The Window Shopper [Street Level] [Christmas Season] (Open)

[webdevil]

New York in December was a frigid neon sign. Rockefeller Center was lit up in stunning golds, reds, and greens, the pond frozen over for ice skating, and every single store in Times Square on through to Chinatown was full of shoppers from everything from Gucci to Grab Bag. It also created a haven for criminals looking for five finger discounts.

Take one Turk Barrett.

Petty thief, con man, common mugger, and the biggest stooge New York's seedy underbelly had ever seen if you didn't count his partner, Grotto. Turk's never worked an honest day in his life, but tonight in particular was even more heinous. It wasn't uncommon for Turk to reuse tricks if they had any value, but the problem was they became... predictable.

"Never waste a good plan, Grotto! Nevah!" he said as he pulled up the beard of a cheap looking Santa suit and pulled out the bell.

"Turk we did this a few years ago and you remember what happened then!" Grotto grunted rubbing his hands together.

"Hey if y'wanna go to Josie's, 'den git! Yew gotta have vision, man! Sho, I stabbed a wino, so wut? Blood washed out fine!" Turk barked harshly. Grotto grimaced and turned to keep a lookout.

Turk then began waving the bell with a smile on his face just as shoppers walked by. Turk, as one might have guessed, knocked over a Salvation Army stand, knocked out the original Santa, stole the suit, and now worked the busiest corner for days. What you didn't guess however, was the person he claimed to have stabbed a few years back was currently twenty feet above him on an awning draped in all red with the most hate filled expression on what little of his face you could see in the gathering dark.

That person was Daredevil. And this urban hunter was stalking his prey.

A few years ago, right around the holidays, Daredevil, also known as blind attorney Matt Murdock, had his identity uncovered by the Kingpin of Crime, Wilson Fisk. In the ensuing battle his license to practice law was taken away, his assets frozen, his friends isolated from him through shell games and job opportunities, and his brownstone utterly destroyed. It drove Matt, coloquially known as the Man Without Fear, to the brink of insanity; and a knife in his gut trying to stop Turk from mugging a kindly couple dressed in that exact same Santa outfit. He was a hunted dog, wounded, exhausted, and frozen. He never forgot that feeling: jumping at shadows, wondering if everyone you care for was out to get you as well. It only served to fuel his hatred towards Turk.

Daredevil wondered, albeit privately, if this was why he took a sad amount of pleasure beating up Turk every two or three weeks whenever he needed information. He would normally pity a man such as this; felt rather guilty for that seething pit in his stomach being satisfied whenever he would inevitably kick the crook's head in and usually toss him through Josie's plate glass window. But they were blocks away from Josie's tonight, and the crowd was too thick for him to drop in and beat up a seemingly "innocent" Santa Claus. He privately gagged at the thought. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to keep an close watch. Besides, he could always beat Turk up and donate his "charitable donations" in his name later.

But for now? Daredevil watched in the cold and darkness. At least tonight he was prepared for a stakeout with his heavy costume.

[Martyr]

---

  
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.

---

The cold was not a bother to Leyla Demir. Not only was she dressed for the weather, she was used to the Canadian cold. Her silver hair was tied into a ponytail. Demir had on a long sleeve black cable knit sweater. Across her shoulders, she wore a silver winter cape. She also wore a silver midi-length skirt with a herringbone weave. Below this were black leggings and short black boots. She carried a silver handbag.

The crowd was large. It was New York, after all. They congregated as endless numbered stars in the black blanket of the night's sky. This is how the Argent Arcanist often saw them as she walked among their dreams. Not now. Precious few in the city were in the midst of their dreams. She could be tending to them. Her own sleep was an afterthought. She could be among their nocturnal dreamscapes from dawn to dusk if need be.

There was however, a benefit to returning to the world around her, as uncomfortably finite as it often was. She could see the world as it is to better appreciate how it ought to be, if only in the bliss of slumber.

She did not seem to be paying attention to anyone she passed in particular. She was walking for its own sake. She was relaxed. Her heart rate was very low.

---

And Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's cap.
- Anon. "A Visit from St. Nicholas"

Template adapted from Silv.

[webdevil]

Ten minutes of this and so far Turk had managed only a couple drops. Grotto was becoming discouraged.

