#“OKAY MISTER BROADWAY” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lit-works · 2 years ago

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Guilt By Association

I take off my ruby-lensed sunglasses and rub my eyes. It's funny how something i can't use anymore can make me tired. Almost pained. It feels so good to rest my head in my hands, and rub away the fatigue.

My office door bursts open, and i can feel the heat of a man's anger before he says a word. "Mister Murdock, this is a subpoena and injunction. A show-cause order. You'll have to explain why this drop-in center shouldn't be shut down for giving legal advice unlawfully."

That's a laugh. Every day people struggle to work up enough nerve to come in with their stories of high rent, filthy apartments, no hot water, and kids in trouble with the law, and I'm their only friend in a system that seems to profit off their suffering.

My hand closes around the subpoena paper. Ever since i was disbarred, the legal community has pursued me.

I can hear Karen at the door. I Can smell her perfume, and sense her confusion. "I tried to tell him you were busy, Matt." she says.

"No need to apologize, Miss Page. I would have served Mister Murdock sooner or later." the man pauses. He's grinning, as i crumple the subpoena in my fist. "If you have Miss Page read the subpoena for you, Mister Murdock, you'll see it's for next Monday. Until then--" he turns and pushes past Karen.

"I'm sorry," Karen says quietly, "he just--"

"It's okay. It's just not the best way to end the day."

"There's actually one more person to see you--a Miss Whitby from Staten island." I sigh, eager to get back to my apartment, change into costume, and start my patrol.

"Send her in."

A woman enters the room quickly. She's old, but powerful. Her voice cuts through the hot, afternoon air. "Mister Murdock, I've come to you because, well, I've read of your work with the homeless, and drug addicts, and all. Well, I'm afraid I've got a legal problem too."

"Have a seat and tell me about it."

"There's an abandoned factory, right near the Elmwood Nature Preserve on Staten island. They tore most of the factory down, but then trucks were pulling in there all of a sudden at all hours, day and night. It was about three weeks ago when i noticed the first dead animals."

"Animals?"

"Yes," she says bitterly. "Birds, fish, and even a raccoon. My husband and I are ornithologists. We started finding a lot of dead birds- -Vircos, Swills, even an Egret. All lying on the ground as if something just knocked them out if the sky."

"I'm not sure I'm following you."

The woman leans close to my desk, "They're dumping something at the old factory. Something that's killing the birds somehow, but we haven't been able to get any proof, any evidence to take to the authorities." she pauses, and i can sense that, look at me now, a blind lawyer--not even a lawyer anymore--her confidence in me isn't very high. "We were hoping that maybe...we thought you might help."

"I don't know," i say. "It's a bit different than what i normally--"

I hear Karen listening at the door again, judging me.

This woman is no shrinking violet, and i doubt very much that she's given to wild imaginings.

It is possible that someone is using the factory as a quick dump-site. A good chunk of the land would be poisoned if something toxic were leaching down into the water table beneath the nature preserve. Also, looking into this would keep my mind off the subpoena on my desk. "I'll do what i can. At least we can find where these trucks are coming from, and if there's anything harmful in them."

She leans across the desk and closes her hand around mine. "Oh, thank you, Mister Murdock. You're the first person who's cared enough to even try to help."

I smile, tired but eager to be out of here, prowling West Broadway, where problems have simpler, more direct solutions.

Ms. Whitby leaves, guided out the front door by Karen, who returns with a satisfied smile on her face. "That was noble of you."

"Let's go," i say. "If there's no one else waiting."

"There's no one--"

I walk past her, and i know she senses my eagerness. I walk ahead, hearing the front door bolt click into place behind me. The street outside fills my enhanced senses with a wild, swirling collage of impressions, smells almost overpowering in their intensity.

I sense despair in the shuffling bodies, and hunger. But there's also laughter and joy. The city teams with life, and legal or not, i know that my work here is more than important. It's essential.

"Matt...wait." karen takes my arm and holds me tight, denying the distance that both of us have felt lately. When I'm in costume, standing before her ready to patrol the city streets, she almost turns away.

"I'm glad you're helping that woman." she says. I nod.

"Are you...working tonight?" i smile. Such a strange expression for the work I'm doing.

"Yes. The neighborhood has been a bit active lately. I think everybody's hoping I'll take a vacation."

"So do I." Karen says flatly.

I put my arms around her. "Maybe next year." i say, laughing.

The subway ride uptown is its usual cacophonous assault on my senses. The screeching roar of the train. The press of the bodies. But I'm already preparing for night to come.

My apartment is just off Broadway, and as I climb out of the subway, i sense the sun about to sink below the palisades. I hurry up the stairs and Karen follows. I take the steps two and three at a time, open the apartment door and run to my closet.

"Don't let me hold you back." Karen says.

"Sorry," i say pulling off my suit, and taking out my costume. "I guess I'm feeling a bit itchy tonight." i pull on my skin-tight crimson armored outfit, smoothing it out against my well-conditioned muscles, i pull on the horned mask, and grab my club.

I then leap to the bar that dangles from my loft-like ceiling. I swing back and forth, loosening up the muscles, kicking my legs out, and swing around the bar. I let go and spin in the air before landing perfectly on my feet, barely realizing i hold my billy club out in front of me.

"It's a part of you, isn't it? The Devil." Karen says drily. I lower the club and attach it to the side of my costume.

"Perhaps...perhaps it is." i reply. Then i turn and run for the back window of my loft.

It’s almost night now, the sky is dark, almost purplish blue. I lope along the rooftops, taking care to keep out sight of anyone catching a faint breeze off the Hudson. Once i pass a small boy, sucking on a turquoise- colored ice pop, that gives his lips and tongue an alien color.

“Hi, Daredevil.”

“Hi, kid.” I say. At least he’s not scared of me.

It grows darker, but the city’s heat lingers as i leap from building to building.

Even as i leap down from the rooftop, using the fire escape to swing down to the courtyard, i can sense where they all are…who they are.

There are three heavy-duty torpedoes, real thugs. They’re working over some young guy, their shark-skin suits rustling as they punch him. Nice odds, nice bunch of fellows.

I flip off to the left, well away from the happy trio. My landing is perfect.

“Where is he?” one of the thugs barks at the kid. “Where?!”

“I…I” the boy stammers.

“Daredevil!” one of the thugs calls out. But i sense no fear from these tough cookies.

“Is this a private party,” i ask, “Or can i get a little action?”

One of them–the biggest–starts coming towards me, and though Karen would disapprove, I’m going to enjoy the next few moments.

Three to one. Not bad odds. But when two of them pull out snub-nose revolvers, things look less rosy.

My club is up and ready. I throw my club at the most distant target and, turning away, i hear a gun clatter to the ground.

Then i charge the two men nearest me, even as one of them begins blasting away at me. I feel the bullets pass by, nearly digging into my shoulder. Another inch, and i’d have a nasty wound. I perform a few twists and turns, recovering my billy club in the process, and leap up, ready to finish with the three of them as quickly as possible.

They’re big and tough, but slow–like dinosaurs. My club must look like a blur to them as i easily smash the guns out of their hands and knock them to the ground. I have enough time to give the third and biggest thug a swift uppercut, which sends him sprawling backwards. I walk over to the boy they were working over and help him up.

“Thanks…” he sputters.

Then the thugs turn and start running, and i chase them. Two steps for every one of theirs. This is too easy. They’re so slow, They’re–

Then i smell it. Slight, almost lost in the stench of the city. Smoke. I hear, fainter still, a scream. How many blocks away? Six? Seven? If i can pick it up from this far away, it’s gotta be big.

I look at the thugs, running away.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” i say, turning to the boy. Then i start climbing hand-over-hand up a nearby fire escape to the roof. As i move the screams grow louder.

The scream. With every step i take, it seems louder, more shrill, even as people pass look at me, staring in wonder--

"Where's the fire, man?"

Faster, i tell myself, gulping air, and darting into traffic. A car comes barreling towards me, but i leap-frog over a nearby cab, and fly into the air.

The scream still grows, and finally, i can sense where it's coming from. The dark warehouse ahead is sending thin plumes of smoke out into the humid summer night air. I know the fire department will be here in four or five minutes. Plenty of time to save the nearby buildings, but not enough time to save whoever is screaming.

I sense that the ground-level opening has a thick metal door. But there's also a rickety fire escape leading up to the top where the screams are coming from.

I jump up to grab the fire escape and with practised skill, my hands close around the metal bar. I swing around, throwing my body up and finally onto the ladder. Ignoring the rattling and odd creaking sound the rusty fire escape makes, i clamber for the rungs.

In the distance i can hear the wail of the fire engines. I can feel the late-night swirl of traffic on the streets that sprawl below me.

Above all, i hear the voice, just ahead now, the yelling has become more frantic--"Help me, please, please, help me!"

I reach the top of the building, and find the large window next to the fire escape is locked. I try to pry it open, but it won't budge.

"Help me," the voice behind the smoky glass pleads. I hurl my body into the window, shattering the glass.

I curl up and roll into the room, trying to sense any shards of glass. I land on my shoulder, and quickly spring to my feet before reaching a sliver of glass sticking up at a nasty angle.

The flames are everywhere--a smoky gasoline fire that could only be the work of arsonists. I detect where the voice is coming from. A loudspeaker sits on the floor (surrounded, no doubt, by nasty asbestos). I sense a light blinking on the cabinet.

The voice, so pitiful in its fear, changes.

"Well done, Daredevil. Now let's see if you can get out of this inferno in time. Your days as the West Side Vigilante, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, are over. And, should you get away, perhaps you'd like to try your luck again tomorrow at Coney Island. I'll be there in person. Waiting for you."

The light goes off, and the speaker explodes. Suddenly, a heavy beam crashes down toward me, a flaming spire ready to pin me to the floor.

I move slowly at first, my senses dulled by the smoke and confused by the fire, but i manage to move just in time. The flaming beam crashes through the floor just behind me, causing the building to shutter at is smashes down.

Got to move. Just got to get out of this oven--quickly! The stairs are masked by a wall of fire, so i back towards the fire escape, stumbling, my lungs burning, begging for fresh air.

Thankful, I reach the fire escape. There's noise from below, people milling about, talking, while firefighters hurry to train their hoses on the building. In minutes, this building will be gone. The only thing they can do at this point is try to save the other buildings.

I inch down, slowly, weakly, concentrating on every step i take. Like a frail, ancient man, i crawl downward. No fancy spins in the air now, I'll just be lucky to get on the ground. I reach the last rung of the ladder and lower myself to the ground.

