Shook Hands With the Devil

Chapter 4 - Red

TW: Violence towards women, really harsh language and insults, implied child abuse

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You could hear Daredevil panting as you followed closely on his tail, and with precise steps, the two of you scaled the varying buildings. You didn't speak a word, following Daredevil like you always did, like a ghost.

Only a minute had passed before Daredevil held his hand up, signaling you to halt. The two of you stood on top of a dilapidated apartment complex, and you could see a multitude of cop cars below.

Daredevil crouched down, and you mimicked him, and you stood about a foot apart. "Below, on the fifth floor, a woman and a child is being held hostage by a man with a gun. The man is very agitated, and the woman is injured. Umbra," he focused on you, "I need you to sneak in and knock out the assailant before we can rescue the hostages. If we go in guns blazing he might shoot one of the hostages, so I need you to be as stealthy as possible. Can you do that for me?"

You let out a hum of confirmation, and you mentally began to prepare yourself, adrenaline coursing through your veins. A hand grabbing yours derailed the train of focus you had. You look up, surprised to see Daredevil grasping your hand. His skin radiated heat along with your cheeks, and you swore you could feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"Be careful, please." he gave you a tight-lipped smile, anxiety evident in his face.

You gave his hand a quick squeeze, an unspoken promise that you would return to him in one piece, and then shifted into your alternate form, and you slunk through the floors of the building.

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It was always a surreal feeling, being in wraith form. It was like freefalling, but without the fear of hitting the ground and dying. It was therapeutic, but it could quickly cause derealization.

You had no idea what floor you were on, so your plan was to keep on floating down until you got to the right one. Hopefully, the guy you were targeting didn't have the best peripheral vision, or this would be a bust.

It only took a moment before you made it to the right floor. You snuck behind a couch, returning back to your physical form, and thanked the heavens that his back was turned. The man was about six feet tall, with a completely shaven head and a smooth-shaven face. He waved a handgun wildly around, finger on the trigger, ready to fire at any chance.

A few feet in front of him was a woman, slightly younger than him with dried tears streaked down her face. She was gripping one of her legs, and you could see the blood coming out of the wound. It didn't hit an artery, thank God you thought. If it did, blood would be pulsing out to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Next to her was a kid, barely even six if you had to guess. He wasn't crying, which raised the question of how used to this was he? Or was he in shock? All you knew is that you needed to get them out of here as soon as you could.

Leaning out from the right side of the couch, you poked your head out enough so that the woman could see you. Your eyes locked, and you put a finger over her lips. If she were to say anything, the whole situation would be jeopardized. In her eyes, you could tell that she understood, and she turned her attention back towards the male as he went on a rant.

"If you weren't such a fucking bitch," he yelled, "then we wouldn't be in this situation!" He started pacing back and forth, very obviously agitated. "But no! You just had to run your mouth off to your girlfriends, and they just had to get the police involved! I could've lost my fucking job! And then where would you be, huh? Fucking whoring yourself out on the street for some money?! You should be thanking me!" He wagged the gun in her face as he screamed, and she cringed away.