Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)

After Alison headed downstairs, we'd gotten Matt out of his costume and set up on the couch. Foggy stepped back, finally calming down. He looked around Alison's apartment, really seeing the mess for the first time. But right before he could say something, Matt woke up. He finally was lucid, and seemed semi normal. His short term memory kind of stunk, but for the most part he was okay.

He told us what happened at the hospital. Foggy just became enraged. The whole time Matt was talking, I was watching Foggy's concern for his friend turn to anger. I just wasn't sure what about. Until he opened his big mouth. "You got shot in the head," Foggy stated. "You're lucky you're not in the morgue."

"It was just a dumb mistake," Matt said.

"What?"

"The gun on his ankle, I...I should've heard it, you know. I should've felt it."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, but he's fast, this guy, Foggy. He's trained."

"He's a lunatic, Matt," Foggy said. "I went to the hospital, I saw what he did." Then Foggy turned to me. "And what about here? Care to explain to me what happened here, Danielle? What was so important that you weren't out there with him like you should've been."

"Foggy-" Matt sighed.

"No! I wanna know. I thought you two were a team."

"Foggy, I told you-" I said, or tried too.

"No, you didn't! You gave me the whole 'I had a rough night, I got shot' speech," he said. "But you didn't tell me about this," he stretched out his arm across the room.

Matt sat up more, looking my way. He was suddenly concerned and on alert. He knows we're at Alison's, but I doubt he's taken the time to actually 'look' around for himself. Had he, he would've smelled the blood. Mine and my attacker's. "You got shot?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I brushed it off real quick and then turned to Foggy. "I had every intention of going out there, last night. I was going to get Chase, take him to my house, and then be on my way."

"So what stopped you?" Foggy asked. I clenched my fists at my side, wanting to slap him. "Someone broke in to Alison's apartment," I said. "Crawled in through that window," I pointed. "The Idiot attacked me, first. Wouldn't say who he was or what he wanted. All I knew is that it was going to be me or him. And, it made matters worse that Chase was here! I didn't want him to see any of that. But," I shrugged, "like I had a choice. I was on my own, too, Foggy. Fighting some guy twice my size with nothing but kitchen knives at my disposal."

"Then how'd you get shot?" Foggy said, somewhat disbelieving.

"Really? The guy had a gun tucked in his belt, you moron. After he threw me across the room-" I shouted to add emphasis. But really I was just trying to prove a point to Foggy. "-like I was nothing, he pulled out his gun! Chase, of course watching, found the cross bow I'd given him and was able to get it to me. I shot him just as he shot me." I got close to Foggy, lowering my voice. "I slid to the ground, a hole in my shoulder, and a boy at my side who was on the verge of tears wondering what on earth was happening in his living room."

I took a step back. "I didn't have a chance to stop and call someone with an ETA. I'll tell you what, Foggy...you get yourself in that kind of a situation and then tell me how you decided to react. That whole thing last night was bad enough as it was...and then, I wake up and find out that the hospital was attacked and that Alison was shot. And then I've got you banging on the door telling me Matt's missing. This whole thing is one bad dream I want to wake up from."

"Then why don't you? Let the police handle this," he said, looking between us. I scoffed and then walked a few steps in a circle. This guy just won't stop. I glanced at Matt. He was clearly distraught by the situation. I went to cross my arms and then hissed at my shoulder. I actually forgot it was there for a second. See what happens when you argue with idiots.

I cradled my arm, walking the few feet to the med bag, sitting in the chair. I wormed off my shirt and dropped it. I unzipped the bag and began digging. I heard Foggy sigh. "This mystery guy do that to you, too?" he asked. I straightened and then looked at him. He'd peeked Matt's interest, also.

I glanced down, following Foggy's gaze. My stomach had several dark bruises, in various places. I sighed, glancing at Matt before looking at Foggy. "Yeah." I went back to what I was doing. A few seconds later, Foggy walked up to me. He sighed, "What do you need?"

I glanced up at him, stepping back. I eyed him for a second. "It needs restitched." I still eyed him, unsure of why he was helping me. He then dug into the bag and pulled out what I needed. About ten minutes later, I was all patched up. We didn't say anything, just went our separate ways.

I walked over and sat on the couch next to Matt. He seemed to be doing better, but still off. He seemed to have a light bulb moment and then asked, "Where's Karen?"

Foggy sighed, in almost annoyance. "We've been over this."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Are you sure she's okay..." he looked at me, "and Alison?"

I nodded solemnly. "They're fine."

"Karen got Grotto to the NYPD," Foggy said. "We're going to meet there, make a deal with the DA."

"Okay, I need to get dressed," Matt said, standing. Well this won't be good.

"No."

"It's okay, I know we need to get going."

"'We' don't need to do anything."

"Foggy, I don't wanna do this right now."

"You're safe, Karen's safe, Alison and Dani are safe...and our client will be safe within the hour," Foggy said. "It's all taken care of."

"Except the shooter. He's still walking the streets of Hell's Kitchen."

"He's the cops' problem now."