There is a sudden flash in front of my face. Then another. A TV crew and other reporters are here. I hear a reporter quietly say, "As reported by an unnamed source, Daredevil was indeed inside the building. According to the source, he was seen entering the building earlier this evening. Now it is in flames. We'll try to..."

The camera is on me now, catching my masked face as I struggle to breathe.

Then, through the smoky cotton filter of my mind, it all fits together. I've just been framed. The voice in the warehouse. I know I've heard that voice before. If this town weren't down on me before, it sure will be now.

I have to get away quickly. Before the reporters ask more questions, before the police arrive, and before i collapse on the ground.

I rush away, pushing back people who grab at me and my mask, and hurry back to the dark alleys and rooftops that give me safety. All the while, I wonder, who's doing this to me? More importantly, why?

I have no idea what time it is when i return to the apartment. My muscles ache and all i can think about is collapsing in bed, leaving my costume on.

I awaken sometime the next day to the clatter of garbage truck hydraulics and cans being tossed cavalierly on the sidewalk. The apartment is empty, i guess that it's nearly noon.

It's not the first time I've missed the morning. I smell coffee in the kitchen, made fresh hours ago. After a quick shower, where i discover a few scrapes and bruises i didn't know i had, i get dressed. I toss my spare costume into my attache case--it may be a while before i get back to the apartment.

By the time i make it to the drop-in center, Karen is already having lunch. To my surprise, Foggy Nelson is with her.

"Nice to see you up at last." Karen says.

"Hi, Matt," Foggy adds, his voice tentative. Once we were best friends--partners. But Foggy made it clear which side he stood on concerning my current legal status.

"Good to see you, Foggy." i say, walking over to my desk.

"Matt, Foggy says that subpoena--" I hold up my hand.

"I don't want any lectures about the injunction. Not today. Not--"

"Matt," Foggy says, "This is something you can't ignore. They'll drag you into court, cite you for contempt--"

I stand up. "Don't quote the law to me, Foggy. The law is one thing. This," i snap, picking up the crumpled subpoena from where it sat the day before. "Is harassment, and here's where it belongs." i toss it into the corner, and it bounces to the floor next to the trash can.

I sense Foggy turn to Karen. They're closer now. Closer than ever before. They both think I'm out of control.

"I tried, Karen," he says, and walks out of the door with Karen following. She returns, exasperated.

"That was clever. Why don't you just alienate anyone who's ever tried to help you?"

"I suppose you'd like me to just give up? Walk right out of here, too? Spend years trying to clear my name--"

She walks over to the small laptop on her desk. "You'd better listen to this. It was on the news this morning."

"Why? What is...?"

"This city cannot--must not--become a breeding ground for vigilante groups of any stripe, costumed or not--"

Alex Wriley, a young, rich candidate for mayor. Running on a platform that includes shipping every costumed crime-fighter to Lower Slobovia or the Negative Zone. And he's doing real well with the voters, real well.

"--streets to be safe, under the protection of a properly trained and armed law enforcement department."

"Doesn't he know we work with them, for Chris'sake?! What's--"

"Wait," Karen says, "It gets worse."

His speech over, Wriley takes questions from the reporters.

"Mister Wriley, what about last night's reports that the Daredevil was seen fleeing a burning building? There are rumors of an extortion racket to get special protection."

I almost feel Wriley gloating.

"Precisely my point. Is Daredevil working for the side of the law and order, or is he just another freelance thug? Hands open to the highest bidder? I think my campaign will find the truth!" Karen clicks off the video.

"That lousy--"

"Matt, you're going to have to be careful. This Wriley is after you. He's got money. He's powerful."

I start to explain to Karen about the trap--but hold my tongue. There'll be time for talking later, when i know what's really going on.

"Right," i say, "Now, how about a trip to Staten island? Can Martin hold down the fort?"

Martin, my all-purpose file clerk, secretary, and hot-shot investigator is dealing with a crowd of people out front.

"Sure, he'll moan and groan, but love it."

"You can drive," i say smiling. "I could use another forty winks."

The ride is quiet, almost serene, and I'm glad when we reach the Nature Preserve.

"So peaceful," i say, stepping out of the car. "Hardly a breeze. I can pick up gull sounds from the shore. Smells pretty nice, too."

Karen takes my hand. "The factory is over here, over that hill."

I turn, straining to pick up anything unusual.

"Seems empty. Shall we go closer?" i ask.

"Sure, let's drive..."

"No." i give her hand a squeeze. "Let's walk. There's a path ahead. Some kind of opening."

"Yes, but--"

"I don't want to announce our arrival." I pull her along, leaving behind the gently wooded area of the nature preserve, following a makeshift trail up a scruffy hill.

"God," Karen says. "What a mess!"

I can make out the rough outline of the buildings, some gutted, some intact, a few completely gone, leaving only empty, gaping foundations.

"Must be an ugly sight." i say. Then i smell it. Something foul, noxious. It seems to scar my nostrils and burn as it enters my lungs. "There's something wrong here."

Then i hear the sound if a truck entering the property from a distance.

"Someone's coming." Karen says.

Above the roar of the truck, i sense three people, their heartbeats, the rhythm of their breathing. One of them is, yes, familiar. It's quite clear, in fact, that i met him last night--and he got away from me. That won't happen again.

"Can you see where they're headed?" i ask Karen.

"To one of the buildings, one that looks fairly intact."

"Then that's where we're headed."

Karen grabs my arm. "Matt, shouldn't we call the police and let--"

"Let them what? We're trespassing as it is, Karen. The only evidence we've got is a little old lady and my radioactive nostrils. If you want to help change the situation, then we have to see what's going on."

She nods, and i sense her trust, her faith in me, lapsing. Just another battle I'll have to fight to win back her confidence--her love.

The back of the building abuts the river. I hear the water moving back and forth, splashing onto the sharp rocks.

"Do you hear anything?" karen asks.

"Yeah, lots. There are voices, machinery, and--"

"There's a window, Matt. Hoist me up?"

"My pleasure." i reach down and pick up Karen, quickly raising her to look inside.

"A bit higher."

"I can't fly, Karen."

"That's good. I can...oh, Matt! This is terrible. This is..."

"What's the big piece of machinery, Karen? It's growing louder."

"It's digging into the ground, and there are stacks of barrels ready to be rolled into the hole. Matt, she was right, she--"

I turn, picking up the faintest footfall coming around the corner of the building. I lower Karen and try to get ready.

"Matt, what the--"

But behind me there's another sound, and i find myself between two thugs.

I might be out if costume, but I'm not about to let that slow me down. With a speed that startled the two goons, i send my hands out, using precision moves that are made possible only by boxer's reflexes.

Perfect shot--if smashing another humans jaw could ever be described that way.

Lately, i winder whether Karen is right, thinking that i like the violence...need it.

I catch the goon at my left on the chin, and he flies backward, cartoon-style. With time to spare, i cuff the other on the side of the face. Not hard enough to knock him out, but with plenty of force to send him tumbling to the ground.

Now, to just find out who these lovelies work for.

The air is suddenly filled with a high-pitch siren.

"What is it?" Karen asks.

Then i sense the two guards scrambling to their feet, running away.

"I've got to catch up to them." i say.

Karen holds me back, trying to keep me from the danger she now fears i live for.

I pull away, turn and begin running.

The sandy ground offers little support for my feet, especially when I'm wearing my clod-hopper city shoes. If only there were time to change into my costume.

The truck is already moving down the road and the two guys who attacked me climb onto the back as it pulls away. I run as fast as i can, ignoring the growing oxygen debt in my body, until it seems as if a successful leap might send me onto the back of the truck.

Despite the inelegance of my leap, I'm amazed to find that my hands close around the back panel of the truck. With one kick, i climb over.

"Hi, boys. Mind if i catch a ride?" the two thugs seem disturbed by my appearance.

"What's with the glasses--are you blind?"

"Why, are you making faces at me?" I reply.

I hear them separate, slowly moving towards the front of the truck, then they come at me. I crouch, ready to dispose of them quickly, when the truck suddenly barrels over a curb. Sending me crashing into the side wall.

Then they're on me, eager to take advantage of their lucky break. One of them closes his hand firmly around my windpipe, while the other digs into his back pocket for something.

No time for fooling around.

The truck lurched to the left--the driver doesn't seem concerned about what he's driving over. His two accomplices are jostled by the bump, and i move quickly to grab both of them, placing them in simple but effective headlocks. I squeeze just enough to let them know i might be stronger than they imagine.

"Ow." one of them yelps over the truck's engine.

"Where's this heap headed?" I yell. "Come on, guys, let's make this easy."

A small window leading to the cabin opens, and a pudgy face with pinholes for eyes looks back at me.

Then, suddenly, the entire floor of the truck flips upwards, like some kind of garbage truck. That's what it is, hauling toxic waste and dumping it where no one can see. No, no one would ever know about it until it's too late.

The three of us start sliding backwards. I let go of the thugs, but not in time to grab on and stop my fall out of the truck. I land on my feet, while the two henchmen tumble awkwardly in the sand. When they stand up, i grab them by their collars.

"I hate to get unfriendly again. Now, tell me where that truck is going."

They look at each other, then one of them begins jabbering away. "It's heading--" but he doesn't finish his sentence. He screams and the other one joins on, both of them reaching for the backs of their heads, before crumpling into the sand.

I kneel, trying to sense their heartbeats, their breathing, but get nothing.

Karen runs over to me, "Are they...?"

"Dead."

"But how? You didn't do anything?"

I feel behind one of the men's necks, find a small protrusion, and pull it out.

"Here it is." i say, handing the small device to Karen. "Radio operated, I guess. Guaranteed to keep people in line. Nasty, very nasty."

"But who'd use such a device?"

"Someone big, powerful, and unless I'm wrong, new to this town."

"Well, I've got the license plate number, we'll call the police and--"

I put my hand in Karen's shoulder. "You'll call the police. Later. After you've taken me to Brooklyn."

The car must be halfway across the Verazono Bridge, I figure. I can feel the engines rumbling with the streams of traffic.

"I don't like it," I say, "Not a bit." I sit in the back of the car, having exchanged my suit for my red costume while Karen drives. My mask is in my lap, and my club is sitting next to me.

"In the building last night," I say, trying to defend myself. "Someone wanted me to go to Coney Island. If it's a trap, it's best that i spring it. If someone wants me at Coney Island, I'll be glad to oblige, but only on my terms, and I'm not about to announce my arrival."

