INFORMATION Female
3,887 posts
► ◄
Awards:
1
|
Post by Super Chick on Jul 15, 2021 18:21:08 GMT -7
<---------------------->~<---------------------->
Her phone rang again and Natasha continued to ignore it. She wasn't sure what Matthew's deal was, but she certainly had no room for more martyrs in her life. It was enough that she had to deal with SHIELD, her protege, her allies on the Avengers and within the costume-wearing community, and her enemies that continued to resurface from the past. Most of them at one time or another attempted to blame Natasha or her alter-ego or good knew who else for their problems. For some, they may have had a point. But for many, they simply needed to grow up and put on their adulting pants for a while, accepting responsibility for their own mistakes and consequences. It was a shame that trait was so rare in humanity.
Her frustration was real toward Matt, so before the call went directly to voicemail again, Natasha snapped up the phone and spoke to the receiver. "If you want to get real, Matt, come back. Otherwise, I'm done."
She hung right back up. Natasha was not going to try more reason with the human pity party over the phone, no matter how close they used to be (and in many ways, still were). She didn't owe him any more than she'd tried to give, especially when he never really listened.
Goddammit, Matthew. Why don't you ever really listen to me?
[*remaining out of the fight for another round, as requested]
|
|
INFORMATION Male
424 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
|
Post by webdevil on Jul 21, 2021 21:38:03 GMT -7
Daredevil for all his enhanced senses was still blind. Typhoid Mary doubly scrambled his Radar Sense that compensated for his particular handicap. It wasn't the only thing she scrambled up in him; but a sai flying at him rang thru the air as clear as a violin in a symphony. He was only able to drop a few inches, but it was enough for the sai to embed itself into the wall and not into his freshly re-aligned rotator cuff. The momentum had the club fall out of his mouth which he caught in his free hand deftly and signaled him to peel himself off the wall and on the move. The car impact was beginning to fade into echo, but the bruises that would make up the evidence of his fall were forming in their place underneath his custom Devil suit. Karma, he thought. Visit Karen, reject Natasha - get rejected by Natasha - and now pay for it with Mary. He had to get to higher ground and fast. Sheathing his billy club, he moved to one side of the alley and used it to spring up to a fire escape he sensed on the parallel wall, allowing his good hand to grab on and haul himself to relative safety. Any further combat as he scaled this would be in close quarters and even Typhoid's Radar Scrambling would not be helpful to her here. It also meant she got her wish and would be forced to get in close... What a night this was turning out to be... Foggy was annoyed. "That does it! Nat you can tie me up and do all sorts of $#!^ to me later for this!" he said before looking and blushing as his secretary came walking by at that very second. "Uhh, phrasing..." he said, a bead of sweat was forming at the side of his head. She gave him an awkward look before baying him goodnight and turning heel, leaving the foyer. He sighed. Oof, airball there, Franklin. And with that, pulled out his own cell phone and grabbed the office phone, peering at the number. "212-131-1229, extension 41522. Huh. B-L-A-C-K W-I-D-O-W. Who'dve thought a super spy had an emergency line that literally spelled out her name?" he added as the phone began to ring. He swore under his breath as the phone clicked. "I SWEAR LADY IF YOU HANG UP THIS PHONE ONE MORE TIME - -" he began but then froze as the voice began to speak..
|
|
INFORMATION
622 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
▲
"Tall, lean and Gamma Green- that's me!"
|
Post by Judi Strange on Jul 23, 2021 14:16:12 GMT -7
"A Malicious Fever burns..In our hearts, in our veins. Your blood, my blood- All blood runs the same."
For the moment there was solace, there was sanctuary as the devil sought escape form righteous, dare she say biblical vengeance. For a long, pregnant pause there was only the ambient sounds of the city that fell to ashes all round him, then there to the right a sense of her coming in like a shark. The water was chummed and she would not be able to pull away for long. People were creatures of habit after all.
The solid contact right was a ghost, an impression pushed into his mind, a mental push to over extend the devil for the inevitable attack from the left! The flight when detected would give way by the scent of her, her heated skin glistening with an ever burning intensity form within. “I know that look, worry not Merry Christian soul, I am your penance and before the nights over..I’ll have you on that cross!”
The attack was met as both sliced, deflected in perfect harmony, truly proof of their most passionate chemistry in its full bloody symphony. There was no anger in her as they exchanged deflections, to her it was beauty itself. “There he is, the Devil I know; the "Merry Christian" is weak and rife with sin, the Devil is beyond such things.. Come on now baby-harder, faster! That's it make me work for it lover.” The impassioned words seeking to draw more out of him as she pushed his recklessness with her gift of the mind before dropping to a knee and bringing two blades to slice the back, meaty part of his knees. “On your knees and pray to me Devil, 6 Hail Marys in all… Let us both show my simpering other who is top between us three."
|
|
INFORMATION Female
3,887 posts
► ◄
Awards:
1
|
Post by Super Chick on Jul 27, 2021 14:00:52 GMT -7
<---------------------->~<---------------------->
Again?
