I'm here.

[man_without_fear]

[previously: unbound]

Matt barrels through the door and finds himself in the hallway of the apartment building he'd left behind before being trapped in Milliways.

He takes a moment to get his bearings. Musty carpets, muffled TV's, traffic out on the street-- Russians.

Springing forward, Matt rushes for the stairwell; tackling the staircase several steps at a time and leaping the banister to drop the last flight. His lungs are burning and his heart is drumming loud when he finally makes the street.

The city slams into him: pedestrians and traffic, the caterwauling of sirens, dirty storm drains, and broken bottles reeking in the alleyway. But, no Russians, no car, and no Claire.

Hands on his hips and head tilted back at the sky, Matt struggles to catch his breath through the twin fists of defeat and guilt clamped around his windpipe.



He's lost her.



[dialogue taken from Netflix's Daredevil: 1.4 - In the Blood]

Comments

[nocturnalmedicine]

The taxi trunk reeks of gas fumes and old carpet.

Claire might gag if she weren't screaming.

The fucking duct tape muffles her shrieks, rendering them just another note within the white-noise hum of nighttime traffic.

She's hobbled by the tape around her wrists and ankles; every muscle strains and shakes as she bucks against her bonds. Her bent knees bump unforgiving metal — ow — and she hisses an unintelligible shit.

A frantic twist puts her on her side; she gets the soles of her sneakers flat on one wall of the trunk, just below the lip of its seam. She pushes off, kicking like a hellbent mule — again, again, and again, making what she hopes is a furious ruckus.

Drawing in the deepest breath she can manage through her bloodied nose, she shouts again.

Goddamn tape. Shit, shit, shit.