"But what about that dump?" Karen asks.

"It will take a while for the police to track down that license plate. In the meantime, that mayoral candidate Wriley is having a field day trashing my reputation. Maybe i can get to the bottom of it all at the amusement park."

"Or just make it worse, Matt."

"I'll call tonight. Late," I say, ignoring her comment. "I may not come home for a while. Not until i find out what's happening."

Karen drives on in silence, out to the Belt parkway. The open window brings the smells of Brooklyn by the ocean to my nostrils. The salty-sweet smell of the Atlantic and the tang of freshly caught fish reaches me.

Then i hear the whirling, frenetic sounds of Coney Island--the clatter of the roller coaster as it starts to climb its wood-strut hill, the carousel's calliope keeping time for its horses, and the nearby ocean, with kids and women squealing as each wave crashes in.

Its late afternoon. I'll have to stay out of sight till dusk--not a difficult task in the seedy back streets and alleys of the now-depressed area.

"Stop here," I say, picking up a clear image of rows of buildings and streets all quiet now. "Thanks for the ride."

I open the door and Karen reaches back to touch my shoulder, trying to close the emotional gap between us.

"Matt...be careful, please."

I wait, but her 'I love you' doesnt come.

"Yeah, as careful as I can be." I reply. Then I'm gone, and the long night begins.

There are a lot of places to scare people here, places where a good natured thrill could give way to horrible disaster.

The wonder wheel is a monstrous Ferris wheel overlooking the ocean, and with its room-sized cabins, it holds a lot of people. It could be a horrible thing if something caused a cabin to slip loose, crashing to the ground.

But, there could be something more dramatic. The Hurricane coaster is primed for a tragedy. Once the most ferocious coaster in the world, it's now old and dangerous enough without anyone helping it along.

Boy, is it easy to picture the coaster careening off its tracks. Its passengers screaming. This tine though, it would be in earnest.

It is dark. My favorite time, a time when my advantage becomes unstoppable.

I feel the night and the cool salty breeze off the ocean, and the shadows that keep me out of sight. In minutes, I can begin moving, climbing to the top of the decrepit buildings. Leaping from one to the other, crouching, listening, waiting. To meet whomever is out to destroy my reputation.

Already, I hear the sound of growing voices, some screaming from the beach, all sandy and burnt red, others spilling out of the subway for some fun among the rides, arcades and...and for others, other pleasures.

The night belongs to them. And to me.

The Hurricane coaster. A legend. Nearly everyone who's spent time in NY knows of this old coaster. It was once the highest, fastest coaster in the world, with parts of its run hurling cars at nearly 90 mph. Fortunately for me, it is located away from the more tame amusements of Coney Island. Its foundation is shrouded in darkness. The only lights being at the top of the entrance.

I crawl around the bottom, hearing the coaster's whine and the riders' screams echo around the massive structure.

It feels all wrong. I can't put my finger on it. Sure, its old, decrepit, and needs to be torn down, but there's something else.

Then i hear it. The gentle, almost imperceptible groan. Almost as if the whole structure was shifting--just a little--with every ride made around the coaster.

In maybe three or four places, the lattice of wood and metal is loose. But how loose?

I pick up something else then. At first, i think it's just some kind of sonic echo discharged as the coaster's car roar around, but it's moving too quickly, too purposefully. Someone is climbing around on the structure itself. If I'm right it may be too late already.

Of course it would be here, one of Brooklyn's landmarks. The Hurricane coaster. Even as i hear the sound of the cars beginning their climb up the hill, i sense someone else climbing the dark lattice of beams and girders, scrambling to the top, to an old siding that holds used, beaten coaster cars.

I even know who it is. From the nervous breathing, the wiry body, and the arsenal dangling from him, I can tell it's the Boomerang --Fred Myers, the self-advertised "Killer who keeps coming back". He's a mad-man for hire, who doesn't care who he kills as long as someone meets his price.

I hear the happy squeals of people on the coaster. They don't know it, but they're just pawns in a strange game. Even I am a pawn, until I find out who's waging this war on me.

I creep up behind him, climbing hand over hand from one beam to another, then grabbing at the grease-filled track and clambering up behind the unsuspecting killer.

Suddenly, a beam gives way and I tumble toward the ground. I quickly grab at a nearby beam and save my skin, but boomerang turns and looks into the darkness.

"Daredevil?! Daredevil, of course. You're early, my friend, too early. But, I'll try to accommodate you as best I can." His weird laugh echoes strangely through the structure.

I regain my balance, ready to leap up and grab at him but my senses pick up his movements, sliding a boomerang off his belt. Before i know it, he has tossed it my way.

"Enjoy this, Daredevil, I picked it out specially for you."

The rang comes right at me.

Just what is Boomerang about to flip my way? Some explosives, a flying buzzsaw, or something even more deadly?

I keep still, letting the path of the rang become clear to my radar sense. Above me, Boomerang cackles, picturing my demise.

I wait, checking the graceful arc of the rang. Then I move, swinging to a nearby beam, as the rang cuts through the space I formerly occupied. I throw myself upward, swinging like a monkey-turned-gymnast, because I know Boomerang wont wait another moment before getting another rang off at me. I'm too fast for him though, flying up to his perch with an almost graceful ease. Only the club in my hands indicates that this isn't just an entertaining physical exhibition.

"Don't move, Fred. Don't even think about another toy."

Click-clack. The cars of the coaster are almost at the peak. Has he done anything yet? Is there something I'm missing?

He laughs. "No, I wouldn't dream of doing anything." But then he moves. He meant it to be quick and startling, but he telegraphed it to my brain with every nervous tremor of his body.

A rang in his hands now, smooth, shiny, and razor sharp.

I swing my club at his hand.

My club smashes down at his hand, and Boomerang lets out a yelp as a rang goes flattering and spiralling to the bottom of the coaster.

"Don't try that again, friend. I'd hate to see you have an accident up here."

I sense Boomerang turn in the direction of the coaster cars, now at the top of the ride, about to begin their trip down. His heartbeat begins to race.

Has he done anything? Have I stopped him in time?

Then, as if answering my question, he dives to his left, stepping onto a criss-cross of beams, digging a boomerang out of his belt. I leap for him, but not before he gets the rang up and ready to be thrown.

I grab his arms, and squeeze him as hard as i can. The coaster is on its way down the hill now, all it's riders wearing mock-terrified grins and ready to scream.

"No!" Boomerang bellows, still holding onto the rang. "It's explosive...it will destroy us all!" then it slips from his hands and i dive to catch it.

I catch the rang, wondering with an almost absurd fatalism when the thing will go off.

I look for a safe place to toss it.

The roller coaster comes right at me while i toss the rang into the air. It explodes with a concussive roar that hurls me backwards. The riders scream as they fly down the hill.

I sense that another page has been written in the myth of Daredevil-turned-rogue.

The roar of the plunging coaster continues--the screech of the wheels, and the truly scared screams make it impossible for me to locate Boomerang. Then i sense him on the beach, running west towards the Jetty--probably to a waiting boat.

I saved the people on the roller coaster, but they'll never know that. All they saw was me standing there, a mad bomber.

Boomerang is just a hired gun. I have to catch him, to find out who is really behind this. I start climbing down to the ground, as the night air once again rings with silence.

I quickly work my way down to the beach, crawling through the dark understructure of the Hurricane coaster, leaving all the mayhem behind. I leap over a fence, and land on the boardwalk. I hurry to the beach, hoping i still have time to catch the Boomerang.

The sand offers me little bit poor footing--it seems the harder I dig into it, the more it gives away. I move down to the water's edge, hoping the wet, surf-pounded sand will make for better traction.

I hear him running just ahead. I also sense the jetty and something moored in the water.

Suddenly, Boomerang stops, and pulls a rang from his side. He sends it flying at me. His throw is sloppy. Old Fred is more interested in getting his body out of there than hitting mine. I wait until the rang's trajectory is clear to me, then dive to the left, hearing it pass over me. It circles the spot where I was just standing, spraying the air with some form of gas. Probably deadly stuff, I think, leaping to my feet. I'm gaining on Boomerang now, when he's only a few feet ahead, i bring him down with a flying tackle and waste no time on niceties.

"Who're you working for, Boomerang?" I bellow as i beat him. "Tell me!"

"I...I..." he blubbers. I clamp his cheeks between my fingers and squeeze.

"Tell me, Myers, or so help me--"

It's an interesting thing about mercenaries and "Guns For Hire": they're only loyal as long as they're paid, or until they start feeling pain. In fact, most of them ive met can't stomach pain.

"...Kingpin." he finally mumbles.

Kingpin, alias of Wilson Fisk. He's one of Alex Wriley's biggest mayoral campaign supporters, and the city's most respected criminal. He's covered his tracks well. But, although there is no love lost between He and I, I haven't the slightest as to why he's trying to trap and ruin me.

"What's the gig, Fred? Why all this effort to mess up my life?"

"I don't know!" he cries.

I give his face a fist. "Ow! I told you, I don't know! He just said he'd like your name trashed before-"

"Before what?!"

"Before his new theater opens."

Yes, now I remember. The new Fisk Grand Theater, a state-of-the-art luxury venue on 48th street, able to stage gargantuan performances there with almost any special effect required. Tomorrow night it opens, and Kingpin will be there.

"But you still haven't--"

"Daredevil!" voices from behind me shout. Official voices-police. "Daredevil stand up, please, and put your hands in the air. We have some questions about what happened tonight with the coaster."

Great. Now the police are on my back.

"Please do it now!"

"Okay," I say loudly. "I'm getting up." I get off Boomerang slowly. "See. I'm--"

Then Boomerang scrambles away and rubs down the beach. I turn to follow him but i hear "Freeze, Daredevil!" they obviously can't make out Boomerang.

But if i let myself be taken in, I may find myself locked up for Arson, Extortion, numerous assaults, and who knows what else. I roll quickly to the side, spinning, careening over the sand, a dark red blur to the officers' eyes. I hear a gunshot, and I leap again hoping it's as dark on the beach as I imagine.

I hear more shots. But I'm running now. I hear them trying to follow, their heavy feet digging into the sand.

Boomerang is gone. Perhaps to his boat, perhaps to some dark hole beneath the boardwalk.

But I'm free, too. On my own. An outlaw. A wanted man.

It's time for Kingpin and I to have another one of our little talks, I think.