Natasha tilted her head to her belt. The ringing phone wasn't her regular cell phone which was sitting on the countertop. You know, the one to which her friends (like Matt) had the number (and were currently abusing it). Rather, this was a different phone; a phone designated for emergencies only to one singular entity: the Devil from Hell's Kitchen. Natasha inhaled with both panic and consternation. What if Matthew leaped from her window and right into trouble? That would be like him, actually. Daredevil always found trouble - or it found him. It was one of the reasons Natasha secretly enjoyed their relationship years before. Life was never boring with Matt Murdock!
Of course, there was that other possibility. What if Matthew was so insulted by her denial of his advances or rejection of his pity party that he was just using their the private hotline she supplied him to compensate for his inability to get the last word in before he left? She looked at the phone for only a split second, recognizing that Matt would never be quite so indulgent of his emotions. If this phone was ringing then it was unlikely concerning their recent encounter. She immediately answered it.
"Where are you?" she asked while simultaneously slipping her gear back into place on her person. She was already mentally preparing for battle. She just needed to know where to take the fight.
|
|
INFORMATION Male
424 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
|
Post by webdevil on Aug 3, 2021 0:17:26 GMT -7
The cool, soft, Russian voice cut across Foggy like a hot knife through butter. "BAH! Oh. Natasha, it's me, Foggy!" he said before a pause, already expecting a very angry response from the superspy-turned-Avenger. "And judging from your tone, Matt isn't with you like in the Twitter videos earlier. This is really really bad..."Pausing for a moment as he heard Natasha clamouring in what he guessed was her own slinky superhero costume, he didn't wait to get berated some more or hung up on, so he cut to the chase. "TYPHOID MARY IS ON THE LOOSE!" he cried, pulling the phone away from his head so when he shouted it wouldn't deafen her. "Ravencroft called looking for Matt to inform her of her escape and named him as her last known contact when he had her committed that one time just before Nick Fury sicced his dogs on him and trashed my office. Long story. Anyways, Matt's not answering any of his three phones and - well - whatever the hell he did to have you kick him out or whatever, I'M asking you for help?" He sounded like a pleading dog. A lame one at that. Whatever. His wounded pride lost to Matt's safety any day. He pressed the top of the phone to his forehead, almost in a weird sort of prayer. "Oh God..." he murmured under his breath. At approximately the same time as Foggy's prayer to the lord went out, The Devil of Hell's Kitchen was thinking the same thing as Typhoid resumed her close quarters attack. Her body might scramble his Radar Sense and screw with his senses, but at this close range, that meant nothing. Block low. Parry mid. Snap Jab. Counter punch. Evade the twin slices. Front kick, clear the gap. Suddenly he felt his head get heavy. Weighted. Typhoid screwing with his head. He felt like falling. Falling.Falling.What you just gonna lie there all night, punk?Stick? His mentor's words echoed in his mind. Daredevil looked around uselessly. "Mentor?" he called out. But the words echoed. "Why is it whenever you get yourself caught with your pants down you suddenly remember me, eh, kid? All these years, all yer problems; still an idiot boy playing dress up,""But I - -" Daredevil began, but Stick - was he even there? - held up a hand. "Kid, I'm gonna just make this one short and sweet: You have to grow up. You're getting your ass handed to you only because you're letting it happen,""What!? I'm not letting it happen, Stick! Mary sprung - -"Matt suddenly realized Mary wasn't even there. Nor his costume. Shirtless, he felt cold. A bottomless pit. Naked. Alone. Except for Stick. Somewhere. In the darkness. It took a moment, but Matt realized he was not "seeing" with his Radar Sense. But there his mentor stood. Or did he? "Mary. Elektra. Karen. The blind one. The deaf one. The superhero. Next one going to be a redhead named Kelly?"Stick's mockery hurt more than the wrap of his lacquered bamboo stick nailing Matt at the tip of his nose. "There's always gonna be someone, kid. And the life you live there's always going to be heartbreak. So what are you going to do about it?" Stick snapped. \ Whether or not Stick appeared to him for real or this was just a figment of his imagination - it was not the first time the old man has come back to haunt him like this or under such circumstances so it was very hard to tell - it mattered little as he suddenly found his feet again underneath the steel grate of the fire escape. Typhoid raised her twin blades. Mary swung the blades downwards, but her words telegraphed her movement in a way her body language refused to as it scrambled his Radar. Prepared for this, Daredevil raised his feet at the same time and - only one chance, Murdock - drove them both down onto her hands with all his weight, attempting to drive her through the grating and - with any luck - whacking her head off the side of the fire escape's railing and stunning her at worst, knocking her out at best. "You're not my priest, Mary," he spat with as much revulsion as he could muster, particularly on her name. The feeling of hurt roiled up in his stomach as he said it, but he was able to push it back down. He began climbing as hard as he could towards the roof, vaulting over the side and onto the flat gravel plate of the old building. With his Radar clearing he began to sense what Mary was inferring: The church across the way. He felt his lip curl. He whirled about ready for Mary's next onslaught, forcing him back with a series of graceful acrobatics, unsheathing and tossing his rebounding Billy Club in one fluid graceful motion. konk!
pik!
