Learning to Bear It
Part 2
Foggy had turned off his phone before going to his parents, because that was a rule they insisted on, and didn't remember to turn it back on until he was getting ready for bed later that night. Matt had called while he'd been at his parents, and had left a voice mail, but when Foggy clicked on it, it wasn't Matt's voice that he heard.
"We know you have connections to Daredevil," the man growled. "And we've got Murdock. So you tell Daredevil to give himself up or we'll torture Murdock to death. Then we'll come for you, and if he still doesn't show up, it'll be your family next. We'll give you more instructions when you finally answer your fucking phone."
There was also a picture of Matt, his face bruised and scraped, with the muzzle of a pistol visible at one ear. Foggy was still staring at it in horror when Matt's ring tone went off, and he almost dropped the phone in surprise.
"Yes!" he responded. "Foggy Nelson here!"
"You talk to Daredevil yet?" Of course it was the man with the growly voice.
"Hang on, hang on, I just barely got your message," Foggy admitted. "I haven't had time to do anything yet!"
"Well, here's another message," the man said. There was a pause, and then he heard what sounded like the whine of a drill in the background. A moment later, Matt screamed high and loud, an agonized scream that made the hair on the back of Foggy's neck stand up in horror. It went on and on and on until Foggy wanted to scream with him, and then it turned into loud sobbing and inarticulate begging.
"Got the message?" the man asked, much too calmly,and Foggy shouted back, "What are you doing to him?"
"Use your imagination," the man said. "And pass the message onto Daredevil."
"I will, I will," Foggy babbled, before he realized what he was saying, and stopped.
"Tell Daredevil to meet us at the door to your office," the man went on. "Quarter past midnight, or we hurt Murdock more."
"What if I can't find him?" Foggy almost wailed. "That's less than two hours from now! He could be anywhere, and it's not like I have his phone number!"
"Find him, or we torture Murdock to death, and then it will be your turn," the man said, and hung up.
Foggy tossed the phone onto his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. How could he get Matt out? The man hadn't mentioned not calling the police, but even if he informed Brett unofficially, what could the man do? How could they find Matt before they killed him. G-d, he wished he'd put a GPS tracking chip in Matt the day he'd found out he was Daredevil!
Wait a minute. Tracking. He didn't necessarily need an electronic device to do that, maybe he could do it the old fashioned way, with something a little more biological. Foggy reached for the phone and dialled.
"Hi, Dad, it's me, Foggy. You know my friend, Matt? So, he's been kidnapped, and I need your help."
They met at Matt's building. His parents had both transformed into birds – his father an eagle and his mother a hawk, and they'd landed on Matt's roof even before Foggy had made it all the way there and up the stairs.
"Foggy!" his mother called out as he staggered towards them, his knees weak after six flights of stairs. "Is Matt all right? Why did they take him, did they say?"
His father got right to the point. "Do they want a ransom? How much do you need?"
Foggy waved both hands in a "settle down" gesture and said, "They don't want a ransom. They want Daredevil."
"And you want us to find him?" his father asked, and glanced around the rooftop. "Is this where you last saw him?"
"No," Foggy said. He went to the roof access door which Matt never locked, and opened it, then motioned for his parents to precede him inside. Once they were all down in Matt's living room, he broke the news bluntly. "Matt is Daredevil."
His mother gasped, and his father said simply, "What? Matt?"
"Yeah, Matt. You know those chemicals he got splashed in his eyes when he was a kid? The accident that blinded him? It seems they also enhanced his other senses. It's like he's got superpowers," Foggy explained. "Super-hearing, super-smelling, super …"
He waved his hand, searching for the right word, and his mother helped him out. "Perception?"
