[Present]

What doesn't kill you will probably try again.

At least, from your experience that's how it went. Can't be sure though. Maybe it was just you? Always a possibility.

This lesson, of course, came free of charge while you attempted to add another capable member to your ranks as you took a leisurely stroll through Hell.

Literal hell.

(No, not high school but, good god, same thing.)

Although, after this, you were most definitely redefining the meaning of leisurely. Because--

Whoosh.

"Heck, heck, heck, heck, heck, heck, heck-" You hit the floor to avoid the counter attack from him, his leg rushing over your head, bits of glass slicing into your palms from the shattered vase that had almost but not quite done significant collateral damage to your skull. The pain rushed through your veins; you sucked in a very deep breath.

Analyzing what you could with the split second, you spun away, narrowly missing the couch and instead slamming into the coffee table. Flat on your back you swore, as you had managed to trap yourself between him and a hard place. You're losing your touch, half of you sneered, pointing out the broken vase, the scuffed up wood floor, the pounding headache. (It was clear that you weren't the first to scuff up the floor and yet while you were getting your rear end handed to you, you decided to look into it later.)

I'm calm. I'm collected, the other half of you lied to yourself, rolling away from the second swift kick aimed for your chest. This is fine. Everything is fine. I've still got it.

Jumping to your feet you threw two punches to prove it. But of course, that was just another flaw. They were messy and uncoordinated.

The first missed. The second he caught, dragging you down and pulling you close enough so his knee could connect to your gut. And wow did that spike the agony to a whole other level. "So," you tried, huffing, gasping, his hand squeezing your uncomfortably tighter and tighter. "I take it you don't exactly appreciate midnight visitors, do you, mate?"

I don't got this, you finally acknowledged, feeling more spikes of pain. Tighter. You clenched your jaw and heard your knuckles crack.

"Not really, no." He let go of your hand, shoving you away; his voice was cool when he replied. Smooth, like caramel, in a sense, but stern, like that teacher who was done playing games or beating around the bush. "And neither do I appreciate the fact that someone like you thinks that you can just make yourself at home in my living room when I do not know you nor have I ever heard of you before this moment." Ducking. Sidestepping. Too slow. One of his punches caught you in the ribs. You doubled over, only to meet his roundhouse to your head that knocked you off your feet and into a wall. You sank to the floor, groaning, stars and black drifting across your eyes.

"Okay," you agreed, faltering slightly when you watched him preform a flawless front flip before your very eyes. This guy was out of your league and that was reason enough to give it all that you had. A little late to do so, but every second counts. Maybe. Only sometimes. ... Not often. "You're right: putting my feet up on your coffee table was a bit much."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He snapped, blank eyes white, eyebrows narrowed, hair mostly still undisturbed. His shirt was slick with sweat and his next punch landed solid into your jaw, sending a shock through your face.

Snickering. Your snickering. "True. Not like I was actually gonna address it, though. Well, whatever you meant -- which is to say that whatever I think you meant -- it's high time for me to pull out my ace in the hole."

So you did.

Letting the ice flow freely, you closed your eyes. Ah, the familiar temperature drop. Frostbite, mingling in your blood. The welcome throb in your shoulder. The worst situation with the worst pain but the most thrilling feeling: control.

You did have this.

He staggered back a full step which was a first since when you'd arrived. "What the hell?"

Your good mood took a sporadic nosedive, because you were injured, sleepless and impatient. This whole thing shouldn't have taken more than a few minutes. But you were still here. He was still kicking. "Was that a shuckin' pun, you arse?" You rose, unsteadily, wiping the blood from your lip.

He was blind for jeezum crows! Why couldn't you get the upper hand? Whatever. You had the edge.

He had to listen.

"Puns aside-"

"That wasn't a pun."

"Yeah, sure. Anyways. More serious matters are at hand. So you're gonna hear what I'm here to tell you, got it? I tried to talk to your buddy at the law firm but he wouldn't hear me out and surprise! Here I am." He was quiet. You spit, staggering forward. One step at a time, closer and closer to his unmoving figure. Anxiety radiating off you like an SOS call, you raised your hands, as if in surrender and saw him tense up. "I would bet my ever beating heart that we got off on the wrong foot," you began, voice low, repentant. "You're right. I should've kept off the coffee table. I--" You sighed. "I shouldn't have picked your lock, I-- that was stupid."

Some bit of him loosened, just slightly. But you weren't finished.

"I should've known that with your innate sense of hearing that you'd definitely hear that. Stupid, right?"

