Last chapter before anon has to leave for a week-long trip, hopefully will be back with more plot bunnies. I have to admit I am making everything up as I go. Your responses give me strength, anons. :'D
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She’ll be just the incentive Murdock needs to make the right decision, Wesley thinks as he observes the unconscious form of Karen Page. He doesn’t even have any plans to hurt her. Terrify her, certainly, and threaten everyone she cares about also. But she’ll walk away from this, shaken, but physically unharmed. Even if she says no to his proposal, which in itself is highly unlikely given his experience with these things, there will still be Murdock to convince her.
Page wakes with a gasp, and Wesley steps from the shadows.
The stage is already set. A dark abandoned warehouse, a single table bridging the space between two plastic chairs. Wesley helps her to sit comfortably, before he takes his position across the table.
“You know, funny story, after the Union Allied article I enquired as to whether you needed further attention.
To start, they should understand exactly how they ended up exactly where they are.
“You were supposed to go away, Ms. Page. Fade back to... wherever it is people like you fade.”
Murdock needs time to get here, so Wesley stalls with whatever topic that comes into his head. He opens with talk of destiny and progresses to discussing how much he dislikes this city. Then he talks about Fisk’s misguided convictions, and wonders how long this is going to take.
“Frankly, I was surprised she remembered you…”
Fatigue from too many hours spent awake wears at his patience and his tact, and with it he makes missteps, reveals perhaps too much. Even with his impaired state he can see the gears ticking in Page’s head, the way her gaze darts repeatedly to the gun he’s probably placed a little too close to her. But as resourceful and determined she is, Page is ultimately weak.
“I’m not here to kill you Ms. Page, I’m here to offer you a job.”
She’s resistant, and regards him with the exact same look of utter loathing he’s seen on a hundred other faces. Once upon a time an expression like hers would have sparked trepidation, sent him spiralling into familiar self-loathing. Now, he feels something akin to satisfaction, and a sense of disgust that is no longer directed purely inwards.
“But you won’t be the first to die, Ms. Page, no…”
It’s the usual song and dance, back them into a corner then throw them a lifeline. The start is always less about convincing them than making sure they’re pushed to the cliff’s very edge and understand completely just how far they have to fall. By the time he’s done, she’ll see that saying yes is her only option.
His phone begins to ring and Wesley’s attention turns, Page lunges forward, and he freezes reaching into his suit.
Page is back in her seat, gun pointed at Wesley. She’s shaking, her terror clear with every gasping breath. Wesley’s phone rings and rings.
This unexpected reversal has Wesley mentally cycling through every mistake he’s made, every omission that’s led him to this point. Force of habit, perhaps, but first, he’s knows he’s gravely underestimated Karen Page. Second-
“Do you really think I would put a loaded gun on the table where you can reach it?” He bluffs, because in his panic and exhaustion the first thing that comes to mind is protecting his pride, and before the words are out of his mouth he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. You don’t goad someone when they’re emotionally high-strung and holding a loaded gun.
“I don’t know,” Karen says. There’s a grin twisting her lips like she can already taste her victory.
Page cocks the gun and Wesley thinks that he should feel more strongly about dying.
The emotion that washes over him is not fear but relief, and he doesn’t understand why he almost hopes that Murdock doesn’t show. He stares at her, then the gun, more curious than he is anxious about the way things have turned out.
“Do you really think this is the first time I’ve shot one?”
Past tense, that is not good.
The air shatters with the sound of a gunshot, and Wesley falls back in his chair, his chest exploding with pain. It hurts, it hurts much more than he remembers, more than Moscow, or Dublin, or Taipei. The world blurs, and then there’s the sound of something striking flesh.
Page screams, metal clatters to the floor.
It’s hard to breathe.
Wesley lifts his head, blinking as he takes in the black in black who is standing across from a terrified Karen Page. The vigilante is here.
“It’s you,” Page says, hysteria lining her voice. She scrambles up from the chair and backs away.
You took your time, Wesley wants to say. My hero, some manic part of him also offers. But something shifts in his chest and it’s all he can do to not scream.
“Go,” Matt commands, his head turned toward Wesley. The tension in his body language tells Wesley he also did not expect Page to go as far as she did. Does he actually care? Wesley is almost certain he’s imagining the worry that underlined Murdock’s last word.
He’s probably worried about Page. That makes more sense.
Wesley watches with detached interest as Page stares at him, then at Murdock, eyes wide. “What about him? What are we going to do?”
“You need to leave, right now,” Murdock says through gritted teeth, stepping towards her, “I’ll take care of this.”
“How?”
Wesley would laugh if he could. The girl is terrified, and the reality of what she’s probably just done is only just sinking in, but she is still as tenacious as ever.
“He knows,” Karen continues, “He knows I went to see Fisk’s mother. He’ll hurt my friends.”
Maybe karma does exist after all, Wesley thinks, his thoughts tarting to drift, he’s going to die here, in this chair, with Page and Murdock standing over him.