SPACK!His shoulder was on fire now. Ignore it, he thought. Lowering himself into a sprinting stance, he broke into a hussle, catching the rebounding club and attempted to tackle Mary, grabbing her around the waist, one arm on her left leg in a single leg takedown straight across the chasm towards the angled church rooftop floor, hoping to pin her down before she could muster a proper offence. His stomach began to revolt again. As did his shoulder. But which hurt more, he could not say...
|
|
INFORMATION
622 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
▲
"Tall, lean and Gamma Green- that's me!"
|
Post by Judi Strange on Aug 3, 2021 5:12:52 GMT -7
"A Malicious Fever burns..In our hearts, in our veins. Your blood, my blood- All blood runs the same."
“Not your Priest, more is the pity- I hear Holy Cross just had an opening or two and we both know lover I look sinful in black.” Mary teased again alluding to the Church, She spoke with the same warm romantic, psychotic banter. She spoke it as if it were the two of them together who did such bloody deeds. Without Matthew, her haunting devil she would not be, so it was with their hands together bloodied they were joined- each kill she tithed to him a little of the kill, they would be always one.
The little gambit seemed to give the Devil his reprieve as Mary fell, fell hard by the sound of it for one blissful moment his senses could be clear and there was no mistaking the sound of skull on the fire escape. For one moment there was a whisper of hope the head wound had flipped her, tucked away the madness if only for a short time, a short moment of clarity as below rivets of red ran down her forehead as ravenously many minds began to vie for the top, to walk in the light.
—Images of it all, fragments of feelings of selves all bubbled to the surface some apparently leaking down her face. Escaping, Mary Walker wanted, needed help, true forgiveness,but she couldn’t go to Matthew. He hated her because of Typhoid and the other, he would take her back, back to the place that seemed to only feed the darkness. She felt weaker they felt stronger sounded by the broken and insane, she wanted a life to herself all her own- just once. The Asylum was a place of Typhoids people, her kind, she as like their Mary Magdalene. She reasoned,if she couldn’t go to Matthew, she would instead go to that which made up Matthew and all the noble parts of him, his faith. This was the path to peace. A path to no more voices, more more blood. She would follow his exemplar, he had shown her the way home if she were brave enough to take it.
—Moments, shards of it, she’d met with the Priest, didn’t say who she was and sought to had been so perfect, it could have worked,but the other hated them, and they were never ones to hide her feelings about men, all men. How could she?!
Slowly painfully the cold eyes watched the devil retreat as all the little bits of self felt in utter free fall. “Stop, please stop we’ve done enough! Killing Matthew won’t make it better, I just want you to stop!” Typhoid’s head lolled to the side dazed as the blood drops mingled into a shallow puddle, there she was, the mouse..Mary Walker, the weakness reflected back at her. The door mat for men, all men really- "Shouldn’t they all pay for it.. Pay for all the do to us, to all of us- stop playing with him, stop wanting him, KILL HIM or I will!" the stray errant thought came from deep within, were there was only the darkness, no light and no forgiveness. Perhaps It was the head wound, perhaps she was dazed but in that moment Typhoid found herself unseated and dragged back into the darkest hell inside.
SWITCH
She slammed her fist into the puddle making the image explode into a thousand pieces, up top Matthew was nearly up and over his ledge, as his senses were cleared likely he could feel her again, pulse, breathing all changed radically, but not to Mary Walkers norms. Looking up no playful sexual tension right now only..heat. She raised her hands to externalize that, she sent a wave of pure pyrotic heat up after him casing the flammable elements to Burst and the bricks themselves to ignite- if she were lucky he’d once again know what it is to burn, as all men should..truly burn, and he would.
As the Pyrotic love chased after Matthew Bloody Mary herself, now sorted with all the little bits of self put back where they needed to be moved quickly, working up the opposing building and pushed her own unique crazy on the Devil, she wanted him swinging at ghosts of the past, never for a moment knowing what was to come.
Once atop as below both their buildings burned, the orange, red flames licked upwards across the expanse of their separated space. As he drew, so too did Bloody Mary as she moved to close the space, silent as an assassin's bullet as she kept through the flames after him, the club strike- be it born of luck, be it born of the intimacy of the fighters involved with each other it mattered little as bloody marry took the club and was driven to the side. Still silent, she didn’t want to play with Matthew like Typhoid or Mary the same way, she wanted to bleed or burn him to nothing- it was the key to being top forever.
