They were in the farmer’s warehouse. Matt could hear around a dozen police officers patrolling the empty plot of land but he couldn’t hear Elektra anywhere. He could hear Batman and Robin prowling about but not Elektra. They were inside in a comfortable living room that lingered with the smell of nervous sweating and coffee powder. Foggy himself was leaning over the table, flipping

“Melvin struggles with dissociative identity disorder,” Ms. Beaty explained to Matt. “Or DID for short. His mind is split between his primary which is Melvin and the Gladiator.”

“What were the circumstances that lead to this split?” Matt asked.

“Melvin was naturally born big boned,” Ms. Beaty explained. “His mother left him when he was a baby and his father… well his family was poor so at a young age, as soon as Melvin could move his muscles and throw a punch his father threw him into some sort of fight club. In order to deal with the stress, violence and trauma or you could say in order to protect Melvin, he formed another personality: The Gladiator. Melvin himself is just a child at heart and the Gladiator is just a response.”

Matt nodded. “And what about five years ago? Back when the Batman started. Melvin was the Gladiator for a prolonged period of what… 2 months? 3?”

“4 months,” Betsy said. “He was the Gladiator for four months. It was a period of great stress for Melvin. He was sent to Blackgate after he killed someone in the Falconies. Even then he was forced to make armour for the Falconies in their war against Sionis. Blackgate doesn’t have the best facilities for mental health and big people like Melvin attract a lot of trouble. Exposed to that many stressors he…”

“Snapped,” Matt said. “Let the Gladiator out.”

Betsy nodded grimly before realising who she was talking to. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I nodded and…” Betsy sighed. Matt gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay.”

Betsy cleared her throat. “One thing you have to understand about Melvin is that… as much as he denies the Gladiator it’s still a part of him lurking underneath the surface. Think of it as a spring. If you put a lot of weight on it, eventually it piles up and the spring lashes out. The Gladiator is a response to outside stimuli, to protect Melvin from the violence but…”

“But?” Matt asked.

“The Gladiator enjoys it,” Betsy said, her body sagged and her heartbeat started beating slowly. It was a mixture of disappointment and sadness. “He enjoys the violence, enjoys the killing and while Melvin can deny it all he wants the Gladiator is a part of him and…”

Betsy chuckled sadly. “I’m supposed to be the therapist here instead of… venting my problems. This won’t be in my testimony, right?”

“As long as you don’t say it on the stand,” Matt said. “And I would advise you not to.”

“Violence is a part of Melvin,” Betsy said. “And so is the Gladiator and I don’t think it’ll be easy for him to escape it and that… hurts. For me, for the both of us.”

Matt placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine Ms. Beaty. We’ll make sure he gets the best help he can get.”

“Thank you,” she said though the tremor in her voice quaked uncertainty.

“I’ll do some consultation with my partner,” Matt said. “If you know anybody. Any experts on Melvin’s condition please be sure to notify us.”

Betsy was about to nod, caught herself and said “I will.”

Later that night, Matt ran his fingers through the braille of Melvin’s file, unaware of the fact that his red rimmed sunglasses were clearly reflecting the photo of Melvin almost as if he was looking in the mirror.

…

Fernando flicked his cigar into the ashtray. He still grieved Ignacio; his mourning taken away from him by the Devil. The days felt so empty without him. He had resorted to alcohol and cocaine to cope with his loss and those useless assassins weren’t bringing him the Devil’s head.

There was also a snitch. A certain Melvin Potter. Sergei had told Fernando all about him when he was sent to the slammer. And none of his boys in the precincts knew where he was. This might be the end of Fernando Hernandez but after Ignacio’s death, Fernando wasn’t sure if he cared anymore.

And then the window opened behind him. Fernando turned and even from here he could smell her.

“Elektra.”

She smiled. That vixen.

“I have information for you,” Elektra said. “On Melvin Potter.”

