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Post by Deleted on Feb 22, 2016 18:08:55 GMT -7
NOTE: This story takes place twenty-four hours before Wilson Fisk ReturnsHis head was pounding. It hadn't stopped pounding. It had been at least a couple months since this began. What was that from? He could not remember. Every time he tried to think back that far his head pounded something fierce. When he realized what he was doing, he was lying in a bed in some sleazy cheap motel in Jersey City. New Jersey!? What the hell was he doing out there!? It was the first place SHIELD would look for him! He also realized, after getting a good look in the cheap mirror across the walkway, a section of his cybernetics was exposed. He fixed that problem with duct tape until it grew back. How the hell did he get out here? He had a lot of questions. By the time he was able to think straight, he was already on a ferry back to Manhattan. He quickly popped a white pill, at least his pills were still on his person, he thought feeling relieved. He was a big enough man, but he kept his head down. To most onlookers, he just appeared to be another hobo, which suited him fine. What he needed to do was get to a safehouse. He felt exposed out here. Anybody around him could have been SHIELD or US government, another group of scuzzballs he didn't want anything to do with. It was maddening how slow this thing went. He considered for a moment killing the driver and cranking it, but it would make a scene, probably invite a mask like Daredevil. Wait, Daredevil!? That guy hung out in Hell's Kitchen! Why would he be on the other side of the island? Why did he even think that? He didn't know. He clenched his fists. He needed off this boat and into his safehouse. He felt exposed.
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Post by Rift on Feb 22, 2016 19:19:06 GMT -7
John Walker sat patiently as Valerie Cooper entered the safe house turned temporary operational headquarters. He rose to greet her and made no effort to conceal his surprised expression. Normally, the director of the Commission would have sent someone carrying a message or used a secure line to communicate. It was fairly out of the ordinary for her to actually be on site. Whatever this was all about, it was certain to be big. “John,” she greeted him informally. “You've read the file we provided?” He nodded an affirmative. “Its a shame. This Simpson character should have been one of the good guys and instead he appears to have become the exact opposite, a psycho that wraps himself in the flag.”The director agreed. “Well, said psycho had a run in with the vigilante Daredevil not long ago, putting him back on our radar. Unfortunately, he's also on the radar of a number of other organizations, some friendly, others far from. He could be a useful asset to any number of these organizations, the information he may have could be invaluable to whoever gets their hands on him. I fully intend for it to be us responsible for bringing him in.” John smirked. “Snatch and grab, huh?”“Yes, textbook really,” she assured him. “Ma'am, no plan survives first contact with the enemy. Throw in superpowers and the complications that arise show up sooner and in greater numbers.”“Which is why I'm putting you in charge of bringing him in. You are free to use whatever methods you find necessary, but we need him alive,” she responded. “We already have our best intelligence people working on finding him and we think we have a lead.” John cracked his knuckles. “When and where?”"Gear up and meet the team we've assembled downstairs," she answered. "You'll be briefed enroute." John gritted his teeth. "Ma'am, no disrespect, but you wanted me back in action right? Then let me work. I respect the hell out the boys you put together here, but when it comes to superpowered people, they are just going to slow me down and get in the way."
Cooper considered it a moment, clearly unhappy with Walker's bravado. "Fine. You'll go it alone. For now. But this has to go off without a hitch. We need this." "I can do this. Nothing is going to stand in the way. Nothing and no one.
