The city is screaming, but it's normal around this time of year. Like a mating season does for animal, the middle of summer always causes the city's inhabitants to grow...antsy. Violence skyrockets. More people go missing. Shootings become more frequent. It's always around this time when Matt wishes he had help.

Tonight alone he's stopped three shootings, four attempted kidnappings and a couple almost gang assassinations. The night's almost over though, so he takes a deep breath and deals. The Daredevil stands on top of a ten story apartment building, sightless eyes taking in the hustle of the city. A couple below has a loud argument over whether or not the husband has a drinking problem, an argument that he's clearly losing due to the scent of alcohol that fills his nose. Plus he's slurring badly and can't stand without the wall behind him, but that's not important right now.

There's a lot of shouting tonight. Drunks, druggies, couples, people at animals, people at cars. Everything is loud. He focuses in on each different scenario for a couple seconds before deeming it unnecessary to check out.

"I told you to stand up, bitch!"

That catches Matt's attention and he focuses in. Male, Russian, at least thirty-five, heavy drinker, chain smoker. His voice is laced with hate and anger, all of which is directed at the small female in front of him. Matt hears the female slowly rise to her feet, bones in her left leg grinding from a mistreated break from a while ago. She must not do it as fast as he likes because he crossed the floor and sends a harsh backhand across her face. The already unstable teen drop again without protest.

"Up!" the man shouts again, this time delivering a bone snapping kick to the teen's ribs. "The buyer is coming and you need to be up!"

That's all it takes for the rest of Matt's patience to disappear. The man takes off at a full sprint toward the disturbance, leaping easily from building to building to avoid being seen. The building the dispute happens is isn't that far, but the escalating violence in the situation could get worse if he doesn't hurry.

"Stupid bitch," the Russian spits as he hauls the female up by her hair. "I said stay up."

The Daredevil reaches the building and leaps onto the roof, kicking the door in and starting down the stairs. The metallic scent of blood hits his nose and he speeds up, jumping down the flight of steps that leads to the seventh floor. Again he kicks the door open and races down the hall to the right door, not hesitating to break down the barrier to the correct room when he reaches it.

The man spins around to face him, but he doesn't have time to react before Matt slams a fist to his jaw. He drops like a stone and Matt listens to his breathing, assuring the vigilante that he is in fact unconscious. Resisting the urge to break every bone in the man's body, Matt turns to the teenager on the floor in front of him.

"Hey," he whispers, stepping over the Russian in order to reach her. She isn't unconscious, so Matt doesn't understand why she isn't moving. He crouches down behind her, honing in on her specifically to assess her injuries. Two broken ribs grind together with each breath she takes. A fractured shin bone crackles as she tries to sit up. An open wound under her eye oozes slowly. Bruises. Scars. Old cuts. Reopening wounds. There's almost more injured skin than there is normal skin on this teen and it's making his stomach turn.

"I'm here to help," he says carefully, barely able to hear anything else over the sound of her racing heart. "What's you're name?"

The teen's heart rate picks up and she tenses violently. "Hey, hey hey," he says gently, extending a hand to reassure her. "It's OK." The teen flinches away from the hand and tenses more, making Matt fear for her tearing open any other wounds. He retakes his hand and stands, hands up as he takes a step backwards. "I'm not going to hurt you," he reassures gently, feeling the air shift as the teen turns her face to look at the floor. "I'm here to help."

She breathes harder, not moving but still not relaxing or looking up at him. Another wave of anger washes over the vigilante. Whatever -whoever- did this to her must have took a long time to get her to this point. He has to try something else. Her heart rate is too fast and that's causing the blood to spill from her cut thigh faster.

The man slowly moves his hands and removes his mask, hands still visible after the action. "My name is Matt Murdock," he says, causing the teen to furrow her brow in confusion. "I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help. I can take you to the hospital-" Her breath hitches in fear and Matt stops. "Or not," he corrects. "I could call the police-" Another hitch. "Or not," he corrects again. He pauses as she tries and fails to settle herself, also allowing himself enough time to think of a new plan.

"You could come home with me," he tries, causing the teen to inhale sharply again. "I have a friend, a nurse friend, who can help you without getting anyone involved. Just me, you, and her. I promise." He slowly extends a hand out to her, stopping just outside her arm's reach. "Please," he says gently. "Let me help you."

