Matt didn't know or care about the patch on his jacket. The numbers meant nothing to him now, nor would they if he could actually see them. He wanted to keep the coat itself in one piece, if only to protect him from the elements. The decorations sewn onto it were of no value or concern.
But the footsteps coming up behind him concerned him. He could hear someone moving through the fog, but with the way it seemed to envelope him, he couldn't quite pinpoint where the sounds were coming from or how many footsteps he was actually hearing. On second listen, it sounded more like skittering than walking.
He froze, realizing all too quickly that those nasty spiders were starting to surround him. He could take on an insect or two any day of the week. He was Daredevil, dammit. He wasn't afraid. He was a little grossed out, sure, but not afraid. Extermination duty wasn't glamorous or fun. It was nasty and sometimes sticky, he'd learned. But he'd also learned that the arena was pretty nasty all on its own.
"Come out, you eight-legged bastard!" Matt growled, armed with the crowbar he'd been gifted the week before. Blind eyes stared vacantly into the fog. He turned quickly to face the sources of sound, but there was nothing there.
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But the footsteps coming up behind him concerned him. He could hear someone moving through the fog, but with the way it seemed to envelope him, he couldn't quite pinpoint where the sounds were coming from or how many footsteps he was actually hearing. On second listen, it sounded more like skittering than walking.
He froze, realizing all too quickly that those nasty spiders were starting to surround him. He could take on an insect or two any day of the week. He was Daredevil, dammit. He wasn't afraid. He was a little grossed out, sure, but not afraid. Extermination duty wasn't glamorous or fun. It was nasty and sometimes sticky, he'd learned. But he'd also learned that the arena was pretty nasty all on its own.
"Come out, you eight-legged bastard!" Matt growled, armed with the crowbar he'd been gifted the week before. Blind eyes stared vacantly into the fog. He turned quickly to face the sources of sound, but there was nothing there.