“Mmm,” Fernando said. “Elektra, Elektra. You’re so competent unlike these buffoons that work for me. And you have nice legs too. I know I made the right decision hiring you. I just know it. Come give Uncle Fernando a hug and tell me where he is.”

Fernando beckoned her forth. Elektra shook her head.

“I’ll give you the information on one condition,” Elektra said. “You don’t attack the location immediately. Batman and his boy partner will be there and they’ll make your life a living hell. You’ll need to be careful.”

“And what do you suggest we do?”

“They’ll be taking Melvin into the Gotham High Court,” Elektra said. “Things have been kept under wraps but the dispatch has been separated into three separate police vehicles, each taking a different route to throw off any potential pursuers. If my estimation is right, the truck Melvin will be using will be taking the route through the Narrows.”

“The slums, eh?” Fernando asked. “That’s where he’ll be.”

Elektra nodded. “He’ll be surrounded by two police vehicles. Batman and Robin will be pursuing him silently. You have to be careful. Cause a few distractions around town and to divert their attention and then go in for the kill.”

Fernando nodded. “Elektra my dear, you should join us. You do a wonderful job and always, always have a plan unlike these estupida men around me. You know how to pull strings and get things done.”

“It’s my job Fernando,” Elektra said. “And I intend to do it well.”

Elektra leapt out of the window as Fernando made a few calls.

…

Fernando Hernandez was right about one thing. Elektra Natchios was very good at pulling strings.

At 9 P.M that night, Floyd Lawton was informed that his target would be in the narrows at 10 A.M the following morning.

As the clock struck midnight, Sean of the Grote family told his boss he got an anonymous tip. The girl in red would be in the Narrows in 10 hours.

And with that, the pieces were in place.

…

The next morning Matt was in the Gotham High Court waiting for a call from Foggy.

“Foggy,” his phone echoed. “Foggy.”

Matt took out his phone.

“You satisfied with the jury?” Foggy asked. Matt could feel the tension of his voice from kilometres away.

“Yes,” Matt said. “You prep them?”

“Yes,” Foggy said. “Hard to do so when you feel your life’s in danger.”

“After this trial…”

“Yeah, we’ll be safe like you keep saying,” Foggy said. “God, I hope so. See you there, Matt.”

Foggy hung up. He made his way up the courtroom rooftop. He opened up his senses to the trucks. Two of the trucks were already in Gotham, humming their way through the city. That meant the third was still in Gotham. The other two trucks would take looped routes throughout the city to throw whoever was after Melvin was off. 30 minutes later he got a call from Foggy.

“We’re in Gotham.”

Matt focused on the truck. 5 minutes later one of the trucks was in the Narrows and…

An explosion burst in the air.

…

Fernando threw his grenade launcher aside. His boys had masks on their face. Him and his boys couldn’t take a risk especially being out in bright daylight. They walked towards the flaming corpse of the GCPD truck, opening the back door. A bloodied officer fired his gun but the bullet grazed the worn down the door, barely scraping Fernando. Fernando shot back in return and didn’t miss.

They searched through the truck but Melvin wasn’t there.

“We’ve been had!” one of his boys shouted before a bullet ran through his head. The boys scrambled and ran for cover.

“Well, well,” Grotto said atop the rooftops. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

…

Matt was about to rush to the explosion when he heard gunfire burst out in the far east. His phone started ringing.

“Fog…”

“Foggy are you alright?”

The gunfire felt more urgent through the phone. “Somebody’s shooting at us,” Foggy said through a raspy voice. “Send help.”

Matt dashed down the courtroom rooftop, people getting out of the courtroom to see what all the commotion was. Everyone was pointing at a whiff of smoke he smelt in the distance. Gunfire ringed in the air from both directions. Thoughts started racing through Matt’s mind. How did they know? Where was Gordon and Batman? Was Foggy alright? How did they know? How did they know?

An unknown number called him.

Batman spoke on the other side. “The mission is compromised.”