"I'm a fugitive now," I think. "Not much different from thousands of other drifting outsiders. Drifting–and dangerous."

The night offers me a perfect shroud. Anyone that sees me climbing rooftops or crawling through alleyways at 3AM, will probably think twice about calling the police. And by then, I'll be gone.

I move steadily away from Coney Island, away from the sounds of the police sirens and investigation into the tragedy. Within an hour, they'll be searching for me. So I know I've got to remain free, to confront Kingpin.

One more night, that's all I'll need. At least I hope that's all I'll need.

Morning arrives, and I sense the light–the growing heat signaling another hot day of late summer. I hear children pouring out of the high-rise apartments, savoring the freedom that the endless summer of youth brings, hearing their voices swirling around me, making me remember my own childhood.

It was late afternoon. I had spent the day with my best friend, a quiet, strong-willed kid named Eddie. I spent the day shooting baskets–he was always much better than me–and biking around his neighborhood, talking about girls, "Twilight Zone" episodes, and other weighty topics.

But I forgot to watch the clock that day, letting the hours slip by. Finally, Eddie's mother, getting dinner ready, suggested my mother may be calling me.

Like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, I popped up in my chair, not wanting to get grounded for missing another dinner with my dad.

The only way to get home in time was a shortcut through Hempstead Park, passing the playing fields and swings, and into the narrow trails that passed through the woods. It was fast, direct, and forbidden. Bad things had happened there, some I knew about, like the kid at school who had his bike stolen. Other things parents talked quietly to themselves about.

I biked as hard as I could that day, into the park, seeing ten minutes disappear from my traveling time.

At first I was surrounded by people. A men's softball game, with overgrown kids, a bunch of mom's with their toddlers at the swings. But when I cut into the woods, climbing the trail towards my neighborhood, I found myself alone.

I heard voices ahead, in plenty of time to turn back. But I kept on biking, figuring I'd just pedal past whoever it was, with no problem.

Then I could see them, maybe eight big kids standing around smoking cigarettes. They looked at me with an eagerness that chilled my whole body. One kid reached out and grabbed my handlebars, stopping my bike so abruptly that I nearly flipped qnd went flying over the front of it.

"Take a wrong turn, punk?" The one holding the bike said.

"Nice bike!" Said another, and then I was lifted off and tossed to the side, while one of them climbed onto my bike seat.

"Get off!" I yelled. "That's my bike, so get away you big, fat, smelly–"

They stopped and looked at me. Then one came real close.

"Hey, I know who you are. Your the Murdock kid." He gave me a push. "A real wussy."

"Yeah." Said another. They pushed me again, only this time someone crouched behind me and I tumbled backwards while they collapsed in laughter. Over and over I stood up to defend myself while they laughed hysterically, pushing me back down into the dirt. I saw my bike being rammed into trees and wheels being bent.

"Beg for it." One of them said, holding out my bent frame of a bike. I stood there, my face a blotchy mess, my pants torn, alone and afraid.

"C'mon," one of them finally said. "Give him his bike and let him get the hell out of here."

I took my bike, now suddenly not the same beloved thing that it was just a while ago. I got back onto the trail as the gang of teens watched me go.

It was a dark place, that fear, that loneliness, a dark place that I've never forgotten. I've ached to pay those bullies back since that day.

Now, my body racked with the aches and pains from the night, I feel alone again.

My radar sense tells me there is a phone ahead–open and exposed. Maybe there is someone I need to talk to–if she'll believe me, trust me.

I go to the phone and dial the number.

She's there…

"Karen–" I start, surprised at how tired my own voice sounds.

"Matt, where are you?"

"Beautiful downtown Brooklyn. I need you to–"

"The papers have photos of the hurricane coaster all torn apart, Matt. They're saying you–"

"Karen, c'mon. You know better than to believe that."

"The owner says he was threatened, that if he didn't make the payoffs, he'd lose the coaster. The police have asked that you surrender peacefully. Matt–"

I hear it in her voice. She's going to ask me to turn myself in. That's nice, neat, and safe, except that Id likely find myselt locked up in Ryker's while whoever wanted me out of the West side could move in for the kill.

"Karen, listen, that's not the answer. This is a part of a plan, and I need your help." I sense hesitation. 'Please Karen,' I think, 'Dont give up on me now.'

"What is it, Matt? What do you need?"

"Atta girl! Boomerang was at the coaster–with the explosives."

"Myers?! What on earth for?"

"He was working for Kingpin, though I have no idea why. Tonight that new Fisk theater is scheduled to open, right? Kingpin's legitimate showcase, funded, of course, by his assorted rackets. I'm going to confront him there, and get him to talk."

"Oh, Matt, I don't know. Everyone will be there. All the mayoral candidates, the press–"

"I don't have a lot of time. Here's what I need you to do. Get a look at the plans for the theater. I need a back entrance I can sneak into. Find out where Fisk will be seated. I'm sure it will be in a box seat of some kind. Find out where, okay?"

I hear another pause. "Yeah…I'll see what I can do."

"Great, and just make sure you don't give much credence to anything you're reading about me."

"Sure."

She's holding something back, something that got some reason she doesn't wanna tell me.

"Karen, is something wrong?"

"No, Matt, just be careful."

Right, careful, of everyone.

I sense the rumpled man turn down 17th Street, a bag of groceries in his hand, shuffling along, whistling. Unaware that I am about to call in my debts. I swing down from a nearby rooftop, and land close to him.

"Daredevil!" He says with genuine awe. "I thought–" but I close my hand tightly over his mouth and pull him into a nearby alley.

"Talk quietly, Turk." And feeling his head nod slightly, I release him.

"I thought you was gone, high-tailed it out of the city. Jeez you should hear peeps be saying about you."

"Yeah, I can imagine." It's odd that at a time like this, I seek out Turk Barret, a petty good, nickel-and-diming his way through life. But, he also keeps his ears and pistols cocked to the deeper thrums and rumblings of the streets–a talent that has kept him, as far as I'm concerned, from a graveyard. "What do you hear, Turk?"

"That you've turned. You're shaking down folks, now. story is, you've grown bitter, DD, bitter and thirsty for revenge."

So that's what you're hearing?

I put a not-quite-protective arm around Turk.

"That's what the press is saying, Turk. Now, why don't you take a deep breath and tell me what you think is really happening. Be creative." I say, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Tell me what you think is happening."

He looks around, his fear obvious. The sweat, the fidgeting–but it's not fear of me.

"I don't know, Dare–"

"Talk, Turk." Then it comes.

"It's big. That's all I really know. It's really big. Someone's making moves in New York that I've never seen done before, big moves. Power plays. I don't know who's involved, honest. All I know is they're new, and they want you out of the West Side, away from the docks. First you, then the others."

"No vigilantes," I smile. "Just the crooks and the overwhelmed and crooked police department. Thanks, Turk. I know that was hard for you." I leap to the fire escape.

"If I'm lucky, I won't have to bother you again. But, just in case, keep your ears open." I climb away from the hoodlum.

It seems to take forever for night to arrive. My call to Karen was brief but helpful. Whether or not she believes me, she came up with just the information I needed. A reporter helped her look up the plans for Fisk theater in public records, and she also picked up the guest list of everybody that will be in attendance (I probably won't need that), and even where Kingpin's private box is located.

The premier is scheduled to be a glittering event in the political campaign, with each of the five mayoral candidates attending. As will I, in my own special way.

For a while, I hover around 8th Avenue, stumbling upon other refugees from society that are awaiting darkness.

My radar sense picks up the line of cars pulling up to the theater–heavy stretch limos and a taut little Mercedes, with a few lesser-autos thrown in from the press corps.

Fisk arrives nearly at 8PM, ready to make his entrance. I pick him out easily, lumbering out of his car. Though huge, Kingpin is no sluggish fatty. He is a powerful, brutal man, with just enough distance from his dirty dealings and himself to stay in the good graces of the law.

Then the car disappears.

It seems like the rear of the theater is nice and quiet, almost peaceful, when I pick up some motion against the walls. A stagehand, I suppose, or maybe someone checking scenery. But I pause, suddenly aware that there's familiar patterns in the movement.

Then I know what it is. Someone is climbing the rear wall. Nice trick. In fact, I have quite a few friends capable of that feat. But this one is more than a friend–Black Widow.

I start towards building, wondering what in the hell she is doing here?

The door opens, amazingly enough, and I find myself face-to-face with a security guard. As I knew I would.

"Daredevil!" He shouts, going for his gun. How quickly they all accept the big lie.

"Sorry, friend." I say, throwing an effortless blow that sends the guard crashing against the main stage entrance.

Fortunately, my restrained blow knocks him out, at least long enough for me to carry on.

I turn from the stage and auditorium entrance to a small staircase leading to the basement of the theater. It spirals down for three levels–below all the fancy stage machinery that can make complete sets disappear and raise the orchestra to the rafters. Finally, I'm at the bottom level, the business end of the theater. I find three heavy-duty boilers (cool and quiet now) and a battery of noisy, groaning compressors that feed cool air into the entire theater. There are also pipes leading under the seats to the front of the house, then up to the mezzanine, the balcony and the box-seats.

I run, hearing the muffled vibrations of the orchestra playing a warm-up number. It sounds very bassy down here, but nonetheless wonderful.

I run now, annoyed at the sheer size of the theater–the biggest on Broadway. Built by dozens of shady handshakes, and dirty money laundered by way of Columbia and Miami. Then I hear somebody running behind me, running just as fast. I turn, and before she says a word, I know who it is.

"Black Widow. I didn't expect to surprise you." She steps closer to me. "Are you here to help?" I ask.

"In a way, Matt. I think…I think you need some help."

"Welcome to the club." More steps, and we face each other in the narrow chamber, separated by only 5 feet.

Black Widow, Natasha Romanov. An enemy at one time, a lover at another, and now aupposedly an ally.

"How'd you know I was here?" She doesn't answer, but I do for her. "Karen. Did she contact–"

"No." She says, reaching out and touching my arm. "I cornered her." I let my hand press against hers.

"Why, Natasha?"

She pulls away. "To catch you. To talk to you. Matt…I still care enough for you to try to keep you from doing something you'll regret. You have to turn yourself in…answer some–"

"Like hell I do!" I step back. "Natasha. You can help me or leave me alone, it's your choice. But you're not getting me out of here until I do what I've come to do."

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Matt. Very sorry." She raises her bracelet suddenly, catching me off guard. Twin jets of gas spew out at my face.

