Lettin you walk

March 25, 2016:

Matt meets up with Lwa to save someone who doesn't need saving.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Sometimes, you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tonight, it was Lyn's turn. She had been taking a walk, keeping her distance from Gotham for awhile, and blazing her own trail of curious discovery in NYC. Tonight, it was Hell's Kitchen's turn for a lookie-loo, and that was probably where the floofy-haired Cajun had gone terribly wrong.

Her attire was helping to shield her against the cold; a feminine duster, jeans, and clunky boots, along with a scarf that wraps around the lower half of her face, only allowing exposure for her serpentine eyes and massive, kink-curl tresses. Her pace was steady, not giving away that she wasn't a native, and sometimes she would even cut corners by taking alley ways instead of keeping to partially lit sidewalks. That was her second mistake.

"Where you going, girl?" Questions a goon that easily towers over the five foot nothing girl. "Nice jacket. Does it have nice pockets, too?" With a sigh, hanging with a touch of annoyance, the girl replies, her voice muffling against the fabric protecting her face. "Don' t'ink dis is a good idea. Jus'…walkin'. Lemme walk on."

High above the streets of Hell's Kitchen, Daredevil listens to several conversations. There's a heated argument three blocks away, three stories high, where Mr. Magee just found out that his wife has been unfaithful. Need to keep an ear on that one. The one where Julian Reynolds' mother found her daughter came in past curfew is probably nothing to worry about, however. And then he picks up another conversation and picks his billy club from its holster.

There's a slight zing as the grapnel soars out through the night. A split second he's airborne, twisting as only an acrobat might as he plummets to the earth. At the last second, Daredevil yanks hard upon the end, bringing him in an arc towards the shadows, where he disappears from view entirely.

"Let you walk? I think this is an amazing idea." The brute continues to advance on the girl, causing her to take a step back, or five. Her brows furrow, and with a demand, she repeats. "Let me keep walkin'." A light catches her eyes, causing her slit pupils to dilate, shifting from fat, to line thin in a smooth transition. "Oh, oh! Look at this! She's a freak, too!" "I ain't a freak…!" She protests, and then it hits her; who is he saying 'look' to?

Freezing up, heards the footfalls of two other men, and without hesitation, one reaches out and snatches at her scarf.

As the aggressor reaches to grab at the young lady's scarf, a red and white club is thrown hard at his outstretched hand. The other one lurking in the shadows is attacked with violent and lightning quick fists, before a hard strike downward with a red-booted heel in an attempt to tear that man's ACL right then and there. Daredevil can't get to the third, but at least that one is facing the woman.

It was fast, very fast, so much so that the girl, and the goons, didn't know what was happening at first. After the sound of contact against flesh, bone, and the noises of surprise, pain, and lack of breath, the girl's eyes grow round like saucers. Turning, almost spinning to see what was happening, she and the leader stare into the darkness, trying to find the source of the attack.

"Shit! The devil!" Exclaims the main spokesman, who is almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushes toward the mouth of the alley, creating distance between him and the vigilante.

Daredevil reaches down to pick up the billy club, and in one motion, fires it as if he were a submarine pitcher from the 1980s. The club leaps out of his hand, upwards, at a 45 degree angle, towards the spokesman's face.

Unfortunately, the man Daredevil originally hit with the club is now attacking the Man Without Fear from behind and delivers a heavy blow to the back of Matt's head. Daredevil staggers forward on all fours, desperate to stay standing.

The man running ceases, tripping and falling forward, his face bouncing off the muck of the alley floor. Another crack against skull follows, along with a sharp voiced, "NO!" from the girl. Her hands move out, almost instantly, to help the Devil keep his balance. Glaring forward, she reaches for another crimson club. Tight within her grip, the girl lifts it and smacks herself across the face.

It connects, but the outcome is rather different. Her face doesn't show a mark, and she doesn't seem to show any pain from the attack, but the offending goon? Red and violet instantly tint his flesh, as his nose sits differently and scarlet gushes out from his nostrils and newly busted lips. Grabbing his own face, he doubles over in pain as he screams out, confusion and fear apparent.

Daredevil's low position changes from disadvantage to advantage as he sweeps out and takes the man's legs out from under him. From there he's on the criminal like a visceral beast, bashing his face with his knuckles.

By the time he straightens, his head is tilted towards Lwa, unsure of what the hell just happened. "Are you alright?" The question seemingly silly, but he did just sense her beating /herself/ up. Nevertheless, all three of the men are down on the pavement and moaning.