"Suit up then," she replied. "We have a chopper waiting and you'll receive updates enroute." As John moved to finish putting on gear an official of some sort entered, a case in hand as he whispered to Cooper. "And John?" she added. "This might come in handy." Opening the case he saw the familiar shape of the vibranium disc shield. They'd manage to recover it after all. Strapping on several weapons he smiled savagely.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2016 11:45:34 GMT -7
Simpson left the ferry without incident and headed west for a few blocks, doubling back a couple of times in case he was followed. So far so good. He stepped into the nearest subway station and boarded a train. He didn't catch any whiff of trouble until he made it over to Little Italy, when he caught a tracker trying too hard to look like he was talking on his cell phone. His enhanced speed had him on the man before he could react. A simple twist and dumpster toss later and he was clear. Sure he had to duck down another back alley to avoid his supporter, but he shook him off relatively quickly. Close call. The man called Nuke detoured around for another hour before he made it to the safehouse in Little Germany. He couldn't help but sense the irony. Still, he needed a shower, fix his jaw, food, and some ammo. Once he stepped inside, he knew he alerted the agency that watched over it. He used his training of how to break into a secure safehouse and disabled the alarm, but that only bought him at the most a good sixteen hours before he had to move to the next one, which was a real shame. Sure the place was a shit hole compared to the one in Tribeca, but it had high ceilings and a full stocked fridge. Ah well. He stripped off his tattered military garb and stepped in front of the mirror, using the hidden compartment to pull out additional synthskin for his face and applying it before stepping into the shower. Oh he needed that.
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Post by Rift on Feb 24, 2016 15:11:27 GMT -7
John was stone faced as he received the news. One the of the men the Commission had tracking Nuke had gone silent shortly after confirming that he had a visual on him. Given Simpson’s history chances were good that the operative was dead, killed trying to do the right thing. A man who in all likelihood had people that cared about him like parents, siblings, a wife and kids. None of who would ever see him again. Another name to be added to the long list of those felled in the line of duty, serving the greater good. All because one science experiment gone bad chose to turn on his country. Just one more reason to take this psycho down the hard way, John thought. Much as he wanted to he was not going to get the chance to go search for the operative’s body. Director Cooper had contacted over his earpiece, told him that mining their resources the Commission had discovered a safehouse here in New York. Though they couldn’t confirm it belonged to Simpson an individual matching his general description had been seen in the vicinity. The information wasn’t the most up to date, the sighting of Nuke being nearly a month or more old, but it was the best lead they had at the moment. And so that’s where he headed, sprinting across rooftops and vaulting over fire escapes, the run not only letting him stretch out, but helping him burn off some of the temper building. He came to a stop when he reached the area of Manhattan known as Hell’s Kitchen. He knew the area from the news and official reports alike. The Kitchen had been a bad neighborhood for as long as anyone could remember and recently the spike in violent crime and gang activity had hit the airwaves, even garnering a spot on the national news last week. Aside from that, the Kitchen’s other claim to fame was the vigilante Daredevil, the so-called Man Without Fear. Walker wasn’t too impressed based on what he knew of the outlaw, but anyone who dressed up like Satan to go around beating on thugs had to have a screw or two loose. Eyeing the suspected safehouse he noticed lights on and a number of unmarked black SUVs out front. A quick check in with command proved his suspicion correct. According to chatter a government agency of some sort had beaten him to the punch. It may have been CIA, S.H.I.E.L.D., or any number of other alphabet agencies. Either way, the Commission had lead on this particular case and he planned to make sure they knew it. Casually walking up to the entrance two commando looking operatives stepped in front of him, one placing an open palm on his chest. He only gave the briefest of glances at the uniform before speaking. “Sir, this area is cordoned off during the course of a government investigation. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” “I’m well aware because it is my investigation. I’m here by the authority of the Commission on Superhuman Activities, so I’m going to have to ask you to step aside. And son? I’m giving you one chance to take that hand off of me and retain the ability to use it properly.” The operative elected to do things the hard way and U.S.Agent obliged. The front door splintered , hanging off the hinges as both of the door guards flew into the safehouse proper. Strolling through the now wide-open entrance he casually kicked the sidearm of one of the downed men out of range, not that he was going to regain consciousness any time soon anyway. “Listen up boys, I don’t know which alphabet soup organization sent you, but you can pack up and go home. Simpson is the Commission’s problem, not yours. We are all on the same side here, but aside from having my orders, that lunatic has now killed one of ours, so it is personal.”