The smile showed the blood mixed into her smile from the club shot and she again went for him like a predator as both exchanged blade and blow her savagery like no other from the dark places in Mary Walkers skull. Over Mattew’s shoulder, the Holy Cross Church- the stone angle and even better the stone cross. As the wind picked up, buffeting up, all about them with smaller debris to further inhibit his enhanced senses she lunged, tackling him forward to get him to the Church roof, to his own less than metaphorical cross that awaited him and his crucifixion … Mary and Typhoid be damned, she would let the devils blood fill communion cups. If he wanted to be a Martyr, Bloody Mary would be delighted to help.
Still battling then landed, the club drove her back and she rolled back up to her feet. “Sin is Attachment, I'm about to remove..every..single attachment you have Daredevil. ” She pull out two thin, razor sharp spikes and silently whisked them down at him as she straddled him in the eye of their own storm. Timing a one and two punch going for the oh so very catholic stigmata hand wounds. One way or another, Matthew would be up on the cross, alive or dead Bloody Mary would reign on top, for all time. The tone no longer love, no playful erotic mania only cold hatred for the Devil, for all his kind.. The more of them she killed, the stronger she held on...through her they could again be one, a oneness paved in the blood of men such as Daredevil.
**Actions reviewed with opponent
|
|
INFORMATION Female
3,887 posts
► ◄
Awards:
1
|
Post by Super Chick on Aug 10, 2021 15:55:20 GMT -7
<---------------------->~<---------------------->
Natasha was immediately grateful she finally answered the phone. The voice on the other end was obviously not Matthew's - which was against his specific instructions that the phone is only for him, but that was an argument for another day. Mary Walker was not an average threat, especially where Matt was concerned. They had a history of their own; a relationship that was ancient history and also one which Natasha had chosen not to know too many details. What was there to know anyway? Their stint had been brief, briefer than Matt's and her own, and Mary was mentally about eleven broken, scrambled, cooked, and eaten eggs short of a dozen.
Which was to say that Matthew was having a very bad day.
The Black Widow finished gathering her assets and moved through the door, locking it behind her with a mere press of her finger on a camouflaged (read: invisible to the naked eye) print reader next to her door. Thanks to Stark and SHIELD tech, Nat rarely worried about anything left behind in one of her secret dwellings - or known apartment. She was down five flights of stairs and out the front door of the building before Foggy finished yelling at her in his panic.
"Breathe, Foggy." The man was practically hyperventilating on the other end of the phone which made him particularly less helpful than Natasha needed him to be right now. "If Mary's in one of her moods, the Devil's going to need my help sooner rather than later. I need you to tell me where they are. Did Twitter give you any hints?" she asked, heading toward the church again out of habit. It was, after all, one of Matt's favorite places and tended to be where he went when he was upset or in trouble.
Natasha started her own search, using that enviable talent of her spy work combined with outrageously awesome, cutting-edge technology to start looking for hits on every social media platform and YouTube. She was no more than five seconds into her search when she got a hit. Someone was live-streaming the battle on YouTube.
"Nevermind," she said, lifting her arm to the sky and letting a cable go toward the edge of a rooftop. "I'll call when it's over," she said abruptly and disconnected from Foggy's call. The Widow utilized her cable's retraction to pull her upward before loosing the next from her other wrist and swinging her way toward the church. She would arrive within a minute. By the look of Daredevil on the video, Natasha had to wonder if he could last that long. She pushed herself to go faster.
"Just hold on..." she mumbled to herself, the steeple coming into sight.
