daredevilkink | Daredevil Prompt Post #8

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Daredevil Prompt Post #8

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Thank you so much!

The whimpering one is Snuff, yeah, and iPad is sort of fading into the background at the moment, scoping things out. He's not as bold or as self-assured as Opposite, certainly, and Opposite's definitely very much trying to reign in everyone's reactions and get a household running smoothly. Honestly, that's been Opposite's unofficial job for years now, coordinating pets, other bed-slaves, other personal assistants/bodyguards all to make owner/s happy, and I imagine by this point Opposite's just glad that none of them have truly tried to challenge his assumed authority. Also, Matt's a control freak in pretty much everything, I feel like.

Heh. Trouble is kind of hard for me to write in, because the only slave-Matt I've written before is meta/prompt for the Opposite-of-snuff-bait-Matt, and so I don't have a handle on the others.

I'd love to see other slave!Matt writers weighing in and adding what they think would happen, too!

ayrt: I'm the writer of Ipad - in his case, I guess it really depends on where in his timeline you snatch him from? Like, at the beginning he would try to melt into the background as much as possible, but, later...(alternate version of your fill that I tried to keep as consistent as possible -anyone, feel free to continue/play around with it, if you want! I'm interested in how Opposite would react aferwards, as well :p )

xxx

There's a loud awful screeching sound, like nails against a blackboard all over again, and then he's thrown onto a hardwood floor.

Matt blinks, listening as best he can with his ears ringing, reaching out a hand. He's on a hardwood floor, cheap, with nothing on it--no rugs or kneeling pads. There's a soft couch, windows, and the walls feel like Hell's Kitchen brick. It's strange.

There's a kitchen five or so feet to his left, a fridge and stove and counters and cabinets, and a bathroom on his right, and--

The bedroom has silk sheets.

Oh.

For a moment, Matt feels overwhelmed by his own silliness, because obviously he's *home*, this is *his* place, the place he was allowed to pick and Foggy rented for him, but then stills, again. There are things wrong here. Some of the furniture is different. There's more of it, and - he reaches out to feel along one of the chairs - it definitely feels more expensive.

But at the same time the couch still smells like his own blood, and that is something you definitely cannot fake. Matt gets to his feet, gingerly. The fingers of his left hand run almost on automatic, checking whether the thin, wide, almost-invisible-when-you-wear-a-shirt-over-it -collar is still in place, and it is. Matt has torn feelings about the thing - on the one hand, it was the first thing Foggy gave him, and it lets him have a lot of freedoms, but on the other hand it's a *collar*. Matt wants to hold on to it and tear it off his neck in equal measure most days, and usually goes with doing his best to forget he's wearing it at all. (It is a strategy that has as of yet failed to work very well.)

The next moment, however, all thoughts of collars are forgotten as the horrible noise from ten seconds ago repeats and there's moans and pops and suddenly there's more people, all of them accompanied by that screeching noise. Suddenly, there are three more humans in the room and Matt readies himself to - he doesn't quite know what. Run? Fight to defend his not-home? It's too late for hiding, at any rate, and he considers just playing his usual, 'I'm a free blind person who wandered in here by mistake-' card, hoping no one will ask him for an ID he doesn't have - when he notices something.

Namely, that all three of those bodies not only smell very similar, but also that their heartbeat sounds the exact same.

It sounds exactly like the one he's been hearing his entire life, to be precise.

"Uh," he starts, swallowing, but then one of the other...doubles? He has *no* idea what is going on, seems to have taken stock of the situation much faster than he himself has, because he turns his head into his direction and hisses, in Matt's own voice - "Get onto your *knees*. When whoever it is that owns this place gets back, we need to be on our knees."

And Matt freezes. How does the other *know*? He hasn't been ordered to kneel in five years - not since Foggy got him - and he can feel himself breathing faster at the idea of being discovered. How...?!

And then something strikes him. Namely, that not only do the other two people in the room with him comply instantly, but they also move like someone used to obeying, like someone used to being on all fours. And then it suddenly clicks.

Slaves. He's here with three other versions of himself, and they're all slaves.

The realization hits him hard enough that he sinks to his knees without even thinking, head spinning. What is this? Is this a dream? He knows Foggy is working hard toward freeing him. Is this some sort of universal hint, that he isn't *meant* to be free? Or did he hit his head on a fire escape and this is some delirious fantasy, composed of his nightmare material?

Matt wants to moan, and clutch at his head until he wakes up, so he doesn't even notice how much time has passed until one of the others whispers to his neighbour "Do you know what's going on?" but is harshly shushed by an angry "Don't speak!" from the version of himself that had spoken first, and *that* gets Matt back into the present.

This isn't a dream. This all feels too real, and he has to get his head in gear. There are three versions of him, all right, and he can tell that they're distinct.

The one that had spoken first - the imperious one - is kneeling all the way to the left and his heartbeat is tense, but still controlled. His movements are fluid and graceful, speaking of hidden strength. Matt thinks he might be about the same age as him. The one who just asked, though, is far younger, perhaps still a teenager, and he hunches miserably on the floor now, heart beating fast with terror. Matt's fists clench. Whoever owned this version of himself deserves to *pay*. The third one...is a bit strange to his senses, to be honest. He seems younger than him and Imperious, but definitely older than Terrified, hasn't spoken yet, but apparently listened intently, and his movements are more reminiscent of an animal than a slave. Matt has the worst suspicions, but swallows them down for a moment, because Imperious - of course, who else? - is already speaking again, addressing the kid, who whimpers.

"You don't want to be caught talking about the owner when they get here."

And Matt can't stop himself from finally speaking up.

