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'You have got to be kidding me.'
Matt can hear the swallowed laughter in Foggy's voice. 'No, that's what it said. Surely your super powers can tell you I'm not lying.'
'No no,' Matt says, waving a hand. 'I know you're not lying. But seriously?'
Foggy loses the battle with his laughter as he reads the note Matt found tied to an arrow - which he found fired into the criminal he'd been interrogating - again. 'Dear Daredevil. It has come to my attention that certain elements of New York have begun to attempt to declare you the (un)Official Parkour Champion of the Avengers (and assorted New York Superheroes) without allowing myself the opportunity to defeat you in open combat.’
'I therefore challenge you to a Parkour competition in your location and at your time of choosing.' Foggy takes a break to get his breath back while Matt shakes his head. 'Then there's a 'TL;DR-'
'A what?'
'Oh sorry. Too long; didn't read. Internet slang.' Matt grimaces; he sometimes has issues with his screen reader reading out letters as words that don't exist. 'Anyway. TL;DR: You. Me. Parkour. Bring it .'
Matt reaches out and takes the note, running his fingers along the only bit of it that's handwritten, namely the signature of Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Avenger and apparently absolutely insane.
'So? You going to bring it?' Foggy asks, breaking out into fresh bursts of laughter at the glare Matt sends him. 'Come on dude, it'll be fun.'
'No,' Matt snaps and decides to ignore it. This should be the end of it and once Barton realises he's not responding he'll back off and leave Matt alone.
Right?
*********
Matt's not right.
Two days after he finds the note, Iron Man shows up to Hell's Kitchen, wearing the suit and hovering above the rooftops like an obnoxiously loud guardian angel. Matt ignores him for as long as he can but once Stark has a lock on his location, Matt can't seem to shake him.
Finally, tired and sure it's the only way he'll be able to go home without being followed, Matt calls out to Stark, 'Did you have a reason for coming to Hell's kitchen or are you just trying to be a menace while you're out for a ridiculous joy flight?'
'First off,' Stark says, in a mechanical voice that would make Matt shiver if he'd not trained himself out of visible signs of emotion while in the suit, 'I resent anything of mine being called ridiculous-'
'You're the one in a red and gold tin can.'
'Says the man wearing Devil themed fetish wear,' Stark snaps and Matt has to shrug and smile at his point. 'Secondly, I'm just getting a feel.'
Matt blinks. 'For what?'
'Clint's competition. I like to know what I'm betting on before I bet.' Stark seems to realise Matt's not going to take off because he finally lands on the roof beside him. A hiss of air and Matt can suddenly smell Stark's sweat. 'You really don't look before you leap, do you?' he says, in a normal voice. Right so no face piece.
'I try not to,' Matt says with a frown as he processes what Stark said. 'Comp- oh not that ridiculous competition.'
'Do you have any other words in your vocabulary? You keep calling everything ridiculous.'
Matt shakes his head, still stuck on the thought that Stark has come down to Hell's Kitchen because of Barton's stupid idea. 'I call them as I see them. Not my fault everything your 'Avenger' team does is absolutely ridiculous or momentously stupid.'
'Stupid?'
'Fisk.'
Stark actually flinches at that. 'You can't blame us for tha- and you nearly derailed the conversation. Nice work there.'
Matt hadn't planned on that but he'd been willing to roll with it before Stark cottoned on. 'I live to please,' he says, putting as much sarcasm into his voice as possible. 'Look, tell Barton that I'm not interested in any competition.'
'No competitive spirit. Finally, a reason not to back you.'
With a roll of his eyes, Matt turns to leave. 'I am just not interested in anything that forces me to spend time with any Avenger.'
He hops off the roof in a swift jump, darting under a fire escape to try and escape Stark's line of sight. Luckily, Stark seems uninterested in chasing him. 'Ouch. That hurt,' he mutters before powering up and flying away; the sound of his repulsors fading with every second.
Matt breathes a sigh of relief. That's over.
********
Only it's not.
'They sent you this time?' he asks, as the woman - Black Widow, whatever her current name is - slides to his side after helping him take out a bunch of mobsters by the docks.
She shrugs and Matt can hear the smile in her voice. 'Clint thought checking out the competition might be cheating and I like it when he owes me favours.' She pauses for a moment, probably eyeing him up. 'Besides, I like to have all the information before making a choice.'
'You're betting on something that's never going to happen,' he says shortly, heading for a nearby roof. He should be able to outrun her, once he gets onto a populated area with lots of varied roof heights.
Sadly, his statement only makes her laugh. 'It's even odds that you'll agree to this eventually with no takers. No one is willing to bet against Clint in a determined mood.'
Matt carefully, and in a polite tone, tells her where to stick those odds, using words he'd learnt as a young child eavesdropping on adults who didn't know about his powers and never forgot. All it does is make her laugh.
'Tony said you were clearly intelligent.'
'You're going to argue swearing is a form of low intelligence?'
She shakes her head. 'The opposite. You're using swearing as a means of distraction, to try and make me forget why I'm here.' He breaks into a sprint that she easily matches. 'That's very clever.'
'Thank you.' Matt's knowledge of Hell's Kitchen finally becomes an advantage as he's able to leap onto roofs Black Widow doesn't see until he's landed and take shortcuts not readily obvious to someone who doesn't know what's coming next.
Finally he's outpaced her enough so that she stops. 'Good luck!' she calls and Matt can still sense enough of her to know she means it.
********
The final straw is when they send in Captain America.