One of the men inside, your typical government suit, the type of jerk that wears his sunglasses at night in doors, shook his head. “U.S.Agent right? Listen, go play at being a superhero somewhere else. We don’t have time for dealing with dressup drama right now and I have had more than my fair share babysitting Brock back in the day. We are taking point on this and if…who was it you said? The Commission? If Valerie Cooper doesn’t like it have her call my director. Now run along home or to whatever convention you need to get to and tell her Agent Smith sent you.” U.S.Agent’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “Not happening Shades. I have my orders and I am going to find Simpson. If that means I have to go through you and your cookie cutter soldiers here, than so be it. I just hope your fellow pencil pushers held enough back from their black budget to afford medical care for these boys, because you are gonna need it.”
The only answer came in the form of weapons fire. Moments Later…An operative in black tactical gear flew through a window and into the street outside the safehouse as the unnamed government agency continued to assault the U.S.Agent. Inside, the Agent grabbed a man around the throat and lifted, tossing him into the ceiling where a cheap ceiling fan fell back to the floor with the now unconscious soldier. Diving behind an old ratty couch for cover, Walker wasted no time in kicking the rather heavy piece of furniture, sending it skidding across the floor and into the legs of two of the assailants firing at him. Vaulting over the upturned couch, he landed, planting a knee in throat of one of the men before he could regain his feet, effectively cutting off his air long enough to put him under. Despite the sudden eruption of violence, U.S.Agent was not using lethal force on the men. Misguided as they were, they were fellow Americans serving their country, following bad orders. That didn’t mean he was playing nice though. Another operative attacked him, this time with a combat knife. He blocked the blade hand while catching the other arm and delivered a headbutt that shattered the man’s nose. A well placed to the chest sent the guy flying and no doubt broke some ribs. U.S.Agent snatched the knife out of the air before it could clatter to the ground and stabbed downwards, planting the blade in the thigh of another attacker that grabbed him from behind in an attempted chokehold. Pushing off the ground his superior strength and height caused the man to fall backwards, the air rushing from his lungs from the force of the fall, increased by the fact John’s shield was strapped to his back. Prying his attacker’s arm from around his neck, Agent regained his feet. Several more operatives gathered, ready to jump in. U.S.Agent extended his hand to them palm up and curled his index finger in a “bring it on” motion.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2016 17:21:50 GMT -7
The new suit crinkled under his body as he was breaking it in. Given the attack on his ribs a few months ago not to mention the uptick in gang violence, adding a bit more reinforcement was probably a good idea. He had gotten word out to his contacts and they fashioned him a suit not unlike one he wore in Fury's Secret War, but a lot closer to his classic red threads. It was light, almost like clothing, but even he could feel the tensile strength from his fingertips. He was going to need these tonight. And then came the all too familiar sound: Gunshots. Not uncommon these days given Mr. Negative's men literally trying to claim the streets block-by-block from what counted as Wilson Fisk's chapter in Hell's Kitchen. Sure, Fisk wasn't actively trying to tear his city apart, but his regulation of the streets up until Negative's power play kept crime to the occasional purse snatcher, rapist, serial killer, or super criminal. Then it all came in droves: Explosions, Shriek, Mysterio, and many more haunted his turf. He began to feel like no end to the madness would come. He cartwheeled over the rooftop's ledge, pulling out his billy clubs mid-flip and anchoring them all in one graceful motion, swinging towards the source of the gunfire. It came from a building barely a block away. Landing on the parapet above it, he scanned for any ways in, which came up negative. Judging from the distance of the fighting, they must've been on the ground floor. A rear door approach then. He rappelled down the building and found a boarded up window and wall. It wasn't uncommon for buildings to be boarded up in recent weeks, but the loose facade of boarding seemed... off. He barely had time to get out of the way and line himself back up to the parapet out of sight when somebody in a tactical gear was thrown through the boards with an almighty ' CRASH!' He heard another sound ring in his ears though. Was that vibranium/adamantium alloy? He only knew of a few people with that sound to their name. Captain?