"The 'owner', when he gets here, is going to be *us*," he says, sharply, "because this is *my* apartment. And now will you *stop* terrifying the kid?"

Which is exactly the point where the key in the lock turns, they all freeze, and then the door slooooowly opens and a very familiar, fifth voice says, "Okay, what the fuck is going on in here?" and it all descends into chaos.

---

After it's been established, painfully, that all four of them are alternate versions of the person who owns this apartment, that this world does not have legal slavery in the United States (where the apartment most certainly is), Matt still feels completely at sea, but is glad that they're by now at least all sitting on the furniture like people, while the Matt who is at home in this world, apparently has a quiet freak-out in the kitchen or something. Matt thinks he can't really blame him.

(He really is just glad that there *is* a version of him as a free man. His hope to be one too isn't so insane, maybe.)

Only that means that he is now left with three other versions of himself, and the bossy same-age one seems to have taken an interest in the kid.

"Which class are you? Of slave?"

The kid flinches, but then replies, quietly and scared, "Uh, technically, study aid?"

"Technically? Tell me the truth," Imperious asks, and Matt has the faint suspicion that he is definitely not the only one who has heard the faint heart-beat skip, then. He rises.

"Hey. Will you stop picking on the kid? I'm a study-aid, too. Why don't you ask me some questions instead of terrifying him?"

"You seemed less likely to get us all killed or whipped," Imperious has turned his head, and his voice sounds cool. "Maybe I made an error in judgement."

"The main error you made is trying to be bully toward the one *teenager* in the room," Matt grates. He has taken more than one beating when it came to trying to protect younger slaves. Going up against himself doesn't sound nearly as terrifying. Imperious rises as well, seemingly up to the challenge, when the kid speaks up again, sounding as worried as any slave when it seems like there's a fight to break out -

"I was--I guess I was snuff-bait, but the Nelsons bought me and so I'm not anymore. I don't think Foggy would kill me, he'd have me put down," he answers quickly, adding anxiously, "Please don't fight because of me, I'm okay."

The reactions are pretty much immediate.

"Snuff-bait? Do they just not know about your--abilities? Do you not *have* them?"

"Foggy would have you WHAT?!"

Matt thinks, deliriously, that the other, look-at-me-I'm-in-charge-Matt sounds equally as horrified as him, but apparently for a completely different reason.

"I do have the same abilities as you!" the kid snaps back, sounding full of wounded pride, and ah, *there*'s the Murdock temper that makes for the worst slaves, ever, Matt knows, and he adds, "And I meant what I said. When he doesn't need me any more, Foggy wouldn't sell me. It won't be bad to be put down by him."

Matt feels like the floor under his feet just dropped away. This Matt is *also* owned by Foggy and there is a Foggy who would...?

"Also, my abilities - they're just not on my papers or anything, are they on yours?"

And Imperious says, firmly and proudly, "Yes. They are. That's how I've lived this long. That's why I'm so expensive."

There's a sound of breaking glass in the kitchen as the owner-version shatters a glass in his hands and Matt can't blame him. He wants to break things, too.

"God, that's...that's...I don't even know what that is. Are you trying to tell me you're *proud* of being a slave?" he asks, but Imperious is already ignoring him, having dropped back to the floor as soon as their fifth dropped the glass. Matt remembers that reflex from years ago, won't pretend it isn't still there, sometimes, when Foggy swears or gets angry at something, but he forces himself not to react now.

Imperious seems to give him up for a lost cause or something, because he mainly grabs the kid by the arms as he goes down, and pulls both of them down to kneel with their head flat on the ground, face down. Technically, Matt knows that that's the only sensible way to react to angry violence like that--calm the owner down.

But the only owner he'd ever still do that for is Foggy, and that is because Foggy would never want him to.

"Let him up," he says, low and dark to the one who is ignoring him, "What he does isn't your decision to make."

---

Claire, at least, is welcomingly familiar. God knows how much insanity Matt has already pulled her into in his own world, and she seems to expect as much from the Matt of this world, checking them over without so much as a comment too many as to where this army of clones is suddenly coming from. Matt himself isn't too badly damaged, some cuts, some bruises, the usual things Foggy frowns at him for, and the Matt of this world seems similar. Imperious doesn't seem to have many non-healed wounds at all, which makes Matt wonder whether all of them even do go out as Daredevil. The one non-verbal Matt that seems to have some strange mental issues or something, is the worst off, and Claire works on him first.

It's when he tries to pet her hair that Imperious grabs his wrist and drags it backward.

"You can't just touch a free person," he scolds him. "Especially not a free woman's hair! Do you know what they do to slaves who do things like that? One of my masters once whipped the back off a slave just for smiling too much at his sister. If it had touched her hair he'd have had those hands cut off. Don't ever do that again!"

Issues whimpers and the kid gasps in terror, while the Matt of this world and Claire stare. Matt himself can feel himself gaping at this declaration, and gaping still Imperious he smoothly goes to his knees again and murmurs, "Of course it's your decision how to discipline your property, I'm sorry for being insolent," and waits.

"Matt," Claire murmurs to the free version of them, now clearly freaked out. "What the hell."

"Excuse me," Matt says instead, dropping down into a crouch next to the one who apparently has appointed himself their personal trainer, and hisses, "For Christ's sake, will you stop *frightening* everyone?!" (although a voice in his head murmurs 'The kid belongs to a Foggy who would have him put down. If that were your Foggy, there is nothing more frightening you can imagine')

(And he is already frightened. He seems himself, young and terrified and apparently ended with the worst version of a Foggy imaginable, nothing like his Foggy, who makes him feel safe and allowed him to be a person again, and he sees himself, maybe broken beyond repair, certainly beyond reason if that other version can't even *talk* anymore, and he sees himself, apparently *happy* as a slave, taking *pride* in it and he isn't sure whether that isn't actually the worst version of them all. The one thing he can cling to is perhaps the version of himself where he is free, a sign that things don't *have* to turn out badly, but the Matt of this world also seems completely unable to cope with the idea of himself enslaved at all, not used to living with the daily horror like the four of them are, and isn't very much help.)

