cuts ✧ matt.murdock

blondie has got a problem

(AN: chapters get better. hopefully)

The events of the previous night were still in the back of my mind. I experienced another vision. They occurred often, but never so doomsday like. The last time that happened, the world almost came to an end. Luckily that was not my problem anymore. I walked to the counter as my coffee was being served.

I needed it.

--

I missed the old days. When things were simpler. No legends, no myths, no bad guys. Just me, and everything that I had. No otherworldly cause to fight for- or against.

Trust. Something I struggled with. Probably a consequence of all the traitors and untrustworthy people that I had come across. Nobody ever seemed to have the answer I was looking for. No one seemed to fill me with any sort of emotion. Every morning was just another day. It all seemed to drag on.

The minute I start to feel anything towards anyone, it explodes in my face. Letting people in is always difficult. Any affection, any sort of emotion I receive or feel, should be ignored. That was what I was taught.

That and to never trust survivors, until you know what they did to stay alive. People that evade death are quite a common occurrence in my stuffed up 'life'. If you can even call it that.

--

I felt my pocket vibrate, so I reached in and grabbed my phone out. The thin and cold metal gave my hands a bite.

             Mahoney:

             Get to the precinct now.

The text brightened up my phone as I walked.

My shift started in 2 minutes, so I wasn't exactly late. Something big must've gone down. Unfortunately, I was walking through the packed Hells Kitchen, and the precinct was 10 minutes away.

I chugged the rest of my drink, the taste tingling my tongue. I walked down one of the alleyways, in Hells Kitchen they were plentiful. I chucked the empty cup to the side and planted my feet on the ground. I ran up and threw myself from wall to wall, using my feet to get me on the fire escape. It was high up but as soon as I reached the rooftop, I started running.

--

"Who?"

"A frequent flyer of ours and a pair of Russians. Someone also fished another guy out of the water." He answered. "All four eyewitnesses are rambling on about some man in a mask doing some Kung Fu shit."

"Are we thinking vigilante? He, or maybe she, saved those girls from prostitution, maybe slavery?" I questioned.

"Some masked assailant of some sort, maybe, I don't know." Mahoney sighed.

"Don't worry..." I assured him. "Just try to keep this on the down low. For me." I half pleaded. He lifted up a brown bag and placed it on the counter, he took something out of it and the odor spread across the room."Cigars?" I asked.

"Don't ask..."

--

It was the end of my shift, and I only had one more task to complete. I started to walk to the interrogation room but stopped in my tracks. "Who is in here again?"

"Just brought her in. Some young blonde. The evidence is set for prosecution. She was the only one on the scene, no defensive wounds, and covered in the victim's blood, holding the murder weapon." He explained from across the room.

As I walked into the room, I opened up her file and sat down. She quickly looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her wrists seemed to be red from the handcuffs, so she may have tried escaping. This meant she was new and hadn't been involved in anything like this before.

"Okay, I would like to get home in time for my favorite programme so let's be quick. I'm not going to play this good cop. And I definitely won't be the bad cop, unless needed. I just need you to tell me one thing." I swung my legs up onto the metal table as I awaited a response.

"What?" She stammered, quivering her bottom lip. She wasn't faking it.

"What did you do? Did you take something?" I hardened my tone. This girl didn't have it in herself to kill a fly, let alone a human being.

"I-I-" Before she could answer, Blake and Hoffman walked in. The bastards were followed by two lousily dressed men, one of those being blind.

"Interrupting me again guys!" I complained quietly, yet I slammed the folder flat on the table loudly.

"How about we take the handcuffs off the one hundred pound girl!" The light haired man spoke in a manner that I could only take as a lawyer's.

"Tell me who these men are." Blake bad copped the girl.

"We are her lawyers." The blind man spoke with determination. "Un-cuff our client and leave the room to us please."

Blake almost argued but I stopped him and got out my keys. I un-cuffed the young lady and ushered the two detectives out.

"Thank you, detective." The blind man spoke once again as we finally exited. I shut the door behind us.

"You two do know that I am your supervising officer here?! I may be younger than everyone here, but that means I've worked twice as hard. Just because I am a woman doesn't mean I couldn't kick both of your asses for even thinking about being aggressive towards law abiding citizens. Even if they are defense attorneys." I muttered the last bit, but otherwise intimidatingly silenced the men. "Now get lost!" I waved them away and started to pace outside the door to the interrogation room. I was sure I recognized the brunette lawyer, but I couldn't figure out what from. I had seen so many faces over the years, and I seemed to be forgetting them more and more.

--

The beeping echoed through the hollow walls of my apartment building. I groggily picked up the phone from my bedside table and stifled a yawn.

"This is Moretti."

"Shit is going down Moretti. I'd get to the precinct if I were you."

"How urgent?" I asked, getting up from my bed.

"Now." He hung up, as I ran to the other side of the room to throw on jeans and a singlet. I chucked a leather jacket on top as I slid into my combat boots. My feet were relieved from the cold sting of the floorboards as I put them on. I grabbed my badge, gun, and everything else as I ran out of the apartment building. It was time for a late night disaster. I'd prefer a snack.