Two Vs Two Vs Who?

February 21, 2014:

Matt Murdock and Natasha Romanoff leave his office on the way to dinner, when he's paid a visit by two very unfriendly guys, who are in turn surprised by a lucky albino merc.

Outside the Law Firm of Nelson & Murdock

Hell's Kitchen. A little rundown, a lot down on its luck. But, the old brownstone that holds the law firm of Nelson & Murdock provides a modicum of hope.

Characters

NPCs: None

Mentions:

Mood Music: [* ]


Fade In…

There once was a place called New York. There, all manner of nefarious individuals roamed the streets, the boardrooms, and the city halls, but we're only focusing on that middle one. You see, in this place called New York, there was a man named Wilson Fisk, and he didn't like it when people thought they could muscle in on his territory. If anyone tried it, they'd be killed. Sometimes, though, they'd know what was coming and hire themselves protection, and Fisk would have no other choice but to send in the big guns…

"… And that's where you and I come in," Bullseye finishes, one foot propped up on the lip of the rooftop directly across the street from his target's office. "Got that Tasky?"

"I understand, Karen, and I won't bother trying to change your mind. But I'm going to go out and enjoy myself whether you recommend it or not."

In mid thought, Matt Murdock seems to pause and sit still. It's almost as if he's heard a slight noise and is pausing to see if he can hear it again. After a few moments he exhales and decides to throw his scarf over his neck.

"In any event, I'm sorry Foggy asked you to come in tomorrow. I'm sure he'll make it up to you." Matt buttons his coat up with good accuracy, given his lack of eyesight, and grabs for his cane. "Have a good night."

Why does Wilson Fisk want Matt Murdock dead? Well perhaps the lawyers flat out refusal to represent one of the mafia underlings may be a reason.

Natasha's steps are quick on the pavement outside the building that houses the law firm of Nelson & Murdock. Stylish coat and red hair actually making her fairly unremarkable in the city, even in Hell's Kitchen.

Her steps are even quicker up the narrow staircase within the building. She's just opening the office door. She stops only a step or two within. "Ms Page," she greets simply, businesslike. Then, a smile, and a warmer tone. "Mr. Murdock. I see you're ready."

"Same ol' song, I'm more interested in the dance." Taskmaster replies past a row of glossy composite plastic and kevlar teeth. It's protective and all that, keeps his mug pretty. The mercenary is juggling what looks like two grenades as he sits perched there atop the rooftop ledge, trained eyes, like Lester's know those are only Willie Petes, simple harmless white phosphorus they're meant for obstruction and screening or signalling.

"We placing bets this time?"

"You still owe me from last time," Bullseye answers with a toothy smirk, pulling his eyes from the gleaming offices of Nelson & Murdock to eye Taskmaster sideways. "Remember? You said I couldn't kill a guy wearing kevlar with a penny." However, he lifts one shoulder in a shrug as he turns back to face out over the street, "'Sides. You really think some blind lawyer's going to put up much of a fight? I'm still not sure why Fisk's got us both going after this chump. Seems a bit overkill, but hell — I won't turn down some easy cash." And the killing. Can't forget the killing. "Lead the way, Skullhead. I'll cover you," Lester comments, stepping down from the ledge to scoop up a handful of gravel from the rooftop with a maniacal grin.

"Hello, Natasha," Matt says with a grin. "Just on time. Just like always."

Karen Page is not grinning; Karen Page is not amused.

"Well shall we?" Matt says to Romanova before leaning back over his shoulder toward Karen, "You called the cab, right?"

And as soon as he says it the yellow cab pulls out in front of the doorway. "It appears you did. Thanks Karen."

Matt holds an arm out towards Natasha, "Shall we?"

The pair exit out onto the street with the wet slaps of their feet on the icy New York sidewalks.

"Yeah yeah. I'll figure that trick out eventually you freaky bastard." Taskmaster still hasn't been able to replicate it which defies the laws he knows of his own abilities. But then Bullseye isn't exactly normal. Much like himself so it does bring to question why a lawyer would run the cost of these two. Two of the most expensive men in the world. "The Kingpin has big ol' deep pockets." Emphasizing the /big/.

