He can barely hear Frank over the rough rasp of air as he breathes, grateful for the reprieve, however minor, from the fight. It's not funny, and Matt knows he'll probably be angry later. Soon. He always seems to be when it comes to Frank Castle. Still, he can't help the "You went to a party without me?" that slips from his mouth when he feels Frank's eyes on him, nor the strained smirk of his lips.
God, he wants to put a bullet in Daredevilās head sometimes, just take aim and click-boom. No more sermons on rooftops, no more missing a shot at some scumbag because an asshole in a crimson onesie took a flying kick at him. But when you get right down to it, Red doesnāt deserve it, and honestly, that pisses Frank off more than the blossoming pain in his ribs and jaw from the latest beating.
āSorry, Red.Ā They werenāt handinā out plus ones,ā he rasps, chest heaving. His sniper rifleās out of reach, and he can hear the van down on the street loading up- a couple more minutes and itāll be another mark missed, because this piece of shitĀ canāt mind his own business.Ā
Frank wipes blood off of his mouth, curls his lip and damn near snarls.
āYou gonna get down there and beatĀ āem up,Ā Red? Sooner you getĀ āem in prison, sooner they get out, and we can start this shitshow all over again.ā