I perform a quick backwards somersault, slapping my feet against the ceiling, but the maneuver gets me away from the pellets. I raise my club, waiting for the gas to dissipate.

"I don't know why you're doing this, Black Widow, but two can play at that game."

I pull my punch.

She may be a former KGB spy, but she's been a good friend and loyal lover too. I can sense that she almost didn't expect the blow, and her reflexes arent quite enough to avoid it. It sends her stumbling backwards, fumbling at her bracelet (perhaps ready to give me a taste of something lethal). I waste no time pinning her arms to the ground.

She struggles hard, but I'm too much dead weight. "Get off, you big–"

"Easy," I say. "I'm just trying to protect myself."

"And I'm trying to protect you, too! If you can even still be protected. Half the people in this city think you're a violent outlaw."

"They're wrong."

"A lot of good just saying that does. Will you get off me now?"

"Not until I'm sure you're not gonna try to hand me over to the, ahem, proper authorities."

"I promise."

I stand up, waiting for the ever-so-nimble Black Widow to try to lay me low again.

"There," she says exasperated. "No tricks. Now, tell me what's going on."

"Easier said than done, but here it goes…"

I move close to Natasha, remembering how much I once cared for her. I try to make my story sound convincing.

"The fire was real enough," I say, speaking about the warehouse two nights ago, "But the voice I heard came from a loudspeaker."

"But, why?"

"A trap, and a plot to discredit me. The media lackeys were there, waiting for me when I made my 'suspicious' departure."

"And the coaster?"

"I guess you'll have to just trust me on that one," I laugh. "But Boomerang was there. He set off the explosives. He also directed me here–to Kingpin. I don't mind a fair fight, but there's something about this that's way over my head. If Kingpin has some of the answers, I want to talk to him."

Black Widow stands there, silently debating whether or not to believe anything I'm saying. Perhaps figuring the best way to get me under lock and key or turn me in. Then, quietly she asks, "what can I do to help?"

"Bless you, beautiful. Even I was beginning to lose faith in my one-man campaign. Here's what I need:"

I hold her–its so wonderful to to have someone else to lean on–and ask her to surveil the front of the theater.

"In case Kingpin decides to step out before I get to him."

"Fine." She says.

"If you see him sneaking away, just come and get me. Now, I'd love to stay and catch up but I'm already late for my grand entrance."

I turn from Black Widow and dash down the corridor, beneath the massive hall, to the shafts leading up to the box-seats��and to Kingpin.

The corridor narrows, then opens into a small room with larger shafts leading up. Ducts appear to carry hot and cold air to the rear of the auditorium.

There's a schematic drawing posted above one of the shafts, showing where each leads. One exits right behind the box seats, probably ending in a small grid facing the seats. Not so small, I hope, that I won't be able to squeeze through it.

I sense another shaft feeding into the ones leading to the rest of the house. There's an oversized valve to one side. I close it–hoping the patrons won't mind their next ten minutes or so of stuffiness, Because I hope that ten minutes is all that it will take me. Then I pop open the metal flap leading to the seats, I stick my head in, hoping my radar sense will guide me safely.

Up I climb, pressing my feet and my back against the walls of the metal shaft. Outside I hear the sounds of rock music–I can't place the song or the group–keeping up with contemporary rock groups hasn't been a priority lately. But it's good and loud–guaranteed to mask my activity.

Then my radar sense picks up a curve ahead, and worse, a slight narrowing. The shaft curls and becomes half as large.

I use my arms to pull myself along, all the time thinking that if the shaft gets any smaller, I'd be stuck like a cork in a wine bottle.

But then I see the grid. It's small, but unless my senses are off, large enough to squeeze through.

I wait, letting my breathing ease up. I concentrate on finding where my favorite tough-guy, Wilson Fisk, exactly is.

There he is! In one of the boxes just behind a heavy door. I can pick out the bulky figure resting on a custom-designed seat. He's in his own compartment, shielded from anyone to his left or right. Two goons are near the back, as if Kingpin couldn't take care of himself!

It's time to pay the big man a visit.

I put my hands onto the mesh, but then I sense something else–or the lack of aomething. Kingpin has no heartbeat, no breathing. He's either dead…or he's a dummy. A decoy for Daredevil.

"In for a penny, in for a pound." I say. At least I know it's a trap. I smile to myself.

The grating gives way with only the slightest sound. Fortunately, the rock music continues to blare at ear-splitting volumes, masking what noise I make.

The lobby area is empty and I sense a door ahead, leading to Kingpin's box. I walk to it quickly, almost matter-of-factly. It opens, and I hear the music at full volume. I sense the great bulk of Kingpin ahead.

Unfortunately, I also sense his two burly thugs flanking him.

No matter, I can get to him before they can get to me.

I hear footsteps, and I throw a chokehold around Kingpin.

"Okay, Willy, I think it's time we had a little chat."

But the massive bald head doesn't move–it feels like dead weight in the crook of my elbow. Is he dead? I hear two semi-automatic pistols being drawn from shoulder-holsters. It's time to change tactics.

"Sorry," I say, releasing Kingpin's head, which lolls forward, "but I'm afraid firearms are not allowed in the theater." I quickly club each of the thugs' gun hands and the silenced Uzi's clatter to the floor. I reach out and grab each of the goons by their sharkskin lapels. "Now, let's see which of you knows more."

"Im afraid neither of them would be able to help you." Says a voice. It's Kingpin, standing at the rear of the box. I hear a whining sound behind me, and the box is enclosed in a special clear acrylic. I let his two hoods go.

"Fine, I'll go directly to the big man himself." But he catches me off guard. My radar sense picks up Kingpin raising his jeweled cane overhead. Harmless enough, I suppose, if I can dodge the laser he has built into it.

The box is completely enclosed. Anything could happen in here and the rest of the audience would be oblivious to it. "Such an easy mark!" Kingpin laughs, and I hear the high-pitched whine of the laser as he brings it down, aimed directly at mt chest.

The laser slices the air where I was standing. It singes the still-new carpet. The now-enclosed box suffuses with a foul odor (like the illegal dump on Staten Island).

"I'll take that," I say, reaching out to grab Kingpin's cane.

I reach out and grab at Kingpin's jeweled cane (a compact industrial laser that Fisk wields with the dexterity of an accomplished swordsman). Kingpin's arm is like an unyielding tree limb. But I twist his stick left and right, giving it a sudden flip, and his sausage fingers loose their hold. It takes me but a second to toss the weapon to the side.

"There," I say, "Now we can talk like two civilized men."

He comes at me. A human steamroller, ready to flatten me.

In the narrow confines of the box seats, it will take some artful maneuvering to avoid his 450 pounds of firmly-packed flesh.

I wait until Kingpin is almost on top of me, then I nearly press myself against the brushed velvet wall while delicately tripping him. He falls to the floor against the wall with a crash.

"Okay, big guy, on your feet." Then I feel the cold, unmistakable steel gun barrel neatly lodged at the base of my spine.

"You can turn around, Mr. Daredevil. But do it slowly, if you don't mind."

Alex Wiley, mayoral candidate, and hater of costumed crimefighters, especially me.

"I guess you really don't care much about your candidacy," I say. "I mean, hanging out with old Tubby hard knocks here."

Kingpin's temper flares and he swipes me across my face with the jeweled end of his cane.

I begin to reach for him when Alex Wiley cautions, "Tsk, tsk, Daredevil."

I sense two accomplices on each side of him, with their weapons trained on me. "Such rude behavior. And I'm afraid you've got it all wrong, my friend. I'm not hanging around him. He's assisting me…for a price. Wilson's community spirit ends with his checkbook." He drapes his arm around Kingpin. "Though, I'm sure he'd support me for mayor anyhow."

"Yeah, all the rats and–"

Kingpin raises a fist to me, but Wiley touches his arm. "No, Wilson, allow the devil of Hell's kitchen his final few words to be pathetic banter."

My ears perk up at the use of the word: 'final'. It has the kind of terminal ring to it that makes me feel cold in an interminably hot and stuffy theater.

"So why trash my reputation, Wiley?"

"Ah, wonderful," he smiles. "You still think I'm Wiley, and if I can fool you, I can fool anybody."

I'm confused. Of course it's Wiley. My senses wouldn't trick me, not in that way. The voice, the mannerisms–all of it indicates Wiley.

"I can detect your confusion. The real Alex Wiley suffered an….unfortunate accident some years ago. I've taken his place."

"You killed him?"

"Oh please, Daredevil. I never kill anyone. Not directly, anyways. But I was there to take his place. The best bioengineering in the world has made me into an almost perfect duplicate of Alex Wiley. I assumed his distinguished background–Harvard Law, prestigious firm, and so on–and moved his entire political career in a slightly different direction. All according to plan."

Kingpin turns to Wiley. "Do you think you should be telling him so much?"

"Why the hell not?! It's over, Wilson, and you played your part well! In fact, you can leave us. There are still certain things not even for your ears."

Kingpin storms out of the box and down the corridor. I wonder whether I could take the three of them now–wiley and his two henchmen. But then I sense that their fingers are pressed tightly against the triggers, only a few millimeters away from blasting at me.

Okay, so I'm a captive audience.

The rock and roll band finishes one number and quickly segues into a second, even louder.

"You see, Daredevil, we have to discredit you, to turn peopke against all costumed vigilantes. With my platform, such hate would be easy to manipulate into a victory."

"You control the West side. So what? Not the rest of New York." He smiles, as if my comment had come from a child.

"Yes, the West side, and all it's docks. Absolutely crucial to our purposes. But we wouldn't ignore other costumed gadflies. It would just take time. In the meantime, our representatives would be in place.

"Oh yes, didn't I tell you? It's not just New York, my friend, though it had to be, of necessity, the first. Each city will have its own tailor-made plan, tied to an upcoming election. When we have a foothold in each of the major cities, then we can really get to work."

"We? Just who is this 'we'?"

"Ah, even Kingpin doesn't know this, Daredevil. He just thinks I'm trying to take you out, become mayor, use the docks for drug-running and moving radioactive waste to cheap dumps."

Now I remember how this all started. "Staten Island." I say quietly.

"Yes, I heard that site had an unwanted visitor. That was you, eh? Well, that's just a sideline to generate extra cash flow."

He steps back, towards the door, and I get the uncomfortable feeling that my audience is about to come to an abrupt end.