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Post by Rift on Feb 24, 2016 18:48:13 GMT -7
U.S.Agent rushed at the soldiers tossing his shield as he performed a roundhouse kick that flipped one of the men. Catching the shield as it rebounded off the helmeted skull of another soldier he twisted, backhanding one into the wall where the cheap plaster cracked under the impact, bits of paint and dust falling from the ceiling as a result. Reaching out he grabbed strap of a rifle and twisted the one wearing it about before delivering a left hook that knocked him out and sent the lenses of his protective goggles popping out of their frame. Blocking a punch from a man with his shield, the force of the blow breaking the man's fist. Before he could worry about finishing him off he noticed that Smith had drawn his own weapon and was lining up a shot. While he could easily avoid the shots the soldier with the broken hand wouldn't be so lucky and he didn't want to simply hope and pray the body armor would protect the man. Leaving himself exposed to the soldier he moved his shield to block the incoming shots. Some rattled uselessly against the red and black shield, but the last few he redirected by sweeping the shield. They ricocheted heading back where they had come from and struck Agent Smith in the leg and shoulder, dropping him in a shout of pain. Without turning around he backhanded the soldier he'd just saved hard enough to cause whiplash. “Game over Smith. Call the rest of your men off and we'll get all of you medical attention. I don't have time for this. Nuke isn't here which means I need to find a way to get back on his trail, not fight my fellow countrymen,” John announced. “Or do you really want to have the remainder of your guys put in traction over a jurisdictional issue?”
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2016 19:14:42 GMT -7
That voice. That wasn't Captain America. But that was a vibranium/adamantium hybrid shield. That could only mean that was the US Agent. The US Agent use to work for SHIELD, but rumor has it he had since left. And he was after Nuke. This is bad. Agent was already a loose cannon to begin with, if he remembered something Cap told him once about him during the Civil War, and whoever controlling him getting Nuke as well? No, not in his city. He had to stop him and then get a word out to Natasha as fast as possible. He followed the Agent until he was clear of any potential backup for at least a block before intersecting at the right moment and was rewarded with his perseverance with dropping double boots to the back, flooring the US Agent into the concrete. Daredevil used the momentum to cartwheel into a flip and landed on a parked car in a crouch, reeling his grapple cable in. "Sorry Agent, but Nukes are too dangerous for anybody to weaponize," he said dryly, though aggressively implying he wasn't horsing around. Hell's Kitchen had enough homicidal maniacs without adding this one to the list.
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Post by Rift on Feb 24, 2016 20:02:38 GMT -7
John flew face first and hit the ground. HARD. Pushing himself to his knees, John tasted blood, spitting a bit on the concrete. His nose hurt, possibly broken and he knew that his teeth were looser than they had been moments before. Glancing up at where Daredevil crouched wiped his mouth, eyes narrowed. This must be Daredevil, Hell's Kitchen's personal costumed prima donna. “Not your call Devil,” U.S.Agent snarled. “Simpson has information that could be useful or dangerous if he ends up and the wrong hands. At the least needs to be taken off the streets. I have my orders and this is government business. You interfering? That's what we call treason. Besides, from what I hear you had your shot at dealing with him.”