"Y-yeah. M'fine." The Creole explains gently, her eyes still wide as she watches the man move. Just as the goons before, the Devil easily stands tall over her. Her fingers flex now and then, as the other still grips around one of the man's clubs. "Oh! Here. Sorry I had t'use it." Offering it back, she glances at the trio of mooks that are down for the count.

"What 'bout you? Y'doin' ok? Dey got a good hit on y'noggin'. Y'feelin' dizzy or anyt'ing?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Daredevil murmurs quietly. He reaches out to take the billy club and slides it into his holster. "That's some trick," he says, nodding towards her. He means the beating she just gave herself. He's hopeful she will give him an explanation, but he's not going to press, especially given that he hears a siren in the background.

"Well…m't'ankful. Really, f'de help. If y'need some help gettin' t', well, whereever y'need t'go, jus' say so." The cry of the cops coming there way has her turning her head and looking toward its direction. "Trick? Yeah, guess so. Ain't a freak, dough, y'know? Jus'…well, I c'n do t'ings. Seems y'good at what y'do, too."

Even if she didn't do anything wrong, the girl still doesn't seem very happy with the idea of sticking around. Reaching for the man's lower arm, should he allow the grip, she would start to lead him away from the scene.

"I'm fine," Daredevil says with a chuckle as she begins to lead him away. "You think mutants are freaks?" The question comes quizzically, as if there's certainly something behind it. The sirens get louder and louder as a trio of squad cars hits the opposite end of the alleyway. The car doors slam as the police officers get out to find three criminals, wallowing in the filth of the alleyway where they belong. Well, after they're booked, they'll be heading somewhere else they belong as well.

"We talkin' 'bout mutants now?" The flooftastic girl questions, a quirk of a smirk on her face, dimpling her cheek. "No, I don'. I don' t'ink m'a mutant, neither." Once far enough away, at least for her own comfort level, the girl peeks down the side of the building, watching as the hues of blue and red roll and bounce off the walls. "M'magic." She explains, simply, as if they were talking about water being wet.

Nibbling against her lower lip, she worries for the man and leans to the side, trying to look at the back of his head. "Y'promise y'feelin' ok? De brain…it's a funny t'ing when it's hurt, non?"


Daredevil's voice can't stop itself from sounding as though he doesn't quite believe her. He's not trying to be offensive, but it might come out that way. "I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure I believe in magic." Surely there's an explanation for her powers, right? Thinks the man who is a devout Catholic.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I've had concussions before, but this isn't one of them. I'll be fine."

"Yeah…magic." Lyn repeats, her worry slowly slipping away, even as she nods to his comment about being fine. "Why?" she questions at length, her head resting to one side as she leans her back against the building. "Don' y'believe in magic, I mean. Suppose not everybody does, but…in dis world? Dunno, how could y'not? Dey everyt'ing out dere now; monsters, gods, people wit powers. Magic is de hard part t'believe in?" Frowning, she reaches back and rubs at the nape of her neck, giving it a small scritch.

"You make a fair point," Daredevil says, unable to argue with that logic. "So," he says, quoting a very old movie. "Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?" All the while, Matt keeps an ear on those earlier conversations going on in the city, careful to listen for anything that might need his attention.

"Guess m'in de middle." She explains, almost bluntly. "Ain't runnin' int' danger much, but ain't causin' nobody no harm, neither. Well…'cept if dey be meanin' t'harm me first." Giving a shrug of her slender shoulders, she presses off the wall and stands before the Devil. Her snake like eyes give him the once over, and after a few more moments of silence, she focuses on his face. "What should I call ya? I'd like t't'ank de man dat helped me t'night, by name."

"Daredevil," says the man with the horns upon his head. He straights a bit, to 'look' at her. "What about you?" He's not thought about magic, really, and hasn't really come into contact with many people who had claimed to be practitioners of the dark arts. The Bible is pretty clear about those who dabble in such things. Matt had always chocked things up to tricks, but his mind wanders towards when he first met Lara Croft. Was that whole episode truly marked by magic as well? It's a lot to ponder.

That conversation, the one with the man who found his wife had been stepping out is getting pretty heated. "I have to go," he says solemnly. "Im happy you're alright."

Lyn presses up on her toes, giving the man a soft, brief peck against his cheek. "T'anks, Daredevil. Y'take care now, alright?" She doesn't make him stay, or even ask him to. Giving him another once over, she studies before turning and heading in some different direction. "M'glad you're alright, too!" She calls back to the man without fear.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License