"See, Grotto? Ain't nuthin' twoeet," came the toothy drawl of the booze-smelling, dark-skinned St. Nick, flashing a grin and playing it cool.

"Turk, you only made like fifty bucks. You told me you were haulin' down fifty times that with Bulls- -"

"SHHHH!"

That piqued Daredevil's interest. Not that Turk was shutting Grotto up - that happened every other sentence - but what Grotto let slip. Was Grotto about to say 'Bullseye' and Turk shut him down like Voldemort? What could he be up to on Christmas? Daredevil felt his hand curl around the lacquered wood and metal of his billy club handle. Loads of things, the Man Without Fear conceded, and if Turk knew what the assassin was doing then it meant Bullseye was back in New York. He might have to rip the band-aid off quick afterall.

"Hoooo check her out, Grotto," came Turk's voice that snapped Daredevil from his reverie.

They let someone walk past, a woman if the updraft of the cold wind's scent gave anything away. That was not however what got Daredevil's attention; her near silent heartbeat despite the breaths and footfalls being much more rapid did. Turk, it seemed, was committed to his Santa gig and merely looked back as a man in a crisp blazer and heavy coat put a crisp set of bills into Turk's stolen Salvation Army jar. Grotto, meanwhile, seemed to fall in the crowd to get a better look at the woman who walked past.

Which meant Daredevil in turn fell in step from the roof...


-------------

Several blocks outside of even Daredevil's vaunted senses, a girl of about seventeen stood outside the large toy shop on the street. The display of the store for the Christmas season was draped in a cascading shower of reds, greens, and golds, as if somebody grabbed a forest campfire and made it into cloth. The latest toys, games, and gadgets all neatly adorned and organized to create a stationary parade for parents and children alike. Seeing her standing there alone gave a rather ominous feeling. Indeed, parents with their small children would give her a second glance before giving her a wide berth as they passed on to other shops.

"Shopping for you or for a brother?" asked a man behind her. This brought her from her reverie but she did not turn around.

"Or a sister?" he asked. The man appeared to be in his early twenties, tho his hair was beginning to recede. He had grown in a beard to hide a rather weak chin, had pointed eyes, and gave the appearance of a boy forcibly grown in a short span of time with the social skills to match. By contrast, the teenage girl had bright blond hair put tastefully into a plait, and wore a black and white striped sweater dress and heavy black jacket flecked with touches of silver stars. She was carrying under her arm what appeared to be a Calcabrina style china doll.

The girl turned to smile at the man though the edges of her lips did not quite meet her eyes. The man paid no notice of this.

"Just looking," she said sweetly. "I hate buying things when there is a chance somebody might buy something for me,"

The man took the small talk as an invitation to continue talking.

"So, uh, anything catch your eye?" he asked. The girl shook her head.

"Not yet, but I might find something, you never know,"

[zania]

Long tongue flickering, fixed stare grip.
Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip.
Be my slippery slider.

---

There was something about this time of year that appealed to Tanya. She couldn't quite put her finger on it . . . whether it was the lights, the sounds, the music, the atmosphere in general. Either way, it was something that she enjoyed. No matter what her troubles were, this time of year always seemed to lift her mood.

It didn't hurt that she had just completed a job for BAD Girls Inc recently, which meant that she had money to be able to splurge a bit on herself, as well as get something for Rachel and Cleo. In a way, she kind of preferred getting contracts for their own effort than taking on jobs with the Serpent Society since the contracts their company got generally didn't run them afoul of the law.

As she made her way through the crowd, she heard the familiar twinkle of a bell. It was something that was another holiday tradition . . . the kettle bell ringers for the Salvation Army, trying to encourage donations to the red buckets hanging from a pole next to them. Approaching the bell ringer, she pulled a $10 out of her purse and dropped it into the bucket before noticing that it didn't have a lock like most of the others she had seen. That was highly unusual since they normally remained locked until the Salvation Army collected the kettle at the end of the day.

Although she resumed milling about, she kept the bell ringer in view in order to check on this further once there was a chance to do so. The last thing she needed was to use her powers here and alarm the public . . .

---

Black Mamba crawl over me.

[Martyr]

---

  
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.

---

The woman did not give any overt indication that she noticed the man who was following her. If Daredevil were listening in, her heartbeat remained the same, its identical disquieting calm.