Standing once more he pulled his shield from his back. He briefly contemplated offering the vigilante a chance to back down, but he doubted that would yield any results. Anyone crazy enough to dress like that wasn't someone who could be reasoned with. “Let's see how well you do when an enemy doesn't have his back to you while you sneak around in the dark,” he barked. Running forward he jumped, twisted midair, and lashed out to sweep Dardevil's legs out from under him.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2016 20:19:06 GMT -7
Daredevil knew the attack was coming and easily cleared the super soldier's shield and conked him right in the back of his armored but more exposed neck with his billy club mid-cartwheel, balling up to spring off the shield as it came swinging back around for him on instinct, clearing the distance with a backflip. His tactics were similar to Cap's, which meant he was no pushover. Stay on his flanks. Unlike Cap, however, he noticed the Agent favored his right over his left, which meant he would usually feint left or in his heavy strikes try some sleight of hand. Good to know. The distance was medium range, which meant the Agent would either charge or use a pistol, too close to throw the shield with any major effect. Clearly this man had a temper. Use it. "Treason? Weaponizing a sick man to create more war and more violence on 'behalf of your country,' in ways that aren't even laid down in the eyes of God or the laws in which bind us? Good to see where America's interests are, Agent," he said and he re-engaged, getting past the shield's guard but into a dead lock with club against his drawn pistol, the other hand getting wrist control over the shield arm. "Off the streets doesn't mean in the hands of somebody willing to put him back out on somebody else's, regardless of what foreign policy they possess," he said snarling, literally throwing his political platitudes back in his face. Work the temper. Throw him off balance.
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" That'd be me. The Spider-Man of tomorrow, here to save today... "
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Post by Rift on Feb 24, 2016 20:45:45 GMT -7
He's acrobatic, likes to flip. Vaguely similar to the Spider, but not quite as kinetic, more like one of those Parkour fools all over the internet, he thought. Maybe if I can catch him midair it will make a difference.Before he could put theory into practice he found himself face to face with the vigilante, access to his weapons blocked. Alright, a dance with the Devil it is.U.S.Agent practically growled in response to Daredevil's taunting, leaning back before attempting to headbutt the red clad vigilante. "Right, because your way is better? What will you do Daredevil? Smack him around a little, leave him for police ill-equipped to handle someone of his caliber, and wait for him to break free again to kill more civilians? Or would you have a foreign power acquire him to use against us? Or do you plan to use nice language to convince him of the error of his ways? ” he spat. “Who are you to judge? Some guy with poor fashion sense that thinks the law doesn't apply to him, but that someone acting with proper sanction is in the wrong for trying to do the same thing, only legally? To assume that he knows what is best for his fellow citizens, rules be damned, while everyone else pays the price for your arrogance? Plus, like some tree hugging hippie you automatically think everything will be weaponized rather than thrown in a hole where it belongs. Your kind make me sick. You are everything wrong with the country these days.”
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2016 21:07:04 GMT -7
Daredevil took a headbutt from the Agent square in the face, breaking them up. Helmet held up, but he felt his lip split. He was stronger than Cap. Fine, gloves off. He re-engaged by firing a Billy Club to his left, which rebounded and got under the shield's guard, clearing it away from the Agent's face, who then got a left Superman punch to the face. Daredevil needed to keep the momentum. Dude had a steel jaw, which meant weaker throat. He followed through with an exploder uppercut to the jaw. He ducked out of the shield's way, picking up his Billy Club and forming a cable chain sickle, spinning with unorthodox angles, pounding again, again, again. They were just glancing blows however, the US Agent's kevlar was too thick. He reeled it in and got a body blow to the gut. Okay, so the reinforced armor was holding. Still, ow. Two. Three.
No more. He caught the arm, pulled it through, pivoted and garroted the Agent. "We are what people like you created. To do what you would not. This is my city. My family! And it's seen enough of lapdogs like you! Like Simpson! It takes monsters to fight monsters, how blind are you!? Who will face judgment for his crimes, then? Crimes done on behalf of filth like your paid off employers! Who will be left to clean up the mess in your wake? Who will be left to bury the rest!? NO MORE!He kicked the back of his knee at a pressure point rather hard and dropped him to his knees. He wanted a dance with the Devil, he got one.