|
|
INFORMATION Male
424 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
|
Post by webdevil on Aug 10, 2021 19:34:44 GMT -7
Foggy stopped abruptly and exhaled a moment at Natasha's urging. He did it again. Figures. Foggy snapped to attention and immediately reached for Matt's computer, the Twitter sprang to life. He heard the earpiece and braille tab whir and buzz with noise as he began scrolling the #daredevil feed. "Uhh, uhh yeah he's at - -" he began, but Natasha cut him off. Man she was fast! "Ok," he said and the line abruptly disconnected. Foggy sat alone in the dimly lit office, staring at the shadows as they danced against the warm while glow. He spoke out to the shadows, his voice a soft tremor. "Bring him home,"Daredevil only had mere seconds as they tumbled across the secondary roof and onto the church before he realized it wasn't Typhoid he tackled into the church. His Radar Sense was working 100% and he could sense every movement. It was Bloody Mary; and she had taken control both mentally and now physically as she straddled the Devil of Hell's Kitchen on the slanted roof, pulling out two very thin steel blades that had more in common with nails rather than knives. she said as the blades came down fast and hard. His arms free, he raised them, trying to grab her forearms and block the implements. It succeeded, but only partially. SCCCCCCCCLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLACK."AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"the sound of the spike entering his right wrist and pinning him down to the church's old tiled rooftop facing came right as his right shoulder gave out. Even to one without enhanced senses, the sensation of rending tendons in your wrist was a pain nobody could even begin to describe. But to a man with enhanced senses, the temptation to linger on that pain was even greater so. However, the sudden shift in body weight forced the other spike going for his left wrist to go wide. He had a second, if not a lot of power. Using whatever momentum he had, The Man Without Fear went straight for a left hook punch right in her jaw, hoping to knock her back and scissor her neck with his legs, hoisting her back and hoping to choke her out. He sensed the smell of blood. Sweat and blood. His blood. Hers. Nausea welled up in his gut. His head spun even thru the adrenaline spike. The sounds of the crowd gathered below coming and going through his head, ineligible amidst the immediate burning of being so close. What else was this night going to torment him with?
|
|
INFORMATION
622 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
▲
"Tall, lean and Gamma Green- that's me!"
|
Post by Judi Strange on Aug 11, 2021 8:14:12 GMT -7
"A Malicious Fever burns..In our hearts, in our veins. Your blood, my blood- All blood runs the same."
There was a hint of satisfaction in Bloody as she felt one blade dig deep into the Devil, not as boisterous as Typhoid on any given day, some would say however, infinitely more cruel. She leaned into the other blade to drive it home as Matthew sought to deflect it. “You don’t see it do you, killing you will kill Mary, one less voice in the dark inside of us! With your blood on her hands, she’ll wither and die with you Devil, a weak woman..for a weak man bound forever in hell.”
No subterfuge, no psychosexual games this time. A simple matter of life and death as transactional, the cold assessment of the ascendance of Bloody with the core personality of Mary’s final unraveling.
The want to tell him, to show him how he fit as only minor cog in her little passion play, unlike Typhoid, there would be no forbidden love to offer him. moments reprieve.
Luck did favor the Hell's Kitchen Devil however, as the desperation hit rocked her, snapping her head to the side as more blood flowed like communion wine for their little mass and confessions.
The shots to the head were having effect as she seemed lost for a moment as she scissored her , her hands grasping automatically at his thighs. In her mind, inside the “Dark Inside” of her shattered psyche past the scattered field of blades, blood and glass, lay the beginning of it all in her mind. The place she died nightly for the sins of Matthew Murdoch.
Shattered and fragmented as sure as the window she was put through to begin their great love affair that was stepped in madness and blood.
So still was Bloody as the Devil scissored her, she offered for that moment no resistance until the choking pushed forth another self, the damsel.
“Matthew-Urrk! Please, forgive me, Save Father-“ She rasped choking but for the moment doing little to save herself from it, Mary?
But only for a moment for as as she lulled forwarded the smile crept across her face as her heart pounded and the fever spread. “Kinky, but that’s not how we play is it Loverboy.” She rasped and the hands that were on his side held him fast. In this primal moment of their closeness came the wind. Not wind really; but certainly anything from stones to loose bits of metal came to life, they dancing her dance as she began to direct all about them to whip and rip into Matthew, to flay him as surely as a lash would. After all thought Typhoid, did not his divine influence endure such long ago forms sins. it seemed fitting.
“Stop fighting so hard baby, you want this, deep inside you know you EARNED it!” She cooed with a warm, sensual purr as she licked the blood form her far to crimson smile. Her goal, of course as the shrapnel and wind tempest picked up speed and ferocity, was to bleed him, weaken him. But more directly also get his legs off her throat and nailed to that cross behind them.
After all It was poetic since it was poor Mary’s Church, her salvation to sanity. As for Matthew her lover did have the Martyr fetish, she did hope he appreciated her catering, even if he couldn't say. "A good lover always gives her partner what they need, deep down in the places they are too ashamed to admit! But, don't you worry- I know you better than you know you Matthew."
|
|
INFORMATION Female
3,887 posts
► ◄
Awards:
1
|
Post by Super Chick on Aug 29, 2021 18:44:01 GMT -7
<---------------------->~<---------------------->
The Black Widow landed on the top of the apartment building across the street and diagonal from where she caught sight of the battle. She ran to the edge and pulled both pistols from her belt, hoping beyond hope that Mad Mary hadn't yet gutted her old friend. What she saw when she arrived, staring across the expanse at the scene, made her stomach lurch. Matthew was alive but he looked like Hell incarnate in a whirlwind of shrapnel and rocks. Sure, she'd seen him in worse situations once or twice but that did nothing to alleviate the urgency she now felt pressing upon her as she eyed the dagger that held one wrist to the rooftop.