The teen hesitates again. Matt can feel her shifting slightly, pulling on open wounds and making them wider while grinding her broken bones together. She doesn't seem to notice though, definitely worrying the blind man. He's had similar injuries before and he knows they hurt like a bitch if not treated right away. From the smell, a lot of them are old and in the starting stages of infection. If he doesn't get her help now, she could die from infection within a month.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the female slowly lifts her arm and places her hand in his. Matt smiles gently and helps her to stand, moving at a pace that doesn't damage anything else. "Alright," he starts, making sure to keep his tone even and lighter than the situation may call for. "We have to leave," he continues. "Can you walk?" The teen hesitates and gives a quick nod, earning a similar curt nod from her savior. "Good. We have to hurry. There are three men on their way up here."

The teen's heart rate increases again and Matt takes her hand, trying to ignore how harshly she tenses at the action. "Follow me," he says, tugging her slightly in the direction of the door. He starts pushing his senses to the max as soon as they get out into the hallway, focusing on any and everything moving in the building. The men reach their floor and Matt speeds up, practically dragging the teen down the hall with him. "Hurry," he whispers, pushing aside the broken door that leads to the stairwell.

The vigilante doubts she has the ability to jump from building to building, so Matt takes them downstairs. He listens in on the conversation upstairs, the one that happens when the buyers enter the room and find her gone and the man unconscious. Of course Matt can't understand Russian, but he can assume from the angry tones they're not worried about the man. "They're at the room," he informs as they reach the bottom floor. "They found the seller." He pauses to listen again. "They're moving. They're coming toward the stairs." He quickens his pace and pulls her along beside him.

The two are silent as they reach the back door, Matt pausing a moment to listen to the world outside for any threats. When nothing comes up, he presses the door open and eases them outside. "We need to move faster now," he instructs, quietly shutting the door just as the men reach the stairs. "They're on the stairs and we need to put distance between us and the building. Understand?" He feels the air shift as she nods once and once again he mimics the action. "Good. Can you run?" The teen hesitates to think of the answer before nodding again. "Good," he repeats, tightening his grip on her hand. "Let's go."

The duo makes their way across town as fast as they can, Matt having to slow down considerably to allow the teen to keep up. Matt has to reroute their path five times to avoid the Russians scanning the city, but he doesn't tell her that. Eventually they reach Matt's apartment building and he leads her up the fire escape to his room. Once inside, Matt motions to the couch nearest the kitchen. "You can sit there," he says, trying to calm his piqued senses now that they're safe. "I'm going to change. Then I'll call the friend."

The female doesn't respond, instead moving mechanically to the indicated couch. Matt tries to take it as a sign of acknowledgement instead of a byproduct of torture, but fails and feels his core heat up in rage again. He inhales slowly in attempt to quell the anger and turns to the closet to hide it. After selecting a simple pajama set of boxers and a T-shirt, the man grabs his phone and heads to the bathroom down the hall.

The door is shut as soon as Matt gets in and he slams a fist into the wood, causing the teen down the hall to flinch. He wills himself to calm down with a few deep breathes then rests his head on the dented door. "Don't get involved," he mutters to himself. "Don't get emotionally involved." He takes a few more calming breaths and uncurls his fist. His heart rate settles and he inhales shakily.

The man quickly strips his uniform, wipes himself down, then changes into his pajamas, making a mental note to take an actual shower tomorrow. Now settled, Matt sets himself down on the edge of the tub and pulls his cell phone from the pile of clothes on the ground. He hits dial twice for the only number in the second phone and holds it to his ear. After eight rings, the line connects.

"Let me guess," Claire says, voice light in the way that makes Matt smile. "You're dying in a bathtub and you need me to clean you up?"

Matt laughs lightly and shakes his head. "Not this time," he replies, feeling his past anger starting to dissolve.

"Oh! Surprise, surprise." Matt laughs again and Claire continues. "What's up?"

"I have someone here," he explains calming down from his joy. "She's in really bad condition and she won't see anyone. I told her you would see her at my house so she won't have to."

Claire sighs and Matt hears her push her hair back. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" she asks, making Matt believe that she's already planning on coming.

"Previously broken shin," he lists, listening to the teen's shifting in the other room. "It wasn't set right so it needs to be reset. Three broken ribs. Cut on her thigh. Cut under her eye. Small cuts on arms. Bruises around neck, could be fractured neck bones. Broken collar bone."

