The gun's blast cracked through the night, whipping uselessly into the air. The sound exploded along the pier, leaping from the damp concrete, bouncing off the steel ridges of the freight containers, and echoing up into the open night as though determined to reach the stars he knew were up there somewhere. The ricocheting, shimmering waves revealed three men still on their feet, the other four lying prone and crumpled in puddles of salt-laced water. The last gun was plucked from the sweaty hand with a whispered snikt. Maintaining his momentum and lashing out one booted foot into the shooter's chest, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen nimbly released the magazine from its housing, jerking the remaining bullet free of the chamber, and spun the neutered handgun in a whizzing arc into the second man's face. With a grunting cry he thudded into the cool stone.

Tiny tsunamis reared and heaved themselves over the miniature ravines of the rough concrete as Daredevil ran through the shallow puddles, sweeping his right leg around in a low arc as he skidded into the next opponent, raising a spray of oil-slicked water sailing for the man's eyes. The splattering impact was followed by the dull, squelching crack of a fracturing cheekbone. His armoured fist powered through its swing, twisting his torso and transferring its strength into his left heel, already extending like a weighted javelin for the man's gut. He went down with a strangled cough while Daredevil ducked sharply to avoid the knife zinging through the air, leaving the spice of steel curving through the night like the sting of a scratch.

The final two were charging him simultaneously, one's rage arriving early as a low roll of warmer current, the other – the one he had come for – sprinting with focused tension. He waited until they were less than a second away – their fists already launched, feet shifting into stable stances – until he moved. His teeth bared in a smile that sucked the river-laden air through the blood drying on his teeth. He leapt up and twisted, driving one stone fist onto a temple while the opposite heel powered into an unprotected chest. Both men recoiled, coughing and swearing uncreatively as Daredevil landed nimbly on one knee. With one last shock of violence the last henchman crumpled into an unconscious heap, his supervisor gasping on the ground.

Matt straightened slowly, his breath hissing through his teeth, tasting of copper and seaweed. He half-raised a hand to his chest. A sharper pain and lanced through the ignorable throbbing and he wondered idly if he'd ripped another stitch. The pain crested and fell back to the familiar, tolerable tide of aching. Disguising his limp he strode forward and grabbed fistfuls of the panting man's heavy jacket, pulling him onto his knees, the oozing face inches from his own.

"I give, I give! Jesus Christ man, just back off will ya! Ya won, okay!"

"I didn't come here just to break in my new gloves – I came for information."

The already quavering heartbeat kicked up a gear as the man groaned. "Aw come on man, I don't know shit! I just check the punch-cards, y'know?"

"Bullshit. You have what I need. I know you do. The lawyers your people attacked last month. You know about them."

The man's gin-spiked breath wavered in confusion. "The – what?"

"The lawyers. The ones your boss added to the kill list. Downtown, near Forty-Eighth and Ninth."

"Shit you mean the blind dude Groucho got popped for?"

Matt cocked his head. "Groucho?"

"Yeah, yeah, that asshole who's obsessed with those old film bros. He shot some blind lawyer a few weeks ago."

Matt wasn't sure whether to sigh or chuckle. He compromised by tightening his grip on the man's jacket, eliciting a nervous gasp. "The blind lawyer and his associates. I need to know what the next play is." He pulled back his lips, enjoying the cardiac skip at the sight of his red-slicked teeth. "And you're gonna tell me about it."

"Dude – seriously? I don't know shit, I just tell the boys where to load the guns, okay?"

His heart tripped in his rhythm. Matt's smile didn't waver.

"You're lying." He punched the man hard, hearing the skin over his cheekbone burst as he cried out, in exasperation as much as in pain.

"I swear, you asshole –" He was interrupted by knuckles in his gut.

"Tell me!" Matt barked into the sweating face, his patience evaporating as the burning in his chest and side became restless.

"Okay okay! Jesus! They're still on the list, Carter still wants the girl to pay for all the shit she's caused, alright?"

"Carter who?"

"Just Carter!"

"Tell me what they're planning."

"I don't know!"

"Tell me!" Cracking thuds arced through the night.

"Shit – alright! Look man, I don't know the details I only know the shit they're gonna use, okay? They had to wait for the cops to stop giving a shit about us so it's been quiet, real quiet."

"What shit? Where is it?"

"Not here." The man whimpered as Matt drew back his fist. "Wa-wa-wa-wait, I m-mean it's not here yet! Shit, man! It's arriving in two days. Fuck."

"What dock?"

"Forty-Third. I dunno when exactly."

Matt tilted his head, listening. The incessant pulses were regular enough, but the shards of breath slicing over the split lip were hiding something.

Calming, the man continued. "Look, that girl and her lawyers really fucked things up for us so yeah, they're not just gonna let that shit go. I dunno what's in the container for them but it's, well, it's on special order so you know it's gonna be some shit. But c'mon man," he said, almost laughing around his wheeze, "what the hell are you gonna do? You can't guard all three of 'em at once, can you?" The words became a sneer and it was Matt's turn to hold back his amusement.

"Wanna bet?"

With one decisive blow the man fell against the cold pavement, his heartrate falling abruptly into a slumberous rhythm.

He straightened himself up – gingerly this time as his ribs growled abuse. Taking deep, slow breaths he catalogued his aches. He could feel sticking warmth seeping against his breastbone, squeezing itself along his chest, absorbing his sweat and pressing against the clammy armour. He pulled his left arm in, keeping it tight against his ribs in an effort to quell the rumbling pressure. He'd definitely overdone it. The stitches were shot. Again.

Once his breath was caught he pulled out his burner phone and left an anonymous tip about a few freighters full of illegal firearms at the Fifteenth precinct. Rather than leave directions to the impressively well concealed office, he simply dragged his informant and left him as a doorstop, helpfully keeping the heavy metal door ajar for the cops. There should plenty hidden in the printed pages to finally indict the CEO of Sea Fairer Transport and put an end to this nightmare of a case. He cast his mind out one last time along the dock, checking the men were still out cold and for anything important he might have missed. Finding nothing, he sat heavily against one of the steel freighters and waited.

Despite the aches in his torso he felt better than he had in weeks. The salty breeze rolled around him, whispering snippets of a thousand stories meant only for him. Tomorrow would be his first (half) day back in the office, and if the flour clinging to Karen's hair earlier was any indication, there would be cake. And coffee. And the two people he most cared for, eager for another argument over whether the Hellions could ever beat the Knicks' current line-up, or if Nelson and Murdock was ready for its own line of custom baseball caps – and more importantly, if the 'm' should have tiny red horns poking out of it, and a bloodied butcher's knife protruding from the capitalised 'n'. He took a deep breath of Hell's Kitchen and smiled.

When the squad cars' sirens were two blocks away he heaved himself to his feet with a grimace. Gingerly testing his weight on his battered side, he began shuffling back towards the flaring flames of his city, smiling slightly as he wondered if Karen knew how to sew.

AN: Thank you to everyone who read this little fic, I hope you enjoyed it! An extra thank-you to all you lovely reviewers - a craftsman is always pleased to hear her work is appreciated and those emails make my day! Happy reading fandom friends :)