By now, Matt's half considering just giving in to shut them up. While Barton's still yet to make an appearance, half Matt's nights are spent listening out for Iron Man hovering above him. He's learnt to duck into dark alleys at the faintest whine of Stark's repulsors. Harder to duck away from is Black Widow, who can spend any night as Matt's shadow with no noticeable pattern to her appearance. And once or twice Matt's had to take shelter from cloudless lightning storms as Thor (loudly) searches Hell's Kitchen for him.
But the night a tall man with a heart beat like a drum of thunder rocks up to Matt's latest fight and starts throwing people at walls, Matt knows he's going to give in. He's not going to be able to patrol in peace if he doesn't.
Of course, Murdocks have never been known for giving in without a fight.
'I can't believe he sent you,' Matt says, when the last of the human traffickers are knocked out. 'That's just low.' He turns and starts to walk away.
He's not surprised when his companion matches his strides.
Captain America - Steven Rogers - shrugs. 'I wasn't sent. Just came out to see what all the fuss is about.'
His heart beat is nearly steady, but it flutters enough to give away the lie. Matt's certain if he could see and use faces, that Rogers would not have given him away. 'Uh huh. And if you say that without lying?'
Surprise flutters through Rogers’ heartbeat and breathing. 'I'd also admit to curiosity at what makes your Parkour better than Clint's.'
'I don't care if my Parkour is better than Cl-Barton's. It's practical, that's why I use it.'
'And all the flipping and jumping?'
Matt shrugs. 'Gotta have some fun while I'm doing it.'
'So why not battle Clint?'
Oh Lord give him strength they are determined. Finally recognising the futility of resisting, Matt stops dead. Rogers walks a step past him before managing to match it. 'If I say yes, I want one promise.'
'I'll see what I can do,' Rogers says, his smirk in his voice.
'You all leave me alone afterwards. No rematches, no 'helping me' and no more annoyances on my patrols. Fair?'
Rogers nods. 'Sounds more than. I'll see if it's agreeable to Clint.'
Matt nods in reply. 'Your Avengers showing up at the named time will be considered agreement,' he warns, getting another nod. 'Fine. It'll start on the rooftop of 53rd and 10th, midnight, Saturday. Agreed?'
'I'll pass it on.'
He doesn't follow Matt when Matt continues on, trying to suppress the excitement. Now he's agreed, the idea doesn't sound so ridiculous.
Well it still sounds ridiculous but the fun kind of ridiculous.
********
Matt meets Clint Barton at 11:49pm on the next Friday night, on a rooftop that's surrounded by hidden Avengers (and Foggy; who has a seat on a building with a much better sight line than one would think. He's insisted on being able to watch).
'Clint Barton, nice to finally meet my competition.'
'Daredevil,' Matt says shortly, taking the offered hand.
Barton sags. 'Not even a first name?'
With a sigh Matt says, 'Mike. If you must.'
'That's not your real name,' Clint - if he's going to use Mike, Matt's going to use his first name - says, the smile in his voice obvious.
'Not even close,' Matt lies. 'But it'll do.' That gets a laugh out of Clint and Matt finds himself smiling. 'So what are the rules?'
Clint shifts. 'Rules? Ahhh...'
Matt sighs. 'What are the limitations then?'
That gets a laugh from Black Widow, the only Avenger not bothering to hide. 'No lethal or harmful contact with the other player;' she says, 'I am the final judge and my judgement is final.'
'Is that fair?' Matt asks with a raised eyebrow. 'I hardly think Clint's teammate is an impartial judge.'
'Take it and run,' Clint says in a stage whisper. 'She knows all my moves so trying to impress her is going to be twice as hard. Besides,' he gestures at the surrounding rooftops, 'the peanut gallery are going to argue her decision for the next year anyway so it's not like it'll be a final one.'
Matt frowns but nods. 'I can accept those limitations,' he says, focusing in on Stark's whispers. 'Out of curiosity, who do they think is going to win?'
'It's an even spread,' Clint says, moving to stand beside Matt. 'Tony's on your side, as is Thor. Steve's on mine and Bruce isn't betting but if he was, he'd be on mine simply because Tony's bothered him to discuss footage of you too many times.'
Something cold runs through Matt's veins at the thought of Stark with hours of footage of him but he takes a deep breath and lets it go. 'Let's just get this over with.'
'Okay boys, on three. One; two; THREE!'
'Parkour!'
********
'It's gone viral,' Foggy says with glee, turning the sound up. Matt groans into his hands and tries to ignore his friend so he can get some work done. 'It's everywhere; you losing to Hawkeye.'
'It was a draw,' Matt says, unable to help himself. 'Natash-'
'Natasha? You're on first name basis with them now?'
Matt shrugs. 'Only the ones that didn't bet against me.' That gets a laugh from Foggy. 'Natasha tried to declare a winner but every time she went to speak someone started arguing for me or Clint. It was turning into a real Civil War so she just declared it a tie and said we'll rematch next year with a larger starting field.'
Clint hadn't been too impressed with that decision but seeing as how he'd managed to mistime a flip and ended up in a dumpster, it was better than he could hope for.
Of course, Matt had done something similar a few minutes later, distracted by the cheering of random passers by... which on second thought, might have been why it was a tie.
'You know how ridiculous that sounds, right?'
Matt nods. 'Oh yes. But... well, it wasn't a complete waste of time.' Clint, despite all the bravo in getting Matt out for a match, had been a surprisingly down to earth person, for a superhero. After the match, Matt had privately told him he's always welcome in Hell's Kitchen, if he wants to practice. Implied was the idea that Matt might come practice with him.
Clint had been beaming so much Matt could practically hear it when he left.
Foggy stops laughing. 'Oh?'
But Matt just smiles and goes back to work. And to ignoring the video that Foggy plays for the fifth time. Maybe the Avengers aren't all bad.