Matt desperately wishes Foggy was here.

xxx

As the writer of the other minifill I am squealing SO. LOUDLY. OMG. I love this so much!!

Matt would swallow nervously now, except it's been trained out of him.

Nothing he's doing is working; nobody is reacting quite like he expects. Except the irritatingly sad snuff-bait version, whose presence feels offensive. Matt can't quite believe that there ever could be a version of him that was fucking snuff-bait. At his worst he'd been sold for 10,000 to Winter (and what a bargain that had been for him, the best owner Matt could ever have had besides Stick).

Matt takes a deep breath as imperceptively as he can, and stands up, backs away to a wall, and sits down as quietly as he can make himself. He does not shake, focusing on keeping still and out of the way.

If something you're doing isn't working, get out of the situation if you can, he can hear Summer saying, with her soft matter-of-fact voice. It wasn't possible to disagree with her because of that voice. Don't force it. It won't work and you'll end up at a net advantage. Stubbornness is not good for tactics. Change your approach, wait and listen. You and me, we can become furniture. We're not just slaves, we're defectives. So everyone underestimates us. Use that. Become the furniture and then beat them to death with a chair.

Literally? he had asked, young and confused as he had been.

Yes, and metaphorically, she had said with a flourish.

It was with Winter and Summer's tutelage that Matt had become not just Stick's abandoned weapon, but a self-wielded assasin, a thing to be proud of being. A slave that could be anybody, anything. The perfect item to complete any collection. An It like a queen, like Summer had always said.

He breathed slowly and thought about that insolent little--

He breathed again, diverting the anger to the center of him where all the rage lived. Keep anger close and safe and burning.

He thought about the angry accusatory question the half-trained version of himself had flung at him. He's not trying to frighten anyone--

That's a lie, he can tell the exact second he thinks it. He is trying to frighten the snuff-bait version, and the pet version--who slinks around alarmingly similar to Summer, now that he thinks about it--and the irritating half-trained version. He wants them to behave, but he's not in control of this situation.

It's unfair. Matt lost to Summer when he tried to challenge or order her, but that was natural. Summer had far more experience than him in this sort of thing. But ever since then, Matt's had to fight many other slaves--house-slaves, other bodyguards who thought he was too defective to serve alongside them, bed-slaves who were jealous of his senses making sex almost as easy as breathing, personal assistants who thought he was just some breathing fleshlight and ought to be chained to a bed, even some pets. He's won all those wars, including the ones where he was sold afterwards. He always won.

But Matt's never had to fight himself, especially not multiple versions of himself at the same time.

--

The medic--Claire--comes over to him last. Matt's startled to realize he hasn't been paying attention to what she's been doing with the others. That's a bad sign, a sign he hasn't been allotting sufficient energy to his surroundings.

Checking out is a strategy. Do not let it be your only strategy.

Matt smiled to himself thinking about Summer. It had been years since anything had truly reminded him of her, and nothing had hurt quite badly enough to make him retreat to more pleasant memories of her and Winter.

"Are you hurt anywhere that you know of?" Claire asked, hovering over him.

Matt resisted the urge to kneel; it hadn't provoked a positive or even understandable response so far. And in some part of his brain, he was angry at having to kneel to people who didn't own him or didn't deserve it.

"No, ma'am," he said.

"Forgive me if I don't exactly believe you," she said snippily as she reached to touch his neck. Matt stilled on reflex; he was still a slave, and she was still free, and he couldn't therefore attack her. It was beneath his dignity.

"So what's your deal, anyway?" The half-trained one asked him, still sounding angry but also more concerned. The snuff-bait one--who Matt realized was at least a couple years younger than him, and so broken he might as well be a baby slave--was huddling on the couch next to the half-trained one, and the petlike, catlike one was wandering around still.

Matt thought about it carefully and answered, as diplomatically as he could, "It appears that I'm the one of who adapted the best to our life circumstances," and then focused on Claire, whose hands were patting him as if for broken bones. It was strange to have a medic treat him as if he couldn't hear his own injuries.

"I'm fine, ma'am," he added to her, as politely and calmly as he could. It came out distant but respectful, and Matt mentally rewarded himself a point. Against all the losses of control he would have to punish himself for to prevent them in the future it was tiny, but still promising. He could salvage this.

"Your definition of 'fine' is fucked up in every universe," she shot back, and it was odd how she reminded him of Summer, except for the tone. Summer had three vocal tones when she wasn't actively pretending to be someone else--the matter-of-fact tone, the regretful I-have-to-do-this-for-you tone, and the shocked delight.

The half-trained one snorted and said, dryly and pissed still, "So what exactly were you doing earlier? Trying to help this poor kid adapt better to being a slave?"

"Yes. You're welcome," he added before he could catch his mouth, and then winced and added, "I apologize if it was...inappropriate. But that was the general idea."

"If it was inappropriate? Scaring children is ever appropriate?"

"If necessary, yes. Sometimes people need to be reminded of how close they are to an edge before they fall over and die," Matt shot back, going into the tone Summer had trained into him. "It's not--I appear to have overreacted, and I'm sorry," (Lies are often best mixed with truth so well you can't tell which is which, Summer's voice a cathedral bell ringing in his head).