"Yeah, super-perception," Foggy said. "And super kung fu training, and worst of all, this super sense of justice! I mean, being a lawyer just isn't enough for Matt, he has to be a vigilante, too, get the people the law can't touch, go out and stop crimes almost before they're committed—"
He stopped, cutting his rant short. "Anyway, you see the problem. The kidnappers already have Daredevil and they just don't know it yet. And they said they're going to torture Matt to death if Daredevil doesn't give himself up – and, uh—"
He didn't want to tell his parents that the kidnappers would be coming for him next. Instead, he said, "And obviously, Matt hasn't been able to get away, because I just heard them torturing him on the phone less than twenty minutes ago! We need to rescue him before they kill him! I brought you here so you can sniff his sheets and track him down."
"Even with his scent, it'll be difficult to track him if he was put in a car or a van," his father said, and then he shifted into a yellow Labrador. His mother also turned into a dog, a grey and white whippet, and both dogs nosed around Matt's bed for a few moments. Then his parents switched back to human form.
"Foggy, did you know that a bear's sense of smell is about seven times more powerful than that of a dog?" his father asked. "Even a bloodhound?"
Foggy frowned, because he'd kind of been avoiding the topic of bears for most of his life. "Really?"
"Yes, really. You really should get his scent, too," his mother said. "We can go around the streets, but if Matt was taken away in a car or van, it'll be almost impossible for us to follow."
"I don't know what good it would do. You guys can wander up and down the streets as dogs or cats or even skunks, and nobody will look twice at you. If I go out as a bear …" Foggy formed one hand into a pistol and made shooting motions at his own head.
"You never know what might happen," his mother urged. "The sun's gone down and it's cold out there, you can probably find a dark alley or two for a quick shift, just long enough to point the way."
Foggy sighed, shifted quickly into a bear, and nosed the sheets on Matt's bed. The scent of Matt was incredibly powerful; he could not only follow the scent lines into the living room, the bathroom, and everywhere else Matt had gone, he could even, with a bit of consideration, sort them out according to how old they were. He was even strongly aware of Matt's dirty clothes basket in the corner of the bedroom, but resisted going over to it. He didn't want to have to admit to Matt that he'd found him by sniffing his dirty underwear. Anyway, the sheets alone were enough to make him want to gallop over to the door, claw it open, and race downstairs to the street outside, and he only stopped himself by remembering Matt's neighbour across the landing.
He shifted back and looked at his parents. "Okay, Operation Matty-Hunt is on."
They walked through the streets, Foggy trailing behind the dogs as they sniffed their way along. It felt weird, being out in public with his parents in their animal shapes; they usually did their shifting things on their own. Foggy shouldn't have been surprised that Matt's strongest scent lines led them to the office. When Foggy had left to go visit his parents, Matt had still been working. He must have been grabbed before he'd made it home and into his Daredevil suit. The two dogs went back and forth on the pavement in front of the building for what seemed like ages before his father went to the door that led inside. With a little whine, he lifted himself up on hind legs and pawed the metal screen. Foggy opened up and led the way into the dark hall. As soon as he'd shut the door behind them, his parents turned back into themselves.
"I think he was taken right about here," his father said. "Anna?"
"I think so, too," she said. "I could smell fear."
"And?" Foggy asked, impatient.
"He must have got into a car," his father said. "Foggy, how about you shift into your bear shape now?"
"Here?" Foggy glanced around. "What can I find out here?"
"I'll open the door a bit and you can stick your nose out, see what you can pick up," his father suggested. "We'll keep watch, make sure nobody sees you."
Foggy wasn't sure he could escape detection, but it was the only way to find Matt, and so he shifted. His father opened the door just wide enough for him to put his muzzle out, and he sniffed. Oh, yeah, Matt had been here repeatedly, but the most recent scent line was practically decorated with fear , like tinsel hanging on a Christmas tree. Matt had walked a few steps in that direction … there'd been two men with him, one of them had come into the building, the other had waited outside … the scent lines all converged at the curb, where there'd been a car …
Foggy was surprised that the car had left behind a distinct scent of its own; metal and paint and hot grease, and … what was that acrid note? It reminded him of something … a cleaning product … oh! Windshield washer fluid! There were drops in the street, not a full spray as though the driver had cleaned the windshield, but two drops underneath where the car had idled. The fluid had leaked out! He could follow the car just by those drops alone … there was a firm tug on the fur just behind his neck and his mother said, "Easy, Foggy, stay here."
