The Devil on Our Backs*Matt Murdock*Daredevil x The Flash* Damned*

6) Cold and sharp as ice

Change in the point of view for a while so you can enjoy it all.

Graphic description of violence here. Fair warning. Also, F-bombs, but I guess that's not that bad; see the first line :D

-.-.-

-.-.- Vera -.-.-

Vera fucking hated her life.

Now that was not true - ever since she had moved to New York City's Hell's Kitchen and met Matt, things had got a bit more complicated, but also kinda wonderful. Matt was an amazing man, in so many ways, standing for what he believed in, fighting for it, his heart staying incredibly big and very much carried on his sleeve, loving and simply amazing, but... dating a vigilante had several downsides.

If nothing else, there were the nights when she worried about him, causing her sleeping schedule to be shit. That went hand to hand with her playing a half-doctor half-nurse despite leaving med school after only two successfully finished years.

And then there was a little potential threat of someone targeting her for her fraternization with him, thought it had nothing to do with whom she dated; that was simply because of the stupid trial against a corrupted cop that had once kidnapped her, because he had been convinced she was the besties with Daredevil.

Then again, maybe this had everything to do with whom she dated, because Wilson fucking Fisk was as much of an enemy of Daredevil as of the lawyer who had put him behind bars and who had just happened to propose Vera few months ago.

Yeah, dating Matt Murdock was a freaking walk in the park. Except the moments when she was tied to a heavy chair with plastic cable ties so tightly it was cutting into her flesh with the tinniest movement - with one wrist still broken, not that they had left the splint in place - , sitting at a table in a scary cold room, while the kingpin was sitting against her, enjoying a fucking omelette; the set of the table was incredibly festive and it looked like some sort of a sick ritual.

And hell if Vera didn't know a lot about rituals and sick shit.

Wilson Fisk delicately wiped his lips with a napkin as he finished his meal, giving Vera a crooked smile that made her rapidly beating heart stop. She swallowed loudly as he rose to his feet, the squeak of the chair sounding way too ominous.

One of forgettable minions standing nearby immediately took the plate and silverware as the big figure moved closer to Vera.

"I hope you're comfortable, Ms. Macháčková. You're going to be here for a while. You and I have a lot to talk about," he addressed her for the first time ever since she had woken up - after someone had fucking jumped her while she had been peacefully walking to work, ready to serve customers with a smile.

Yeah, that plan went well.

A shiver ran down her spine at his formal voice. He sounded like a businessman about to strike the deal of lifetime, about to earn a disgusting sum of money. For some reason, Vera didn't think he cared about money anymore - he had enough. Or didn't, she wasn't sure how the whole propriety of a convicted man worked, she had never needed to know.

She had a 'fuck you' on her tongue at his remark, but somehow words died in her throat, a lump of gagging fear replacing her vocal cords.

She had heard enough stories about the man. And even if she wouldn't have, he had still got her kidnapped and he was fucking huge. Just him hovering above her was a terrifying picture. All she could do was to stare at him, the lump in her throat growing.

"I assume that's a yes."

Another minion approached him and Fisk held out his hand palm up. A knife was delicately placed onto it.