Disclaimer: the characters and concepts in this story are the property of Marvel and their related affiliates. This is an amateur writing effort meant for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: The detonator is broken, and one of them has to stay behind. Obviously, this results in an argument. And Matt getting punched in the face.

Author's Notes: I wasn't sure if I was going to fix this piece up or not. It's a little crack-y, and it takes place in that weird timeline I've invented that ignores the sophomore seasons of everyone's solo project except for Matt's. But…I don't know. I kind of enjoyed having these four together in a fic again.

There's a reference in here about a book detailing how to manhandle and detain Matt. It's from an earlier fic I wrote – The Devil's Advocate – but it isn't necessary reading.

Readers, dear Readers, I hope you enjoy this. Cheers!

Fight to the Death

The second it's apparent that the detonator is broken, Jessica punches Murdock across the face, knocking him out cold. He hits the deck and she plants a foot on him to keep him there.

"What the hell was that for?" Danny asks.

"One of us has to stay behind, right? And it sure as hell isn't gonna be Murdock. He already sacrificed himself to a collapsing building once."

"You want this one?" Luke says.

Jessica shrugs. "If I have to."

"No," Danny interjects, "The Hand are my responsibility. I'll stay. Take Murdock and get out of here."

Luke glares at him. "You don't really expect us to leave you here to be crushed, do you?"

Danny's hand glows in the dark. "I'm not giving you a choice."

"Put that away, Danny," Luke says. "I'm the logical choice for this, you guys know that. Won't be the first time I've had a building demolished on me, and it won't be the last."

"You could be trapped under this for days."

"Guess it's a good thing I'll have Jessica Jones digging for me."

Jessica tears her eyes away from that smirk of his, blood rushing into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "I can dig myself out just as easily from under the rubble."

"If you survive," Danny says. "Next to Matt, you're the most breakable."

"Say that again to me, asshole –"

"Enough," Luke says. "Jessica, Danny: take Matt and go."

"I'm not leaving you here." Danny folds his arms across his chest, the tail of his tattoo visible at the unzipped collar of his hoodie. "This is my duty, my purpose."

"You want to join buddy on the floor?" Jessica asks.

"She can carry you both out," Luke adds, "one over each shoulder."

"Sounds like something you can do too."

"Super strength's good for carrying people out. Super skin is good for buildings that collapse." Luke holds out his hands, shrugging. "Can't help it that I'm overqualified."
Danny jumps into the ring: "You were not tasked with the sacred power of the Iron Fist –"

Jessica follows him: "I could toss all three out of you out of here with my bare hands."

"So why don't you?" Luke asks.

"Because it's not her responsibility! It's not your responsibility either, Luke!"

A groan brings their bickering to a halt. Murdock rouses, brushing his head against the ground to clear it. He spits a mouthful of blood onto the grimy floor. He turns his head to face them, mouth open with an argument, but then, "Someone's coming."

"The Hand," Danny says, facing the darkness with his fist raised.

"No," Matt says with a groan. "Unfortunately."

He says more, but Luke, Danny, and Jessica never hear it. They're struck in the chests, one right after the other, and fall back into darkness.

Danny wakes to a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and a bruise all the way through his core from whatever hit him.

"Oh, good, his immortal eminence is awake."

A woman, older, moves away from his bedside, her hands clasped in front of her simple black dress. She moves between the two other beds beside his: Jessica, furthest away, sleeps on while Luke sits vigil next to her. Matt, meanwhile, is closer, and he doesn't look nearly as comfortable. He's been hog-tied and gagged and lies there seething on the bed.

"Where are we?" Danny asks, sitting up. "Who are you? What did you do to Matt?"

Matt tries to answer, but he's unable to speak with the gag in his mouth. The woman answers for him. "You are in an orphanage."

"Why are we in an orphanage?"

"Because people like you routinely mistake this place for a hospital," she replies curtly. A younger woman joins them in the room briefly, handing off a pair of shears before departing. "My name is Sister Maggie. And I didn't do this to Matthew."

Matt grumbles several angry syllables through the gag. Maggie sighs and translates. "He was brought here like this. The rest of you were simply tossed on the steps like sacks of potatoes."

Danny runs a hand over the back of his head. There's a bump there, loud and insistent. He looks at Luke. "Did you see who it was?"

"Didn't have to." Luke holds up a yellow envelope, the front addressed in thick, black Sharpie: TO THE 3 STOOGES. "It's Frank Castle. He shot us with darts, hauled us out of the hole, and then drove us here."

"He also found time to blow up a building," Sister Maggie adds. She cuts through the bonds holding Matt, gently unravelling his wrists and ankles as she does. His movements aren't nearly so soft. The second he's free, he's moving, unfolding himself out of the position that Castle put him in only to stop short, wincing hard. Maggie casts the ropes aside dismissively; Danny's about to comment on her lack of sentiment when he notices her gently pulling Matt's helmet off. Maggie's eyes soften. She checks his scalp for wounds. And Matt goes from huffing through the gag like a bull about to charge to settling into her ministrations.