"You see, getting the cities is only the beginning. Important and necessary, but only a beginning. The Association wants nothing less than control over the entire nation–though we have plans for later…expansion. And it all starts with you, Daredevil." He begins laughing wildly, a hysterical, maniacal laugh. Another crackers case out for world domination. But something tells me that this guy–whoever he is–and his Association mean business.

One thing is pretty clear. Whatever Alex Wiley and the Association have planned for me, it won't be good. The way he's edged to the back of the box seats would indicate that my time for planning is up.

He backs up another step.

"My colleagues will accompany you outside, Daredevil. I suggest you come along quietly, their guns are silenced, and they are more than willing to use them."

I bet they are.

I follow Wiley out, looking for a good moment to disarm him and trash his plan for world domination. He leaves the box seats and walks for the emergency exit. "Oh," he says casually, "I almost forgot." He turns a small pen-shaped object over in his hand. "Almost." He squirts a thin stream of gas in my face.

"What–" I mutter, my nostrils inhaling the powerful stench. I try to reach for Wiley, but I'm collapsing to the floor.

Oh, my aching head! Is it still there?

I rub at my skull, trying to find the source of the throbbing pain. Slowly, I remember. There was a gas. I can still taste it on my lips, like insect repellent.

I feel the floor. Smooth, flat…and moving.

It vibrates under me, and rolls left and right, as if–im on a boat!

At least I'm intact, I'm glad to feel, stretching my arms and legs. I stand up, hoping my radar sense will give me a better picture of just what my current status is.

I'm not quite prepared for what I pick up. There's no one else on board, and this is no pleasure yacht. It is a good sized freighter, moving at a brisk clip. All around me is glass…this must be the bridge. There is a door just to the side, and I'd bet my life savings that ifs locked. I walk over to it slowly, painfully, to test it. The knob won't even move, as if it's been welded to the door.

"Great," I say a loud. "This has been a great week for me."

I concentrate harder, desperate for any information about what's going on here…what's happening.

There's another sound out there, beyond the glass. A ship–a big ship. An ocean liner, and this freighter is headed straight for it.

Sealed in on the bridge, with no controls and no way out. From the sounds surrounding the ship, I'd guess I'm still in New York harbor. But what am I doing here?

There's only one answer. A final disgrace committed by Daredevil, some horrible disaster perpetrated in plain sight of the harbor. It will have to end in my death. But what a wonderful way to crown Wiley's campaign to make the streets safer for criminals again.

I bang on the glass with my fist, but my hand bounces off harmlessly. I doubt even my billy club, if I had it, could do any good.

Then, I hear another rumble, not the ship but from beyond the glass. My ship seems to be turning slowly towards it.

"Oh no." I moan. "Not this." The freighter seems to kick into a higher acceleration, bearing down on what is senses to be a giant ocean liner. Everyone on deck, kids, lovers, retired peoples back from their dream vacations, are probably watching Daredevil steer a freighter right at them.

The Ocean Liner is now less than a half a nautical mile away. It lets out a warning howl. Someone, somewhere is sending the freighter I'm on at them.

Then I hear another sound, faint. A small motor, another boat.

Finally, I hear the sound of someone coming on board my ship. Footsteps, padding on the main deck, heading towards me. There's a heartbeat–and a voice.

"Daredevil, stand back from the glass, I'm going to blow it."

It's black Widow. How she got here, I'll never know.

I wait for the explosion–a specialty of hers–and I feel chunks of glass fly by me.

Black Widow climbs onto the bridge. Only a few thousand feet seperates me and the liner.

"Go!" She screams. "Find the controls! Before it's too late! Go!"

I step outside and listen to the freighter, hoping to find the sounds of a hidden control panel.

This time, I get lucky, zeroing in on the small control unit hidden aft.

"I've got it!" I yell to Black Widow, as I run over to it. I rip open the small box, noting the maze of wires inside. I first disengage two strands of wire leading to explosives–I obviously was not meant to survive the crash.

C'mon, which one controls the rudder? That's all that's important.

I can hear the ocean liner, close now. So close that I can hear people on deck, screaming and pointing at me.

C'mon!!!

Then I have it. One wire, then another, and the boat's throaty engine goes dead.

Still, the ship drifts forward. But, slowly, as the liner passes. Halfway, and the liner's almost clear. Then the bow of the ship nudges the ship before it sails on.

The people on the liner are knocked about, but they safely float by.

"You did it!" Black Widow exclaims.

"You did it, if anyone did." I say to her, throwing my arms around her and squeezing her tight.

A police launch chugs it's way towards us.

"So how did Black Widow know to follow you?" Karen asks, as two days later, all charges against me have been dropped, The two of us walk together through Central Park.

"She didn't–not at first. But when she decided to come back and check on me, and I wasn't there she got worried. Looking at the back exit, she found Wiley leaving with me all tied up."

"And where did Wiley go?"

"Back to his buddies in the Association, whoever they are. Black Widow has notified SHIELD and the FBI and other cities' police forces, but the info is so nebulous that I dont know what they'll do."

Karen pauses, then asks, "And was it fun meeting with Black Widow again?"

"Fun? Surprising, maybe and helpful. But–"

"No sparks?"

"No." I say.

It's just a small lie. Not much to feel guilty about. I take Karen's hand and walk towards the sounds of music and children coming from the Central Park carousel. Finally, a smile comes to my face.

#marvel comics #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock #karen page #foggy nelson #black widow #natasha romanov #kingpin #wilson fisk

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blindrapture · 5 months ago

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FRIDAY JULY 1ST, 2011 (Rael's Exodus III: Fear the Day)

11:39 AM I woke up today to hear Genesis’ “The Colony of Slippermen” playing on the loudspeakers. I take it The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway was also in Yates’ collection. Donnie’s not in bed. I’m looking for her.

11:55 AM There she is, in the dining room. ..is she okay?

11:56 AM Sarah’s dead? Sarah Virtshire. She was nice. D: ..oh my god, her head was cut clean off. We’ve got to find the Masked Massacrer. ..after I have some breakfast.

12:38 PM A woman’s running in. She looks scared.

12:39 PM ..Doctor Johnson’s dead too. o_o

12:40 PM Doctor Johnson was overlooking Ms. Desmond. I’m going to see if she’s still there.

12:53 PM Doctor Johnson was stabbed repeatedly in the eyes. o_e It looks like he was then thrust into this sink and.. well, his head’s got a big dent in it. I don’t want to look at it any longer. Ms. Desmond is gone. Donnie’s gone quiet. I suggested we go get some fresh air on the deck.

12:59 PM Nothing but ocean for miles and miles. And miles. No fish in the sea. The water has faint hints of holy moly dick need a lifesaver where’s the thing there OVERBOARD kay PULL PULL PULLING

1:02 PM Got Mister Tickrand. His wife’s still down there. PULL PULL

1:03 PM Mister and Missus Tickrand were overboard. They were in the ocean. Donnie and I saved them. Shit, we gotta get these guys indoors, gotta get them wrapped up. They must have been in there for over a day; they weren’t even moving. Yet.. floating. ..the ocean’s really buoyant, right? Anyway, we got them now, and they’re following us. Taking them to the dining room.

1:23 PM Chef Gusteau says he’ll take care of the Tickrands. Donnie’s going to Captain Fitzgerald; she’ll tell him the news. I’m helping Gusteau.

1:25 PM The Tickrands aren’t saying anything. They’re just standing next to each other, watching us blankly. We’ve wrapped them in towels, but they don’t seem to have even noticed. ..makes me wonder what they saw down there.

1:29 PM Where’d they go? Gusteau and I happened to take our eyes off them for five seconds, just five seconds, and.. they’re gone! Ohhhh fuck, this isn’t good. Before you know it, this boat’ll be empty.

1:32 PM “Attention, passengers. This is your captain speaking. I’ve just been informed that Mister and Missus Tickrand have been located. Now, if anyone happens to know where their daughter, Quinn Tickrand is, we can have a reunion. Kay, how’s that sound? See, nothing to worry about, folks. “There are no more dangers out here at sea. It’s smooth sailin’ from here on out. But still, I advise you folks to stay alive. Fitzgerald out.” Well, at least Donnie was successful. Gusteau’s gonna go look for them.

1:38 PM Oh hey, Donnie’s b ..Ms. Desmond came in for a second. Then she turned and left.

1:39 PM Now Donnie’s back. I asked her if she saw Ms. Desmond on her way in. She didn’t. I told Donnie about the Tickrands’ disappearance. She’s mad at me for looking away. ._.

1:40 PM I suggested we check the cargo holds. ‘Cause really, you never know, do you?

2:01 PM Dark and cold, as always. I still see a faint flashlight beam pointing at the ceiling. That’d be Carl. >_< I can’t see anything else, though. Donnie says we won’t be able to tell if there’s anyone in here anyway, so we should footsteps Laughter. o_o “Rael, we meet again. Victoria, I do believe we’ve never met.” That sounds like Ms. Desmond. ..the flashlight’s moving Ms. Desmond’s picking it up. oh god light in my eyes I asked what Ms. Desmond wants, why she killed Doctor Johnson. “The doctor was just.. an experiment. Trying new things. I’m still getting used to this sudden surge of knowledge I have. ..we are still getting used to this sudden surge of knowledge.” I asked who “We” is. Ms. Desmond laughs again. “It’s far bigger than you could understand, Rael. We’re children of the rabbit holes and of her cold blue rain. But of course, you don’t understand what I mean, do you? You haven’t enough context.” I assume she has superiors, and asked who they are. “No superiors. I am under no one’s command. That is the whole point of this revolution, Rael. We are free to roam, no longer bound by the water. Our time in the water has helped us… evolve. But of course, in time, all creatures must evolve and learn to walk out of the ocean.” ..she’s walking closer to us. I asked for her name. “My name is Terry Desmond. And it always has been, save for one nasty experience where I plunged, headfirst, into unknown waters.“ She’s still looking at us, still walking closer. Screw this, we’re getting out of here.

2:28 PM We’re back in the dining room. We’ve locked the doors. I’m trying to think of what the hell Ms. Desmond— Terry— well, trying to think of what happened to her. I hear she nearly drowned, then was saved by some people. ..the Tickrands nearly drowned, too. There’s something in the water. That’s my guess. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m right.

2:33 PM Bill said Rogers wrote down a list of the things, the worst things that people really need to watch out for. Maybe whatever this water virus is, it’s on that list. I need to see Rogers’ papers.

2:34 PM Donnie’s backing me up as I go through the halls. Just in case Terry’s still out here. Gusteau says the Burgandys are in room 139. That’s not too far.