“I know,” Matt said. He walked through the bustling crowds, probing his ears for a nearby alleyway.

“How?” Batman asked. Matt could hear his Batmobile humming through the streets, most likely making his way to the second truck. The one that was unharmed.

“We don’t have time for that,” Matt said. “My friend is in danger.”

“The only ones who knew the location were…”

“Not now,” Matt said, he hung up and found an alleyway. He threw his walking stick away and leapt up the sides of the building. He climbed up a dustbin, leapt onto a pipe and jumped onto the rooftops, the edge of the building digging into his palm. He wrapped his scarf around his eyes and dashed to rescue Foggy.

…

While his men were in cover, Fernando walked out into the fray. Liam and his men were atop the buildings with their guns out.

“What brings you here on this fine day, Elliot?” Fernando said.

“I know about the girl,” Elliot said. “I know about the suits. You’re a snake, Fernando and I’m going to put a bullet in your head.”

Fernando looked confused. “What girl?”

“The girl in red,” Elliot said. “You ordered her to kill my brother and I’m going to put you down.”

Fernando chuckled. “Elektra? I didn’t order her to kill your brother. You must be mistaken Elliot. Maybe we can talk things out, clear the air.”

“Shut up,” Elliot said. “Shut up! I know about the suits. I know that you supplied them to the Triad, the Albanians and old Sweeney. But you didn’t leave anything for us, did you? That made a lot of people angry, Fernando.”

And from the sides, members of the Yakuza came in guns at the ready. They came in like a wave of black suits, machine guns and pistols at the ready.

“You shouldn’t have shot that whorehouse, Fernando,” Elliot said. “You shouldn’t have killed my brother.”

Fernando ducked into cover as bullets rained down upon him and his men like a hailstorm.

…

Foggy’s eyes snapped open. His senses exploded into life, the roof of the truck swirling with stars, the sound of fire crackling on the engine, the smell of oil and blood. Foggy tried to get up but cried as pain coursed through his right leg.

He turned and saw glass and dirt buried deep inside. He almost felt nauseous seeing the mangled mess of his leg. Outside he heard gunfire, cops shouting desperately, firing bullets madly. Their shouts cut out by the sound of a rifle blast.

“Someone,” Foggy croaked. “Anyone… help me.”

He limped towards a cop who was leaning against the wall. He pulled himself up, ignoring the pain and shook the officer’s sleeve. “Help me,” Foggy moaned in pain. The officer’s head lolled to the side. It was then Foggy noticed his torso riddled with bloody holes. Foggy collapsed onto the ground. The fire burst to life.

“Melvin, Betsy,” Foggy cried out. He swung his head around but Melvin and Betsy weren’t there. He was alone.

Foggy had to get out of the truck. The door had swung open limply. He made his way to the door, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood staining his thighs. The fire grew bigger and bigger, consuming the car beneath. Seconds felt like hours as Foggy crawled to the door, he reached out his hand to push and…

The door slammed shut.

“No,” Foggy muttered. “Oh god. Oh no, no, no…”

Foggy heard an explosion. He looked back and saw the bonnet fly into the air. The fire was closing in on the engine, slowly licking the edges as if savouring a meal.

Foggy held a hand out to the handle but it slipped. The flame grew bigger and bigger. Foggy tried to grab a hold of it but his hand fell to the side. “Oh god. Please… please let me out,” Foggy cried. The fire wrapped itself around the engine. Foggy heard it crackle and pop and sizzle. Foggy tried pushing the door open but it wouldn’t budge. He heard the oil drip. Desperate Foggy put his weight behind, adrenaline numbing the pain as he got up, he pushed against the door with all his strength, it barely budge. As the flame grew larger and larger, he pushed again and again, the door giving in again and again until the door swung wide open. He saw a man in a mask pull him out as a gunshot rang and the truck exploded behind him.

