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Foggy knows he's fucked the second the woman's voice comes on the loud speakers that line the city streets, telling the people of Hell's Kitchen that curfew is now in place and that anyone found outside will face the consequences.
She means the ones decided on by the government, but Foggy also knows that if he's found by any of Mr. Fisk's men, that he'll face a fate far worse than anything the proper authorities could ever deal out.
He didn't mean to work so late. He just simply lost track of time. He's innocent and has done nothing wrong, but that doesn't stop him from breaking out in a cold sweat, fear and anticipation making his heart pound wildly as he turns every corner on the way to his apartment. He walks fast, but tries to keep his steps quiet as he gets closer to his home, looking around, making sure no one is around and he isn't about to walk into anyone unwanted.
He jumps when he hears someone walking in the distance behind him. He chances a glance back and is relived to see the person walking away from him. He assumes it's another person caught outside by mistake, trying to get home before they meet their fate.
He ducks into the alleyway that leads as a short cut to the last few blocks between him and his apartment, eyes still trained behind him. When he's satisfied he's not being followed he let's out a sigh of relief, and turns to face the way in front of him.
Only to bump into the chest of another man.
He let's out a noise of shock, eyes widening as he and the other man stare at each other. He doesn't seem threatening, and definitely doesn’t look like one of Fisk's. Those guys love flashing their badges around. Their little crests of immunity and power that strike fear into every citizen out after eleven.
Foggy nods at him, before stepping to the side to continue on his way.
The man grabs Foggy then, a hand on each arm, stopping his movements.“Whoa, where are you going, pally?” The man says with wide, amused eyes, seemingly staring right through Foggy. Creepy.
“Excuse me, I need to get home.” Foggy says with a flash of a polite smile.
“Pretty late for you to be out, isn't it?”
Foggy holds back a huff of annoyance and can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes, even as the slow feeling of dread creeps its way up his spine. He levels the man with a stern look. “Look I know I'm out after curfew, I've made a mistake. I didn't realize how late it was. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to be getting home.”
He goes to move again, but just like before, he's stopped. The hands on his arms tightening to the point of almost hurting. The mans fingers digging into his arm.
“Let me go!” He says, beginning to struggle.
“What do you think, Marv? Should we let the boy go?” The man says, turning his head to the shadows.
Foggy looks to the shadows and starts to struggle even more when another man appears with a bloodshot and sickly look on his face, a matching smile in place as he stares directly at Foggy.
“No, I don't think we should. Boy wants to go home, but home is right here with us. Isn't it?”
The man holding him turns his look back to him and Foggy feels his skin go cold from both their gazes. With a burst of fresh fear and adrenaline, Foggy grabs the man by his shoulders and pushes him away, effectively breaking free of the mans grip causing him to stumble back.
He goes to turn and run, but his stopped once again by running directly into another man.
“Did you boys see that? He pushed me. Assaulted an official government worker. That's a big no no.” The man says as the one who caught Foggy grabs him and twists him around to face the one he pushed. The man smiles as he reaches into his coat pocket, and pulls out a badge, identifying himself as one of Fisk's henchmen.
Panic and fear bubble inside of Foggy, making it hard to breathe. “Oh God, you work for Fisk.”
“Oh, I think he's getting it.”
Foggy shakes his head rapidly. “No, I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm sorry!”
The men close in on him, their smiles the only thing he can focus on. He knows what's going to happen. Heard about it through whispers on the street. He knows it's not going to end well. Not at all.
“That means we get to exercise our own judicial discretion.” The man says as he begins unzipping his pants.
“And you get to swallow it.” the other finishes.
“Boy wants to go home? Then let's go home,” the man says, leaning in close. “You can be mommy, and I'll be daddy. Understand?”
Foggy shakes his head. “No, please! Somebody help! Somebody help me please!” He shouts desperately into the dark, praying to whatever the hell is up there to save him because he can't even begin to process what is about to him. His body already shutting down even though he's shaking in every possible way, tears streaming down his face as the men press up against his body. Holding him still as the one pulls himself out and grabs onto Foggy's belt, tugging it, jostling him forward.
“No no no no...” Foggy repeats trying to free his hands, trying everything to get away from this.
“Somebody please!” he yells again.
A whistling noise, not heard over his panic screaming, sounds through the air, and before Foggy can blink the man directly in front of him stops moving. Face frozen in a look of shock and confusion as a tip of what has to be a blade sinks through the back of his head and break through the other side, stopping so that the tip is just sticking out. Foggy watches in horror as the man falls to the ground a few seconds later, landing in a way that causes the blade to sink in even further. Blood pooling out of his head and onto the pavement, spreading around and sneaking underneath their shoes.
The other men look around, throwing Foggy to the side to try and see their attacker. Foggy falls to the ground and doesn't waste anytime crawling to the edge of the alley, curling in on himself as he too looks around for the source of the blade, unsure if he'll meet the same fate as his attacker.