2:36 PM “INDISEN” is still written on the wall in blood here.

2:38 PM Donnie swears she hears footsteps behind us. Keeping Tiger Stripes close.

2:41 PM ..room 139. Knocking. Donnie says the footsteps have ceased.

2:42 PM Richard answered the door. I asked if I could, by any chance, read Rogers’ papers on the “abominations.” Richard said there was no such thing and closed the door on me. Dammit.

2:43 PM We’re not heading back to the dining room. The footsteps were coming from that way. We’ll go back to our room.

2:44 PM Donnie’s reporting footsteps again.

2:47 PM I can hear them now too. Our room’s just up ahead.

2:48 PM We’re in. As I was closing the door, I poked my head out the hallway and saw someone in a mask coming down the hallway. Someone in a Jesus Christ mask.

2:49 PM We’ve moved cabinets in front of our door. …the Massacrer is banging on our door. Please go away. Please. ..please. D:

2:55 PM They’re still banging. >_<

2:57 PM ..they’ve stopped. o_o They’re walking away. We’re keeping the cabinets in front of the door.

4:03 PM ..okay, we’re gonna see what’s outside now.

4:05 PM The hallway is empty. Of course, an hour’s passed, but.. but still. ._.;

4:20 PM Okay, we’re.. we both acknowledge that it’s important we read Rogers’ papers. But we need to figure out how to get into the Burgandys’ room when they’re gone.

4:25 PM We’ll take a look when dinner’s out, when they’ve gone to the dining room. We’ll see if, for some reason, they’ve left their door unlocked. Just this once, I’m really hoping these guys are idiots.

5:50 PM We’re setting off. Once again, keeping Tiger Stripes close.

6:01 PM We’re here, room 139 o__o; The door’s been kicked down.

6:02 PM The room is empty, but there is a conspicuous briefcase on the bed. Inside the briefcase is a series of papers. “Rogers Burgandy” is on the top of each. Jackpot. Taking them. Going.

6:04 PM I admit, it feels really mean to take the last memories of their dead child, but.. but I need to see this.

6:08 PM ..Mister Finch. In the hallway. He has his son Omar. He’s taking him somewhere. That’s the deck. We don’t have time for this; it’s not safe to be in the hallway for long.

6:12 PM We’re back in our room. Okay, let’s take a look at these papers.

I- Every horror movie has an antagonist, some of whom strike more fear in viewers than others. There’s a trend among the ones who strike the most fear. They tend to be very similar.

Alfred Hitchcock gave us a flock of birds stalking protagonists, and many films and projects have played on these same fears. This one might be caused by our primal fear of animals we don’t understand, of nature at large from which we all come and the hidden things we’ve forgotten thanks to evolution, and empathy for creatures that are eaten by flocks of birds.

The “Chuckie” character is based on a very popular fear of living puppets, dolls, and mannequins, often deadly. This one is caused by our fear of the uncanny valley, wherein something looks almost human.. but something is off. Mannequins, in particular, with their strings, give off a strong image of being under someone else’s control, something a lot of people fear.

Many films portray fatal and otherwise unknown illnesses. Illnesses, themselves, are often used in horror to signal that something is wrong. This relies on our fear of illnesses, a real thing we all have. Various films, especially recent ones, showcase the concept that maybe what we hear isn’t real, what we see isn’t real, that we are, in fact, going insane. The fear of miscommunication is another one of the very real things out there we have good reason to fear.

Body horror is often used in horror, disgusting things done to our bodies, especially when feral animals are used. The same feral animals, usually dogs, are often used as omens, much like vague illnesses. This is a fear of body horror and dogs.

Some films rely on our fear of the familiar becoming the unknown, or in other words, our fear of death. This is often a very difficult fear to represent in media, but the fear of death is a very justified and real one. It’s the fear of the end, or of the knowledge that everything’s coming to an end, and it goes hand-in-hand with worries about blame.

A lot of films rely on the fear of feral creatures, especially ones we don’t understand. This one was definitely caused by our primal fear of predators and dangerous creatures.

A very common motif in horror films is to take a small child and have him or her recite vague, formerly-innocent sayings (usually a nursery rhyme) as a sign that something is definitely wrong. This child is often alone in isolation, sometimes going as far as complaining of being cold. This relies on the fear of the familiar becoming unknown, of loss of innocence, and of isolation. Related to the previous: newborns in horror are used to refer to the fear of the future, for the newborns that cause fear are the ones who look terribly off. This provokes the fear in viewers that this newborn will grow up to be something terrifying.

Eyes are a common motif in horror. A lack of eyes, or occasionally just blindness, tends to disturb viewers. On a more metaphorical sense, being blind of one’s past— memory loss— is just as common a motif as eyes. These are very common fears.

Related to the previous: Eyes are the symbol of judgement. Humans have a natural fear of being judged. Horror tends to make the most use of this.

Shadows are extremely vague. If one sees a shadow, one cannot make out any of the features on it, one does not even register it as being human. It’s almost human, but it’s missing a huge part of its humanity. The fear of being a shadow of one’s former self, of having the humanity taken out of oneself, rings true in a great portion of horror, as does the more literal fear of vague creatures.

Humans have a natural fear of strangers. Strangers in suits give off the sense that the victim is wanted for reasons he or she cannot understand. The best way to portray a stranger in horror is to take away the face and to place it in the background, so the viewer won’t even notice it at first until it is lampshaded. Marble Hornets is the best example I’ve found of this.

Water is an oddity. It’s vital to our lives, yet we cannot live in it. Yet some creatures can. These tend to be the creatures that resemble nothing we’ve ever seen. H.P. Lovecraft made use of the alien nature of the sea and took it to a new level, introducing eldritch abominations to it with Cthulhu. Many sea creatures have tentacles, a naturally alien thing to humans. The Portuguese Man o’ War, one of the most terrifying sea creatures man has seen, looks like a jellyfish but is actually a hive mind-esque collection of creatures. Add all of this with the fact that humans have a natural fear of drowning, and it’s clear that water is used in so much horror for very good reasons. (Note to self: Look into connections with derealisation, amend.)

Religion has spawned a host of fears in people: the fear of gods, the fear of organized malevolent cults, the fear of unchangeable fate, and the fear of no god at all.

Fear is not limited to just creatures. We humans also greatly fear alien architecture, incomprehensible landscapes, and the concept of being whisked away into an alternate world by as comfortable a trap as a door. The inability to escape is another popular fear.

II- So many horror media use these particular creatures and fears frequently, to the point where I’m reminded of a theory regarding aliens. The theory dictates that Hollywood has defined “aliens” as being grey, with large heads, large eyes, small bodies, because this is what they actually look like. This makes me wonder if the most common of horror antagonists are based on truth. I have only listed the most prominent of all fears, the ones that seem to be the hardest to conquer. I fully expect there to be more fears than I could ever imagine.

III- What do fears fear?

IV- It’s happened. The fears have finally manifested. I met the fear of isolation and loss of innocence tonight. He told me “Rapture is coming,” then he proceeded to recite nursery rhymes. He’s a fear, but I have no fear of him. I have my suspicions of what’s happening.

V- Portal to another world. This is what I feared. We are not to enter any of these “rabbit holes,” as the cold boy, my secret friend, calls them.

VI- There are lots of creatures in this apocalypse that are not based on prominent fears. These are still eldritch abominations, but they are not.. notable. These cat-spiders are a prime example of a creature based on a non-prominent fear.

VII- I have met the creature that the Marble Hornets’ Operator was based on. I am tempted to refer to it as the slender man, but in truth, there’s no telling what these fear gods are called. I have decided that that is what I will refer to them collectively as. “Eldritch abomination” is too vague. They are the gods of our fears. They cannot be defeated, cannot be conquered. But they fear terrors as well. What do they fear?

VIII- A man in a gas mask. A man without a face. A face without a man. A shadow of your former self. A boy in isolation. A girl who pulls the strings. A man who is a dog. A dog made of men. A man from the past who has our own. A blur in our perception. A convocation of birds. A thing with ill will. A judge in the sun. A beast below. Punainen kauhut. An eldritch Rapture. Rapture is coming. Don’t go in the Doors.

IX- Inside the Doors is paradise. The Doors caused all this. The Doors caused it all. The Doors caused the end of the world. Don’t go in the Doors.

X- There’s something in the sea. It’s coming out of the sea. It’s coming out in waves. XI- INDISEN IS KEY I need to write this down for Bill. Bill, I don’t have much time left. Just remember this: INDISEN IS KEY. And the “Gods” are falling from their thrones. Fear the day the Fears fall from their thrones.

6:38 PM I.. huh. There’s “INDISEN” again. Goddammit, this only vaguely helps. So now we know there’s definitely something in the sea, okay, and stuff about tentacles and Man o’ War. Donnie wants to go eat. I have no complaints with that.

6:45 PM I hear footsteps behind us. ..ffff

6:46 PM RUNNING

6:50 PM Locked the dining room doors. It was the Masked Massacrer. o_e The dining room’s rather empty now. ..noises outside. o__o

6:53 PM The noises have stopped.

6:54 PM ..the.. but.. Masky’s dead. Shit. How? Donnie’s taking Masky’s mask off. ..it was Mister Gerome. I never even saw that guy around. Guess this explains it.

6:55 PM Something new is written on the wall. It’s “INDISEN.” ..again. I mean, it’s a new writing of it.

7:10 PM “Attention, passengers, this is your captain speaking. I’ve just been informed that yet another person has passed away. But don’t worry this time! This wasn’t just any passenger! This was the Masked Massacrer, himself! That’s right. We will not be revealing his identity, so don’t get your hopes up. Just know he’s dead now. “So yeah, try not to die, okay? I don’t know how many of you are even left at this point. Captain Fitzgerald, reminding you to stay alive. Fitzgerald out.”

7:39 PM Walk back to our room had no notable events. Goddamn, this is getting tense. There really aren’t that many people left, are there? I’m making sure to keep a close eye on Donnie. I don’t want her to die. D:

8:02 PM Door. Is that Mister Finch again?