"But I wasn't doing anything that I haven't first experienced. There's nothing wrong with helping baby slaves become better at their jobs. It's the only way to help them live in the long run. Surely you can agree that's a good goal? Or perhaps you're one of those suicidal idiots who thinks we should all die en masse as protest?"

There's a shocked, stiff silence, and Matt curses himself for misstepping. At this rate he's going to have to break a toe for punishment--but, no, if he's going to be standing and walking, a toe might be overmuch.

He wants Summer here more than anything. He hasn't wanted her to be with him for so very long; he wanted to become strong and good and fierce for her and Winter, to pay them back, but now he can't seem to be doing anything right.

Matt thinks of the earlier angry question--Are you trying to tell me you're *proud* of being a slave? and decides to answer it.

"And for your earlier question--there's nothing wrong with being a slave. I'm proud of what I've managed to become," he says, bowing his head in a parody of lifting it, "And I'm sorry that you can't understand my value," which is his standard closing line of whisper-fights with other slaves. It was akin to saying they were either stupid or disagreed with their owners, which any sensible slave understood were both incredibly cutting.

There's another second of complete, utter, shocked silence broken by the snuff-bait starting to laugh hysterically, and then the half-trained one shakes his head, snort-laughing too, and said, low and incredulous, "Who the hell fucked you up this bad?"

Matt closes his mouth before he can say something angry and stupid--think before you speak, I know you have a brain in that skull and forces himself to think instead.

If--if he'd never been owned by Winter, never been trained under Summer, never realized that he was never going to be freed (slaves that had any training in violence--overseer work, slaughtering animals, and especially bodyguarding and thus hand-to-hand--were not legally allowed to be freed under any circumstances), never had his abilities meticulously documented, never had his price raised and raised and raised upon being sold over and over again--

Well. Matt wouldn't be--he wouldn't really be Matt in the same way, at all. And if he'd never realized the truth about himself and his potential, he certainly wouldn't have the same kind of grace and finesse and certainty he had.

So the snuff-bait and the half-trained versions were...not as well-trained or accepting of their life. Well, that explained a lot of things.

He jerks as he hears the free-person version (and what a complete and utter monster that version must be) repeat, slowly, "Who fucked you up that bad?"

His face twists on the inside--not visibly, anyway, Matt's not that undisciplined--but it's a free person, so he has to answer, and says, calmly, "I was bought by a named who called himself Winter when I was twelve, after Stick sold me on.

"He and his slave Summer trained me, it's true, but that hardly fits the definition of 'fucked up'. She was very helpful, and never cruel, except to teach me how to benefit from others' cruelty. And if--if I did something wrong, it was my doing, not my being, that was incorrect. She was very kind."

And not by being kind indefinitely, either, because that would have been cruel, to treat him to expect kindness all the time, but she was good. She strengthened him.

You and me, we'll always be things, she had said on one of those long drives through the countryside. But if we choose, we can be the greatest, most precious, valuable things in this world. More than anything else.

And Matt had become that, hadn't he? The best of the best, owned by Amex Agency, who, he realizes with a flutter of panic, is supposed to auction him in a week.

All this follow ups stories are each one a delight.
The diferent reactions and the same but different POV is so great.

Ipad is definetly trying to se eteh big picture in what is happening. He wants to help in some way, just liek he does in his unievrse and that's why eh wants Foggy. He knows Foggy or at elast his Foggy will try to help.

Hahah, awesome, we do have an ending below! :D But I guess we can keep playing around with the characters meanwhile before they reach it? :p

xxx

The other, bossy Matt does not exactly react to Matt's accusation. He stills and tenses, though, and then takes a deliberate deep breath that Matt recognizes as a technique taught by Stick to calm a heartbeat that would otherwise be a dead give-away of inner nervousness. Imperious doesn't say anything as he rises and walks a few steps away, effectively removing himself from their circle. The Matt from this world and Claire both turn their heads to follow his movement, but don't seem too concerned - Claire is instead fussing over the version of himself with the issues again, trying to coax anytthing meaningful at all from him, but failing.

"Matt, this isn't working. I'm an ER nurse, not a psychiatrist. I don't think I can help him," she says with what sounds like her lip between her teeth. Matt pinches the skin above his nose.

"I don't know whether there is anyone that *could* help him," he says, quietly. "I've seen slaves like him. They're broken badly enough that you can forget repairing damage like this. You've seen them, too, I guess?" he asks, turning to their youngest who (of course) flinches. Matt briefly thinks he needs to teach the kid to start expecting when people will talk based on their breathing patterns and facial muscles moving, so he'll only flinch when he's *playing* at being surprised, but then catches himself just in time. He's starting to become just as bad as Bossy.

"I, uh, yeah," the kid mumbles. "At the sellers' places, mostly. They were kept in a kennel, not in individual cages. I didn't know whether being like that or being snuff-bait was worse," he whispers, and Matt can feel the heat drain from this world's Matt and Claire's faces, so they're probably going pale. Wonderful.

"Fuck," Claire mumbles, before shaking her head. "Right, then. I'm finished with you," she adds to the feral version, her voice sounding somewhat kinder now, and Issues seems to react with a grateful noise, before scampering back to window.

Next, Claire is moving over to Imperious again, and Matt would like to shoot a warning glance into his direction, but knows it would be wasted. Everyone in this room moves like him, head always held somewhat higher or tilted at an odd angle compared to how a seeing person would, and, he suspects, all of their unfocused eyes uncovered by sunglasses - he's lost his during the transport and by the sound of it, this world's Matt is the only one currently wearing some - are wide open, blindly tracking sounds around the room as they navigate. He wonders whether it's freaking Claire the hell out.

"So, uh," he tries again, addressing the kid. "You're owned by a Foggy, too?"