"My pleasure." A collapsible bow is drawn out and snaps open at the arms, fitting that modified M15 smoke grenade to the tip of the arrow he takes aim at the back of the lawyers head. "Think I can kill him with this?" A low chuckle and two fingers release sending that awkwardly weighted arrow through the air. Angle and distance it'd possibly kill or at least permanently cripple a person with it's accuracy which is the back of the neck. Being a smoke grenade it won't explode quite like a normal grenade but it'll touch down and spit gas in all directions. "I'll apologize to his date when we pick up his corpse. Show her chivalry ain't dead."

Oh, doubtless, the look Karen shoots Natasha is a colder one that the brisk wind that plucks at the red hair framing her face as she reaches for the taxi door. She straightens as she does, looking up and around out of decades of habit. And that's why she happens to see the grenade coming.

'Cause, let's be fair: A grenade is a fair size bigger than a bullet. Especially wobbling on the end of an arrow.

"Down!"

She does not think. She reacts with the speed and instinct of more years experience than most of her friends have been alive. She spins towards Matt, grabbing him about the shoulders and tackle-pulling him out of the way, behind the open taxi door, toward the pavement, her body blocking his… again out of training and habit.

Lester stares after the arrow for a moment, a chuckle slowly rising from his throat, "I'd say it might have hurt… If you didn't miss." He grins again, cocks his head to the left, then to the right, then lets out a snort and flicks a scatter-shot of gravel at an upwards angle. Up, up, up it goes, until gravity reasserts its dominance and pulls it down towards the Earth in an arc. There's probably a slight whistle in the air as it spreads out, a pinch from the clump spreading out each heading for Natasha, Matt, Karen, and the taxi driver still in his car.

"Twenty bucks says I get them all."

As Natasha begins to yell for him to get down, Matt's already moving. His senses, being what they are, were able to pick up the shot as the triggers was beginning to be pulled.

As the pair of them hit the pavement, Matt's gritting his teeth, but it's never too serious not to make a quip. "My hero," he says dryly.

"Two of them," Matt says, clutching his cane as the street begins to scream in chaos.

Although she can sometimes be a pain in Natasha's side, Karen stares wide eyed at the goings on out on the sidewalk and immediately calls the police amid gaspy breathes and panic.

"Well that didn't go as planned at all." Taskmaster huffs more than mildly annoyed that some random just ruined his shot and made him look like a chump, "She's got moves man. You seen that right? I ain't losing my game." Its descending leap and Taskmaster is off the lip of the building and landing on scaffolding then a parked florist van an actual arrow knocked and being aimed as he straightened up. Smoke already firing up around where the grenade had missed and expelled it's payload. "Second times a charm." Arrow released, this time not weighted down by ordinance. This ones just very very sharp and flanked by lots of gravel.

And the advantage of being a SHIELD agent? (Not that it would matter if she weren't.) Two guns concealed beneath her coat. Oo-rah. (Or whatever the Russian equivalent to that is.)

Natasha lets out a short snirk at Matt's quip. "Don't you forget it," she replies.

The taxi starts to pull away from the curb, even with the door still open. 'Cause, seriously, man. He ain't stickin' around to get shot at… though the scatter of gravel across his otherwise closed windows might make him think he has been. As the gravel rains down on Natasha, as well, she's back-pedalling and pulling a heavy portion of her wool coat up to shield herself from the stone rain, even as she moves further along the car line to get away from the smoke. Through the haze, she can just make out the outlines of the figures across the street and up.

"Yeah. I see 'em," she says… And lets off two shots with a single Makarov.

Bullseye watches as the gravel hits, but… Does nothing. He frowns slightly, and glances down to his handful of stones, hefting them once or twice. Taking one, he pitches it up in the air, and watches it sail straight up, then right back down and hit him in the forehead, dead center of the bullseye on his costume.

"Shit!" he curses, rubbing his head where the pebble bounced off and shakes his head, stepping down from the ledge just in time to miss getting a hole in his chest. Immediately he dives to the ground and calls out from the rooftop, "At least I fuckin' hit them!" With a fair bit of speed, he shifts through the pebbles lining the rooftop until he finds a quarter and grins, hopping back to his feet and following Taskmaster's progress down the building. "Hey bitch! Don't blink!" He laughs and flicks the quarter through the air right towards Natasha's eye.

Matt yelps in pain as one of the stones burrows into his wrist, burrowing down just a bit. "Dammit," he curses and tries to search around for cover.