[FILL] He Who Fights Monsters 4a/? (Re: Matt/Wesley - Good!Wesley, Undercover)
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She’ll be just the incentive Murdock needs to make the right decision, Wesley thinks as he observes the unconscious form of Karen Page. He doesn’t even have any plans to hurt her. Terrify her, certainly, and threaten everyone she cares about also. But she’ll walk away from this, shaken, but physically unharmed. Even if she says no to his proposal, which in itself is highly unlikely given his experience with these things, there will still be Murdock to convince her.
Page wakes with a gasp, and Wesley steps from the shadows.
The stage is already set. A dark abandoned warehouse, a single table bridging the space between two plastic chairs. Wesley helps her to sit comfortably, before he takes his position across the table.
“You know, funny story, after the Union Allied article I enquired as to whether you needed further attention.
To start, they should understand exactly how they ended up exactly where they are.
“You were supposed to go away, Ms. Page. Fade back to... wherever it is people like you fade.”
Murdock needs time to get here, so Wesley stalls with whatever topic that comes into his head. He opens with talk of destiny and progresses to discussing how much he dislikes this city. Then he talks about Fisk’s misguided convictions, and wonders how long this is going to take.
“Frankly, I was surprised she remembered you…”
Fatigue from too many hours spent awake wears at his patience and his tact, and with it he makes missteps, reveals perhaps too much. Even with his impaired state he can see the gears ticking in Page’s head, the way her gaze darts repeatedly to the gun he’s probably placed a little too close to her. But as resourceful and determined she is, Page is ultimately weak.
“I’m not here to kill you Ms. Page, I’m here to offer you a job.”
She’s resistant, and regards him with the exact same look of utter loathing he’s seen on a hundred other faces. Once upon a time an expression like hers would have sparked trepidation, sent him spiralling into familiar self-loathing. Now, he feels something akin to satisfaction, and a sense of disgust that is no longer directed purely inwards.
“But you won’t be the first to die, Ms. Page, no…”
It’s the usual song and dance, back them into a corner then throw them a lifeline. The start is always less about convincing them than making sure they’re pushed to the cliff’s very edge and understand completely just how far they have to fall. By the time he’s done, she’ll see that saying yes is her only option.
His phone begins to ring and Wesley’s attention turns, Page lunges forward, and he freezes reaching into his suit.
Page is back in her seat, gun pointed at Wesley. She’s shaking, her terror clear with every gasping breath. Wesley’s phone rings and rings.
This unexpected reversal has Wesley mentally cycling through every mistake he’s made, every omission that’s led him to this point. Force of habit, perhaps, but first, he’s knows he’s gravely underestimated Karen Page. Second-
“Do you really think I would put a loaded gun on the table where you can reach it?”
He bluffs, because in his panic and exhaustion the first thing that comes to mind is protecting his pride, and before the words are out of his mouth he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. You don’t goad someone when they’re emotionally high-strung and holding a loaded gun.
“I don’t know,” Karen says. There’s a grin twisting her lips like she can already taste her victory.
Page cocks the gun and Wesley thinks that he should feel more strongly about dying.
The emotion that washes over him is not fear but relief, and he doesn’t understand why he almost hopes that Murdock doesn’t show. He stares at her, then the gun, more curious than he is anxious about the way things have turned out.
“Do you really think this is the first time I’ve shot one?”
Past tense, that is not good.
The air shatters with the sound of a gunshot, and Wesley falls back in his chair, his chest exploding with pain. It hurts, it hurts much more than he remembers, more than Moscow, or Dublin, or Taipei. The world blurs, and then there’s the sound of something striking flesh.
Page screams, metal clatters to the floor.
It’s hard to breathe.
Wesley lifts his head, blinking as he takes in the black in black who is standing across from a terrified Karen Page. The vigilante is here.
“It’s you,” Page says, hysteria lining her voice. She scrambles up from the chair and backs away.
You took your time, Wesley wants to say. My hero, some manic part of him also offers. But something shifts in his chest and it’s all he can do to not scream.
“Go,” Matt commands, his head turned toward Wesley. The tension in his body language tells Wesley he also did not expect Page to go as far as she did. Does he actually care? Wesley is almost certain he’s imagining the worry that underlined Murdock’s last word.
He’s probably worried about Page. That makes more sense.
Wesley watches with detached interest as Page stares at him, then at Murdock, eyes wide. “What about him? What are we going to do?”
“You need to leave, right now,” Murdock says through gritted teeth, stepping towards her, “I’ll take care of this.”
“How?”
Wesley would laugh if he could. The girl is terrified, and the reality of what she’s probably just done is only just sinking in, but she is still as tenacious as ever.
“He knows,” Karen continues, “He knows I went to see Fisk’s mother. He’ll hurt my friends.”
Maybe karma does exist after all, Wesley thinks, his thoughts tarting to drift, he’s going to die here, in this chair, with Page and Murdock standing over him.