…

Foggy’s eyes snapped open and he found himself in a musty alleyway. He wanted to get up but his right leg screamed in protest. Foggy saw something stained red wrapped around it. Standing over him was the vigilante they called the Devil with a grey mask wrapped around his face. Foggy could almost swear he looked relieved when he came to. His left sleeve was torn and he was wearing a suit shirt and black pants.

“I called the paramedics,” the Devil said, his voice sounded familiar but it was a low growl. “They’ll be here in a bit.”

“There’s a madman shooting at us,” Foggy said. “The…” Foggy groaned. “Witnesses are missing. Betsy and Melvin…”

Foggy couldn’t see his eyes but his face looked angry. “I know.”

“How will the paramedics get here?” Foggy asked. “With this asshole shooting at us?”

“Simple,” the Devil said. He picked up an iron bar. He ran his fingers through it in a way that reminded Foggy vaguely of Matt reading braille. His fingers stopped. He broke that spot over his knee.

“I’ll handle him.”

…

Gunfire exploded plaster and metal inwards. As Fernando and his men rushed their way into a building, men around him dropped like flies. They crashed into the building. His men were breathing heavily, their suits riddled with bullets. His men were just reduced to barely a handful and the bullets wouldn’t stop.

“How the hell did this happen?” asked one of his men. “I thought the snitch would be here.”

“We were had,” said another. “That’s the only answer. Someone brought us here…”

He didn’t finish his sentence as his head exploded inwards.

Elektra. Fernando murmured to himself. That two-timing bitch. Oh, if he could get his hands on that bitch, he’d make her regret what she did to him, make her feel the deaths of the men whose body littered the streets right now. The Yakuza and Irish got closer and closer, slowly but surely. His men were dying around him and Fernando thought he’d curse that bitch till his breath left his body. He’d make sure she’d rue the day that she decided to betray him.

And then like an earthquake crashing through the cracked buildings of the Narrows, the Batmobile crackled with electricity. Men were taken aback and then started scattering as the Batmobile fired non-lethal rounds that danced in the air.

…

He was on top of the building right across the street. Matt could hear wind whistling through the holes in the car, smell the oil spilt on the floor and taste the smoke that poisoned the air.

“I thought you’d show up,” Deadshot said as the Devil walked in with two metal sticks. “A little bird told me you’d be here.”

Matt could feel his blood running from his left palm onto the metal stick.

“There’s a big bounty on your head, y’know?” Deadshot said. “5 million big ones. Would say you’re worth it. You’re the second person I’ve missed a shot with.”

“One or two?”

“What’s that?”

“These sticks,” Matt asked. “You want me to use one or two? It’ll be a lot easier if you chose one.”

“Easier for who?”

Matt smirked. “You.”

Matt threw the first metal stick. Deadshot ducked as it clattered to his side. Deadshot took out a machine gun that roared in the street as Matt ducked behind a car. Bullets clanked against the metal surface. The bullets cracked a door of its hinges. As Deadshot reloaded Matt cracked the door out and just as he fired ran into the street holding the car door as a shield.

Glass rained down on him but the car door deflected the bullets for the most part. Dents formed in the metal surface of the door. Matt’s ears were focused on the gun, waiting, anticipating when Deadshot would reload.

Deadshot cursed as the ammo ran out, he emptied the clip and reloaded in less than a split second before looking over only to see that the Devil had disappeared, the only trace of his existence being the car door riddled with holes.

Oh shit.

Deadshot threw the machine gun to the side and pulled out his pistol, opening the roof door and trying to determine the Devil’s location.

Meanwhile, Matt sprinted up the stairs, ears trained on the heartbeat of the man standing at the top with a pistol in his steady hand.

…

They scattered.

Batman and Robin were like a war machine. Trained soldiers with deliberate movements and heavy fists. Fernando knew it’d be stupid to stay, he made a run for it. There was only gunfire and smoke and chaos. The Batmobile launching stun missiles that rained down upon the men like shooting stars.

