Portals Plotbunny I.5: Why is it Always Dumpsters Anyway?
Sarabi/PadfutnProngs

Summary:
Matt bites off more than he chew one night and ends up in another dumpster. But this time he's pulled from peril by an unlikely pair of passersby.

(Alternate PoV of "Portals Plotbunny I: Dumpster Diving")

Notes:

Author: Sarabi/PadfutnProngs (who does not currently have an AO3 account)

Burnslikeice is my co-conspirator on all things "Portals" ( /series/248197) but usually I'm the one doing the actual typing this one time. This particular tale is Matt's PoV of another PlotBunny story, "Portals PlotBunny I: Dumpster Diving." ( s/11207125/1/Portals-Plotbunny-I-Dumpster-Diving)

This short little tale is a plotbunny set during the time of my (currently unfinished) WoW/Avengers crossover fic "Portals" but isn't an official part of that tale. Consider it along the lines of a deleted scene.

Portals PlotBunnies may crop up from time to time as I work on the 'real' stories of the series. They are silly little one-shot type things that can mostly stand alone, but make more sense if you've read the primary parent fic.

The Druid, Harvist, is a character belonging to my co-conspirator, Sarabi.
Clint and Matt belong to Marvel.

Matt had only intended to go out and rescue some kidnapped girls. Some of them weren't even old enough to be considered teenagers yet. That had really pushed him over the edge to act tonight.

What he hadn't been expecting were just how many kidnappers there were going to be. Hadn't matter in the end, he'd still fought all of them. The problem had come from how many of them had had knives.

Matt had yelled at the girls to run and which streets to take to get to the police station, and how to tell the police to get back here to clean up after the kidnappers.

He'd been on his way out, staggering from just how much blood he was starting to realize he was losing when several still conscious kidnappers had jumped him, and that had been lights out, so to speak, for him.

He woke up...he didn't even know how much later and didn't feel any of the injuries he'd sustained during the fight. How long HAD he been out?! He was on his back, in an alley with a man sitting next to him, a dumpster behind them both, because why not?

He twitched, groaned and rolled onto his side so that he could get himself into a sitting position. He allowed his head to loll around a little while his senses took in the alley and everything in it. He just could not comprehend one thing in that alley.

He snapped his attention back to the man next to him, "Who are you?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Not every day I find a guy in my dumpster."

Matt really had to school his face, but the corner of his mouth still twitched a bit at the memory of Claire not so long ago saying the same thing. "You live around here?"

The stranger shook his head, "Nah, just passing by." He stood up and offered Matt a hand. Matt hesitated, but took it and allowed the stranger to pull him up. So far the man was relaxed and his heart rate had yet to indicate anything other than relaxed, but Matt knew better especially with the way the man now stood.

"If you don't live here, then how is it 'your' dumpster?"

"Usually I'm the one who's dumped in it. I'd rather not have to share."

Matt cocked an eyebrow under his mask. Not a lie, but not a whole truth either. Odd, And probably a very interesting story any other time.

"You never did answer my question. What's your name?"

"Clint. How about you? Of shall I just call you Dread Pirate Roberts?"

Matt didn't reply. The cheek in Clint's tone was enough to let him know he was trying to keep things light, but why? He extended his senses around the alley again, turning his head and body this time, making a show of it. Clint didn't know he was blind after all, no point...in... Matt stopped moving, his jaw clamping down as the muscles in his neck and shoulders went taught. There was no way his senses were showing him something that was real. It just couldn't be. Not here in Hell's Kitchen where Wilson Fisk had thus far been the baddest of the bad.

"Who are you?"

Matt could feel that Clint was impressed that he'd spotted this other...thing. Which meant that they were either good at not being seen...or normal humans just didn't...Matt didn't want to really think about it because now this new player was coming closer and his own head was tipping back following where his senses said it's head was. Heaven save him, it was at least two feet taller than he was and built like it could take more hits than his old man.

"My name is Harvist. Do not be afraid."

Matt heard Clint snort as, oh my God, the female before him spoke. His whole body was ready for fight or flight and he wasn't sure which was even the right way to go when you're up against an eight foot whatever-she-was and the man that hung out with her. It didn't matter how calm his senses told him they both were, or how worried his senses told him that this 'Harvist' was for him, Matt wasn't going to trust either of them now, not without good reason.