After she passed a man sleeping on a bench, warmed by an old ratty overcoat and a handful of last week's newspapers, there was something new. There was a quiet hum, a song. Well, quiet for someone without superhearing. It was not in English.

"Bir ay doğmuş anadan. Kaçınmamış yaradan. Mevla korusun nazardan."

As she sung, the fingers of her right hand moved in a very particular, deliberate pattern. It might be some sort of prayer, a familiar thing to someone like him.

After her ritual, she continued on her way. She cut across a side street before walking down an alley. The tall buildings and other obstructions made the darkness swallow more of the street than even the slowly receding Sun. It was a welcoming darkness.

---

And Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's cap.
- Anon. "A Visit from St. Nicholas"

Template adapted from Silv.

[webdevil]

Daredevil stalked the streets more silently and effectively than what should even be possible for a man standing six-feet-tall, weighing around two-hundred pounds, and clad in an all red getup that somewhat faded to black in the failing light. Nevertheless, that is exactly what he did as he watched Grotto following the woman with the silent heartbeat for a few steps until the woman stopped to spot a wino on a nearby bench bus shelter. Grotto did not hear a word, but Daredevil did, and what he heard gave him fair warning:

"Bir ay doğmuş anadan. Kaçınmamış yaradan. Mevla korusun nazardan."

Was that a... prayer? That was what it sounded like. The hand motion, however? What if it was a spell like Strange did? Possible. Before he could guess, Grotto made a yelp that got his attention. Grotto had spun around to warn Turk somebody was eyeballing him and pointing somewhere past them all. Okay, so he had not been spotted, so what was going on, now!?

Daredevil had no choice: Turk was liable to do something stupid in a crowd, so he focused his Radar Sense to try and get a gauge on just who the hell Grotto warned Turk about. Too late, Turk spotted whoever it was too - or at least must have - because he suddenly grabbed the half full kettle of cash and began hoofing it at top speed even for him, drawing a .38 from the sash of his Santa coat.

Now Daredevil had another choice: Stop Turk, or investigate the potentially supernatural threat?

Barely a heartbeat passed.

"Dammit," he said through gritted teeth, and with that, pulled out his twin billy club, hooked it together, and fired a line adjacent to intercept Turk before he panicked enough to fire blindly into a crowd.

[zania]

Long tongue flickering, fixed stare grip.
Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip.
Be my slippery slider.

---

Tanya continued to mill about the area, keeping a careful eye on the bell ringer. She didn't want to confront him outright about the missing lock on the kettle as that likely would have resulted in him running . . . and in this crowd with all of the holiday shoppers around, it could have created a panic.

Unfortunately, her hope to avoid a panic and not use her powers fell to the wayside as the bell ringer grabbed the kettle and began to run while drawing a gun from the Santa suit that he wore. Screams could be heard as people ran, which meant that a lot of people were going to get hurt due to the crowd pushing to try and flee from the scene, which could lead to some even being trampled because they couldn't keep up with the flow.

Using her powers, she attempted to tap into Turk's mind in order to find out his greatest love. If successful, a black shadow would extend from her feet toward him and coalesce into the shape of the person who he loved the most . . . a person that would hopefully get him to stop before it was too late.

No sooner had she done that, she noticed the line that landed in Turk's way, which also seemed intended to get him to stop. It seemed that she wasn't the only one who had taken an interest in making sure to end this before anyone could be hurt.

---

Black Mamba crawl over me.

[Martyr]

---

  
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.

---

Following the cacophony and chaos of the man dressed as Saint Nicholas panicking, the Argent Arcanist had a few options, and the particulars of what she could and should do were cemented by the hue and cry of the bystanders. What was it with Americans and their guns?

The Circadian Champion could call upon the energies of those endless numbered stars. She could focus it into a beam of silver light to strike out against her foe. However, as the Sun sat at its ever-burning throne, her moon-blessed magic was less powerful by day. Even in the City That Never Sleeps, most of it doing so aided her goals.

The Sentinel of Slumber could use the same magic she used to give the man on the bench a restful sleep to instead give the false Santa a catnap, leaving him to count sheep. Yet, to do so, he would have to hear her voice. It wouldn't be subtle, especially with all the surrounding noise.