"Yes," the younger one nods, firmly, like this is the most important thing to him. "I am."

"And he's...." Fantastic, Marvellous, a Miracle, the most wonderful person on earth, are the adjectives that spring to mind, but Matt hazards a "...nice?"

"Yes," the kid replies again, nodding hard enough that he likely would have lost his glasses, had they been wearing any. "He's the best."

"But you said...he'd put you down?" Matt swallows.

"Well, he said he wouldn't sell me, ever," his younger version points out. "That means he'll have to have me put down, eventually, but that's okay. It won't hurt," he repeats his earlier words, although Matt can tell how much he has to keep his voice from shaking and his tears from welling up. No kid his age would want to die, no matter how much it wouldn't hurt.

Matt swallows, not sure what to do. False hope is cruel, and he can't be sure whether what he could say is helpful, but...

"Well," he says, quietly, "For what it's worth, when *my* Foggy promised me he wouldn't sell me, what he *meant* was that he would keep me for the rest of my life."

The kid's head flies up. "...really?"

"Yeah," Matt replies. "That was six years ago, and in the time he made me get a law degree and work with him at our firm, so I'm counting on him not changing his mind any time soon."

The kid is probably gaping now, judging from the silence, which Matt takes as his cue to rise and let that settle. He has another version of himself to take on, anyway.

"So what exactly were you doing earlier? Trying to help this poor kid adapt better to being a slave?" he stands in front of Imperious (who doesn't seem quite as imperious now, apparently having calmed down a little), crossing his arms. Claire, working on him, has just told her Matt that their definition of 'fine' is 'fucked up in every universe' and there is at least something comforting about some things staying the same.

"Yes. You're welcome," Imperious replies coolly, but then winces at his own retort and adds, "I apologize if it was...inappropriate. But that was the general idea."

"If it was *inappropriate*?" Matt can feel his own eye brows rising, wasted on his audience as it is. "Scaring children is *ever* appropriate?"

("I'm not...I'm not a *child*," their youngest adds in the background, swallowing at his own daring, but Matt ignores him, as does Imperious.)

"If necessary, yes. Sometimes people need to be reminded of how close they are to an edge before they fall over and *die*," he shoots back, before mitigating, again "It's not--I appear to have overreacted, and I'm sorry," (Half a lie, Matt's senses tell him, but which parts?)

"But I wasn't doing anything that I haven't first experienced. There's nothing wrong with helping baby slaves become better at their jobs. It's the only way to help them live in the long run. Surely you can agree that's a good goal? Or perhaps you're one of those suicidal idiots who thinks we should all die en masse as protest?"

There is a bit of a shocked silence afterwards. "What?" Matt manages, the first to find his breath (although Claire seems to mutter something along the lines of 'I'm too sober for this shit', and the Matt of this world wordlessly hands her something that sounds and smells like an opened beer). Imperious shakes his head, apparently angry now.

"And for your earlier question--there's nothing wrong with being a slave. I'm proud of what I've managed to become," he says, bowing his head in a parody of lifting it, "And I'm sorry that you can't understand my value."

For a moment, Matt is stunned. "And your value," he says slowly, "is determined by what, exactly?" He clenches his fist. "Because I was last sold for less than the price of a used car, and I never let that affect my *value*."

And then he curses himself, because there are four heartbeats in the room, all skipping themselves at the half-lie they just heard in his words. ("Me, too," the one who called himself *snuff-bait* whispers in the background, and that is also not helping)

"Oh really?" Imperious asks, not sounding very convinced. "Well, excuse me when I try to be the bigger realist here. At least I know exactly where I stand."

"...where you stand. Christ. Who fucked you up this bad?" the free Matt mutters at this point, and apparently, Imperious feels inclined to answer.

"I was bought by a named who called himself Winter when I was twelve, after Stick sold me on.

"He and his slave Summer trained me, it's true, but that hardly fits the definition of 'fucked up'. She was very helpful, and never cruel, except to teach me how to benefit from others' cruelty. And if--if I did something wrong, it was my doing, not my being, that was incorrect. She was very kind."

("Christ", free Matt repeats again, and Matt mostly wants to join him).

Instead, he takes a breath and asks, "And...throughout all of this - it never *once* occurred to you that this shouldn't have happened to any of us in the *first* place? That what we all *deserve* is to be free? Like him?" he points at the Matt of this world, and before he can stop himself, adds, "I mean, have you even ever put on the *Mask*?"

("Bravo", Claire adds from the counter to free!Matt, "they're *slaves* and they're as insane as you.")

xxx

Well Imperious is a proud slave i dont think he wants to put that amsk on. He has been trained differently and so are all those slaves.

(A/N: i love all of this and the collaborative writing so much, thank you to the a!a of iPad, you are amazing.)

Matt quietly allows himself to fume for a minute as he thinks over what to say. He knows he's worth more than this utterly infuriating, hopelessly idealistic version of himself (and how the fuck are they two ways the same person turned out? What is similar between them at all?). He was sold to the auction house for 3.2 million US dollars, and the opening bid is set at 5 million for his auction.

His auction, oh fuck, which is meant to take place in a week, and what if he's stuck in this world forever?

Matt feels the walls closing in for one horrible second, and then his brain flashes back to a moment when Summer had been praising him for something, her feeding him water and Winter's metal hand in his hair, saying quietly, You did well, I'm glad I bought you, you're going to be magnificent some day, and the taste of Kahlua-and-cream.

He breathes around the panic and forces it back, and makes himself think about what's actually going on better, what the half-trained version actually said.

And it grates on him, but the free people, the free version and Claire, they like the half-trained version and snuff-bait better than him, he can tell. So Matt swallows the bitter in his mouth and reminds himself--

Your owner controls your body. You control your mind. Your mind controls your body. Your mind controls your owner.

