Cutscene: Alongside the Aftermath

June 30, 2018:

After the bombing of Hell's Kitchen Owen Mercer tries to make sense of what's happened and what he was inadvertently a part of. This scene occurs at the same time and intersects Daredevil and Six in Aftermath ( and happens right before Owen runs into Luke in Half Truths, Partial Lies (

The Remains of Hell's Kitchen

No two things are not on fire.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Kingpin, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Emery, Danny Rand, Daredevil, Six

Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

After Owen managed to clean up his phone and himself after losing the contents of his stomach onto it in an alleyway he managed to compose himself. His plan to find his gear, and help whoever he can goes fairly well, even with a bum arm. At least for a while. Until he finds one too many people who are already dead and it sinks in afresh exactly what's happened here tonight. That this wasn't a single bar being blown up with enough metas to pack a clown car to save every patron inside. No. This was destruction on a scale that even Owen a former supervillain, current black ops government agent can't comprehend.

Owen's seen plenty of death. He's killed more than his fair share of people. But this is different. This is something completely new. And the blood, or at least part of it, falls squarely on his hands.

Numbly Owen decides to call it and drags himself through the streets and across rooftops as needed to Gramercy park. It takes nearly an hour to drag himself there, especially as he tries to make a stealthy approach to Danny Rand's majestic home. The enhanced security outside the building only makes him more wary as he quietly slips onto the roof. Making sure to stay out of sight as best as possible he approaches the door and tries it to find it locked which isn't unusual.

But as he's pulling out his usual lock picking set to slip in as he has in the past he realizes that there is something new in play. A biometric scanner. Looking around to see if there were any new cameras he missed Owen considers his next play.

He wanted to check on Jess and Luke. And Danny and Emery and Kennis. That's why he's here right? Those are good things. He's doing a good thing. It's fine.

And so he presents his thumb.


That figures.

Owen briefly considers trying to clean up enough to show up at the front door but he's vaguely aware that Rand is going through enough issues of his own and the last thing he needs is a co-conspirator of probably the worst bombing America has ever seen showing up on his door the night of the bombing. He should just go… but where?

Jumping across roofs and slinking through alleys in midtown has become something of a habit but soon Owen finds himself in a nearly deserted Times Square. The bright lights are gone. It's dark in the city. The noise of the rescue vehicles and government agencies swarming to help the injured and clear the area just a few streets over shouldn't be audible but with the late hour of night and the loss of power they can be clearly heard. So Owen makes his way through the square, passing few others, drawing only a confused look as people scurry to either check on loved ones or collapse somewhere safe.

A single bodega on 50th somehow remains open. It's light drawing Owen in like a moth. He needs a drink. And something to eat. And another drink. The older man behind the counter greets Owen with barely a head nod despite the fact that he's still wearing his mask and 'costume' as it were. Luis, the clerk, doesn't seem to care the he's bleeding and covered in ash and looks like hell, it's the wee hours of the night in NYC, this isn't that weird.

Owen grabs his six pack of whatever is cheapest and a handful of candy bars. He makes his way to the counter and sets it down. Luis finally seems to notice that he looks like hell and nods up at the TV which is of course showing all the carnage in as great a gruesome detail as possible.

"You come from the kitchen man? It's crazy what's goin on over there?"

Owen, barely lucid, can only nod.

"I gotchoo esse. You look like you could use a break. I got your back."

Owen tilts his head and then finally understands that Luis is comping his 'meal' as it were. He grunts out a thank you and heads for the door.

Luis calls out, "Yo. You'll get a kick out of this. Loco gringo on the national news called it fuckin' Clinton! Pfft. Clinton."

Owen chuckles to himself and heads for the door, thankful for something to laugh about in all this sea of awful.

** begin overlap with Aftermath ***

Which brings Owen back to Hell's Kitchen. Sitting on a rooftop drinking his third beer. The candy bars are gone and Owen should be too but he can't bring himself to leave the destruction.

Look at what they did to my home

Something catches Owen's eye. A glint of a metallic figure moving, jogging moving closer to something.. no to someone. A figure in red. He's tired, his eyes are starting to cross a bit from exhaustion. But they look like… wouldn't that just be perfect.

His mask isn't as fancy as some, but it does have the ability to magnify and zoom in on the scene. And though it lacks any onboard AI to confirm the identities, Owen doesn't need it. There, before him stand the figures he was asked to betray for his bag of silver (well lifetime supply of artificial heroin, but bag of silver sounds more poetic).

"Oh fuck you."

Who Owen is choosing to curse isn't clear. The two figures embracing? Himself? Fisk? All of them?

He seethes watching them. Angry at himself for even listening to the deal, let alone going along with it. Angry at Fisk for manipulating him. Angry at himself for being such an easy mark. Angry at these two for crossing Fisk and bringing this whole thing down on the kitchen (though that last one is unfair, he doesn't realize).

He's angry enough to reach into the duffle bag he's still carrying. To look for the weapons it contains. There was a rifle in there, maybe even a grenade launcher. He could take the shot. Just add them to the ridiculous body count he saw on the TV in the bodega. What the hell is two more lives on his hands?

Why shouldn't he? He's already going to pay the price for having been a part of this. He's already damned.

You're right. We should move..

The figures start to move and Owen doesn't. He just watches them go.

Because the reality is he can't fathom adding even the tiniest speck of dirt to the mountain of terrible that is tonight, let alone murdering two capes in cold blood.

The reality is that Owen may be damned, but there's still a sliver of hope. Just the tiniest slice that he still holds out that maybe, just maybe, he's not completely lost.

Composing himself Owen pulls out his slightly cleaned up phone to text the number given to him by Fisk.


… message failed to send.


… message failed to send.


… message failed to send.

Finally Owen gives up and shoves the phone back into his pocket, pulls off his mask and jacket and shoves those into the bag. He finishes the last of his beers and heads down to the street. He doesn't know where yet. Just to somewhere.

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