Excuse me? Do I have to kick your ass?
- Invitation Status
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- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Advanced, Prestige, Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male, Female
- Horror, Yaoi/Yuri(for reasons), Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Fighting,
(If the above image constructed by the amazingly talented OrlandoBloomers wasn't enough of an indication, this is going to be a crossover RP with Daredevil from the hit Netlfix show and Blade from his own set of films teaming up. With some elements of Hellboy thrown in as well for good measure. Now that the one person(Micah) who will read this is well informed than I'll not waste your time any further and get right down to the nitty gritty!)
Ah, Hell's Kitchen. What could one really say about such a place? After the New York Conflict, whenever someone's needed a place to put down and claim it's nothing more than a den of scum and people seeking to profit off the weak? Hell's Kitchen has been there to stomach the abuse and take it without being able to dish out any of it's own. While the rest of New York celebrates how much superheroes like The Avengers have done for not only the american people but the world as a whole, Hell's Kitchen's people stand out as a vocal minority. Where was Captain America when a crack deal went wrong and someone's husband was gunned down in cold blood? Perhaps right on their doorstep if they really wanted the message to get across clearly. Where was Hawkeye when people's apartments were being demolished with sledgehammers in order to satisfy the white rich-collar thugs who had this city in the palm of their hand while the poor and middle class suffered?
It seemed as if the city was the personal plaything of any deviants who had enough money and resources to get the right amount of men and weapons necessary to make a statement. One that was often given in the blood of those who didn't deserve to die. But if the people cannot turn to their idolized superheroes than surely they can turn to the boys in blue, right?
The police force has been invaded and been gripped tightly by the roots of corruption and they don't seem to be getting loose any time soon. Which has lead to quite a few 'accidents' as they've been labeled by the police. When in truth the police involved in those accidents were on the payroll of whoever felt like hiring them out that day. Be it the Japanese, the Hand, hell maybe even the Russians. But one man remained a consistent with having his hands in nearly every sector of power that counted. The judges, the police, the lawyers, even a senator was in his pocket. Who was this man who held so much yet had so little known about him?
All that's known for sure is that even the most intimidating of men who work under his employ don't mention him by name. The thought of doing so is enough to drive some to suicide. This man's name is Wilson Fisk.
Fisk had made arrangements to be on the same page as the other factions plaguing Hell's Kitchen which has left him as the pillar of power in the food chain. With such influence it didn't seem like there would ever be someone who would question Fisk's rule. But if one did arise it'd have to be a special man. One without fear of any kind.
A Daredevil if you will.
Well, it just so happens that one man has been taking the fight against Fisk's affairs from day one and happens to fit that role. He's known to his friends and associates as Matthew Murdock, son of famous boxer Jack 'Battlin' Murdock and attorney at law with his best friend Foggy Nelson. But at night he takes on a different identity. One who's been doing what no one else would. Stopping those who escape from the hands of the law.
Tonight however he's just a blind man attempting to enjoy a few drinks with his friends. But no one knows when this period of supposed tranquility will end. That is, except for Matt.
"Okay, okay. So we were walking down the sidewalk right? I grabbed Matt's walking stick and in the most perfect impersonation mind you, did the following. Ey there! I'm Blind Matt Murdock! Nice to meet ya!" Foggy Nelson, Matt's partner in law and best friend joked as him, Karen and Matt all sat around the table in their usual bar of choice:Josie's Bar.
"I usually was just called Matt Murdock. The glasses were usually enough of a giveaway to the rest."
"Then Matt got back at me by commenting how I learned Punjabi instead of Spanish. But lemme tell you something Karen and I want to be quoted when I say this! Punjabi will be the language of the future! Forget English, Spanish, French, some weird amalgamation of those three and look towards Punjabi. Then you and Matt here will be thinking to yourself 'Gosh I should have asked Foggy for Punjabi lessons. However will I get by now?'"
"I'm sure there'll be lines around the block for 'Punjabi Lessons with Foggy Nelson'"
"De Foggy un buen chico correcto guapo Matt?"
"No es suficiente para la chica punjabi , Karen guapo. Fue una verdadera lástima."
"..Okay. I have the slightest indication you guys are talking about me. Well three can play at this game. Puedo arreglar su vaca de plomería?"