The two men have their back to him, and Foggy watches in silent shock as a masked man drops down from the sky without a sound, in between the men and himself. The masked man twirls a trident shaped blade in his hand a few times, before reached out and grabbing the closest of the two men. He pulls him back with one hand by the shoulder and uses the other to thrust the blade in through the back of his neck. The man makes a loud gurgling noise, hands flailing wildly as he tries to stop it from happening even though it's too late. The masked man then twirls around, but takes the man with him, skewered on his blade like a chunk of meat. The other man, once aware of the masked mans presence, turns and pulls out a gun and opens fire on the masked man, but it's pointless, the masked man using the one skewered like a shield, walking towards the man with every fire of the gun.
When the gun clicks, signalling it's empty, the masked man throws the body away and off his blade, the man landing on his face with a crunch. He steps up toe to toe with the bulletless man, and in a swift movement the masked man pulls his arm back slightly, and sinks the blade into the mans stomach, allowing the blade to rest there for a hot second before twisting and shoving it up. The man just stands there for a moment before he coughs and blood starts dripping out of his mouth and down his chin. He falls to the ground in a crumpled heap when the masked man removes the blade.
It's dead silent in the alleyway. Neither Foggy or the man moving or talking. Both taking in the events that just played out but for different reasons. Foggy feels the earlier panic and fear leave him, and in its place is different fear and panic. At least he knows that his death would be swift. By the looks of things, painful, but very quick indeed. The man had moved with a grace and quickness that came with confidence and practice. Foggy isn't sure if he should be grateful or not.
When the man turns, he turns suddenly, causing Foggy to jump and a noise of fear to escape his throat.
“It's okay,” the man says, his voice surprisingly soft and light, “you're safe with me.”
He has nothing to defend himself with, but he still looks up at the man and says, as demanding as he can muster, “Who are you?”
That gets the man to chuckle, the tenseness in his shoulders relaxing, and Foggy feels a bit of anger bubble in his stomach.
“I think the whole point of a mask is so people don't know who I am.”
Well...he can't really argue with that one. “Oh...right.”
“But I promise I mean you no harm.” he says as he collects and sheathes his blades, and Foggy watches the movements with fear and worry. “I would like to take you home now, if you'd like. It is after all after curfew.”
That makes Foggy blink at him. “Yes, I'm very much aware.”
“The we shouldn't waste another moment. Shall we?” He says, walking with a sweep of his cape towards Foggy, his hand held out. Foggy regards it for a moment before reaching out with a shaky hand and grasping it. He inhales sharply as he's pulled up as if weighing nothing. He stumbles a bit, unfortunately bringing him closer to his rescuer. The man places a steadying hand on his hip, and removes it immediately once Foggy finds his footing. But he doesn't move away, keeping their bodies close enough to share the same air.
“Are you hurt?” the man asks, his voice just a whisper.
“No,” Foggy says shaking his head, and can't help a small, nervous smile from forming, “thanks to you.”
The man smiles and says with a modest bow of his head, “Oh, I was merely doing my part. No need to thank me.” He holds out his arm between them, and Foggy takes it.
--
Foggy lies about where he lives, not wanting to bring this man, regardless of the fact that he saved him, to his home. It isn't something he's about to risk, and even though saying he lived in the building only a block away from his own isn't exactly the most clever idea, it's the best he has under the circumstances.
The walk home is quiet and uneventful. Occasionally, the man would stop their walking, seemingly listening for something, before allowing them to continue, their arms interlinked the entire time. Being with the man seems safe enough. It does make him very nervous and a little sick, however. He tries to suppress the images of what his rescuer did to Fisk's men, and fails spectacular. He also tries not to look at the man much, but he also fails at that, taking in the mans profile and attire as his heart pounds fast.
However, the man never tries anything, or forces conversation, or even acknowledges the fact that Foggy has been staring at him blatantly for almost the entire walk. He just simply walks him home, and for that Foggy's grateful. He doesn't think he's in the right mindset to carry a casual conversation with someone.
When they reach the door, the man steps away from Foggy but holds onto his hand. He bends down in a bow, cape flourishing as he throws it to the side. He holds Foggy's hand in his own and places a kiss on his knuckles before straightening out.
Foggy doesn't know what to say to that, so he says, “Thank you for saving my life.”
The man waves a dismissive hand in the air. “It was no trouble, as I said I was only doing my part.”
“Well, I was very lucky you were there. I don't even want to think about what was going to happen if you hadn't stepped in.”
“You're safe now, I assure you. But for next time, don't go out after curfew.”
“Believe me, I won't.”
“I do.” The masked man says with a smile. He let's go of Foggy's hand after squeezing it gently, and runs away, the dark swallowing him whole.
Foggy stands there for a few moments, watching the spot where the man was standing. He tries not to let the events of tonight catch up with him, preferring that it happens when he's actually at home and can have a proper meltdown and cry over it.
He takes a few steps forward, looking back and forth and then straight ahead, making sure that the way is clear. Once satisfied, he takes on down the street to the next set of apartment buildings; towards home, none the wiser to the shadow flying through the streetlamps glow.