Pulling his muzzle back inside, Foggy sat down on his rump and shifted back.
"Sorry, Foggy," his mother said. "You looked like you were about to lunge across the street."
"I smelled the car," Foggy said, standing up and brushing off his backside. "There's windshield washer fluid leaking out of it, hopefully enough for you guys to follow!"
The trail of windshield washer fluid led in the general direction of the docks, and Foggy's mom and dad dashed into the street every so often for a good sniff of the drops on the road. Whenever they came to an intersection, his parents split up automatically, with his mother going to the left and his father to the right, checking to see if the car had turned. Foggy supposed they must do something like that all the time, enough for it become a habit. The car had kept going straight for a long time, but it had turned eventually. Finding the scent again, his mother came back and nuzzled at Foggy's hand, biting it lightly and tugging him in the correct direction. Foggy followed, and a moment later, his father came loping up from behind.
They'd walked for approximately thirty five minutes when they found the car, parked in a rental lot. Foggy's parents sniffed around, and Foggy had the distinct impression that they were both shaking their heads. He ducked into the dark space between two street lamps, glancing around. There was no one on the street, and hopefully, nobody would be looking out of their window at that particular moment, so he said, "Okay, Mom, Dad, you can—"
They took on human form before he could finish. "—Switch back now."
"It's not the right car," his mother said. "There's no scent of Matt here."
"We've been following the wrong car all this time?" Foggy exclaimed in an angry hiss, trying to keep his voice low and show his annoyance at the same time. He wanted to kick something.
"We don't know that," his father said. "Look, there's a place in that alley, you could shift quickly and tell us if we're wrong."
Foggy lumbered over to the dark spot, turned into a bear, and sniffed, turning his muzzle in every direction, just in case. But his parents were right, there was no scent of Matt, just the mocking odour of that blasted fluid.
"Argh!" he cried as he switched back to human form. "What's the point? Matt could be dying out there while we've been following the wrong car just because it smelled the strongest!"
"We'll just go back to the office and start over," his mother said.
Go to Part 3
"We know you have connections to Daredevil," the man growled. "And we've got Murdock. So you tell Daredevil to give himself up or we'll torture Murdock to death. Then we'll come for you, and if he still doesn't show up, it'll be your family next. We'll give you more instructions when you finally answer your fucking phone."
There was also a picture of Matt, his face bruised and scraped, with the muzzle of a pistol visible at one ear. Foggy was still staring at it in horror when Matt's ring tone went off, and he almost dropped the phone in surprise.
"Yes!" he responded. "Foggy Nelson here!"
"You talk to Daredevil yet?" Of course it was the man with the growly voice.
"Hang on, hang on, I just barely got your message," Foggy admitted. "I haven't had time to do anything yet!"
"Well, here's another message," the man said. There was a pause, and then he heard what sounded like the whine of a drill in the background. A moment later, Matt screamed high and loud, an agonized scream that made the hair on the back of Foggy's neck stand up in horror. It went on and on and on until Foggy wanted to scream with him, and then it turned into loud sobbing and inarticulate begging.
"Got the message?" the man asked, much too calmly,and Foggy shouted back, "What are you doing to him?"
"Use your imagination," the man said. "And pass the message onto Daredevil."
"I will, I will," Foggy babbled, before he realized what he was saying, and stopped.
"Tell Daredevil to meet us at the door to your office," the man went on. "Quarter past midnight, or we hurt Murdock more."
"What if I can't find him?" Foggy almost wailed. "That's less than two hours from now! He could be anywhere, and it's not like I have his phone number!"
"Find him, or we torture Murdock to death, and then it will be your turn," the man said, and hung up.
Foggy tossed the phone onto his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. How could he get Matt out? The man hadn't mentioned not calling the police, but even if he informed Brett unofficially, what could the man do? How could they find Matt before they killed him. G-d, he wished he'd put a GPS tracking chip in Matt the day he'd found out he was Daredevil!