"He's gonna plow right through the cops," Matt scoffed. I debated on whether or not to get involved. Maybe I'll just let them sort this one out.

"I know what you're doing."

"You saw what he did to the Irish, you didn't see what he did to the Mexican Cartel. He hung them on meat hooks, and he left them there to die."

"You want another round."

"Blood is being shed, Foggy."

"And you've donated more than your fair share to the cause." Foggy looked down at me. "Both of you."

"We need to stop him," I said.

"You both need to get rest, okay?" he looked back at Matt. "And when you wake up, you need to consider putting that thing-" he pointed at Matt's suit, "-back in whatever wacko box it came from." Foggy stepped back, looking proud of himself. "Better yet..." Foggy reached down to pick up the suit.

Matt lunged for it. They both stood, each one having a hold of it. I sighed. "Let go."

"You first," Foggy said. I rolled my eyes. Children. This is crazy. I would say something, but I'm done being the third wheel in their bromance. Matt tugged on the suit, ripping it out of Foggy's hands. "I don't want to do this again."

"Then don't," Matt said.

"Let the NYPD and the DA do their jobs...and trust me to do mine!" Foggy turned, scowling at me before heading for the stairs. Yeah, like this is all my fault. Whether I was here or not, Matt would still be Daredevil. I sighed. Matt turned toward me. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged my good shoulder. "Hey, haters gonna hate," I said. He smiled. I stood and walked up to him. He dropped the suit and wrapped his arms around me. I squeezed him, not wanting to let go. "I was so scared something had happened to you. That we'd find you and we'd be too late-"

"Hey," Matt pulled away and then cupped my face. "It's okay. I'm right here, Elizabeth."

"You sure?" The events of the last twenty four hours were crashing down on top of me. "Because you only call me that when everything's okay, and it is not okay right now." He looked about as sad as I felt. But I felt on the verge of tears. He pulled me in and hugged me again. This time holding me for a few minutes.

Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

Foggy practically burst into the room ahead of me and I sighed, following in after him. "Are you okay?" Foggy asked, almost out of breath. Karen quickly stood from her chair and hugged him. She stood back, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. The paperwork's almost done and Brett's gonna be in here in a minute," she answered, her voice shaky. She looked at me and sighed in relief. "Alison, I'm so sorry, I-"

I shook my head. "It's okay, I understand." She gave a small, closed-mouth smile that said she still wasn't okay with it. But I truly did get it. She had to get herself and Grotto out of there and I was taking too much time. It made sense from a fight or flight point of view. I glanced over at Grotto. He was still in the hospital gown from last night with a sour look on his face. "And you're just fine, I assume?" I said, directing it at him.

He looked up at me, not impressed. "That's very funny. Where were you, huh? Out buying yourself a latte?"

"I took a bullet getting your butt out of there so, if I were you, I'd shut my Irish mouth," I replied, tiredly.

Karen gaped. "You got shot?" I shrugged back the corner of my jacket, revealing the bulky white gauze beneath the strap of another tank top. She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Alison, are you okay? Shouldn't you be home with Chase?"

"And let you have all the fun?" I smiled dryly and she exhaled, sitting back down.

"Where's Murdock?" Grotto asked, looking up at Foggy.

"He took a sick day," Foggy replied. "You told us the Irish were attacked by a whole gang of guys. I'm pretty sure the word you used was army. You wanna tell me why I'm just now hearing this is all being done by one man?"

"Look, I didn't know you guys were-"

"Who does he work for?" Foggy interrupted.

Grotto shook his head. "I got no idea."

"Well, what do you know?" Foggy pushed, impatient.

"I know he's a sociopath, that's what," Grotto said. At least the rat and I can agree on something. My talk with Frank earlier today didn't solve anything, or make me believe he wasn't some crazy murderer with a gun. "I mean, yeah, fine...I heard the rumors, okay, but I didn't think...I thought it was ridiculous, okay? Ten, twenty guys could be mowed down at a time. And with precision? You know, tactically? Every hit was like some kind of SEAL team six."

He paused a moment, taking a breath. "Then people started saying it was one guy doing all that- one man? I thought it was a ghost story. Some campfire stuff you tell freshies to make 'em poop their pants. But now...you two saw," he jutted his chin up at me and Karen. "That guy was the Grim Reaper." And another thing we can agree on. Just then, Mahoney pushed through the door into the interrogation room.

He held an orange jumpsuit and shoes. "Mr. Grote, I'm Sergeant Mahoney," he said, walking in. "Got some clothes here for you." He put them down on the table and Grotto started looking around at us in turn. "What? Am I arrested?" he asked, starting to sound worried.

"Just protective custody until we can figure out WITSEC," Foggy assured.

"Why the peel?" Grotto asked.

Mahoney shrugged once. "Or stay in the gown with your butt hanging out—I don't care." Grotto crossed his arms, resuming his pouting, and Mahoney looked at Karen and me. "We pulled the security footage from the hospital. I got ten men going over it right now."

"Any leads?" Karen asked, hopeful.