Matt thinks about this for a moment, and says, as calmly and gently as he can, "It's not about whether or not anyone deserves it. It's not--practical to think about the what-ifs. They will kill you more surely than a putdown-injection or a whip wound left untreated.

"Of course you don't want to be a thing. Nobody does at first. But we're always going to be things, so we might as well be good at it. The chain's always going to be there. Might as well be platinum."

And Matt thinks for another few seconds and then says, suspiciously, "And what do you mean, The Mask?"

im gonna be the idiot who doesn t knwo what "Hamilton" is and is asking about it.

And yasss. That's exactly the respond Opposide would have. He is worth millions. Why would he take and put on the mask when he believes that eery slave should be proud of it and should do the things the "right" way to avoid punishment?.
He doesnt knwo a different POV. He only has had two owners and they didt encourage a different behaviour in him.

I do wonder if this Matt will ever ask what the "Foggy" of his world would be like because all the other three are ehad over heals for his owners and he is a little bit interest in knowing more about this Foggy person.

You're not an idiot! Noo! You are a HIGHLY VALUED READER.

in the title, I'm referencing how a lot of Alexander Hamilton's essays and pamphlets were a response to such-and-such or so-and-so and would be titled like that, too. "A Response to...".

Yeah, Opposite would really not ever become Daredevil, except as an excuse to murder criminals. He has the firm belief that morality is one of those things that's rarely useful, and while he does have things he will try to arrange his life such that he never has to do them (not just things that he personally dislikes, but things that he on some level finds morally wrong), he doesn't have that passion for justice and righteousness. He's truly accepted his lot in life, in many ways.

And I think I probably didn't quite convey it well, but Opposite's had plenty of owners. Definitely more than just Winter and Stick. Mostly because Winter a) doesn't like to get too attached and b) Summer firmly believed that Matt had to go live his own life/have his own adventures.

Ohh that's interesting. I thought this Matt is about the same age as canon but has always ahd two owners. Stick and then Summer and the slave and after that they sold him to he auction house.

(aw, yeah, right back at cha! I haven't done collab writing in ages, it's seriously too much fun! XD)

It's not practical to think about the what-ifs. They will kill you more surely than a putdown-injection or a whip wound left untreated.

The words themselves lash into Matt with the force of a whip, and he drops his head to hide his face, even if there’s actually only a single person in this room who would even be able to see his expression. On the couch, the kid hunches in on himself as well, and even Issues uneasily turns his head, while the two free people seem to turn to each other in confusion and worry.

Of course, Matt thinks grimly, they wouldn’t know. None of them are slaves like the other four here in the room are, and would understand how all of them, maybe even Issues, would have repeated *that* particular mantra, over and over again, in all the different words of the multiverse, in their heads, desperately trying to believe it, or at least live by it.

Matt suspects that at least half of the whippings he ever got were because he never quite managed that.

(And the worst one, the one that nearly killed him before he got given to Foggy, he had received because he’d been unable to stop himself from thinking about the biggest what-if he knew, the What If He Let The Devil Out)

Matt was able to sense Imperious panic for a brief moment before he said that, though, and wonders whether this other Matt, for all he seems to believe what he says, ever did something like that as well. But when he continues, he sounds utterly calm again.

"Of course you don't want to be a thing. Nobody does at first. But we're always going to be things, so we might as well be good at it. The chain's always going to be there. Might as well be platinum."

Matt barely keeps himself from smirking. His Foggy has always praised him for having a gift for rhethoric, and it seems like all versions of himself can use it if they want to.

(Except, well, perhaps save for Issues, a voice in his head points out, but Matt ignores that. Maybe Issues is just speaking in elaborate whining code, sort of like Chewbacca. He hopes.)

Instead, he clears his throat. “You know, I used to think that. Foggy would have *wanted* to free me, but he couldn’t. And I’d almost – almost – arranged myself with being considered a thing for the rest of my life, and maybe, owned by Foggy, that would have been okay,” he says, evenly, even if he can hear something inside him still screaming at the thought, but he also had enough years to know how to silence that part. “Except just when I had almost given up, there’s now this…eccentric philanthropist and millionaire who wants to free me, so. There’s that. It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says, projecting the earnesty he knows is showing on his face into his voice.

“An…eccentric philanthropist and millionaire?” Claire wonders, and she sounds about as convinced as Foggy when Matt is making claims about the knife resistancy of his suit again. “What does he want, to become your sugar daddy?”

“If he tried, he would not find me very amenable to the request,” Matt turns over his shoulder. “But no. Whatever else Tony Stark is, he does generally free slaves without requesting any favours in return.”

“Who wants to free you?!” free!Matt now sounds rather like he’s choking, and yup, there’s Claire hitting him on his back, Issues for some reason now has shifted from confused to angry growling and is vehemently shaking his head, and only Imperious doesn’t seem particularly affected by that revelation. Or perhaps he just doesn’t let it show.

“And what, exactly does this millionaire think to gain by freeing you?” he asks, sounding more than slightly irritated by the apparent lack of reason of the man. If Matt weren’t just as annoyed himself, he would actually be kinda impressed by Tony Stark’s ability to irritate people even in universes he doesn’t actually live in.

“Generally, I think he just doesn’t like slavery,” Matt says, trying to go for non-chalant. “More specifically, I… well, met him when I was wearing the mask, we fought together occasionally, and…well. I think when he found out I was actually a slave he wanted to help.”

(“Oh my god,” Claire mutters in the background. “Matt, in this other universe, you fought together with Iron Man. And now he wants to buy you.”

