is a now a series. I repeat. It is now a SERIES! I just made a Masterlist, which you can find by clicking on the hyperlink provided, or you can find it in my page. Hope that you'll join me on this journey. Man, i'm excited!

"Hi, what can I get you?" I ask the customer in front of me with a tight-lipped smile, itching to finally get off of work and be rid of the scent of roasted beans that will probably stick with me even after I leave the shop. Before the man in the overcoat could tell me their order, I felt a light tap on my shoulder by a recently hired barista, asking for assistance about the steamer. With no hesitation, I immediately had someone else to take over for me and went to help out the rookie.

As I counted down the minutes until my shift was over, the blend of soft indie music, the gentle hiss of steam, and the clatter of porcelain echoing through the place—mixed with the scent of roasted beans—was already making me sick to my stomach. Again, I continued showing her the ropes and how the steamer worked, making sure she was paying close attention. I took a quick glance at her pinned name tag.

“You got it, Mal?” I asked reassuringly.

She smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod. Watching her, I was suddenly reminded of when I was in her shoes—starting out behind the counter. I began working at the shop two years ago, right after moving to Hell’s Kitchen looking to start anew.

My mentor at the time was harsh with me and would throw insults whenever they could. Sure, I could’ve just punched the daylights out of that person with no problem, but that wouldn't exactly help me achieve the somewhat 'normal' life I wanted for myself. I wished I had been treated the way I treated Mal back when I was just starting–but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Now that I am assistant manager, I made it a point to be kind and patient with the trainees, not wanting them to feel the way I did back then.

Once again, I was tapped on the shoulder—this time by Kyle, a colleague-turned-friend who started working here about a year ago—signaling that a drink was ready to be handed to a customer. With a long sigh, I smiled at Kyle and made my way to the counter, ready to hand it over to whomever ordered the drink.

"One white chocolate mocha for..." I raised the cup to eye-level, squinting at the name scribbled on the to-go cup. "Froggy?" I said, my voice laced with confusion. Rolling my eyes, I let out a quiet huff. I swear, some of the baristas here write names wrong on purpose just to mess with me.

Just then, a faint laugh echoed from a corner of the shop and I turned toward the sound and spotted a familiar blonde woman grinning widely at a man grimacing—probably her friend. I see them here often, always stopping by for their daily coffee. There were usually three of them and only now did I realize that their other friend—whom I've always thought to be intriguing—was not with them. They’ve certainly come to the café enough to be deemed regulars. I took note of the other one's absence, which I found just now to be more significant than I'd ought it would be.

"I think that's you." The pretty blonde woman teased.

Begrudgingly, the pale-skinned man walked over to collect his drink. Once he was close enough he said "It's Foggy, actually."

“This isn’t one of our finest moments,” you admit. “And probably not our last." I say with threatening eyes directed toward the crew behind me in search of the culprit, only to be met with their collective, muffled laughter.

"Ah, it's alright, I guess." He says lightly. "As long as the coffee’s good, it’s more than enough compensation." He reassures me with a kind smile. "Besides, as much as it kind of pains me to hear my name mispronounced, I can't deny that I'm also curious to see what you guys come up with every time I come here."

I let out a soft chuckle at his comment before he thanked me and left the shop with the blonde woman.

Turning towards Kyle who was making another drink, I caught his eye—and as if he could feel my gaze, he shot me a knowing look, brows raised.

"That's my last one for today." I expressed through a tired breath. He chuckled with a shaking head as I turned and headed toward the back of the shop.

I swiftly untied the knot holding my apron together, and lifted it over my head. Opening my designated locker, I grabbed my backpack and replaced it with the apron I just worn. Then I aimed for the backdoor of the shop, pushing it open. As I was about to step outside, Kyle called out to me and said his goodbye.

After hours of making and serving caffeinated beverages, I was finally free and out walking through the busy streets of Hell's Kitchen, mentally preparing for another night of patrolling. Last night had been smooth, to say the least. I stopped a mugging, two pickpockets, and even retrieved a stolen bike from a teenager who clearly had nothing better to do with his life. It was one of the more peaceful nights around here, but nonetheless, I was glad to be of help—no matter how small the impact might seem.