With an agitated growl he launched himself at you and you grinned, ice making contact with his body. It forced him back against the counter of his kitchen and you froze him there, hoping that you could finish your business before the poor guy got frostbite. He was a good lawyer most of the time, see. He didn't deserve this tumble you'd thrown the two of you into because of your reckless ideas. He'd really gotten the wrong idea when he saw you just chilling in his living room.

"I think," you tried again, and stiffened as your blood drained with what you liked to think was your 'spidey-sense'. You felt the presence of another far far too late to do a single thing about it.

Three things happened at once.

One: a sword flew from behind, slicing your ear. You inhaled, your hand jerking to feel blood running down the side of your face. Two: it struck the ice holding your original opponent back, spider-web like cracks spreading and he grunted, then smashed the rest to smithereens, leaving you to a two on one. Not good. Three: something extremely sharp touched your neck, the skin pricking and a bit of blood welled up immediately afterwards. You froze, one hand still touching your ear in shock.

Then a new voice spoke, gravely, full of wisdom, spite and something like anger but it was the low-key anger.

"Think again. Asshat."

The final blows dropped. In front of you, he reached out. Instinctively you leaned back, ice spreading, spreading . . . Right into the other guy.

One hand grasped your shoulder, jerking it fast and definitely on purpose. You cried out when it dislocated, pain spiralling through your arm. The cry was cut short, however. There was a deep thud that connected with your already spinning head.

Shadows claiming you as their own, you laughed.

"Oh, well. What the hell."

And you blacked out.

***
[7 hours before]

Y'know how the ghostbusters are always like, 'who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!' But it's hard enough calling the doctors office, so hell, you weren't gonna call the ghostbusters; you would just live with a ghost in your house forever.

Who you gonna call? No one, you have anxiety.

Which is the exact reason why you couldn't bring yourself to confront Daredevil face to face and ask, "hey, want to join my messed up red costumed crew to fight evil while I talk to Director Fury?" and ended up in the front of Nelson and Murdoc to maybe talk to Matt alone, slower, perhaps without a fight.

An elbow to your ribs from Peter Parker shook you out of your thoughts, causing you to cough and send a death glare his way. Man, if looks could kill.

"Are you absolutely sure this is gonna work?" Parker asked, glancing every which way. "Honestly, I have my doubts."

You waved him away with a wild grin. "Oh, come on, Peter! They're kind lawyers! They take pie as payment so I doubt that they'll suspect me or even turn me down. Besides, my cover makes me practically invisible! Watch!" Strolling up to a woman headed your way who'd just exited the firm, you straightened your tie (that didn't actually exist, mind you, but it sure was fun to pretend and wow there's why everyone thinks you're insane but don't worry it's fine), and stepped in her path. "Excuse me, ma'am," you began, "do you have two minutes to talk about the environment?"

She took a hard left, past you, past Parker and out the door.

He watched her go, turned back to you, grinning, and laughed in disbelief. "Wow, I have got to try that sometime!"

"See?" You gloated, chest puffed out as you dragged him further and further towards Foggy and Matt's room that they called a law firm. "Now no one will make eye contact with me!"

Peter laughed again. "True enough, true enough, (your name)."

Entering the law firm with as much confidence as you could muster, (which wasn't much since that had been deteriorating since long before this mess), you stepped in, your sophomore friend at your side and looked around. And even though you thought you'd prepared for the state of the room, but the longer you looked the more surprised you became.

People sat in chairs near the front door, while one was currently being ushered into another door by a kind looking woman with a reassuring smile who definitely seemed to enjoy her work. Others were asleep, some quite bored looking and as your head turned, your gaze met with a man, hid hair slicked back, face evolving from relaxed to surprised the closer you got to him.

"Excuse me," he began when you were within quiet speaking distance, "are you- do you have an appointment? There's a line, you know. You can't barge in here . . . but if you wait, we'll get to you-"

"Are you Nelson or Murdoc?" You countered, avoiding his question completely.

"I'm Nelson. But-"

"I'm looking for Murdoc. It's uh, super important. Life or death, really, if that's more incentive? I need help, Nelson."

"Please. Call me Foggy."

You managed a lighthearted grin. Good, so far. "Alright, Foggy. So-"

He interrupted you this time. "And you are?"

"O-Oh. Of course." You panicked, almost spitting out your real name, and even worse still almost saying Ice Box. "Sorry. This is my partner, er, companion? Associate? Friend. My friend, John Smith."

Peter held back his surprise. "Associate." He stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Foggy." Then to you, mouthing, John Smith? Really?

You shrugged. "Anyways. I'm Sam. Sam . . . Spencer."