Wait a minute. Tracking. He didn't necessarily need an electronic device to do that, maybe he could do it the old fashioned way, with something a little more biological. Foggy reached for the phone and dialled.
"Hi, Dad, it's me, Foggy. You know my friend, Matt? So, he's been kidnapped, and I need your help."
They met at Matt's building. His parents had both transformed into birds – his father an eagle and his mother a hawk, and they'd landed on Matt's roof even before Foggy had made it all the way there and up the stairs.
"Foggy!" his mother called out as he staggered towards them, his knees weak after six flights of stairs. "Is Matt all right? Why did they take him, did they say?"
His father got right to the point. "Do they want a ransom? How much do you need?"
Foggy waved both hands in a "settle down" gesture and said, "They don't want a ransom. They want Daredevil."
"And you want us to find him?" his father asked, and glanced around the rooftop. "Is this where you last saw him?"
"No," Foggy said. He went to the roof access door which Matt never locked, and opened it, then motioned for his parents to precede him inside. Once they were all down in Matt's living room, he broke the news bluntly. "Matt is Daredevil."
His mother gasped, and his father said simply, "What? Matt?"
"Yeah, Matt. You know those chemicals he got splashed in his eyes when he was a kid? The accident that blinded him? It seems they also enhanced his other senses. It's like he's got superpowers," Foggy explained. "Super-hearing, super-smelling, super …"
He waved his hand, searching for the right word, and his mother helped him out. "Perception?"
"Yeah, super-perception," Foggy said. "And super kung fu training, and worst of all, this super sense of justice! I mean, being a lawyer just isn't enough for Matt, he has to be a vigilante, too, get the people the law can't touch, go out and stop crimes almost before they're committed—"
He stopped, cutting his rant short. "Anyway, you see the problem. The kidnappers already have Daredevil and they just don't know it yet. And they said they're going to torture Matt to death if Daredevil doesn't give himself up – and, uh—"
He didn't want to tell his parents that the kidnappers would be coming for him next. Instead, he said, "And obviously, Matt hasn't been able to get away, because I just heard them torturing him on the phone less than twenty minutes ago! We need to rescue him before they kill him! I brought you here so you can sniff his sheets and track him down."
"Even with his scent, it'll be difficult to track him if he was put in a car or a van," his father said, and then he shifted into a yellow Labrador. His mother also turned into a dog, a grey and white whippet, and both dogs nosed around Matt's bed for a few moments. Then his parents switched back to human form.
"Foggy, did you know that a bear's sense of smell is about seven times more powerful than that of a dog?" his father asked. "Even a bloodhound?"
Foggy frowned, because he'd kind of been avoiding the topic of bears for most of his life. "Really?"
"Yes, really. You really should get his scent, too," his mother said. "We can go around the streets, but if Matt was taken away in a car or van, it'll be almost impossible for us to follow."
"I don't know what good it would do. You guys can wander up and down the streets as dogs or cats or even skunks, and nobody will look twice at you. If I go out as a bear …" Foggy formed one hand into a pistol and made shooting motions at his own head.
"You never know what might happen," his mother urged. "The sun's gone down and it's cold out there, you can probably find a dark alley or two for a quick shift, just long enough to point the way."
Foggy sighed, shifted quickly into a bear, and nosed the sheets on Matt's bed. The scent of Matt was incredibly powerful; he could not only follow the scent lines into the living room, the bathroom, and everywhere else Matt had gone, he could even, with a bit of consideration, sort them out according to how old they were. He was even strongly aware of Matt's dirty clothes basket in the corner of the bedroom, but resisted going over to it. He didn't want to have to admit to Matt that he'd found him by sniffing his dirty underwear. Anyway, the sheets alone were enough to make him want to gallop over to the door, claw it open, and race downstairs to the street outside, and he only stopped himself by remembering Matt's neighbour across the landing.
He shifted back and looked at his parents. "Okay, Operation Matty-Hunt is on."