So, the Argent Arcanist did in the daylight what she so often did in the twilight hours — she defended a single dreamer. Through the movement of her hands, through the sound of her voice, she surrounded the sleeper in her aegis. In the rarified world of dreams, such a protection would be a silver citadel. Here, in the hours man would not rest, its ramparts could be more readily breeched, but should still be more than enough to contend with the current threat.

---

And Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's cap.
- Anon. "A Visit from St. Nicholas"

Template adapted from Silv.

[webdevil]

WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

WHAM!

Turk didn't even get a second's notice before a blur of red in his peripheral flashed in his eyes before getting a full force impact right in the gut. The momentum of the blow sent him back a good six feet before landing hard on the sidewalk. Fortunately for Turk, he was smart enough to pad out the front of the Santa suit so the kick did not knock the wind out of him like it would have normally, but one glance forward told him just who hit him.

"DAREDEVIL!" he cried, reaching to point his gun at the hornheaded hero, only to realize his hand was empty. The gun had skittered several feet away in the dive.

"Don't do it, Turk," the Red Man warned with a snarl, his lip pulled back to reveal white teeth amidst the red. Turk tensed. He was afraid of Daredevil - and fear was a powerful motivator - but he was Turk Barrett. He was buddies with Bullseye! He had vision! He managed to make some good money here until some chickie behind him screwed it up! He had a choice here.

He chose poorly.

He dived for the pistol, exposing his back and leaving him wide open.

[zania]

Long tongue flickering, fixed stare grip.
Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip.
Be my slippery slider.

---

From where she stood, Tanya noticed Daredevil hit the fake bell ringer in the gut, sending him backwards. The gun that he brandished fell out of his hands and skittered several feet away. That meant that he was disarmed . . . but what was surprising was the fact that he hadn't reacted to the form that she was trying to coalesce from the Darkforce.

It was strange that her powers had no effect. Unless the subject was extremely strong willed, or they had nobody that they loved or feared the most, most could not resist her powers . . . to resist the form that the Darkforce . . . her skin . . . coalesced into as it often came from the depths of their very soul. It was rooted deep in their mind as their greatest loves or greatest fears.

Still, the gun had skittered away from the bell ringer, who Daredevil had called Turk. He had apparently recovered enough to where he was trying to dive for the gun . . . but she knew that if he got his hands on it, he could hurt a lot of people.

She was close enough to where she could reach the gun before Turk did. Without hesitation, she moved over to it and picked it up, making sure to put the safety back on so it wouldn't accidentally go off. "Looking for this?" she asked Turk coyly.

---

Black Mamba crawl over me.

[Martyr]

---

  
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.

---

There was still a threat. It was not in this moment the firearm-wielding thief. No, it was from a certain dark magic. It was a vision, a form pulled from shadows. She knew well when the blanket of the night sky came to wrap itself around the world. This was not the darkness that ushered in the rest of sleep and the soaring of dreams. It was the darkness in which nightmares hid.

The trouble with the waking world was that it was so unwelcoming. In a dream it was easy to know who was who and what was what. One could tell what ought to be and what ought not to be. In the waking world, everything seemed to be an ought not, so she could not so readily pinpoint what was wrong, the source of the vision.

For now, her guard was up and her shields were in place so that should this nightmarish foe attack, she would be ready, as always.

---

And Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap had just settled down for a long winter's cap.
- Anon. "A Visit from St. Nicholas"

Template adapted from Silv.

[webdevil]

Turk was momentarily distracted, and that cost him dearly, as Daredevil came in and took Turk out with a single punch straight to the jaw. Daredevil's enhanced senses felt the man's jaw crackle as a man's does when he gets knocked out hundreds of times. He was fortunate he had restraint compared to some of the people who beat on Turk; he didn't want to concuss the idiot. Grotto was getting away but Daredevil ignored him. Grotto would not get far: He'd make a beeline for Josie's and try to hide under her bartop and hoping she pulled the 12-gauge on Daredevil when he came looking. Knowing Josie? She would consider it, but then give up Grotto if it meant nobody went flying through her plate glass window. Again.

Daredevil let his Radar tense at the woman who swiped Turk's gun. She had a dangerous quality to her. Slow heartbeat, adrenaline barely raised despite the dangerous situation. Who was this?

"And.. You are?" he asked.

And then he heard a scream.