She cuts at the bond holding the gag and gently frees up Matt's mouth. He lets out a groan, recoiling from her on the bed.

Luke holds the contents of the envelope up in the light. "Dear Stooges," he begins, "in the time it took for you to needlessly debate which among you would stay being in a foolish act of self-sacrifice, I repaired the detonator, incapacitated you all, detained the Devil, and wrote this letter informing you of your continued ignorance."

"My, doesn't he sound like a peach," Maggie says.

"He's a real piece of work," Matt adds.

Danny's eyes keep flitting to her, suspicious. One minute she's holding herself at arm's length, the next she's checking Matt's face for further injury like a mother fussing over her child. "Does he say why he brought you here?"

Luke skims through the letter, flipping it over to the chicken scratch on the back. "St. Agnes tended to the Devil following your failure to protect him at Midland Circle. Kindly apologize to the sisters for inconveniencing them. Had you not wasted so much time arguing over who gets to be the next martyr, the good sisters would have been spared the displeasure of your company."

Maggie smirks, her eyes smoldering with an odd kind of warmth. The sort that could burn as easily as it could soothe. "You can apologize to me by leaving quietly when your remaining Stooge has awakened."

"We appreciate your hospitality, Sister." Luke says.

Jessica springs up on her bed, stopping short when she gets upright as if she's struck an invisible wall. "Oh, I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fu-"

"Not the time to swear, Jess."

Jessica glares, but she doesn't say more. She gets distracted by Maggie. "Evening, Sister."

"Evening," Maggie says.

"You a friend of Frank Castle's?"

"No."

"She's a friend of Matt's," Danny says. "This is where he stayed after Midland Circle, according to Castle's letter."

"And how would this Mister Castle know that?" Maggie asks.

"I don't know," Matt says, his eyes directed towards the ceiling as if he truly doesn't.

Jessica jumps into the conversation: "He's got some weird obsession with Matt."

Maggie raises a brow. "Is that why Matthew was tied up?"

"Matt was tied up?"

Luke nods. "Hog-tied. Like in the book he sent us."

"Oh, my God," Jessica says. She collapses back onto the bed.

"He sent you a book?" Matt asks.

"Yeah. The Manhandling and Kidnapping of Matt Murdock." Jessica shudders. "I'll read it to you the next time you want to puke."

"What else does the letter say?" Danny asks.

"There's a sentence in here praising about Jessica cold-clocking Matt in the jaw when it seemed like we would have to leave someone behind," Luke replies.

Jessica raises a hand. "Glad I did something right."

"You should have just left me." Matt eases himself into a sitting position, swaying slightly from the multiple hits he's taking. He grips his jaw, shifting it, wincing from the pain. "Or hit me somewhere other than the jaw."

"That might have been from the gag," Jessica notes.

"It was probably the punch to the jaw."

Maggie interjects: "Figures that you would have to be suckerpunched and hog-tied to make sure that you would not crawl back under a collapsing building."

"He wouldn't have," Danny says. "I wouldn't have left him. It was my responsibility."

Jessica scoffs. "It would have been your funeral."

"But not yours?" Luke challenges her.

"At least we would have died quickly," Jessica snaps. "You could spend days starving to death trapped under that place."

"I am building-proof. I am the logical choice."

"You're all wrong," Matt says.

The three of them turn on him.

"I swear to God, Murdock –" Jessica starts.

Danny finishes her thought. "You already died once!"

"Don't make me agree with Frank Castle," Luke warns.

"It should have been me," Matt insists, "We wouldn't be lying here if you had just let me –"

"Alright, that's enough," Maggie throws open the door of their room to the infirmary beyond. "If you're well enough to bicker, you're well enough to leave."

Luke goes to the door. "Very sorry, Sister. Thank you for your help."

Jessica gives Maggie a wave and then buries her hands in her pockets. She follows after Luke, saying something that has him replying, "I volunteered! You could have just left me there!"

Danny bows to her. "Thank you." He rushes after the other two, declaring, "I am the Immortal Iron Fist. It is my duty to destroy the Hand!"

Matt staggers over to the door, his helmet in one hand. His head hung low in shame. "Thank you," he says, followed by, "I'm sorry."

"For what? Your friends getting dropped on my front steps in the middle of the night? For a man being obsessed with you? For the bickering? Or for trying to stay under yet another collapsing building?"

"All of it," Matt says, smirking.

Maggie pats him on the shoulder, appraising the blood on his lips, the tired look on his face. She finds them satisfactory enough for him to be walking. "Go. Catch up with your friends. Heaven knows you can't stay out of an argument."

Matt rushes down the hall.

Happy Reading!