She put her weapons back into her belt and made a running leap toward the church. Midair, the Widow released another cable intended for the steeple. It made contact, whirled around, and took hold of the structure. Natasha made the cable go taut and it jerked her forward in an arc. She rode the line until it arced her toward the side of the church, then she ran along the same arc on the side of the building, leaping as she met the edge of the roof and using her momentum to cast her higher. When she felt herself at the apex of the arc, Natasha used the tension on the cable to jerk herself toward the fight. She was landing short of where she would have liked to land, but it was neither here nor there in the scope of things. It merely meant a surprise assault was less likely.
The Widow again began to draw her weapons as she ran for Mary, then thought better of it and pulled on her SHIELD-issued goggles to prevent losing an eye. She ignored the sharp whirlwind of death-by-a-thousand-cuts even as the edges sliced at her face and body. The bodysuit took the brunt without giving in to the piercing and slicing and Nat deflected the larger debris with her bracelets and arms. Soon, she was on Mary, attempting to pull her attention from Matt so he would have a chance to free himself.
"Your enthusiasm is lost on him. Come play with me," she shouted and drew her guns again. Aiming for less-than-lethal places on Mary's body (lest she receive an earful from the righteous devil later), Natasha began firing. Bang! Bang! Bang!
|
|
INFORMATION Male
424 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
|
Post by webdevil on Aug 29, 2021 20:30:38 GMT -7
When your dread comes like a storm And your calamity comes like a whirlwind, When distress and anguish come upon you. - Proverbs 1:27BANGBANGBANGBANG!Bullets on the wind. And a Russian voice that cut across along with them. Natasha. A godless angel in black. Daredevil felt his body go slightly limp, dangling like a scarecrow in the field. Perhaps Mary got her intention. His costume was finally torn, the buffeting of broken glass and rocks along with the consistent battle taking its toll on the armorweave. Seconds seemed to stretch for hours. But he was no saviour to be deified. How much time had he lost? He felt blood roll down his arm. He was losing blood. Too bad he wasted the road flare on Mary. Can't cauterize the wound. He reached up towards his other wrist. Got to -- help. Unlike in the movies, pulling a lodged object out of the body would only cause more blood loss than actually help. It would also hurt worse than it did going in. He spun on the spot, hoping the distraction provided by the hailstorm of bullets from the custom SHIELD-grade pistols Natasha was carrying were not fooling his senses or his Radar. The world seemed hazy. Even for a blind man. He reached up towards his pinned wrist, working to get his feet under him. One attempt. He slid and felt the wrist wrench as tendons pulled. He let a howl escape his lips. That hurt. Come on, Murdock. Get up. His mind wandered to Sunday school. The shape of the cross filling his senses as they flickered. But resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same experiences of suffering are being accomplished by your brethren who are in the world. - 1 Peter 5:9
|
|
INFORMATION
622 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
▲
"Tall, lean and Gamma Green- that's me!"
|
Post by Judi Strange on Aug 30, 2021 1:58:37 GMT -7
"A Malicious Fever burns..In our hearts, in our veins. Your blood, my blood- All blood runs the same."
We know a thing by its opposite corollary; hot by having experienced cold; good by having decided what is bad; love by hate.-Sylvia Plath
The bladed wind did howl; the affairs of the heart did distract, The Priest below who had earnestly tried to help Mary to faith no longer did either. It was not Typhoid’s fault, she was in the Dark Inside, deep, deep down- that deed was all Bloody who hated men as much as one could. Destiny had made this moment and saw fit to drag them all to hell together as it should be for truest love.
Typhoid also in the eat of such a moment could not be blamed for failing to hear widow until her gift of the mind felt her, after all, was she not in the most tender of moments with the gentle soul who threw women out windows- Matthew Murdoch?
Above the wind, above the heated touch sin to bloody skin she heard the woman, the widow. The bullets whizzed at her one to the left of her as she moved with the mental feeling of her presence, it roared like an angry bee. Number two braced the arm as she rolled over trying to use Matthew as a shield, she did hope he did not done, it would ruin the crucifixion. Number three was the naughty one it hit solid knocking her off him as she rolled with the impact that ended with her in a crouch.
“I don’t usually play with girls, but the working girl outfit buys you a pass. I suspect you are more adept with that sort of play than I, but we are also a quick study.” Rising, the blade storm dropped as she refocussed her talents. Her grin grew, she seemed to hold her position shifting her weight nimbly form one foot to the other. A predator assessing prey as she reaches out with her gift of the mind taking in all there was to the Widow, the girl on her turf. The girl who inserted herself in the most intimate of moments between the very lover that created her in his own festering pit of sin. “Matthew, tisk tisk..you have a type.” She chided as she moves, edges closer. She spoke then with her mind to Natasha, seeking to implant a little of her own thoughts chaos thoughts in with the tidy organized ones, first and foremost to lose the guns.
