The Daredevil Costume Was Fucking Itchy.

The Daredevil costume was fucking itchy.

It was also tight, Dex grunting as he moved, the fabric scraping against some bruises on his ribs as he sat up on the roof, watching the building.

A heavy pair of footsteps appeared behind him before they scraped to a stop and Dex turned around, ready to ask what the hell the person was staring at before he stopped as well.

The Punisher was standing right behind him.

He looked every bit as intimidating as the media portrayed him. Buzzed hair with dark eyes that seemed to pierce into Dex. That white skull emblazoned onto his clothing, subtle.

Dex stood, The Punisher eyed him, like he was examining him over. The other man’s jaw clenched. Dex thought Fisk had mentioned something about Daredevil and Punisher having fought together, he nodded to him,

“Hello”

“Hey again” Punisher said, those dark eyes still staring into him. Dex speaking again,

“What brings you around here, Punisher?” he asks, “Kitchen’s my turf”

The brick of the roof colliding with Dex’s back knocks the wind out of him, for such a large man, he didn’t expect the other to move that fast.

“Where’s Red?”

“Pardon?” Dex coughs up and Punisher chuckles, a dry and sarcastic noise as he has Dex pinned,

“You think I haven’t heard? About you killing folks? Red doesn’t do that, would never fucking do that, you aren’t him…he doesn’t fucking call me by that name”

Dex internally cusses. Apparently the Punisher and Daredevil were closer than he thought, it’s obvious as the former leans down to snarl in his ear, voice dripping with barely restrained fury,

“I’ll ask again, where’s my Red?”