A snap of his cane on the ground maps things out for him and he rolls under the bench for the second busline as the gravel starts to rain down upon it, slapping hard against the metal.

"I don't," he says to Widow with a grin. "What have we got?"

And then Matt can hear Bullseye on his way down, "Never mind."

With a quick movement, Matt takes off and runs pretty well for a blind guy, and disappears down an alleyway.

"Too much smoke maybe?" Taskmaster taunts as he flips off the van and lands on the ground one of Natalia's bullets zipping past him. He doesn't even bother to trace where his arrow went, they're both still moving last he seen. That means it missed, obviously. "See, slick moves, man. Maybe shes his bodyguard. Come out and play, skags!" Like a wraith the white cloaked mercenary slides in to the unnatural fogbank he created the bow having folded and been put away to be replaced by a straight sharp sword. That voice modulator he uses adding to his mystique.

There and gone, but a flash and a musical *Ping!* The quarter being thrown at Natasha's head is plucked out of the air with the briefest of sparks, followed an instant later by the sharp *Crack!* of a rifle shot. Not too close. Then again, not too far away.

"Bullseye," Domino mutters as she manually cycles the rifle's bolt with heavily practiced motions, hanging from a fire escape with her legs twined around the railing, supporting her as she leans out over empty space. It's both a statement of fact and an observation of one of the other mercenaries which, as luck would have it, she happens to be at odds with today. It's funny how the contracts land sometimes.

Dozens of feet below the lone piece of brass pings against the sidewalk, the albino woman drifting the crosshairs toward Taskmaster and Bullseye. She's going to have to suppress their attacks first, she may well have brought the wrong gun to the party. One that fires much, much too slowly to put up a proper fight.

And, thus, the Black Widow is saved from an entirely ignominious death. Thank you, Domino!

The Russian Redhead recoils with the scent of the ozone in the air before her, as that bullet impacts that quarter. Then she hears the crack.

"You missed!" she calls out to Bullseye, for all that she knows damned well that was *way* too close. Mustn't let him think she's phased by that, after all.

She pulls her second Makarov out and moves on light feet, starting off after Matt, though her eyes are more on that fog bank and anywhere else she hears the movement of their enemies. "Seriously, boys," she calls out. "You're cutting into my dinner date. And that's just plain rude!"

"You're tellin' me," Bullseye calls back, blinking as his quarter is removed from the air by some outside interference. Not many people can make a shot like that — and it just so happens at least two of them managed to find themselves on opposite ends of the same contract. Lester doesn't even bother to search for the shooter just yet. Out in the open, no doubt they'd pick him off before he managed to puzzle out the source from the echo, so he darts into the smokescreen with Natasha and Taskmaster. With a flick of his wrist he sends five playing cards into his hand from a hidden sheath in his costume and begins to make his way through the smoke towards the Matt's alley — at least until he notices Natasha going the same way. "Hey, Tasky…" Lester mutters back into the smoke, "She not coming in…"

He looks almost disappointed, "If she's not going to come in, how are you going to kill her?" A second passes before he snaps the fingers on his free hand and laughs, "Oh that's right. I am."

And then he sends a card towards each of her wrists.

"Whoah-ho." Taskmaster like everyone else heard the gunshot and the follow up shout. "What is this ridiculous bullshit?" Snarling his blade swipes out through the smoke where Romanoff had been. "Yeah, I gathered that." The slash is followed by a lunge and roll as he seeks cover outside of the obscurement to get a better vantage..

"You ain't missing out lady, dude looked like a real peckerhead anyways. Just put your guns down and let us have a go atcha. We're a couple o sweethearts." From his crouched lean against the side of a parked teal sedan he scans up across where their mysterious shooter may be. Gathering barrings and all.

The playing cards slice across the Widow's wrists. And if she hadn't been wearing metal cuffs beneath that woolen coat, that probably would have been extremely problematic for her. But, hey. She was.

Thus, her response, is first, "Huh?" followed by, "Pfah!", followed then by, *Kra-Krack!* as she follows that trajectory back with another two shots. The metal on her wrists, above her gloved hands, glints briefly in the street light before she withdraws fully back into the alley and disappears from view.

(Well, my odds just got worse. Who the hell hired these two nutjobs?)