"So reckless to come in guns blazing like that, after all Matthew could be hurt if he wasn’t already shot by such reckless gunplay, he probably was and bleeding out as we speak because she hadn’t done this woman to woman, hand to hand. He could well die by her quick use of a cowards bullet.”
Her smile ever warm, ever inviting even to Natasha. “Perhaps you’re right, maybe, oh maybe we have been a tad fixated on poor, weak Matthew, perhaps it is indeed time for some strange.” She launched herself in a fluid motion to cover the ground as she drew two more stilettos attacking very adeptly in a paired strike, a flight with the right, but oh that left handed path as she laughed joyously. “Come sweet thing, teach us how to play with girls.”
The strike went not for the kill shot, too quick, and certainly no fun, if she were honest. No, this wayward blade went to drag across her face deeply, to leave a reminder scar so if dear Matthew ever tomcatted again he’d always see Typhoid in her scarred face. “Well, look at that, you have two of us very eager for you to atone for your moments with another woman’s chew toy of a man, the third sort of likes you.” If, however, she went to block the left and not the right, the right’s feint would simply convert to a stab down at the base of the neck near the Trapezius.
|
|
INFORMATION Female
3,887 posts
► ◄
Awards:
1
|
Post by Super Chick on Sept 12, 2021 13:46:25 GMT -7
<---------------------->~<---------------------->
The shots she fired were not meant for killing Mary, so it was no surprise that only one of her three shots struck a target. Natasha had aimed wide and higher than she would have liked, in part due to Matthew who was pinned to the roof beneath her, but more so because the Devil would have judged her harshly had she aimed and attempted a shot to the heart and head. No matter that he was likely going to die - that seemed to be his truest wish, after all. Oh, he may deny it and would rather complain about how the other heroes didn't suffer as much as he did, blah, blah, blah. But the deepest truth of the Devil in Red was that he wasn't sure how to live without Karen yet. It was a truth Natasha had faced more than once in her extended lifetime and how she recognized it when it stared her back in the face of another.
Mary rolled off to avoid more gunfire. It would open her up to become an easier target if she hadn't remembered how to tap into her telekinetic power during today's ride on the crazy train. She leveled her guns at Typhoid, keeping away from center-mass as she aimed for Mary's shoulders, arms, and thighs. Natasha fired two more rounds before she felt a brush of thought within her mind.
"So reckless to come in guns blazing like that. After all, Matthew could be hurt if he wasn’t already shot by such reckless gunplay. He probably was and bleeding out as we speak because she hadn’t done this woman to woman, hand to hand. He could well die by her quick use of a coward's bullet."
Natasha quickly glanced at Matthew while she fired purposely over Typhoid Mary's head to keep her pinned down. His bleeding was most certainly not from her guns. She hadn't even aimed near him. Over him, yes, but the expert markswoman had confidence none of his wounds were from her. She looked back to Mary even as the intrusive thoughts continued, sliding across the Widow's thoughts like a snake made of razor blades. It was obvious the thoughts were not her own and it angered Natasha more than most things the psychotic woman could have done.
Typhoid spoke to her before she fired again. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe, oh maybe we have been a tad fixated on poor, weak Matthew. Perhaps it is indeed time for some strange.” Then, she launched herself toward Natasha and drew two stilettos attacking even as she cooed, “Come sweet thing, teach us how to play with girls.”
The Widow had not fired on mary as she ran toward her, but that wasn't because of any thought Typhoid had planted in her mind. Rather, again, it was that if she killed Mary then Matthew would never forgive her. Worse, he'd just figure out a way to blame himself. So rather than fire at Mary's advance, Natasha secured her guns in her belt and grabbed her batons. No sooner were they in her hands than she had to parry two attacks. The first one, aiming to slice her face, Natasha dodged easily by stepping backward and pivoting on her right foot. The second, a more powerful blow intended to come down on her right shoulder, the Widow caught on her baton that was held on the outside of her right forearm.
Natasha pushed the blade aside and let it slide down the baton as she continued her evasive maneuvers. The electricity in her batons arced against the metal of the blades. If the handles were not coated in rubber, Mary would feel the jolt. Unfortunately, the Widow knew better than to think a crazed woman with superpowers would give up so easily. Even if she felt the electricity and was forced to drop the stiletto, Mary would continue to advance. The Widow just prepared for the worst-case scenario: that Mary would advance with both weapons and start attempting to use her powers on her as well.