Fernando made his way through flights of stairs, clouds of smoke and hailstorms of gunfire as he desperately attempted to get out of the Narrows.

And then he bumped into someone.

It took a while to regain his bearings but when he did, noticed good old Grotto in front of him.

“You,” Grotto said with venom in his voice.

Fernando smiled. “Come on, Grotto. It wasn’t me, besides I have men working everywhere. You and your men don’t stand a chance.”

Police sirens screeched in the distance.

“Your deal with the Yakuza really pissed off the Triad,” Grotto said with a smirk. “And the Italians and Serbians aren’t happy either. The Yakuza also didn’t like how you shot up their place.”

Fernando almost lost his temper. He flexed his fingers and if it wasn’t for the looming threat of the Batman, Fernando would have his fingers around Grotto’s throat right now.

“Crime Alley isn’t yours,” Grotto said with a smirk. “It belongs to my family.”

Heavy footsteps. The laughter of a boy.

“You’re starting a war?” Fernando scoffed. “A war for Crime Alley.”

Grotto smiled. “May the best man win.”

The door burst open and Batman and Robin were greeted by empty space.

…

Bullets bounced off the walls with ruthless efficiency. Matt’s senses were driven wild by the bullets dancing around and Deadshot kept the gunfire trained on him. Matt was getting tired of deflecting them all the time.

Matt’s only respite was when Deadshot stopped to reload but all progress was halted with the cold and calculated efficiency with which Deadshot reloaded his weapons.

Bullets grazed Matt’s shoulders, leg and hips but he still fought on. The paramedics were getting closer, he could hear their sirens in the distance wailing. He would just have to fight through this, defeat this assassin and Foggy would be okay. He would be okay.

He was running out of bullets, he only had 4 and knowing his opponent he’d make them count.

4.

The first bullet exploded to the side. White liquid burst forth from the fire extinguisher to his side, it invaded his nostrils and mouth.

He almost missed bullet 3. It scraped his finger but he deflected it aside.

Matt stepped out of the burst fire extinguisher. Bullet 2 was headed straight for him but Matt held his stick out and knocked it aside.

Deadshot wasted bullet 1.

It hit a nearby pipe and smoke billowed out. With his vision obscured Deadshot took out his sniper rifle from a case to his side. One bullet. One bullet would be all he needed.

The Devil stood over him and smirked.

“What the…”

The Devil kicked him in the face, smashing his visor.

Deadshot removed is visor, glass plastered on his face and blood ran from his eye.

He got up; he had a clear shot. All head to do was pull the trigger, his fingers hovered over it, inches away from firing.

CRACK

The metal stick hit him across the face. Deadshot toppled over. The Devil walked over him, smirk on his face and stick in his left hand. Deadshot tried getting up but the Devil kicked him across the face. He picked up the other stick.

“You should’ve said one,” the Devil said as he pummelled Deadshot, the silver sticks being stained with Deadshot’s blood.

…

The machines beeped steadily. Foggy’s breathing was calm.

“Your friend will be fine, Mr. Murdock,” the Doctor said. “Some of the nerves in his legs have been damaged so he’ll be walking with a limp for a very, very long time.”

“Permanently,” Matt said though he wasn’t sure whether he was saying this to punish himself or the doctor. “I uh… felt his leg earlier. The wounds are…”

“Okay, Mr. Murdock,” the doctor said, her voice tense. “Maybe you should clear out, give your friend some space.”

Matt nodded weakly. He walked out into the waiting room, Foggy’s family were there waiting. Foggy’s mother’s body was sagged, tears running down her face. His father was like a ticking time bomb about to explode, he turned his head to stare at Matt and whenever he did his heart started beating faster and his body temperature flared up.

“Is he okay?” Theo asked. “Will he be…?”

“Yeah, he’ll have a bit of a limp but he’ll be fine,” Matt said.

