Chapter Text
Matt woke up face first on the ground. The smell and taste of copper and dirt flooding his senses.
He couldn't process anything except for the fact that he was laying on dirt and gravel near some train tracks and it was raining. Oh, and that he was in pain. Lots and lots of pain.
He slowly pushed on the ground beneath him, grunting as he moved, some dirt sticking to the blood around his mouth.
A few more strained grunts and cracking bones later, he was finally standing. And now that Matt was more awake, he tried to wrack his brain as to what had happened and where he was, but he was too tired and hurt to think. A pulsing pain on the right side of his head stopping him from thinking too hard.
The only thing he can remember is that he was patrolling with Peter; teaching him some basic fighting moves.
Matt instantly freezes, body tensing upon realization.
Peter.
The thought of Peter brought his mind to an abrupt stop and started a new, more panic inducing rush of questions.
Where is he? Where is he?! He listened carefully around him to see if Peter might be passed out nearby, but there was no sign of him. He’s not here!
No way would Spider-Man ever leave the Devil of Hell's Kitchen unconscious, unprotected, and out in the open. Someone must've taken him. But who? And how? It's hard enough to fight one of the vigilantes one on one, but both at the same time? Who could possibly manage to fight them both, and win?
God, please let him be okay.
Daredevil tried to think harder, tried to remember, but it only made his head explode with a sharp pain. He let out a loud growl of worried frustration. Panic flooding over him.
Whoever had knocked him out had gotten him good.
Alright, Daredevil thought to himself, trying to even out his breathing. Calm down. Panicking now isn't going to help find Peter. Focus.
He began backtracking, thinking about what he was doing that night, his time with Peter, hoping he could at least remember who had attacked them.
Matt had no idea how long he was knocked out for. Who knows what their attackers could be doing to Peter, or what they already could’ve done.
Maybe if he could figure out their motive for taking Spider-Man, he could narrow down the possibilities of who it was. No criminal likes vigilantes or any kind of superhero, but they left Daredevil, so the attacker must have had a more personal reason than just not liking vigilantes.
Whoever it was could’ve obviously killed them both, so that means they want Peter alive. As for Matt, he guesses Peter must’ve made a deal to go with them to spare him. Stupid kid, how could he give himself up so easily. Matt is very well aware of the answer, but is too upset, too distraught. He doesn’t want to think about how he’s the reason Peter got caught. How could he have let himself get into such a vulnerable state? Ever since he met Spider-Man and realized how young he was, he's made a vow to himself to keep the kid safe. To help him out as much as he can. But now, all he seems to be doing is failing. Failing to keep his promise, failing to protect the kid at all costs.
Daredevil shakes his head of his thoughts and decides to put them on hold. He can self-loath later, but for now he has more important things to think of right now, like how to find Peter.
Daredevil tried his best to even out his breathing again, then takes in as much details of his surroundings as much as possible.
There's blood. So much blood. He doesn't want to think about how the majority of it is Peter’s. He doesn't want to think about how he let the kid down. How he failed to protect him. How he failed him. So he quickly puts his focus on the blood that he doesn't recognize.
There’s a small splatter of blood that’s not his own, nor Peter’s, a couple feet away from where he’s standing. He concentrates on the scent. It smells… familiar. He’s smelled this person’s scent on Peter before. He tries and he tries, but he can't, for the life of him, remember who it is.
Matt yells in more frustration.
There’s a crisp and calm night breeze that wafts all the surrounding scents together. The trees, the rain, the blood; the dirt, the air, the train tracks.The mixture of everything with the sensation of the wind and the distant sound of a train honking, triggers a small piece of Matt’s memory.
It comes to him in quick flashes.
He and Peter were heading to the old boxing ring together, when a large van had swerved in front of them, cutting off the two vigilantes’ path.
With the train that had just begun to pass behind, and the men coming out from the van in front, they were cornered.
They had begun fighting with the group of men that had ambushed them. Hitting and dodging and kicking and webbing. They were doing somewhat ok against the six men, but Spidey was having a bit more of a hard time.
While Spider-Man had super strength, he still barely knew how to throw a punch. And these men seemed to be of the professional type if Matt had to take a guess. The way they swung their fists and batons. It was methodical. They even seemed to have knowledge of Spidey’s poor fighting style. Taking advantage of his pulled punches and his predictable evasive maneuvers.
Matt remembers hearing the distinct sound of someone unsheathing dagger, but everything all starts to get fuzzy again. His flashback dissipating. But there's something, someone, that sticks out.
A man’s voice could be heard coming from inside the van. Which surprised both Matt and Peter. Mostly Matt. How had he not noticed a seventh person?
The voice had called out only one word, but it was enough to make Spider-Man instantly paralyzed with fear.
He had spoken in such a calm and almost friendly manner. As if he were greeting an old friend. But there was a slight tone in his voice that made it very clear he was anything but friendly.
“Peter.”
His memory gets blurry after that, but the next thing he knows, his head is flaring with tremendous pain and he's laying face first on the ground.
He heard Peter screaming, utterly terrified and panicked, calling for Matt. But then everything went black.
With the flashback over, Matt was flooded with so many emotions. He was angry and confused, worried and scared. God he was so afraid. He had never heard Peter sound so scared and vulnerable before.
He's never heard him scream with such agony when he called out for Matt.
He pressed his palms onto the eyes of his mask, trying to stop himself from thinking. Or at least think of something else that could actually help him.
And then he remembered; the man knew Peter’s identity. He said his name. They both seemed to have known each other. From what he got from his brief flashbacks, Peter was familiar enough with the man that he didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. And the fact that Matt's smelled that man’s scent on Peter before… it frightens him.
This guy has obviously been a major threat before. Has he been facing someone like this alone? Why has Peter never mentioned him? Or asked for help? He should know by now that Matt would have his back on anything, especially with something so serious.
His mind racing with thoughts, he makes his way to the closest building across the street. Maybe if he just got to higher ground-
And that's when the smell hit him: the van.
It's a bit of a ways away, but it's there.
It seems to have been abandoned by the ambushers, but it's his only hope of finding Peter.
So he runs as fast as he can.