Natasha quirked a smile at Typhoid Mary as if in answer to her previous comment. She raised her arm and pointed at her. "This is no place for little girls, Typhoid. Perhaps you need to take Mary home before she gets hurt." The Widow began firing her discs at Typhoid immediately, but methodically and with care. She wanted one of them to find purchase on the unhinged villain who sought Matthew's destruction. One was all it would take to incapacitate her long enough for the cavalry to arrive - a cavalry Nat had called while she swung through the city, racing to save the life of her friend.
|
|
INFORMATION Male
424 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
|
Post by webdevil on Sept 12, 2021 21:19:50 GMT -7
Come on Murdock... Pull.Pull!Daredevil got his legs under him, forming up around his wrist like a coiled spring. PULL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREENCH!The blade pulled free from the rooftop along with his wrist, but the sheer momentum forced the Man Without Fear from the rooftop. Thinking fast, he flung the club, cable flying. WRAPWRAPWRAPTINK!He felt it coil around something narrow and metal below. The adjacent fire escape from before. He felt it winding down. Down. Down. Until he felt the cable go taut and stretch just a mere three feet before he hit the concrete. He felt his good arm strain against the sudden momentum shift as he came to a dead stop. That was close. He tilted his head up and sensed the two women fighting above on the church rooftop and the parallel parapets. Natasha was gaining the upper hand, but the gunfire had ceased. Why? He shook his head. Don't think why... He let the cable go and touched the ground, superhuman sense of balance being the only thing keeping him upright. He put a hand on his forehead while cradling his right arm. Pain shot up and down it from shoulder to wrist. He had lost blood alright. He reached into the pouch beneath his billy club holster and - with difficulty - extracted the bandage wrap and tape. Putting the tape roll in his teeth, he wrapped his wrist several times and yanking it as tight as he could while the fight above raged. In the alleyway, he was so heavily shadowed, he had a moment's peace until the crowd who was watching from the street found their way back here to try and shove a camera in his face. But enough of one. But internet livestreamers were not the only bodies his Radar began to sense. A familar shape began to form in the negative space beyond the buildings. He leaned further into the wall as he finished with the bandage, the makeshift tourniquet giving him a sharp (but brief) sense of painful relief. Beyond the wall's rooms and doors he began feeling vibrations in the streets on the other side. Darker shapes. They were armed with much more than guns. Shouting. Screaming. Oh no. Not now. The Devils.
|
|
INFORMATION
622 posts
► ◄
Awards:
0
▲
"Tall, lean and Gamma Green- that's me!"
|
Post by Judi Strange on Dec 10, 2021 12:38:49 GMT -7
"A Malicious Fever burns..In our hearts, in our veins. Your blood, my blood- All blood runs the same."
Done so many evil things in the name of love, it's a crying shame. I never did see no fire that could put out a flame. — Bob Dylan
Pain was a sign that you were alive, this was a well learned lesson when Matthew in his hungry zeal to bloody his fists on another man and sent her screaming into the night haloed by beautiful shards of glass. As she fell that night it what seemed like an eternity of terror at least, she was as she recalled surrounded by slivers of neon as each tumbling shad caught the beautiful light of the most indulgent cesspool of a city that was New York.
Pain, as she hit the ground and the slivers of light cut into her flesh for offering pleasure, Pain was life and the absence of it was death. Matthew had taught that; the Devil had come for her sins, and she was shown the true meaning of existence. The Widows jolt, it was trivial compared to the pain the Devil offered at his communion, but it did focus her on the here and now.
"This is no place for little girls, Typhoid. Perhaps you need to take Mary home before she gets hurt."
“If so, home is where the heart is, ours is full of Grace so I shall take Mary to your home, your heart lover girl” She pressed on. It would not be true to call it jealousy, no, it was far more primal, much more element as Typhoid saw it. Widow, as Matthew had a type was close enough in many aspects to be another figment, a ghost from her own mind in the down under where all the others lived while she was top. If this was indeed so, then she had to show new her it's place, under the floorboards with the rest of the freakshow.
“No to the left, the right, more right. she's too fast!!”
She cooed feeling quite at home touching this mind, peas in a pod, they were both so bloody- Matthew the sinner had a type for sure. She twisted like a dervish contorting to avoid the shots but did open some distance between the two as Typhoid pressed harder to get more into the snugly down inside of the Russians mind, to distort her read of her moves to push for a clean opening to attack and feast and turn the black Widow very red.
“Look out for the leap, the foot sweep, is that someone behind me is she alone? Wait- is that Matthew moaning, is he bleeding out?”
A veritable flood of misread data to jam the perfect combat machine, it was a pity, she liked a lot about Widow- Matthew did not deserve nice things however and at least fighting her was something she and Mary could agree upon- right here, right now they both would not mind seeing the Black Widow a good deal redder.
If no Such opening for direct violence presented itself, more cunning was her move... In this new distance between them she would reach out for a television Airel would do nicely, one behind the Widow and yank it forward as it moved for an impalement from behind. The Holy Devil had taught her to sermon others in the Gospel of pain... very well after all.
|
|