My apartment was just a few blocks away from the coffee shop, and my main goal at the moment was simple: get home, change into my suit, and stop crime where I could. Even though I trusted the people back at the café, I still kept my suit and gadgets at home, not wanting to risk someone invading my privacy and snooping through my things only to discover that I'm actually a certain vigilante roaming the streets at night.

Occasionally, I’d end up in the papers—usually after stopping a major crime, like the time I prevented a jewellery store robbery.. But I don't do it for the glory or fame. And to be honest, even if I did, I still get nothing out of it, not with my strong conviction to keep my identity a secret.

As I rounded a corner, just a few meters ahead, I spotted five men in jumpsuits cornering a man clutching his bag for dear life, right outside some establishment.

"Ugh, I'm not really dressed appropriately for this." I mutter to myself looking down at my jeans and sneakers, mustering the courage to interrupt them.

"Hey!" I shout toward the group of men. All five of them—and the defenseless man—turn to face me at once. "Leave that man alone."

"This ain't any of your business, missy." The bulkiest of the bunch spoke menacingly, his voice low and threatening. "Get lost."

I sigh in disappointment. "I should've seen that coming." I mutter under my breath. Then, raising my voice again, "Look buddy," Staring straight into him. “I really don't want any trouble, Just please don't hurt the guy."

He laughs at my attempt at bravery, urging his jumpsuited friends to laugh with him. "And what makes you think I will do whatever you tell me to?" He snarls.

"Honestly, I don't.” shifting my weight from one leg to the other.“But I was hoping you would since it would probably be best for all of us." I shrug. “Most especially you.”

"Little lady,"

A chill ran down my spine—and not the good kind—as I heard his nickname that he’s clearly made up for me. He starts walking closer, with each step of his growing heavier and more deliberate.

"Why don't you go on your way and let us finish our business?"

I sigh, "I didn't want to do this." I said while shaking my head in disapproval.

"Do what, exactly?" He smirked, completely unthreatened by my words.

Unfortunately for both of us, my patience doesn’t run very far—so I took it as a challenge.

Without another word, I swing my right leg up, my foot merging with his jaw. He crashes to the ground with a thud, grunting in pain.

His friends glare at me, eyes wide, fists clenched—I could practically see steam flowing out of their ears and noses.

That was my cue to run.

As I sprint down the street, I hear his voice yelling behind me, faint but furious, "Get her!"

With urgency, I passed through the crowd in Hell's Kitchen—doing my best not to bump into anyone—and shouting a quick, genuine "Sorry!” to those I couldn't. The sky was growing darker so the bright green glow of the stoplight up ahead immediately caught my eye. That’s when I quickly conjured up a plan to shake them off.

I pick up speed, ignoring the ache in my legs from all the sprinting. Patrolling at night was one thing—but this? Running away from trouble? That wasn’t my usual style.

Without looking back, I dashed across the crosswalk, dodging people as best I could, Escaping them was proving harder than I thought.

As I neared the other side of the road, the light turned yellow, giving me only just a few seconds to execute my spontaneous plan. I took it as a sign and pushed myself to run faster.

By the time the light turned red, I had already crossed. Behind me, the intersection exploded with the chaotic roar of engines and angry car horns. Still I forced myself to calm down—just enough to steady my breathing. Hands on my knees, I fought through the burning sensation in my legs which were intensifying by the minute.

This was already too much for one night.

And yet... It only reminded me why I do what I do.

I glanced behind me with hopes of finally losing my tail—only to feel that hope evaporate. They were still coming. Determined. Reckless. They darted across the road, dodging cars and buses, ignoring every traffic law in the book.

"Oh, come on." I mutter, breath hitching as I keep sprinting down the sidewalk.. I turn a sharp corner—only to find myself in a dark, dead-end alley.

"Shit." I cursed under my breath.

I spin around, desperate to make a run for it, hoping they still haven't caught up. But the sky has now turned nearly black, and the shadows aren’t doing me any favors.

Then I see them.

They’re just a few meters from me, the bulky one trails close behind, pushing through the group like a tank.

My heart slams against my chest, adrenaline buzzing through every vein.

At this point, there's no way out.

No more running.

I clench my fists, steady my breath, and brace myself.

I have no choice now—I have to fight.

And without my suit, this is going to be a whole new problem.

"Hey boys," a voice called from somewhere above the alley.