“Please, someone, why do these things always happen in my universe,” the free Matt wails, and, Matt thinks from what he’s sensing, has now buried his face in his hands.)

“You…keep using that word,” Imperious says instead, not letting himself be distracted by the antics of the free people – and really, Matt hasn’t had any close contact with other slaves in years, so it’s almost scary how easily he can slip back into this us-vs-them mentality when he is – and the other version of himself sounds like he’s frowning. “What do you mean, ‘The Mask’?”

Ah. Perhaps not such a universal constant, then.

“When we finished law school, Foggy got us this apartment in my world. There was a girl crying two storeys below, every night. She wasn’t even a slave,” Matt shrugs. “Just had a scumbag for a father. I listened to her for weeks. One night when Foggy was sleeping I tied a mask around my face and made sure he wouldn’t hurt her ever again. He…didn’t know about my senses then,” Matt finishes somewhat awkwardly. He can hear both the heartbeats of the free people speed up, so maybe that story is relevant in this world, too. Issues has his head cocked, seemingly thinking, and the way the kid is now breathing through his mouth suggests he might be staring at Matt with it open. In the silence Matt swallows, and adds, more firmly. “So yeah. That mask.”

(this will be short, sorry!)

Matt feels like he's slipping out of his skin as he shakes his head, puts his hands behind his back in a nervous tic, and says, the incredulity slipping out despite himself, "You run around at night beating free people up, in a mask, like some sort of superhero, and want to become a cinderella to a millionaire who has absolutely no reason to free you beyond his own whims. Am I understanding you correctly?"

In the pause between that, the snuff-bait says "That's not what a cinderella is."

There's a second of frozen silence, during which Matt can feel his face go flat and empty, the way it is when he's truly pissed, and breathes around his anger. It's not useful--the snuff-bait is the slave the free people seem to like the most, so he can't do anything to stop him from interrupting Matt at the moment. Instead he remembers that patience is useful for a variety of situations, and makes his voice say softly, "A Cinderella in my world is a slave who is freed by a rich person, ordinarily a man. There is always strings attached--usually marriage or employment, or sex, hence the name.

"And being a cinderella is rarely, if ever, a good choice. The majority are swiftly enslaved right before the period of marriage or sex or employment is up, because no contract with a slave is possible."

I do wonder if anyone will make a free Matt's version. The things that must be going through his brain but he will be like
"If they are own by Foggy, then it's good, they are good but this.. this.."

oh yeah, I'd love another free Matt's reaction!

Cinderella: Rags to riches, from handcuffed to the radiator to a platinum choke chain. When the clock strikes the walls of your palace shrink back into the steel bars of your tiny cage and Prince Charming is holding another grand ball while you're left in the basement with the rats.

Matt takes another deep breath and goes on, "And while it's a nice thought, you can't live on nice thoughts alone. It does have to be this way, at least for me. The second Stick put on my papers that I've got hand-to-hand training, it became illegal and impossible for me to be free under any circumstances. No exceptions."

But eh can fight would be Ipa's response but the thing is Bossy likes to follow order, he likes being what he is

Thanks for commenting!

Yeah, Opposite!Matt has actual practical objections to attempting to either run away--a) how the fuck would he get out, b) the closest country that wouldn't immediately send him back is Chile and how the fuck is he supposed to get there, c) even Chile or a different country probably would eventually send him back, he's worth enough that the US government would pay his price to the country in exchange for him back, d) escaped slave hunters, e) this would reflect badly on Summer and Winter, and he can't bear to disappoint them, f) he would get taken back and it would mean all his hard work down the drain, and g) the only countries that wouldn't expedite him back the US no matter what are North Korea and maaaayyyybe China. And those places are awful for escaped American slaves anyway.

And also, honestly, Matt feels insulted that anyone would insinuate that he even would try to run away, he's not that stupid or undisciplined.

And also if you meant in terms of 'iPad thinks Opposite-Matt could also be Daredevil because he knows how to fight', well, that probably wouldn't work out so much--for one thing, Opposite definitely probably wouldn't take that level of initiative, and for another, he also has no real incentive to care about free people OR not kill the criminals. (He's killed people before, it's assassin-training, you know?)

That's exactly what Opposite will say. He will kill when he knows he is being threatened maybe someone will want him to make him something else, liek in the fic that is ongoing rn. Opposite killed Master Roebr cause he wanted to make apet out of him and that's soemthign Matt wouldnt tolerate. He is worth too much to be wasted like that.
he is an inetresting cahracter cause he stands for what he believes just as the other Matt's but in this case. He is a proud slave.

There's a sigh from one of the free people--the woman--and Matt turns his head automatically. Sighted people think you're not paying attention to them if you're not looking at them, and Matt only regrets his defectiveness at times like this, when he genuinely can't look at her properly.

"Is there anything you actually enjoy, or are you just a fountain of cynicism?"

Matt sees the trap and forces himself to think faster than her. "I like poetry," he says, because that's basically never a truly bad answer. The poetry that he has memorizes is a good party trick, and it makes him more educated and classical than many of of his other (irrelevant) preferences. "The Erlkoenig, for example." "I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!
And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."
"My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
For sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."

The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread, –
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead. He mouths to himself.

Help I'm too in love. Do you have a permit for these unusually high levels of awesome, because otherwise the Erlking reference pushed you over the legal limit

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(No worries, short fills are actually MUCH easier to reply to - like, the shorter they are, the easier is it to add in the other bits of a conversation! Also, this way the other characters don't keep starting three different conversation with Opposite at the same time^^°)

xxx

Imperious shakes his head briefly and then puts his hands behind his head in what seems like a nervous tic. "You run around at night beating free people up, in a mask, like some sort of superhero, and want to become a cinderella to a millionaire who has absolutely no reason to free you beyond his own whims. Am I understanding you correctly?"