Trying to track four rapidly moving targets on several planes, complete with smokescreen cover, is not an easy task. Rifle scopes are not known for having great peripheral vision. Domino's got targets aplenty, some notably more important than others.

As for why she's part of this dance, why she appears to be helping Matt and the redhead… That's just her business.

There's sirens in the distance. Given traffic patterns, time of day, location of the city, panic levels from live fire exercises, and smoke grenade arrows… Seven minutes, twenty-three seconds until they're close enough to engage.

Taskie's closing in, sword in hand. Not good. Thing is, she doesn't have to kill the guy. If it would even work. With this arrangement? ..Okay, yeah, she could probably get it done. The problem comes from the chance that she doesn't get it right the first time around. And, these two? Not the sort she cares to be at odds with, if it can be helped.

That's why she shoots for the ladder to a fire escape poised almost directly overhead Taskmaster's head. Another spark of metal on metal, another *Crack!* Add in a little help from gravity, and a full metal ladder starts to drop straight down toward the other merc.

One of those shots is a total whiff, but the other clips Bullseye right in the throwing shoulder, and drawing a scream of pain from his lips, "You shot me! Oh god… Oh god… Tha' was my throwing shoulder! I can't… Oh god… I'm going to be out of a job. How can I throw with a shattered shoulder?!"

""Hah. Kidding. Metal bones."

And then another playing card comes flying out of the smoke towards the spot Natasha just vacated for the alley. When the sniper shot knocks the ladder free, however, he calls out, "Have fun with your playmate!" He figures he has at least a couple seconds to get into that alley before the mystery shooter can put a bullet through his head, and he makes a dash for it, sprinting after their target and his 'bodyguard.'

But the target is long gone at this point, and instead, Bullseye will have troubles from his backside.

Swinging down from up high, Daredevil's feet our outstretched as they aim straight for Bullseye's spine. The Man Without Fear looks extremely graceful as he makes his way through the air with little effort. As his body gets closer and closer towards his target a flick of the wrest sends a small club towards Taskmaster, aimed at his head. What damage it will do, even if it hits is negligible, but distraction seems to be his bigger goal.

The sedan Taskmaster is crouched against is clearly parked too close to the sidewalk and brownstone building that is probably a residence. He leans this as he is forced to flatten out against the ugly assed vehicle while a ladder slams down in front of him like Thor's Hammer. "Think I might have just wee'd a little." His mask scrapes along the metal as he pries free and turns to face the direction he's getting shot at from, "Hell nah, Lester. Get back here man… fuck." Both hands snap up and dual 45. apcs sling in to position trained on Domino's general location. "If you just cost me I'm going to hunt you down and wear you as a skin suit." It's then that he is staggering sideways with a loud KRAK as a bludgeoning club strikes him from the side, teetering on one heel gunshots are released in two directions, Daredevil and Domino. WILD gunshots.

BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM

Yay. STARS!

"Aaand now everyone's out of my line of fire. Fantastic," Domino sighs to herself as she forcefully cycles the bolt once again. She could go low and give chase, and put herself even more in harm's way, or she could go high to the rooftops and try to pick at them from above.

With how her power tends to manifest itself..?

Her feet unhook from the railing, just about to spill herself over the edge when a wild shot sparks off of the railing right next to her. It proves to be enough, a calculated dismount turns into a frantic scramble that leaves her clinging to the outside of the landing with her rifle falling to the concrete below.

(..Right. Two mercs, a redhead packing guns that are older than I am, and a fleet of cops nipping at my heels. And—Daredevil? Wonderful. Someone's always gotta go and play hero.)

Distance is Domino's friend. The other two had been using thrown weapons and arrows more than anything. The addition of a pair of .45's changes the playing field slightly, but..eh! Familiar territory! Once she's dropped back to the ground she blitzes wide, lunging and rolling over the hood of an abandoned Ford as she tries to get around behind everyone. If she can get them caught within the alley? Easier than shooting dead fish in a barrel.

By the time Bullseye makes it into the alley, Natasha isn't easily to be found. Unless, of course, you happen to look up. As it happens, her suit gives her abilities more often seen in the local webslingers than anyone else. She's clinging to the wall about halfway up the side of one of the buildings, as the scaffolding on the alley wall opposite it starts to crumble off the side.