Matt could hear the relief in Theo and Foggy’s mum but his dad still remained angry.

“It’s your fault, you know?” Foggy’s dad said.

“Ed,” his mum said, reaching out to calm him down.

“No,” Foggy’s dad said. “This asshole is always taking these dangerous cases, putting our son in danger. First that Grote kid and now this.” Foggy’s dad scoffed. “Our boy shouldn’t have been a lawyer in the first place but now we have this self-righteous jackass dragging Foggy into danger.”

He got up and shoved Matt. Theo and Foggy’s mum tried to stop him but Foggy’s father wouldn’t have it.

“I don’t care if you’re blind,” Foggy’s dad said. “I don’t care that because of the whole Grote fiasco, people won’t buy from us. I don’t care about any of that. You’re putting my son in danger, my family in danger and I won’t have any of that. Do you have anything to say for yourself, huh? You bastard.”

“Ed!” Foggy’s mother interjected.

“Not now, Rosy,” Ed said. “Not until I hear what this bastard has to say for himself.”

“I’ll cover the bills,” Matt said, unable to meet Ed’s eyes.

“That all you have to say for yourself!” Ed growled. “Huh?”

“Ed,” Rosy cried.

“Dad, please,” Theo muttered. “Just leave him alone.”

“I’ll excuse myself,” Matt said.

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SON,” Ed roared as Matt left the room. “YOU HEAR ME. DON’T COME NEAR ME OR MY FAMILY EVER AGAIN!”

The world around Matt was swirling, the guilt could barely leave his heart. He tried keeping his mind occupied with finding Elektra, anything but all he could think about, all that was on his mind was Edward Nelson’s heart booming with anger, the severed nerves in Foggy’s leg and the sound of Matt’s heartbeat and heavy breathing drowning out the rest of the world.

“Are you okay?” he heard a doctor say but the voice seemed galaxies away.

Matt stumbled out into the rooftop, ignoring the concerned hands on his shoulder. Fresh air, he needed fresh air no matter how stale. He fell on his knees, letting the air fill his lungs, clear his mind.

And then he heard footsteps. Silent footsteps. Methodical footsteps.

“The Commissioner wants to see you,” Batman said. “Wear your mask.”

“Not now.”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“I…” Matt wanted to object, say something in retaliation but he couldn’t find the words. “I’ll be right with you.”

They were on the rooftop of the GCPD. Batman was in the centre as Gordon crumpled up a cigarette, flicked it then turned and jabbed a finger on Matt’s chest.

“You might have gotten us Deadshot,” Gordon said, Matt could still smell the tobacco in his breath. “But those men we lost. They don’t make up for it. I had to explain everything to their families. You know how awful it felt to lie straight to their faces, to tell them their deaths meant something.”

Gordon clenched his fists. “Gladiator and his girlfriend are missing; I have the deaths of a dozen men on my hands and all because somebody decided to tell a third party. And it wasn’t me, wasn’t the man I’ve worked with for seven years and it sure as hell wasn’t my boys cause none of them knew the Cartel and Irish bastards we have locked up, none of them knew fucking Deadshot so that leaves only you. Explain yourself.”

“I… I thought I could trust her.”

“Trust who?” Batman asked.

“Elektra Natchios.”

On hearing that, Batman immediately typed something into his gauntlet.

“Do you know how much of a mess you made?” Gordon muttered. “If it wasn’t for this guy.” Gordon pointed at batman with his thumb. “I would have tossed you in the slammer as soon as you came here.”

Matt turned to Batman. “I’ll deal with Elektra,” he said. “It’s my mess… I’ll…”

“You won’t,” Batman said.

“But…”

“You’ve messed up enough already,” Batman said. “You’ve broken both of our trusts. Do whatever you want to but we can’t help you.”

“That’s right,” Gordon said. “You can’t turn to any of us for help, the GCPD will not help you. From now on, you’re on your own.”

To be continued…