Foggy smiled, shook your hand. "Pleasure, Sam. Now I hate to rain on this party-"

"Look, Mr. Nelson." A deep breath in. Out. "Foggy. I know how this works. I wouldn't cut in line if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I have to speak with Murdoc, your partner? He's in, isn't he? There's a lot more at stake on my side than a lawsuit. That's all I can say."

Foggy was silent.

Then, "He's not in. Got in a . . . slight accident. He'll be back in tomorrow. Come back then." Suddenly even colder, "Perhaps, if it is so important, try speaking to the devil. If you dare."

He spun, ushered in a different customer and waved you away.

So he did know. He knew about Matt's double life. Unfortunate. Must've taken a toll on their friendship. Foggy really seemed pissed.

You gestured to Peter, exiting the firm.

Time to blast.

***
[Present]

Voices.

"Thanks, Stick." A pause. "They were quite the handful. Guess they uh, do vigilante stuff. Didn't go for the kill. Like you."

God, so loud.

"But not from here." Replied the other. "Knew you - cause you're famous or whatever, Matti - but not me." The older guy, the one who called you an asshat. "The kid doesn't know what they're doing. Let 'em go."

You didn't want to open your eyes.

"They're here for something. Me, I think. They'll be back. They're stubborn..." That must be Matt.

"Whatever, Matti. It's up to you; I'm outta here."

Oh. Wait a second. You really wanted to know who the older dude was. You opened one eye. Darkness. Crud.

"Stick, wait."

Your voice cut into the loud ones, cracking, dry. "Hey. Can you, I mean, d'you mind whispering? You're so damn loud-!"

Both sets of eyes slowly turned your direction; you felt them peering into your mind.

"So, kid. You're awake. Took you long enough."

The man, the older one, stood behind you, his iron will radiating off onto you. You squirmed.

"Stick, is it?"

Quiet.

"Eavesdropping? That's rude." Before you could attempt to apologize, (and certainly, his tone implied an apology was due), a metal sound rang out and a sword made its way to your split ear, the dried blood still resting on your face.

You froze, thinking fast. "I'm Sam. Sam-"

"Spencer." The Devil of Hell's Kitchen spat. "Sure you are. Sam Spencer my ass. Foggy told me about you, a few hours ago. You were looking for me, specifically, right? He said you were lying half the time you talked to him. And you're lying now. I can hear your heartbeat, you know. In other words, that's not your name. What is it really?"

So much for that.

"Fine!" You laughed, playing it off. "You're right. It's not Sam. Or Spencer. I'm . . ." Ice Box became bitter on your lips. It held so many past stories, so much you wanted to leave behind and in the dust. But you weren't about to say your real name. Not in front of Matt. Not in front of old man Stick, either. So you said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm . . . Ice. Just Ice. That's it."

"What?"

"It's English for ice, alright? Don't know what's hard about that. What I used to be was much worse, I promise you. The Latin versions were terrible, I might add."

Silence.

Slowly, you moved forward but wordlessly, the cool metal sending your heart beating faster and faster. Nervous. You were actually nervous. What if this Stick killed you? What if Matt - Matti, haha, cute, old man - didn't listen? What if- No. No, no, no.

And suddenly, your day had gotten very very bad. Besides getting kidnapped, besides losing track of everything (that was new, and you disliked it because god, weren't you the best? You were, so why was it hard to keep everything in a proper tight circle?) and besides the bit were your com had definitely fallen out of your ear and probably been crushed and the part where you'd made Peter and Wade stay behind, another voice you recognised snapped you into an extremely bad mood. And then, you didn't even care who was listening, who thought you were losing it.

"Ice, is it, now? You did try so very hard; appreciated, I'll say."

"No, no, no, no! Not now you piece of-" wincing, you bit your lip and sneered, your insides twisting, knotting, clenching in fear, disrespect and anger. Didn't he know that you were busy? "Not. Now."

Loki chuckled, his voice ever nearer. He wasn't even there, but the magic he could weave, the connection he implanted when you shook hands made it seem oh so real. "Hello, Ice Box."

It was fond, queer, laced with psychopathic genius, longing to be at the very top of everything for ages and ages. It was fond, yes indeed, yet it wasn't fond like a father to a child. Rather it was full of things you wished you couldn't hear below the words, fond like a man who's found a treasure map: priceless, but only for a time. It was full, you see, of things you almost wished you didn't know but you did. You knew and you frowned.

"Loki," you said, much less fondly, scrunching up your nose. Which, to be fair, was the equal equivalent to Loki and Thor's relationship in a nutshell though the other way around.

"Miss me?" He coined, breathing down your neck.

A hand grasped your dislocated shoulder - which just happened to be the one that had been shot, stabbed, jolted and bruised only a short time before; just happened to be the one that held a blue prick that increased your powers - and you were pulled away from Loki momentarily.

