"Tess, this is not a good idea," Bex said as she watched Theresa pull back her hair into a ponytail. Securing her hair tightly, Theresa answered,
"I'm well-aware."
"Ivanov warned us that...whatever we are is borderline uncontrollable right now, and you want to go do some vigilante-type work which is already illegal to begin with?"
Theresa took out a kevlar vest and put it on, zipping it up. She then began to root through her weapons case to decide what she should bring with her.
"Reiterating that doesn't make me anymore aware of the fact that this is an objectively bad idea."
"I'm coming with you."
"No, one Inhuman who doesn't know what they're capable of is enough." Theresa picked up a pair of lightweight, collapsable batons. "Besides I won't be alone. The tip came from the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."
"I didn't know you knew the Devil."
"I don't, but he seems to be on the right side of the law," Theresa answered, the lie falling easily. "...as much as a vigilante can be anyway."
"Well, try not to be Inhuman tonight."
"Right, control the uncontrollable. Solid plan."
Bex went home while Theresa dusted off her motorcycle to be used. Admittedly, the idea that Theresa could exhibit bizarre, not-so-subtle powers at any point made her a little uneasy, but hey, that's what her mask was for. Theresa's bike was parked and then she went to meet Matt, on a rooftop, no less.
For the first time, Matt was in his vigilante getup and he wasn't visibly injured. Theresa supposed that was because the night was still young. Matt noticed when she arrived, but for obvious reasons didn't have to look at her to know that. It was only when she came to stand beside him that he did a double-take of sorts.
"You're different."
Theresa considered playing dumb, but unfortunately, Matt was the only person that it would be extraordinarily difficult to lie to, considering his meticulous attention to, well, everything.
"And you're a psychic, I guess."
"What happened?"
"Long story. So what happened?"
Matt had a brief look on the lower half of his face that said he was definitely going to bring it up again later. Theresa could only hope she could figure out the best way to explain it by then.
"Listened to a Russian get murdered by corrupt cops in a police station. Found my way here." Matt's business tone of voice changed slightly into something of concern. "Are you sure you can do this right now?"
"Matthew."
"Yeah. Let's go."
✗
"Interlock your fingers behind your head and on your knees! Both of you! Do it! Do it now!"
Theresa supposed that it wouldn't be a definitely illegal vigilante quest if there weren't police involved in some capacity. So, even though she much rather wouldn't, Theresa followed the instructions, thinking about how it would be a grand time for the revelation of some insanely cool powers.
It wasn't long before the cops were unconscious on the ground. Theresa's eyes fell on Vladimir who laid on the ground, bloodied and beaten.
"How bad are you hurt?" Matt asked, his chest heaving in exertion.
Vladimir spat up blood while muttering something angrily in Russian. He reached for the gun nearby and Matt responded by knocking him out.
"Well, he wants to kill you for what you've done," Theresa translated casually. Matt looked like he'd forgotten for a moment that it was one of the languages that she was fluent in. Then he shifted his head slightly.
"He'll have to wait. More cops are coming."
The two of them and an unconscious Vladimir found their way to an abandoned building. As Matt put Vladimir down onto the ground, the Russian stirred, coughing up blood once again.
"Don't move. You've been shot."
When Vladimir muttered something bitter and snarky in Russian, Theresa let out a bored sigh. She kneeled down next to Vladimir as she spoke,
"Угрожать ему по-английски. Я не хочу переводить."
Vladimir seemed surprised for a moment as Theresa stood back up and stepped away. Then he tore his gaze away to glare at Matt and he spat in seething, heavily-accented English,
"I'm going to kill you for taking my brother's head."
"You've got the wrong guy. I don't kill people. Not even scumbags like you who deserve it."
"You dropped Semyon off the roof. Put him in a coma."
"Yeah, but he was still breathing, wasn't he?"
Matt's voice had a dark tone and sounded almost unfamiliar to her.
"Your mask. I found it and what was left of my brother."
"It's a piece of fabric, Vladimir. Could be purchased and planted by just about anyone," Theresa said, shaking her head slightly.