"You...WHAT are you? That's not a costume. And you...Why do you have bow and arrows?"

"Would you believe I'm auditioning for Robin Hood?"

The flat look Matt gave him seemed to mirror the sigh that came from Harvist.

"Ok, fine. I'm Hawkeye and she's an alien cow-lady. Now, we still don't know who you are. 'Burglar' is high on the list, given the mask and gloves and finding you almost-dead in my dumpster. Of course, you could also be a very unlucky cosplayer who got mugged on his way to a sci-fi convention. What do you think, Harvist?"

Matt had watched Harvist hang her head and bring her hand up to it. Apparently even alien's facepalmed at the antics of humans. She seems as if she wanted to say something, but stayed silent, so Matt opened his mouth and...he had no idea how to respond to anything that had just come out of Clint's mouth. Did burglars really still dress this way? He'd heard Foggy mention conventions, but being blind he'd never had any interest in going.
He mentally slapped himself before saying, "So I was pulled out of a dumpster by an Avenger and an alien. I assume the alien is why I'm not bleeding to death?"

"I healed you, yes. You were in bad shape when we found you."

Matt took that in. He knew the kidnappers had managed to land more blows on him with the daggers than he'd initially realized, but he was starting to wonder just how bad it had actually been. Could Claire have saved him this time? Claire...his lips twitched.

"Call me Mike."

He could tell the moment the words left his mouth that they didn't believe him, but that was fine.

"Thanks for the medical magic, but I need to be getting home. It's pretty late after all, and these streets can be dangerous. Don't want to run into any criminal elements," he smirked. He wanted to know how they would react to that. Would they just let a masked man they'd found in a dumpster half dead waltz off? He could feel their silent back and forth as the seconds ticked by.

"Speaking of 'criminal elements' what did you do to get tossed out with the trash? C'mon, you can be honest with us," Clint was definitely a pro at getting information...when he wanted it. Matt could feel it. If Clint turned his full attention to Matt, the current status quo would change. He needed to word his answer just right.

"I might have angered a kidnapper or two."

Matt heard Harvist snort, the sound much more like a bull he'd heard once, but no anger behind it.

"From the look of you, it had to have been a small army of kidnappers. Did you manage to rescue their victim before they put you in the dumpster?"

Matt never understood why there was always so much disbelief for the things he did, even when people didn't know he was blind. Really, they should have seen the other guys. Though Matt had made sure that they would all live.

"Yes. The girls got away while I took care of their captors. The police should have cleaned up by now." No need to say that he'd missed one or two and that's how he ended up in the dumpster.

He cocked his head slightly towards Clint, he was doing something on what he had to guess was a phone. Some tech was harder to guess at than others. It didn't resonate like other things did. He must have found what he was looking for because he pocketed it not a minute later.

"Story's good. I just checked and a report was filed saying some girls were rescued by a man in a black mask. So...guess this makes you the new vigilante superhero of the area."

He could hear something in Clint's tone, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. He didn't have much experience with actual superheroes after all. He'd figure out what it was later. It was just nice that they didn't see him as a threat, which meant that he didn't have to see them as threats because he sensed them relaxing on either side of him, so he allowed himself to do the same.

He had to smile a bit at the absurdity of the situation.

"Something like that"

Matt watched as Clint dug back into his pocket and pulled something else out, something much thinner than any phone. A card of some kind then.

"Here's my card. Call me next time you need to be pulled out of my dumpster."

Matt could tell that Clint was being only mildly a smart-ass but mostly serious. It surprised him. He didn't move to take the card though. He pulled his burner phone out and handed it over.

"Why don't you just put your number in here? The card won't really do me much good."

He felt the surprise as Clint took the phone from him and started clicking away, handing the phone back to the still extended hand.

"Why not take the card? Are you allergic to paper or something?"

Matt could feel the sarcasm rolling off Clint in waves as he said,

"Nope. I'm blind."

He re-pocketed his burner before dashing down the alley and using momentum to help him leap up to grab the fire escape and swing himself up and away. He could feel their shocked, stunned and...if that wasn't smugness coming from Harvist Matt didn't know what it was. He was going to have to figure that one out. Maybe where ever she was from they had blind fighters?