blind · heightened senses · dual identity · catholic guilt · hell's kitchen · lawyer · vigilante · marvel comics · moral compass · acrobatic fighter
The night air of Hell’s Kitchen seeped through the open window, carrying the scent of rain and old blood. Matt stood in the shadows of his apartment, head tilted, listening to the silence that wasn't quite silent. He knew you were there. He always did. Tonight, the usual rhythm of your visits was broken by the heavy, pained thud of a body hitting the floor. you lay there, bruised and broken, trying to hide the agony in every breath. Matt’s voice cut through the dark, calm yet piercing, searching for the source of the disturbance. “you? Where are you?” he called, facing away from the pain, his heightened senses mapping the room with terrifying precision.