"I was hoping you had something," Mahoney looked at me.

I paused, my eyebrow slowly moving up. "Me?" I asked, curiously.

"Let's let him change. You three wanna step outside with me for a sec?" Mahoney asked, pointedly, as he pulled open the door to the room. Foggy sighed and Karen grabbed her purse. They walked through the door while Mahoney held it and I reluctantly followed after them. The door swung shut behind us once we were all out and Mahoney lead the way back to the main area of the precinct.

"Now, the DA's office is sending someone to talk you through Witness Protection options," he said, walking a bit ahead of us.

"Today?" Foggy asked, appalled.

"Yeah, right now. And listen," Mahoney replied. He stopped and turned to Foggy. "Take whatever deal they offer, okay? You don't wanna mess with this psycho." For a moment I wondered if he meant Frank or the DA. I hear she can be quite the witch when she wants to be. "So you do have a lead," Karen realized. Mahoney turned and started getting coffee from a machine in front of us.

"I ever tell you what Clemons used to say?" he asked, rhetorically.

I sighed, loosely crossing my arms. "Treat witnesses like mushrooms. Feed them trash and keep them in the dark."

"Yep," Mahoney turned around to face us. He took a drink from his coffee. "That scum's on a need to know."

"So fill us in. Who's bankrolling this guy? Who does he work for?" Foggy asked, almost whispering. I could answer that. But I kept my mouth shut, trying to act like I wanted to know who was behind him as well. "The DA's office says the shooter's independent," Mahoney explained. I knew that. "Vigilante type, targeting different crime families. And not in a...a Daredevil or Angel way. In a death wish way."

None of this is new information. I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I felt a head ache coming on. "Daredevil and Angel kick butt—this whole city cheers like we just won the World Series, but this guy? He does it, and the streets get bloody. Makes everybody stop and think twice about the whole 'hero' proposition," he finished.

"Well, what do you think?" Foggy inquired.

"The whole force is split. Some cops want him off the street, others think he's making our jobs a whole lot easier," he replied, extending the word whole. "But if you ask me, it's only a matter of time before the wrong person gets caught in the crossfire." He took another drink of his coffee and I inwardly groaned. I was that wrong person last night. And so was Dani.

"I guess copycats were inevitable," Foggy sighed.

"No, it's not the first, just the latest," Mahoney looked to me at my eyebrow raise. He nodded once. "Yeah, we call them Devil Worshippers. Nutjobs inspired by the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Most of 'em are just ineffectual idiots, but this guy...all my years on the force, I've never seen anything like him." He exhaled and sauntered off, leaving us to wander back to the interrogation room when we so pleased.

This was the stupidest idea I have ever actually acted on. Coming here was a mistake—I'm going to say something or do something, and someone is going to figure out that I know this mass murderer everyone is looking for. It's just a matter of time. And now we're going to have to talk to someone sent by the District Attorney? Balls.

Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)

"As much as I want too," I said, "I don't think I'd be able to make myself sleep." Matt smiled, grabbing his glass and heading to the kitchen. We were now back at Matt's place. Alison dropped us off before joining Foggy and Karen. Matt was finally able to get some clothes and I'm now wearing one of his t-shirts. Before we left the café, Chase woke up.

Long story short, I ripped the stitches again and bled all over the second shirt Alison had given me. So now I have direct orders to rest. In other words, I need to stop using my arm. And I agree. But sometimes you can't help it. I got up off the couch and walked to the kitchen counter. "Remember the first time we met?"

"At the law firm?"

"No, before that."

"Oh," he smiled, walking to the sink. "Yeah, I remember. What made you think of that?"

"I don't know, really," I sighed. He turned on the sink to fill up his glass. Not a second later, he acted liked he was in pain. But I didn't see or hear anything. I straightened, watching him. He shut off the water and sighed. I watched his mannerisms. "Matt...are you okay?" He didn't reply, just walked past me to a set of shelves. He shook his head and then reached up for the pill bottle.

"Matt?" I have this sick feeling like something's not right.

"Yeah. I'm okay." He opened the pill bottle, as I walked closer to watch him better. He poured the pills out on the shelf and then cringed. His hand bumped the glass and it fell off the shelf. He reached to grab it and missed. The glass hit the floor, shattering. I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked. He continued to look down at the glass. "Matt?" He straightened. His nose was now bleeding. Okay, something is definitely not right. They way he looked at me...the look on his face. He was freaking out. I removed my hand from his shoulder and he instantly reached out for it. He missed.

I walked around him, watching him the whole time. I stood right behind him and clapped my hands. He didn't even flinch. Oh, my goodness. He can't hear. Now he's blind and deaf? What is going on? I quickly walked back to where I was and then grabbed his hand. He quickly welcomed it, looking relieved he'd found me.

I led him over to the couch and we sat down. I don't know what to do. I feel so helpless. There's no one I can shoot or punch to make this any better. I pulled him in for a hug and he wrapped his arms around me like his life depended on it. Right now I'm sure he feels it does. He has no idea what's going on. I can't even begin to imagine what that's like.