Foggy has spent most of his childhood and teenage years reading and collecting various X-Men titles, so his first knee-jerk reaction is to think, holy shit Matt went Dark Phoenix. The next one is to go white as a sheet and drop his briefcase, which lands on the floor with a hollow thud! because that’s how quite their office has become.
“Hello, Foggy,” Matt says in a maniacally cheerful voice that is the most un-Matt-like sound Foggy has ever heard, “nice of you to join us.”
The ‘us’ in question is him and Karen. They’ve standing in front of Karen’s desk, Matt right behind her, hugging her with one arm. Or, well, it could have been called ‘hugging’ if Karen wasn’t shaking and crying in his grasp and Matt wasn’t pressing a knife to her throat.
Foggy raises his hands in a peaceful gesture and takes a step forward. Matt tsks and shakes his head, the tip of the knife presses harder into the skin of Karen’s neck, hard enough to draw blood. Foggy stops dead in his tracks. “Matt could you perhaps,” Foggy swallows, “let Karen go? Then we’ll talk. Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it and we’ll fix it.”
His voice is steady, doesn’t break. He’s always been good at talking under pressure.
“No, Foggy, I don’t think I can let Karen go.” Matt shakes his head sadly. “I need her.”
“Need her for what?”
“Incentive.”
“Matt,” Foggy starts again, “what’s going on? What can I do, how can I help.”
“You can’t,” Matt says dryly and smiles a creepy, predatory smile. “He told you what was going on weeks ago. He told you he thought he was losing his mind, and you said--wait, what was that? Ah, yes. You said he was just overworked.” Matt laughs. “I suppose you could call this a mental breakdown, then.”
“Matt…”
“I’m not Matt,” Matt says, and sounds bored. He sighs. “Matt is--unavailable. But I’m sure he’d be saying ‘hi’ if he could.”
Foggy’s blood runs cold. The Avengers, this is the time for the Avengers to show up, this is might be their kind of crap. Foggy has no idea what’s going on, but he knows when something is out of his league, and this is so much worse than anything else he’s ever dealt with.
He lowers his arms and his fists curl without his permission. Matt must sense it, because he smirks. “If you’re not Matt,” Foggy asks, “then what are you? A shape-shifter? An alien? A devil?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Foggy, devils don’t exist,” Matt snaps. “Demons, on the other hand--But I’m not a demon.” He taps the knife against the skin just under Karen’s ear and hums, deep in thought. “Your client Mr. Reynolds called me ‘Void’, I believe. But you can call me ‘Daimon’.”
“Daimon,” Foggy repeats.
“That’s my name,” Matt — Daimon — says. “You should get to use my name, we’re going to be great friends after all. I need you.”
“Listen, Daimon,” Foggy says and manages to take a tiny step closer. “I’d love to get to know you better, but I think right now you’re a bit confused. We should go and meet some of Matt’s friends, they could help--“
“You mean the Avengers?” Matt smiles. “Or the Defenders? You think they could help you against me? Please. That’s insulting, Foggy.”
“Shh,” Matt shushes her. “I told you to be quiet or I’ll make it hurt. Will you be quiet, Karen?”
She nods her head frantically. It breaks Foggy’s heart. “Let her go,” he says, tone pleading and pathetic. “Let her go and take me.”
“O, I will take you,” Matt says. “Just not yet. First I need to make sure Matt cooperates.”
It’s a bizarre statement to make, but it somehow manages to spark a tiny flame of hope. Whatever is going on — and Foggy has no idea what’s going on — Matt is, apparently, putting up a fight. Pride in his best friend warms him. Come on, Matty, don’t give up. Whatever it is, Foggy will find a way to help. “And how are you planning to do that?”
Matt smiles. “Like this.”
Before Foggy can react, he makes a sweeping motion with his hand and slices the knife across Karen’s throat, leaving a trail of splashing blood behind. Karen gurgles and tries to reach her hands up and wrap them around her slit throat, and Matt lets go of her, pushes her away. She falls to the ground. Foggy is near her in an instant.
“Jesus Christ. God, no,” he says as he presses one hand to her throat, tries to stop the bleeding. With the other hand he fumbles for his phone, dials 911. “No, no no no, no, oh God, Karen.”
“That’s how I plan on doing that,” Matt says above him. “The more Matt fights, the more people I’ll kill. Everyone he ever saved, everyone he ever cared for.” He crouches on the ground next to Foggy and touches Foggy’s cheek, cups it and tilts Foggy’s head so that he’s looking at him. “And after I’m done with everyone else, I’ll come for you,” Matt whispers sweetly and it sounds like a cold promise. “The one he cares for the most. I’ll rip your still beating heart from your chest with his own hand and I’ll make him watch.”
He drops his hand and stands back up. He brushes imaginary specks of dust off his trousers, straightens his tie, runs a hand through his hair. He smiles warmly at Foggy and tips his head on his way out.
He stops by the door and turns towards Foggy once more. “I’ll see you later, Foggy,” he says and actually makes it sound like something Matt would say. “Lots of fun ahead of us.”