They walked through the streets, Foggy trailing behind the dogs as they sniffed their way along. It felt weird, being out in public with his parents in their animal shapes; they usually did their shifting things on their own. Foggy shouldn't have been surprised that Matt's strongest scent lines led them to the office. When Foggy had left to go visit his parents, Matt had still been working. He must have been grabbed before he'd made it home and into his Daredevil suit. The two dogs went back and forth on the pavement in front of the building for what seemed like ages before his father went to the door that led inside. With a little whine, he lifted himself up on hind legs and pawed the metal screen. Foggy opened up and led the way into the dark hall. As soon as he'd shut the door behind them, his parents turned back into themselves.
"I think he was taken right about here," his father said. "Anna?"
"I think so, too," she said. "I could smell fear."
"And?" Foggy asked, impatient.
"He must have got into a car," his father said. "Foggy, how about you shift into your bear shape now?"
"Here?" Foggy glanced around. "What can I find out here?"
"I'll open the door a bit and you can stick your nose out, see what you can pick up," his father suggested. "We'll keep watch, make sure nobody sees you."
Foggy wasn't sure he could escape detection, but it was the only way to find Matt, and so he shifted. His father opened the door just wide enough for him to put his muzzle out, and he sniffed. Oh, yeah, Matt had been here repeatedly, but the most recent scent line was practically decorated with fear , like tinsel hanging on a Christmas tree. Matt had walked a few steps in that direction … there'd been two men with him, one of them had come into the building, the other had waited outside … the scent lines all converged at the curb, where there'd been a car …
Foggy was surprised that the car had left behind a distinct scent of its own; metal and paint and hot grease, and … what was that acrid note? It reminded him of something … a cleaning product … oh! Windshield washer fluid! There were drops in the street, not a full spray as though the driver had cleaned the windshield, but two drops underneath where the car had idled. The fluid had leaked out! He could follow the car just by those drops alone … there was a firm tug on the fur just behind his neck and his mother said, "Easy, Foggy, stay here."
Pulling his muzzle back inside, Foggy sat down on his rump and shifted back.
"Sorry, Foggy," his mother said. "You looked like you were about to lunge across the street."
"I smelled the car," Foggy said, standing up and brushing off his backside. "There's windshield washer fluid leaking out of it, hopefully enough for you guys to follow!"
The trail of windshield washer fluid led in the general direction of the docks, and Foggy's mom and dad dashed into the street every so often for a good sniff of the drops on the road. Whenever they came to an intersection, his parents split up automatically, with his mother going to the left and his father to the right, checking to see if the car had turned. Foggy supposed they must do something like that all the time, enough for it become a habit. The car had kept going straight for a long time, but it had turned eventually. Finding the scent again, his mother came back and nuzzled at Foggy's hand, biting it lightly and tugging him in the correct direction. Foggy followed, and a moment later, his father came loping up from behind.
They'd walked for approximately thirty five minutes when they found the car, parked in a rental lot. Foggy's parents sniffed around, and Foggy had the distinct impression that they were both shaking their heads. He ducked into the dark space between two street lamps, glancing around. There was no one on the street, and hopefully, nobody would be looking out of their window at that particular moment, so he said, "Okay, Mom, Dad, you can—"
They took on human form before he could finish. "—Switch back now."
"It's not the right car," his mother said. "There's no scent of Matt here."
"We've been following the wrong car all this time?" Foggy exclaimed in an angry hiss, trying to keep his voice low and show his annoyance at the same time. He wanted to kick something.
"We don't know that," his father said. "Look, there's a place in that alley, you could shift quickly and tell us if we're wrong."
Foggy lumbered over to the dark spot, turned into a bear, and sniffed, turning his muzzle in every direction, just in case. But his parents were right, there was no scent of Matt, just the mocking odour of that blasted fluid.
"Argh!" he cried as he switched back to human form. "What's the point? Matt could be dying out there while we've been following the wrong car just because it smelled the strongest!"
"We'll just go back to the office and start over," his mother said.
Go to Part 3