"You just asked Karen if you could fix her plumbing cow."
"Oh. Well, uh I'm sure Karen's plumbing is fine! I mean our plumbing is fine! Oh and uh your cow too. If you have a cow I mean. Yeeeeah, not too good at this stuff."
Taking some level of sympathy for his friend, Matt reached over and patted him on the back.
"You'll get your day, Foggy. Someday."
But as the laughs began to fade and the group began to return to their drinks and mingling among themselves, something caught Matt's attention. After the nasty chemical incident that left his eyes blinded but increased his other senses, if he concentrated hard enough, he could hear sounds that the normal human ear would see as impossible.
This one sounded alarming to the lawyer however. The man's heartbeat was erratic and it was clear he was getting on years due to how weakly it beated and how fast his footsteps sounded as he ran in what Matt assumed to be an alleyway given the metallic thudding of a trash can falling to the wayside. Perhaps a futile way to try and deter his pursuer?
All of this synced up to give Matt a good mental visual of who was being chased. It was an elderly man with a weak heart and what sounded like a shotgun strapped over his shoulder given the distinct sound it gave off when smacking against the thick jacket the man must have been wearing for the shotgun to have made such a noise.
But that wasn't the strangest part of this all. For as Matt continued to listen, the heartbeat of what he could only guess was this man's pursuer felt stronger than most. Like the man he had seen at the docks. The one Stick referred to as Nobu.
If this was him or someone associated with them than perhaps this old man knew something vital to their organization and maybe Fisk as well. Putting morality aside because he wasn't going to let some hitman take out an old man regardless, this could really have been what he was looking for to try and nail Fisk once for all.
To put him in his place when Matt Murdock could not. But the man in the black mask could. Clutching a hand to his stomach, Matt rose to his feet and shook his head.
"I don't think all those drinks and the food we had before we got here is settling well. I think I'm gonna turn in for the night you guys." He'd say before giving a wave as he started off only for Karen to voice her concerns at Matt's apparent stomach ailments.
"Do you need me or Foggy to drive you home, Matt? You can pop down some pepto-bismol from there and get some sleep. With all that's been going on.."
"I'll be fine, Karen. I've gone this long without getting hurt right? What's another night gonna do? I'll see you guys in the morning." He'd say before finally heading on out as Foggy waved his friend goodbye before nodding towards Karen.
"Yeeeep. I wouldn't be too worried about him Karen. I've watched his back for years and the guy never fell into a single open manhole. I'm sure he'll get home fine, get some pepto-bismol like you suggested and then kick back and relax! Like we should be doing! We shouldn't be out here worrying, right?"
"I guess so. Well, I hope you're right Foggy.."
Karen had legitimate cause to be worried. For nearly every night Matt put on the black mask that had made him a thorn in the side of the organized crime syndicate in Hell's Kitchen. But when the law couldn't do anything or was already in the hands of the bad guys, Matt decided that law needed to be take in a more direct way and what was more direct than this? Having gotten a change of wardrobe, he was the man without fear. The one who showed the scum of Hell's Kitchen that they are not untouchable. The same would happen here and he'd protect this man from whatever soulless hitman of the week had been tasked with dealing with him.
Focusing on the man's frightened whimpers as he continued to run as fast his aged body could take him, Matt moved along the rooftops in a spectacle of sprinting and precise jumps. As he drew closer there was something that unnerved him. Just how calm the other man's heartbeat was and how slowly he walked. As if he knew that this man could run himself silly. But the wasn't getting away. At least not unless somebody stood up for him in a situation where nobody else would or could.
Finally making his way to a rooftop which overlooked the alleyway the chase was happening within, he could audibly hear the old man thud into a wall. He had reached a dead end just as his pursuer knew he would. The shotgun had slid away from him in the collision. The sound of metal scrapping against the scabbard indicated a sound that Matt had unfortunately grown too familiar with. If he had any suspicions about this man working for Nobu, and given how he had stalked this man down, the clues seemed to be adding up.
But he couldn't waste any more time thinking. Not while a man's life hung in the balance. Leaping down a fair distance behind the hitman, Matt drew the escrima sticks that Stick had left to him and the old man's eyes widened in surprise.
"Please help me! T-This man's crazy! He's going to kill me!"
"I'm only going to say this once. Back off. Now."
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