"You're being played by Fisk. He's the one who blew your operation to shit."
"The man you work for," Vladimir accused harshly, blood dripping from his lips. Theresa couldn't help but roll her eyes again.
"He's dumber than he looks."
"Fisk is playing games, trying to put you in the ground. I'm not. Choose a side."
"I choose my own."
"That's a joke. You haven't owned yourselves since Nikolai Volkov got put away."
Vladimir tilted his head, looking at her with a frown. He didn't have a response because he knew that she was right.
"So what do you two want?"
"Fisk on trial. For everything he's done."
"Then you're fools."
"Yeah. And you're bleeding out, so here we are."
"And if I believe you and tell you what I know, what do I get out of it?"
"Payback."
"I have a counterproposal." Vladimir paused, his seriousness shifting into a ferociousness. "Suck my dick."
Vladimir promptly passes out and Matt leaned down at his side, trying to shake him awake.
"He's charming," Theresa remarked.
"Make sure his guts don't fall out. I need to make a call."
"Is this really the time?"
"Someone with more medical knowledge than us."
Matt made a call to someone named Claire who was clearly a part of the medical field. A part of Theresa wanted to ask questions about Claire but one, this was not the time, and two, she didn't really have grounds to ask those kinds of questions (considering that the feelings that she was feeling was reserved for people in actual relationships).
After Matt had dealt with sealing Vladimir's wound, he hung up the phone, putting it into his pocket. Vladimir had drifted out of consciousness again. Then Matt lifted his head, whispering a single word to Theresa,
"Cop."
Both Theresa and Matt put themselves out of the way, waiting patiently for the cop to get to the floor that they were on.
"Show me your hands! Show me your hands, now!" The cop yelled, clearly catching sight of the unconscious Vladimir. Theresa felt a buildup of heat in her hands and in a split second decision, thrust her hand in front of her, targeted towards the gun in the cop's hand.
A beam of purplish light hit the gun and the cop yelled out in pain, dropping the gun. Then Matt dealt with him, getting the cop on the floor and silenced with nothing but his knee because of course, Matt would do that.
"I'm gonna take my knee off your throat. Stay quiet, answer my questions, or your night's gonna get a hell of a lot worse. Understand?" Matt asked carefully, his voice growing gruff whether it was intentional or not. "Who do you work for?"
The cop gasped for breath as Matt lessened the pressure of his leg from the cop. Theresa knelt down and picked up the gun, it still warm to the touch from whatever she did to it. For a moment, Theresa considered keeping the gun, but that consideration when away when she thought about Matt.
"The City of New York."
"I'm gonna ask you again. Think about your answer. Who do you work for?"
"The City of New York. I got two months on the job."
As Theresa took apart the gun, she watched Matt. Theresa couldn't describe it but Matt always looked a certain way when he was listening to someone's heartbeat. When his head perked up a little, Theresa knew that Matt believed the cop.
"Call Central. Tell them it was a false alarm. No need to send backup."
"I do that, you let me walk?"
"Eventually."
"Central, Post 41 K. 10-4, Post 41."
"Second floor! Two masked perps! One with—" Before the word "abilities" could leave the cops mouth, Matt knocked him out. Then he hauled the cop across the room to detain him properly. As Matt tied up the cop, he asked a question, keeping his volume out of earshot of Vladimir,
"What the hell was that?"
"I'm still figuring it out."
✗
When Vladimir finally came back into consciousness, his eyes surveyed the room for a moment. Took in the unconscious police officer.
"You've been busy."
"The building's surrounded. Ten officers, four dogs. More coming."
"How do you know this?"
"Lucky guess."
Theresa took out her batons in preparations. With a sharp flick of her wrists, they extended to their full lengths. Then she tossed one to Matt which he caught very easily.
"Great. You both have sticks, against guns," Vladimir remarked in disgust. Then he groaned in response to a sharp pain from where he'd been. "What did you do to me?"
"Road flare. Cauterized the wound."