"Alright, alright," the nurse says, voice shaky and mildly tense. "She's bad. Not as bad as you get but still bad." She pauses to sigh and that's when Matt knows he won. "I'll see if I can get off work early," she continues in defeat. "Give me fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Claire," he says through a smile. "I have to go. She hasn't eaten in a few days and she's in the first stages of dehydration."

"I understand," she responds. "Try to clean a few of the bleeding wounds if you can before I get there. Don't rebreak anything and have her drink some water. Don't over feed her and don't flood her. That would only make her-"

"Worse," Matt finishes with a nod. "I get it. Bye Claire." She gives her own goodbye before Matt hangs up and stands again. He inhales deeply to remain calm, trying to ignore the scent of the teen's blood, and opens the door.

The female jumps again and rises to her feet, making sure to keep her head down as he enters. "You can stay sitting," he comments, causing the teen to tense harshly and sit. His anger piques again and he clenches a fist. Before she can notice his anger, the blind man turns and enters the kitchen area. "Do you want something to eat?" he asks, somehow managing to keep his voice stable as he opens the fridge. "There's fruit? Or I can make you a sandwich." She shakes her head and Matt sighs. "You need to eat," he says, straightening to look at her over his shoulder. "Drink something at least."

She hesitates for a long time before nodding once and flinching. Matt grits his teeth at her instinctive fear and slams the fridge door shut. The teen flinches again and Matt swears inwardly. Calm down, he thinks forcefully. Don't get mad. You need her to trust you.

"I'm sorry," he says aloud, listening as the teen's breathing quickens to near hyperventilation levels. "I just..." Finding no words to accurately describe his feelings without anger, Matt shuts up and moves to the cabinet. He opens it and grabs a glass before gently, or as gently as he can manage, closes the door back. He fills the glass half full and takes it to her, making sure to make slow, definite movements in front of her.

He extends the glass out and the teen hesitates. "Go ahead," the blind man says, feeling the air shift rapidly as he hands tremble. "It's okay. You can take it."

The teen still hesitates for a moment before slowly lifting a hand for the cup. Matt doesn't move as her hand creeps up and wraps around the bottom of the cup. Once he's sure she has a good grip on the glass, the lawyer uncurls his fingers from the top and retracts his hand. The female holds the glass at arm's distance for another moment before Matt nods once in approval. "You can drink it," he says gently.

The teen nearly drops the glass at the words but manages to keep her grip. Again she hesitates for another second before easing the cup to her lips. Matt hears it when she actually makes contact with her mouth and when she takes a sip, but it takes a second after that for her to actually swallow. After waiting for what Matt assumes to be something to happen after, the teen quickly lifts and drains the remainder of the water. The teen lowers the empty cup to her lap and waits, body stiff and still in anticipation of something else.

"Do you want more?" Matt asks, causing the female to inhale sharply and tighten her grip on the cup. He doesn't acknowledge it but instead focuses on the small nod she gives in response. "Okay," he replies, gently reaching for the cup in her hand. The female meets him halfway and releases, quickly returning her hands to her lap and going still. Matt stands and returns to the tap, filling the cup halfway again before walking back to her.

She takes the cup again and does the same routine. A sip, a pause, then gulps. The lawyer takes the cup back and sets it on the table behind him. "Better?" The female nods. "Okay. Now we have to clean you up a bit." The guest tenses again and Matt holds up his hands. "I'm just going to wet a washcloth and wipe off some of the blood," he explains calmly. "We don't want it to get infected, do we?" After a moment of thought, she shakes her head, earning a nod of agreement from Matt in reply. "Good," he says, slowly rising to his feet and moving to the hall. "I'll be back."

The lawyer walks to the hall closet and pulls out one of the spare washcloths from the top shelf. He the goes back to the kitchen and fills up a small container with warm water and walks back to sit beside the female. She presses herself into the corner as Matt dips the cloth in the water. "Ready?" he asks, gently holding a hand out for her. The female starts trembling again and keeps shifting to look between his hand and the couch. Matt is patient however and allows her as much time she needs. A full minute passed before she lifts a still shaking hand and places it in his. Matt smiles warmly before starting to clean the small cuts on her arm.