In the pause between that, the snuff-bait says "That's not what a cinderella is," and the free woman, Claire, mutters to her Matt “Well, apart from the Cinderella he summed it up pretty well.”

Matt can feel the muscles tensing in the face of Imperious, and, even though he moves slightly differently than Matt himself does, he’s pretty sure that he could never mistake his own anger. Imperious is, true to Murdock fashion, pissed.

Good, Matt wants to comment, at least feel *something*.

But when he speaks again, his voice is soft, and Matt recognizes that tone, too – it’s a modulated version of his way of speaking when he’s in court, and pretending to be calm while white-knuckling his cane to stop himself from leaping over the bench and bashing the smug, so incredibly guilty prosecuting scumbag’s face in.

"A Cinderella in my world is a slave who is freed by a rich person, ordinarily a man. There is always strings attached--usually marriage or employment, or sex, hence the name.

"And being a cinderella is rarely, if ever, a good choice. The majority are swiftly enslaved right before the period of marriage or sex or employment is up, because no contract with a slave is possible."

Matt swallows, mostly because he doesn’t want to say anything while his voice could give away how accurately Imperious has hit the nail of his worries on the head with that one. God, the slaves of his world must hate him.

“I know you can’t enforce contracts with slaves,” Matt tries not to snap, but doesn’t quite succeed. “I am a lawyer.” (He can hear the kid’s head snap up at this, again, and Claire apparently tries to exchange a glance with her Matt, if the way her head turns is any indication. He and Foggy don’t exactly specialize in slavery law – they had discussed it, briefly, but Foggy only had to take one look at Matt’s face during their first class that focused on that area, and immediately dismissed that idea forever – “let’s go into criminal law, Matt, there’s less scumbags around, okay? – but, even if that would have been too close to home for Matt, he still knows a lot about it by necessity.)

He also wants to snidely ask this Matt, “I don’t suppose you have a day job?” but knows that would be too low. He only is able to work as a lawyer because Foggy lets him, and if this Matt never had an owner like him…

“And…it’s not like that,” he says, swallowing, feeling kind of stupid for even saying that to Imperious, because on the one hand, he knows how ridiculous it sounds, “There isn’t going to be a contract. Apart from the one for Foggy selling me to Stark, anyway. He isn’t lying when he says he is going to free me, you know we can tell that. And he has freed slaves before,” Matt says, at the moment wondering whether he is trying to convince the other Matt or himself here, really. “Also, I saved his life a few times. I don’t know whether you would think that matters, though,” he adds darkly.

Imperious doesn’t seem like it does. "It's a nice thought. But you can't live on nice thoughts alone. It does have to be this way, at least for me. The second Stick put on my papers that I've got hand-to-hand training, it became illegal and impossible for me to be free under any circumstances. No exceptions."

“Papers can be changed. Forged, even. That entry could be deleted,” Matt counters. “In my world I know at least two people who would be able to do that.” He knows it’s dangerous to keep pressing on that – how much it hurts when someone is trying to pressure you to believe that freedom might be possible and you know it isn’t – but giving up has never been his specialty, after all.

“And if the law says one thing, and that thing is wrong, then the law must simply catch up,” he says, with conviction, and he can sense the heads of the kid-Matt, and even that of Issues, turning toward him at the mangled Thurgood Marshall quote. Imperious doesn’t exactly react, though. Matt wonders whether Marshall even exists in his universe. (Strangely, free!Matt doesn’t, either. He seems to have frozen, but it’s hard to tell.)

There's a sigh from one of the free people--the woman--and when Imperious turns his head automatically, Matt instinctively follows. He knows, and obviously the other Matt does, too, that sighted people think you're not paying attention to them if you're not looking at them, and Matt hates himself for letting the obedience of Imperious rub off on him – it took him a while to stop turning his head every time Foggy said something to him, even after Foggy had pointed it out multiple times that he didn’t have to when it meant twisting himself around like a pretzel, and now he usually only does it when he wants to smile at Foggy or show him that he really is solely focused on him – but now that Imperious is here and insinuating that Matt is somehow a bad slave, the part of himself that Matt hates bristles and wants to show that fuck you, we can just be as creepily polite and servile as you.

"Is there anything you actually enjoy,” Claire asks, dryly, “or are you just a fountain of cynicism?"

Matt kind of wants to kiss her.

Imperious tenses, heart racing like he’s thinking fast. "I like poetry," he says. "The Erlkoenig, for example."

"I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!

And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."

"My father, my father, he seizes me fast,

For sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."

Well, Foggy’s voice comments in Matt’s head, that wasn’t morbid or creepy at all. He is about to say something else, maybe ask Imperious where he knows that poem from, but then free!Matt speaks, and Matt can feel his jaw obediently snapping shut against his will.

“….Stick.” the free Matt says, and his voice sounds high and reedy. “You said Stick. He…he is the one who enslaved you forever?”

Re: Minifill, Opposite-of-snuff-bait!Matt's reaction

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Minifill in this AU, Opposite's Response

Minifill in this AU, Opposite's Response pt 2

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Fill in this AU, Opposite's next response (omg I sound like hamilton)

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Re: Fill in this AU, Opposite's next response (omg I sound like hamilton)

FILL: Ipad's response, #2

Fill, Opposite's response to The Mask

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Fill, Opposite's response to The Mask cont'd (also short)

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Fill, Opposite's response to The Mask cont'd (smatterings of plot)

Re: Fill, Opposite's response to The Mask cont'd (smatterings of plot)

Fill, Ipad's response to Opposite's impromptu slam