"You burned me?"
"Yeah, I had to stop the bleeding."
"No!" Vladimir protested, trying to move. A colossally bad mistake when there's still a bullet inside of you creating more damage every second. Theresa stepped over to one of the poorly boarded up windows to see flashing lights not far outside of the building.
At least it was only cops.
She'd been in worse situations.
"Tell me what I want to know about Fisk," Matt demanded as Theresa rejoined them.
"You think you're different from me? From him? But you'll get there. Sooner or later we all do, men like us."
"Vladimir, let's one thing straight. I've killed and I will again. Whatever he can't do, you bet your ass I've already done it. Until then, we're willing to get you out alive. So choose your next words carefully," Theresa threatened as though she'd done it a thousand times before. Matt had yet to experience this side of her. The part of her that was hardened by years of field experience.
Suffice to say, Matt was glad that he'd asked her along.
Vladimir spat blood and then let out a heavy, surrendering sigh.
"His lapdog came to us first. He told us his employer had taken note. He complimented us on our business. Invited us to be part of something bigger to expand if we entered into an agreement."
"What did Fisk offer?"
"Police looking other way...aid from politicians, and access to Chinese and their heroin," Vladimir listed, taking breaths wherever he could. Theresa glanced over at Matt to see if that was something he was aware of. Considering the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's next question, Theresa's guess was no.
"He's working with the Chinese?"
"You really don't know anything, do you? Just snapping at scraps falling from table."
"I want names. Everything you know about them and how they connect to Fisk."
"There's only one name that matters. The man that can tie it all together," Vladimir paused and Theresa was thinking about how dramatic it was. She supposed a man with a possibly fatal wound should be allowed to be a little dramatic.
"Who?"
"Have you heard of the name Leslie Shumway?"
"No, he work for Fisk?"
Vladimir chuckled in response, shaking his head.
"American schools...almost as bad as Russian."
Matt tilted his head slightly, partially in annoyance.
"Come on.
"Leslie Shumway was an accountant to your Al Capone."
"Okay, you know who Fisk's money man is."
"Not just Fisk. He handled it for all of us."
"Who is he? Where do I find him?"
Vladimir got a glazed look in his eyes. It was the blood loss that caused the distraction, forced the delirium to set in.
"We were going to rule this city my brother and I," Vladimir mused.
"Vladimir, the name!"
"His name... His name is... His name is..." Vladimir closed his eyes and Matt leaned in closer, trying to check that he was still alive. Then Vladimir's eyes snapped open and he swung a broken beam at Matt.
Theresa didn't have time to react as Vladimir tackled Matt, crashing through rather weak floor boards. The former spy watched them fall, aware of the building noise just outside of the building and let out a sigh,
"Why do boys have to make such a mess?"
Theresa found a way down to the floor that they landed on and Matt was pacing around the room, clearly trying to find a way out. He moved his head in Theresa's direction and nodded for her to come over to the side.
"Theresa, you should find a way out."
"And you're not coming?"
"I've got to get him out."
"You're going to need a distraction, considering he's half-dead and you just fell through three floors. I'm staying. I've had worse odds," Theresa whispered, conscious of controlling her volume with Vladimir not so far away. Matt shook his head slightly at her and if they hadn't been in such dire circumstances, she might've even gotten a smile from him.
The quiet room was filled with the crackling of a radio and then a voice.
"I'd like to speak to the man in the mask, please. Hello."
Matt found the cop's walkie that fell through with them and his finger was poised over the button to respond, then Theresa stopped him,
"Wait."
"What?"
"Give it to me. Let me talk. You find a way out."
"I—"
"You're too close to this, especially if whoever's on that end is connected to the big guy."
Though Matt didn't seem overjoyed by the prospect, his decision was pushed into action by the voice speaking once again.
"Are you there? Can you hear me?"
Theresa held the walkie and pressed the button to speak, a strange chill of excitement climbing her spine. Maybe she missed being an agent a little more than she thought.
"Who is this?"