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Post by Rift on Feb 26, 2016 15:37:51 GMT -7
U.S.Agent cursed, dropping to his knees. Damn pressure points, he thought, remembering a past battle where Captain America had used them to counter his superior strength. His mind raced as he struggled to breath. There were a few ways he could escape the position he was in now. Being several inches taller and a great deal stronger than Daredevil he could struggle back to his feet and flip the vigilante over his head. Similarly, he could have battled against the pain in his knee and if Daredevil kept holding on he could slam himself back first into the nearest building until he decided to release him. Another option was to go for his knife or another weapon and aim backwards. All of which would require time, effort, and potential pain he didn’t need to put himself through. Instead he gripped his shield tightly and despite his blurring vision, threw it across the street. It struck a fire hydrant , bounced into a streetlight the city had long ago stopped bothering to keep on, and ultimately ricocheted off the wall behind Daredevil and struck the vigilante in the small of the back. Given the loss of momentum, the poor initial toss, and the fact that the vigilante was wearing some form of body armor he doubted the damage would be permanent, but he’d feel it for a few days at least. As U.S.Agent regained his feet, coughing, he cartwheeled to retrieve his shield, securing it once more on his back. Standing tall once more rubbed his throat and triggered his energy truncheon, the snap-hiss loud in the empty street, the glow casting his face in an eerie light. “Your city? This is an American city, it belongs to the people, not some joker with a Lucifer fixation. The Kitchen has a ton of problems and if you cared about it as much as you claim, you’d be dealing with real problems, criminals, not fighting me when brining Simpson in to face judgment is why I am here. Right or wrong, my country trusts me to do what must be done. You though? You have no authority, no right to pass judgment on Nuke, me, or anyone else. You are an outlaw, a criminal, a coward no different than those you sneak around beating on in the dark and I’m not going to argue right and wrong with scum like you. So shut up and FIGHT!”
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2016 16:26:04 GMT -7
Armor or no armor, that shield hurt. A lot. Still, Daredevil was able to get back to his feet. Oh how little this man knew of the horrors of this city. What it goes through every day. Soldiers deploy to regions not their own and their detachment allows them to get jobs few could do in service of a country they knew so little about. Daredevil was no soldier, he was barely a hero, but he knew what was needed to get the job done. And right now he knew he needed to hit him where he was weakest. This man was strong, fast, and could fight, but he could sense the tactile weaknesses in body the man's body and his armor. That's it, he thought. A cog in the machine. He could hear the energy vibrating from the baton in Agent's hand, and knew that was the immediate problem. He brandished his two billy clubs and charged, seeing the baton come right for him. Classic spartan tactics, keeping the guard in front, let the charging opponent fall on his own spike. Too bad for him. He loaded his cable and fired, going right for his ankles and wrapping taught. Before Agent could use his strength to hammer down and snap the cord, he yanked, tripping the bigger man up, flat on his back. A simple leaping corkscrew later, and he hit his mark, slamming down both boots into the US Agent, right in the chest where his armor was weakest, hearing a very satisfying crack before a pivot and a club shot right into the weak spot of the man's helmet, feeling it make a loud crack, though he didn't know how much of that was the man's helmet or his nose. Still, ouch. He felt his knuckles reverberate in protest at that shot. He shook his hand and quickly chopped the man's hand holding the baton and shaking it away. He mounted the shoulders and began a sturdy ground and pound. Punching again, and again, and again, left, right, left right, like clockwork, both hands going numb. "Act with values that seek justice, To uphold all moral ethics, And to aid the victims of injustices," said Daredevil, reciting a Catholic proverb as he continued to pummel away, he smelled blood. Nuke would face justice, but not by people who would only seek to exploit his madness. Not like this. Never like this.