"Loki?" Murdoc leaned in front of you. He met your eyes, looked down and looked at Stick. He hesitated, confused but didn't call you a maniac. Perhaps, as a lawyer he heard your heart telling the truth, as crazy as it was. And Stick hadn't straight up murdered you, so, that was promising. "You're tied in a knot, aren't you? Someone is interfering. I can hear your heart still and it's beating uncomfortably fast but confident and furious."

"I don't know what you mean."

Three voices at once: "Yes, you do."

You stayed silent, let Matt continue. Let Loki grin inside your head, let Stick sigh. "You're in this for justice, aren't you? You have a bunch of things all tangled up and you just want it to end but-"

"I refuse to let it end before I get a say in it. I refuse to let people get what they want without a little resistance before they get it."

Loki breathed out softly, smile wider, you heard practically hear his sneer. "Obviously."

Matt's reaction was instantaneous.

He motioned to Stick, who cut the bonds restraining you in the chair. The proclaimed Daredevil stuck out his hand. You gripped it; he pulled you up. The butt end of a sword popped your shoulder back into place and you tried not to be a baby about the pain.

"I stand by justice," he said quietly. "It may not be pretty and one hell of a mess, but it's worth it. For the kids you save. For the women who just needed a break. For the men who didn't deserve to die. They all deserve another day.

You and I may not get another, but they do. That's what matters. And I know that because I know who you are, Ice. Because you're me."

And just like that, the anger and the frustration didn't vanish but it calmed. Stick rolled his eyes.

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna let you two love birds go, and I'm gonna get the hell out of this dump of a place Matti calls an apartment-" He was quiet a moment. "Good luck. Justice isn't my boat, but it's yours. You deserve a win."

"Thanks, I guess?" You said, then hurriedly let go of Matt's hand. "I, uh, sorry. That was awkward." He waved it away.

"Don't mention it," Stick muttered. And he was gone.

It was Loki's turn to insert himself back into the conversation, just as Matt tried to speak; you held up a hand, concentrating. "Meet me where we met that once. I know you remember it. We have things to discuss. Cities to topple. Be there." Then he vanished too.

You were left with wounds, hurt pride, a nicked ear, blood and --

And Daredevil.

He stared at you and you could tell he was listening, playing back your interactions in his mind.  You thought he was going to say something profound but he instead commented, "You didn't have a plan when you came here, to recruit me, did you?"

You turned your head and made a face. "What? No plan? Preposterous! I always have a plan. I didn't barge in here without the rest of the gang." You reached for a glass, poured some water, turned a light on. He let you.

"Mhm," was all he said.

"Fine. So my plan A was rusty. But I had a plan B." was your shrug.

"And plan B was?"

"My plan B would be..." You paused, scrunching up your face. "...man, good thing this worked out!"

Matt stared at you. It was long and hard and question marks floated around his head because this time you didn't know what he was thinking and this time you were curious, hopeful, biting back every fear of failure. You needed Matt. You needed Daredevil.

So when he spoke, it was a sweet and bitter taste in your mouth. You found yourself holding your breath, head pounding.

"I know I'm gonna regret this. But, I'm officially on your team. You bastard."

You grinned. Laughed.

"'Oh no,' I was thinking two minutes ago. 'Oh no,' I continue to think constantly. How is this gonna work out? But today? Today is an 'oh yeah.'"

______________
A/N:

my friends: you need to stop watching vines it's unhealthy
Me: I don't know what you're talking about
Them: say Colorado
Me: IM A GIRAFFE

yeah hey so on that note I totally didn't make a vine reference in the last sentence of that chapter and I totally didn't imply that I have anxiety about everything which means you also have anxiety I'm sorry

But if you're still here thank you thank you thank you thank you you ever so much. I apologize for my absence and I swear (I SWEAR GODDAMN) that today and from now on I'll update this once a week until it's completed. Even if kills. . . Me...oh I'm dead

Because what
The
Actual
Hell ?? WE HIT 6K AND UM WE'RE ALMOST @ 7K UH WHAT

Furthermore, do not worry: all loose ends WILL be tied up

Oh yeah you swear now that was definitely supposed to be like a metaphorical turning point in your superhero carrier an I hope I made that clear because I need you to understand character development is not always deciding to be good or evil but can also be a realization of ones self or a strong determination that resounds like a clanging cymbal and I think that's important

right so aH If you liked this chapter, if you're ready the kick ass and if you too can't stop quoting vines please comment, vote and share! You're all amazing and I value your opinions, so keep being cool everyone.

stay sexy mates,
Styx