Just as she'd hoped, her voice prompted a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, they spoke,
"I asked for the man in the mask."
"Well, you're getting me. Am I right to assume Wilson Fisk?"
"And you are?"
"Someone who likes to put bad guys in jail."
"So you think yourself a hero then?"
"No, not a hero. You're toxic, stealing from this city in the dark. A poison."
"I want to save this city, like you, only on a scale that matters."
"Not like this. You put too many lives at risk. You hurt too many people."
"Life is not a fairy tale, my dear. Not everyone deserves a happy ending." There was certainly something uncomfortable about being called "my dear" by someone of notably selfish and borderline evil motivations. If Theresa had a nickel for every time that she'd been called some kind of term of endearment by a criminal of high proportions...she'd definitely have a few nickels.
"You may be right. But the Man in the Mask and I are going to make sure that you and anyone in your circle don't get the happy endings you're counting on."
"That just won't be possible. Not that I don't admire what you're trying to do, to change the world with nothing but desire and your own two hands, secure in the knowledge that you're doing the right thing, the only thing. That's something that I do understand. But we both can't have what we want. So your part, both your parts, in this drama, by necessity, comes to an end."
"We can't be afraid of shadows, Mr. Fisk, and that's all you are."
"You blew up the city according to tomorrow's papers. You and the Masked Man."
"You think anyone's gonna believe that?"
"You're running around in masks, holing up with a known felon in the wake of a series of bombings. There's that police officer you're holding hostage, so yes. Actually, I do. But it doesn't have to be this way. The Russian, is he alive?"
"I'm still here, you fat shit!"
"He told you in English. He must really mean it," Theresa said, not even trying to mask the snark in her voice.
"It's a one-time offer. You or the Masked Man kill the Russian, and we'll call the night a push. You know what he's done to women, to children. To the people of this city that you claim to care about. But do you know how much he enjoyed it?"
"I'm comfortable with felons, Mr. Fisk. But it must worry you what he's saying if you'd rather we kill him."
"Whatever you get out of him, if you get anything, it'll be a waste."
"Really? I know I'm new to this game, but you have networks of people to control and manipulate. We don't have that problem. You should fear the people who have nothing and are willing to risk everything. Goodbye, Mr. Fisk."
Theresa threw the walkie-talkie at the ground with all her might, effectively breaking it. Then she looked towards Matt.
"Was that a good idea?" Matt asked incredulously.
"You're stepping into my area of expertise here. We can argue about methodology once we find a way out."
Finally, Matt and Theresa found a manhole cover. They pulled it together and then Matt went to help up Vladimir. Theresa went down behind them, hearing the sounds of the police outside growing closer.
The three of them moved through the access tunnels. Theresa supported Vladimir from the other side, trying to get them to move faster.
Matt let go of Vladimir and Theresa helped him rest against the wall. Then Matt pulled at a stuck door as the sounds of the police got closer. With her baton, she fought off some of the cops, doing the very opposite of pulling punches.
"Let's go."
Vladimir was still sitting against the wall, only now he'd stolen a rifle from one of the unconscious police officers.
"There are five more coming. All working for Fisk, probably not even real cops. We don't have time for this."
"I think maybe I stay."
"We can still make it out of here. You turn evidence on Fisk, we can-"
"He controls all police judges. There's only one way to stop him, you know this."
"Vladimir, if I stay, he can get you out," Theresa volunteered, her hand tightening against the handle of her baton.
"No one says Volkov's name with ease. You are Russian the way I am."
It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"Katarina," Theresa told him, the name rolling off of her accented tongue. Vladimir had a little smirk on his face.
"The name you need is Leland Owlsley. He controls the money but it won't be enough. You're in a cage with animals, the fight doesn't stop until one is dead." Vladimir stood up with extreme effort, lifting the rifle. Matt kicked a lock and pushed against the door, his hand shifting to Theresa's back.
"Fisk is tying loose ends with the Russians, Katarina. You should say your goodbyes."
A bad feeling lurched in the pit of Theresa's stomach as she and Matt ran.