All of us—including me—looked up, scanning for the source.

There, standing atop the building behind me, was a dark figure looking over us.

"You can do better than ganging up on a girl." The figure taunted, his low-pitched voice carrying a smug edge.

"Daredevil." I whispered in realization.

It was the vigilante, in the flesh.

He casually leaps off the building, using his baton’s grappling hook to land smoothly a few feet in front of me. He stood tall, planting himself between me and the men, his stance protective—broad shoulders blocking their view of me completely.

"Tell you what," says the man in the red suit, "I'm gonna let you off easy if you just leave her alone. How about that?" He negotiates.

In reaction to what he just said, one of the men laughed mockingly—but his expression hardened in an instant as he lunged forward with a punch towards Daredevil.

The vigilante swiftly dodged to the left, grabbed the assailant's arm then yanked him down to his knee, slamming hard into his gut. The man bent over as he grunted in with a pained grunt.

The men looked at him with anger, ready to retaliate..

"Close your eyes. You don't need to see this." He told me.

I remain standing, now even more unsure of what to do with this situation I put myself in.

Seconds later, he's already in full brawl mode with thuds and grunts echoing through the alley as he took on three at once with surgical precision.

The remaining two—including the bulky one—were eyeing me as they smugly approached, ignoring his group taking a beating from the vigilante.

Big mistake.

As soon as they were close enough, I sprang forward. Then, with one fluid leap I vault off the wall beside me, with my foot landing on one guy's jaw, sending him sprawling. The bulky one lunged at me but I twisted, caught his arm mid-swing and I drove my elbow into his throat. He let out a wet cough and collapsed in a heap.

When I looked up, Daredevil already got two guys on the ground, dealing one last big swing, making his final opponent drop unconscious.He turns to look at me, still in his fighting stance, only for his body to relax the moment he notices how quiet it had gotten and the bodies scattered around me.

"You alright?" He asks in-between breaths.

"Yeah," you exhale, "I'm fine."

"Did you do that?" He asks, nodding towards the unconscious men at my feet.

"I think so," I joked. "I mean, who else could've done that?" I shrugged, aiming to seem casual though I instantly worried it came off arrogant.

But he chuckled anyway.

"I'm sorry.” I quickly added, “I meant to say yes."

His head tilted slightly, as if analyzing me. I couldn't really tell the expression on his face through the mask. But the way he was looking made me little self-conscious.

“How’d you do that?" He asks, curiosity threading in his voice.

Panic flickered in my chest as I scrambled for an answer without giving anything away.

"I -uh," I stammered. "I took some classes." I answered, which was technically true, but probably not in the way he would imagine.

His lips curled into a smirk. "That's some class."

I let out a breath of a laugh in response.

"I better head home." I said, urgency creeping back into my voice. The whole encounter had reminded me—clearly, I still had work to do. Not that I blame him. He was just one person against an endless city of crime.

"Of course." He says as if coming to his senses. "And you'll be okay?" Asking with a softness in his voice, almost sounding like care.

"Yes, and um..." I respond, trailing off. "Thank you."

He dipped his head in a quiet nod, and then raised his grappling hook. My eyes followed his figure as he ascended effortlessly, vanishing onto the rooftops—probably off to save someone's day again.

With determination, I started walking towards my apartment with renewed urgency. My mind drifted off to the possibility of a new threat unfolding while I was still out of my suit. The thought unsettled me.

I need to get home.

And get out there—now.

I jogged along the same path where the goons had chased me earlier, with deja vu settling in with every step. Then my mind trailed off to the man I helped get away from the men in the jumpsuits. I certainly hope he found his way home safely.

As my apartment building came into view, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. I stopped for a moment and turned, scanning the street behind me. People moved about, immersed in their own lives—laughing, talking, rushing in and out of nearby shops. Everything seemed normal.

But I felt it—eyes on me.

Watching.

Studying.

I searched the crowd, narrowing my eyes as I looked at every corner, every shadowed doorway, waiting for something—or someone—to stand out. Nothing did.

After a minute of fruitless searching, I shook my head. Probably just the aftershock of the night’s events. Adrenaline messes with your instincts sometimes.

Still uneasy, I pulled my keys from my bag and pushed open the door to my building, trying to brace myself for whatever the rest of the night had in store.

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