Mini-fill: the winds may take you (so far away)
Foggy has spent most of his childhood and teenage years reading and collecting various X-Men titles, so his first knee-jerk reaction is to think, holy shit Matt went Dark Phoenix. The next one is to go white as a sheet and drop his briefcase, which lands on the floor with a hollow thud! because that’s how quite their office has become.
“Hello, Foggy,” Matt says in a maniacally cheerful voice that is the most un-Matt-like sound Foggy has ever heard, “nice of you to join us.”
The ‘us’ in question is him and Karen. They’ve standing in front of Karen’s desk, Matt right behind her, hugging her with one arm. Or, well, it could have been called ‘hugging’ if Karen wasn’t shaking and crying in his grasp and Matt wasn’t pressing a knife to her throat.
Foggy raises his hands in a peaceful gesture and takes a step forward. Matt tsks and shakes his head, the tip of the knife presses harder into the skin of Karen’s neck, hard enough to draw blood. Foggy stops dead in his tracks. “Matt could you perhaps,” Foggy swallows, “let Karen go? Then we’ll talk. Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it and we’ll fix it.”
His voice is steady, doesn’t break. He’s always been good at talking under pressure.
“No, Foggy, I don’t think I can let Karen go.” Matt shakes his head sadly. “I need her.”
“Need her for what?”
“Incentive.”
“Matt,” Foggy starts again, “what’s going on? What can I do, how can I help.”
“You can’t,” Matt says dryly and smiles a creepy, predatory smile. “He told you what was going on weeks ago. He told you he thought he was losing his mind, and you said--wait, what was that? Ah, yes. You said he was just overworked.” Matt laughs. “I suppose you could call this a mental breakdown, then.”
“Matt…”
“I’m not Matt,” Matt says, and sounds bored. He sighs. “Matt is--unavailable. But I’m sure he’d be saying ‘hi’ if he could.”
Foggy’s blood runs cold. The Avengers, this is the time for the Avengers to show up, this is might be their kind of crap. Foggy has no idea what’s going on, but he knows when something is out of his league, and this is so much worse than anything else he’s ever dealt with.
He lowers his arms and his fists curl without his permission. Matt must sense it, because he smirks. “If you’re not Matt,” Foggy asks, “then what are you? A shape-shifter? An alien? A devil?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Foggy, devils don’t exist,” Matt snaps. “Demons, on the other hand--But I’m not a demon.” He taps the knife against the skin just under Karen’s ear and hums, deep in thought. “Your client Mr. Reynolds called me ‘Void’, I believe. But you can call me ‘Daimon’.”
“Daimon,” Foggy repeats.
“That’s my name,” Matt — Daimon — says. “You should get to use my name, we’re going to be great friends after all. I need you.”
“Listen, Daimon,” Foggy says and manages to take a tiny step closer. “I’d love to get to know you better, but I think right now you’re a bit confused. We should go and meet some of Matt’s friends, they could help--“
“You mean the Avengers?” Matt smiles. “Or the Defenders? You think they could help you against me? Please. That’s insulting, Foggy.”
“F--foggy,” Karen rasps out. “P--please. Matt, M--matt, please.”
“Shh,” Matt shushes her. “I told you to be quiet or I’ll make it hurt. Will you be quiet, Karen?”
She nods her head frantically. It breaks Foggy’s heart. “Let her go,” he says, tone pleading and pathetic. “Let her go and take me.”
“O, I will take you,” Matt says. “Just not yet. First I need to make sure Matt cooperates.”
It’s a bizarre statement to make, but it somehow manages to spark a tiny flame of hope. Whatever is going on — and Foggy has no idea what’s going on — Matt is, apparently, putting up a fight. Pride in his best friend warms him. Come on, Matty, don’t give up. Whatever it is, Foggy will find a way to help. “And how are you planning to do that?”
Matt smiles. “Like this.”
Before Foggy can react, he makes a sweeping motion with his hand and slices the knife across Karen’s throat, leaving a trail of splashing blood behind. Karen gurgles and tries to reach her hands up and wrap them around her slit throat, and Matt lets go of her, pushes her away. She falls to the ground. Foggy is near her in an instant.
“Jesus Christ. God, no,” he says as he presses one hand to her throat, tries to stop the bleeding. With the other hand he fumbles for his phone, dials 911. “No, no no no, no, oh God, Karen.”
“That’s how I plan on doing that,” Matt says above him. “The more Matt fights, the more people I’ll kill. Everyone he ever saved, everyone he ever cared for.” He crouches on the ground next to Foggy and touches Foggy’s cheek, cups it and tilts Foggy’s head so that he’s looking at him. “And after I’m done with everyone else, I’ll come for you,” Matt whispers sweetly and it sounds like a cold promise. “The one he cares for the most. I’ll rip your still beating heart from your chest with his own hand and I’ll make him watch.”
He drops his hand and stands back up. He brushes imaginary specks of dust off his trousers, straightens his tie, runs a hand through his hair. He smiles warmly at Foggy and tips his head on his way out.
He stops by the door and turns towards Foggy once more. “I’ll see you later, Foggy,” he says and actually makes it sound like something Matt would say. “Lots of fun ahead of us.”
And then he’s out and gone.