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Post by Rift on Feb 26, 2016 17:45:35 GMT -7
U.S.Agent choked on blood. He was fairly certain his nose was broken, the sharp pains in his chest and sides told him his ribs had definitely broken, and an educated guess based on the sound that club had made coming down on his head and his blurred vision told him his orbital bone had likely fractured and now the vigilante was atop him using ground and pound tactics hoping to finish the job. He heard him mutter something despite the ringing in his ears, a proverb of some kind. Catholic? This guys is…well that makes sense. No wonder he’s full of contradictions! he thought. He flexed a hand and realized his energy truncheon, the new one the Commission had cooked up for him, was gone. Shame really. He didn’t much care for the weapon, but it was a non-lethal option. Too bad really, for Daredevil that was. He’d been willing to give him a beating, leave him in a heap, and get along with his mission. Now, he didn’t have a choice. Raising his left arm he tried to shield his battered face when he realized that the maneuver than had laid him out flat had jarred his shield loose. He stretched for it and found it just out of reach. He had to do something if he was going to get to it. As the devil came down with another sledgehammer fist he managed to time it right, getting his left arm up to lock his opponent’s arm. Grabbing the back of Daredevil’s head with his free hand he pulled him face first into the concrete next his own head. With the grip loosened, John got a knee up and slammed it into his stomach. Rolling to his belly Agent crawled for his shield, grabbing it just as Daredevil was back on the offensive. Angling it upwards he felt Daredevil’s attack glance off of it allowing him time to roll through to his feet. “You seem religious. Well you know Matthew 16:23?”Turning he tossed the shield, but not before triggering the hidden spikes. They deployed giving the shield a star-like appearance as it sliced through the air and struck the vigilante in the midsection, the impact enough to send him flying backwards through several trashcans and into a wall. The shield remained in place having sliced through some of the armor. “Get thee behind me.”John removed his helmet, wiped his face, and spat blood on the street. Misguided nutjob that he was, Daredevil was one tough SOB and had thrown him a beating the likes of which he hadn’t had since last facing off against Steve Rogers. Since he didn’t get back up he had to assume he had felled the man. Stepping over to him he tugged the shield free, blood dripping off the spikes. Have to get moving, he thought. I've lost precious time and I still have to track Nuke down.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2016 18:31:52 GMT -7
Daredevil groaned as he came to. Last thing he remembered was a spiked shield right in his stomach flattening him. How long had it been? Seconds? Hours? He tried sitting up, but felt really sore and had to roll to his side and get up from that. It didn't feel like anything was punctured, just surface wounds, but he felt tender all over. He glanced down at the armor: Shredded, but it did its job. Good that he ordered more than one. He noticed a crowd begin to form around him. Even a couple of police officers. He recognized the voice of one of them. "Daredevil! My god, are you alright?" asked Detective Brett Mahoney. Of all the police in Hell's Kitchen, he knew he could trust Mahoney. "I-I think so. What happened, Detective?" Daredevil responded gingerly, as if still analyzing what had just happened to him. "A couple of kids in the alley said you were taking on a black Captain America and then said they found you in a heap like this in the snow. Had to come see it for myself, but it appears you're made of sterner stuff," said Mahoney. Daredevil tried to take a step, but he missed his footing and was caught by Mahoney. "Whoa, easy there, you may be alive, but you don't look 100%. Here I have an EMT here to take a look," said Mahoney getting under Daredevil's arm to support him. He managed to get a few steps before Daredevil waved him off. "No, no EMTs. I have to get to Nuke before the Agent does," he said, still trying to get some oxygen into his lungs. "Wait, Nuke? As in Frank Simpson? Oh man, we've been trying to collar him ever since we found him lying in the alleyway! Cell wall was knocked down the morning after! You think the feds want in on this?" "Want, and desperately need to send in their own Captain America to retrieve him," replied Daredevil, managing a deep breath and finally able to stand on his own two feet. "That doesn't sound good. Whenever the feds want something, it makes me wonder why I didn't take an early pension," said Mahoney. "Give your men a wide berth of Hell's Kitchen. Form a perimeter, make sure nobody gets out as far out as Chelsea. Agent clearly wants him, and where he goes, innocent civilians could get killed in his crossfire," said Daredevil. Mahoney nodded in agreement. "Alright, but what exactly are you - - HEY!" Mahoney asked as Daredevil fired his cable upwards and out of sight. Sure he was stiff as a board from being laid out on the concrete, but he needed to get back to his loft and get out a fresh suit and contact Natasha. If He had to encounter both Agent and Nuke, he was going to need it...
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