She uses the distraction that provides, twisting around as she scales higher, and closing a fist. Her arm swings around, pointing her fist at the mercenary coming after her. *thwp-thwp* It's not a web that fires out. It's a pair of darts that will deliver her Bite.

Bullseye gets maybe half a second warning as he turns the corner and sees no sign of either Daredevil nor Natasha waiting for him to kill them on the other side. For the brief moment, he blinks, then slowly closes his eyes letting out a low, "… Fuuuuuc-" before Daredevil crashes into his back.

But the Man Who Never misses is far from out just yet.

As he goes down, he flicks one of the last two cards into straight up, arcing into the path of the darts so it hits them from below, sending them upwards and towards someone, who, say, may just happen to be drop-kicking him from above.

There's nothing he can do.

Daredevil's body twists at an angle trying to get out of the way, but there are just too many opposing forces and they're all going the wrong way.

The Bite tears through fabric and then into skin before letting off its charge. Daredevil grunts angrily as he lands downward and tries to get to his feet and get that damn bite out of him.

Another stumble and Taskmaster's hood shakes back and forth before he looks up to a rifle clattering brokenly across the cement. Following the trajectory he spies just the ass end of Domino migrating roosts. "Grr."

With the sniper out of his line of sight now Taskmaster tries to return to the mission at hand only to see the silhouettes and bodies in action. "Fuck it. Too many unknown factors." Scooping up that thrown cudgel (now trophy) he makes for an escape in a run back to his vehicle. "You want the job, it's yours. This time at least." Exit stage left.

^Inserts Bullseye in that last sentence.)

The sniper rifle's abandoned. The scope never survived the fall. Fortunately, Domino is always redundantly armed. Although..it seems that she won't be needing them at this point. Much. When Taskmaster runs for a car she suddenly changes course and goes running right after the guy. He's got a head start, but he also has to start the engine and climb in.

By that point, Dom's already on the roof. If the passenger door's unlocked, she'll help herself in. While the car's in motion, sure. If not, she'll bust out the window and then climb in. Either way, she's getting a ride, and she's doing so with a pistol in one of her hands.

Because she doesn't trust Taskmaster any farther than she can throw him.

She can't throw him very far.

"Haven't seen your ass since Madripoor, how's the scene been treatin' ya?"

Grin.

The only thing that keeps Daredevil from being knocked flat on his ass by Widow's bite is the fact the woman wraps a gloved hand around those wires attached to the darts and yanks them back out of him. More shirt torn. Probably skin, too. It's better than a 40,000 volt charge.

As it is, Natasha loses the wires and springs off the wall, flipping down onto the pavement below (long wool coat being all cool and duster-like as she does). Her guns come back out and Bullseye would be wise to continue moving if he doesn't want new holes punched in his torso.

Oh, Bullseye's at least smart enough to abandon the mission — For now. As soon as Daredevil was knocked off his back by the (limited) force of the taser bite, Lester rolled off to the side and pulled himself back to his feet, blood staining the ground from his pretty nasty looking gunshot wound. Before Natasha even touched down, he was nearly rounding the corner. However… There's Daredevil. Stunned. Weak.

Open.

With one last card, Bullseye's got all the ammunition he needs to finish off the super-pain-in-the-neck and he can't help but sending the card spinning towards his throat, "Sorry. Can't stay. Got a coward to cut. Maybe next time, yeah?" Unfortunately, he doesn't even get to stick around to see if it hits. Those are some nasty guns about to come to bare, so he turns tail and departs, yanking a passing motorcyclist off their ride and stealing it for himself.

The card flows through the air, even as Daredevil turns. It flies straight for him, but given his blindness and it's lack of sound, he has no idea it's coming for him. So much so, that he even begins speaking to Natasha as if the battle is over. "Looks like they had e…"

Natasha spins as that card arcs through the air. Very likely before he can react, given it's the last thing he'd expect from her, she sweeps his legs out from underneath him. The card whistles past his ears as he falls, smacking the bricks behind him and fluttering uselessly into a refuse pile.

"Sorry," she says then, moving to help the man in red up. "He left a parting shot." She glances to the card. "Good one, too." The ace of hearts lays half buried in snow and litter. "You didn't hear it."

Daredevil sits up and tilts his head at her. "Are you positive? Or are you sure it didn't have something to do with that time in St. Petersburg? You said you'd get me back."

Widow just smiles. "C'mon. Dinner's getting cold."

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