8:05 PM It was Mister Finch and Omar. Mister Finch said “You saw me earlier today, Rael.” I acknowledged this. “I hope you appreciate my opening of that door for you.” I asked if he was the one who kicked down the Burgandys’ door. “You’d be best to watch out, Rael. Most of us don’t like you and would rather have you dead. But I’m only keeping my eyes on you because you’ve proven yourself out there, and I rather need an outsider’s point of view. On a private matter.” I asked what the private matter was. “Stay alive, Rael. Watch out for.. Ms. Desmond. I will tell you what is necessary when you need to know it.” All this time, Omar hadn’t said a word. Or even blunk. After that, the two of them turned and left. This is starting to get really weird. I’m keeping Tiger Stripes with me tomorrow, really close to me. And Donnie.

9:40 PM Donnie wants to go to bed. I’ll oblige.

11:00 PM twelve

(Attached: ”Depersonalization is something everyone does, to an extent. It’s when you stop thinking of yourself as an actual person. You might feel like you don’t exist, that you’re only an observer on the world’s black waters. You might feel like you do exist, but only as an abstract concept, a fictional character, that the entire world is just a work of fiction. You might feel something else, something deeper and more cryptic, robbed of the breath of a name. Either way, the effect this has on you is it allows you to put your feelings aside and think things.. not quite ‘more clearly’ but I suppose without worldly attachments. Maybe without feelings. We do this a lot as kids, it’s fun to pretend and forget the world around you. But if life gets too troublesome, depersonalization can appear as a saint on your shoulder, a way out of the violent haze, a clearer and safer drug– a dastardly coping mechanism. Like all coping mechanisms, it can drive you well off the brink of sanity to the point where you have a harder time convincing yourself you do exist, your feelings are real, you are a mind of your own. Approach this and all abstract matters with caution, hypothetical readers, or else you too might go the path of Queen Sea.“)

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#ogtrib #oh god the rapture is burning #ogtrib act 1

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danceismymuse · 18 days ago

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Jake knew the type of guy he was the last time Ally and himself spoke. The last time we had one conversation, Jake wasn’t proud of the boyfriend he was. We had inspired each other Ally had once been my muse. And suddenly Jake was the only one performing, he was the one in the spotlight. It would be easy to blame his mom, for telling him you had to step on toes in order to get ahead. But Jake was aware of his priorities back then. And he lost Ally in that process. Jake didn’t come back to a small town to step on toes or to be the center of attention. Yeah I know a shocker. But this was the brunette’s production, this was her theater, her school, her students. Was it awful of him to want to slip into the shadows?

But Ally made it obvious she wanted him sitting her, she wanted his input. She wanted him to help direct the production and that filled him with joy, because us working together was the dream now. And the male had to lean into it. Settling down against the chair, his notebook now on his lap, as he waited for the first student to step on stage, there was something magical about a performance, it had to be good, but move you in a way that the flow of movement flowed within my body instantly. Tilting his head to the say, a genuine smile creased along his lips. “ Okay my lady.” He echoed out the words with a teasing notion to pick up to her words just seconds ago. “ But please if you disagree with my thoughts, tell me please.” I didn’t want to ruffle feathers and of course I trusted Ally’s beliefs especially with her students, as the first girl came on stage Elena, I echoed out my response. “ Oh you know i’m already mapping out the routine in my head. It’s been ages since I just danced for fun..”

Mister focus on the prize, broadway, but since I stepped away I barely had that fun joy of dance, but creatively I felt as if I was in my element again, reunited with the muse; our production, it was in the stars now.

@danceismymuse

{A smile remained nestled across my lips and my cheeks felt warm as I read Jake's text message reply} Stop it, Ally! Get it together! He's just going to breeze in and then breeze out again, so don't get attached. {I told myself as I silence my phone and then set it down onto my night stand; figuring I needed to get some sleep, since I had an early morning ahead of me} Stop thinking about Jake, and go to sleep. {I told myself once more before I shut off my light; burying my face into the fluff of my pillow before forcing my eyes to close. It took me awhile, but in time I managed to drift off to sleep. By the time the next morning came around, I got up, showered, and then worked on my outfit, hair, and make-up for the day. No sooner slipping my feet into a pair of shoes when I heard the buzzer going off through the intercom system of my apartment. Given the time, I knew it was my brothers letting me know they had arrived} Yes? {I called out through the intercom system; hearing the familiar sound of my one brother responding} "We're here. Meet us down at the truck, when you're ready!" {He called back, which prompted me to do the same} Be right down. {At that, I retrieved my purse, phone, and keys; quickly double checking to make sure I had unplugged all of my hair devices, before ultimately taking a leave from my apartment. Before long I was downstairs and outside my apartment building; greeting my big brothers with a smile as I approached them} Please be nice to him. {Deciding to just get the elephant in the room out of the way, right from the start, before we were all in the same room together. I saw my brothers both shoot me a look as if to say, "Doubtful," which prompted me to speak once more} Look, what's done is done. He knows he broke my heart, and he knows it was a mistake. He's trying here. He even said he understands if you both decide to kick his ass, which says a lot for him, since you know how much his appearance means to him. {I added playfully with a soft grin, before my expression grew a bit more serious again as I continued speaking} All I'm saying is, please just give him a chance. I promise you, he's changed for the better. {I assured them as my one brother made his way around to the driver's side of the truck, while my other brother opened the back, passenger's side door for me, so I could get into the vehicle. Once I was securely in my seat, my brother closed the truck door, and then got into the truck via the passenger's side door} "He's still a jerk, Ally. Once a jerk, always a jerk. The way I see it, his return here, and this extravagant and showy gesture of buying a studio isn't going to change that for me. If he really has changed, like you claim he has, then he's going to have to do a hell of a lot to prove that to me." {My oldest brother aired out before the other spoke up} "For your sake, we will be chill around him today, but to be clear, if he hurts you again, we /will/ kick his ass. I'd say a broken leg and nose combo would give him enough of an awakening of his pride, arrogance, and selfish choices." {I aired out a quiet breath in response as I leaned back in the back seat of the truck; knowing there wasn't anything more I could do or say to change their protective nature or way of thinking. I just hoped they would give Jake a chance, was all, since in my heart, I really did feel he had changed. I guess time would tell on all of that though} Okay, that's fair enough. {I eventually said as the truck continued down the road and toward the location of the dance studio}

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crazyw3irdo · 4 years ago

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wait i feel like a dumbass i really watched all of invincible and didn’t realize william was voiced by andrew rannells until now

#crazy's life #to add insult to injury william was one of if not my favorite character and andrew rannells is my second favorite broadway actor #falsettos is my favorite musical i should know his voice by now i’m so sorry mr omaha nebraska 😔#i gotta go on imdb am i missing anyone else i should’ve known #cause like i knew jk simmons and jason mantzoukas #okay mark hamill was in it but i don’t feel bad about not recognizing his voice bc nobody ever does #MISTER KRABS??? mr krabs was darkblood..... huh #debbie was castaspella but i can’t remember castaspella’s voice so i know why i missed that #amber was domino from deadpool 2?? i don’t remember much about domino other than what she looked like so understandable miss #atom eve was marbles from adventure time.... she was only voiced in one ep but iconic #d... donald is mickey mouse??????????#black samson is like. every version of cyborg from teen titans.#DUPLI-KATE WAS A REOCCURRING CHARACTER ON BIG TIME RUSH???????#oh my god she was the girl kendall dated for a while.... oh my god wait why have i become this character #did lucy make such an impression on me that i subconsciously became her? despite the fact i couldn’t remember her name at first?#crazwaz posted

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years ago

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➳ don't let him know ♡

in which y/n l/n is a certified gryffindor scaredy cat who bumps into fred in his shop, gets scared by a product, and catches the eye of a ginger headed monster. he takes an interest in her and invites her to watch a horror movie at his place to prove a point.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±1.3k

tw: horror movies, scary things, darkness, clowns

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

- when playing it cool doesn't work

don't let him know

she was pretty sure he knew she would freak the hell out of her pants if she ever saw a picture of a killer clown. yet the stupid fearless annoying guy who laughed in her face when she got slightly paranoid about the darkness caused by the peruvian dark stuff insisted. in the most annoying way.

he knew she would freak the hell out. sure, she had been a gryffindor and a pretty well-known one, but she was probably just trying to be strong. plus, he liked her.

anyway.

y/n knocks at the door to a very interesting apartment. it has straight white walls and a dark oak door.

"ready to be a scaredy cat?" fred opens it with a grin.

y/n rolls her eyes, "no. i told you, the powder was just a little surprising, that's all."

fred would have completely believed her easy tone if it wasn't for the memory of her panicked voice calling out, "mister gingerman? uh, this is kinda a problem!!!" to him.

he put on 'it', settling back into the couch as she took off of her shoes and pulled her jacket closer to her.

"why's it so cold in here?" she shivers.

"is it?" fred's lips are smirking, "cold and scared?"

"oh shut up. i'm just saying."

truth is, she is cold, and she is scared. but fred likes the company of brave and ruthless women, she knows. he probably wouldn't even want to be her friend if he knew she was scared by spiders and death and murders.

she hops onto the couch, thankful that there's a blanket waiting for her. ignoring the way it smells of the ginger head next to her, she pulls it to her chin. y/n grabs a handful of popcorn and gulps it down as the movie begins.

she's utterly terrified. her eyes are wide with fear, her fingers trembling. a mild jumpscare appears and she shrinks. fred's engrossed watching her scared figure tremble, but he notices that she's very very embarrassed and decides it's not right, putting his amazing broadway acting to use.

he shivers as the clown comes on again, faking a scared look.

"h-hey, y/n, can we c-change the movie?" he asks meekly, lying.

she nods far too eagerly, "yeah!" she's thankful that she doesn't have to admit she's scared.

"o-okay."

he switches it quickly to 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S'. it's cute and light.

he feels her relax tenfold beside him. a smile is painted across her lips. she's laughing, and her eyes are no longer fearful.

fred decides he likes this much more than the scared version of her.

she turns her head awkwardly as a kissing scene comes up and fred can't help but laugh, shamelessly watching chandler and monica snog.

"seriously?" he chuckles.

"it just feels like the moment should be theirs. like we shouldn't be here- oh another one? can they NOT keep their hands off of each other?!!!"

he laughs, but it's drowned out by her laughter as phoebe says something utterly bonkers.

she's clapping, laughing uncontrollably. and he folds his arms.

because of course he's jealous. he wants to make her laugh like that, not a stupid movie character.

and as the clock ticks by, he notices her become drowsier and drowsier. finally, she slumps asleep, head supported by arm.

he thinks of moving her to the guest room but decides that if she does have nightmares, which would be completely his problem, she probably needed to wake in a more alive room. so he gently sweeps her up, and gently puts her in his bed, tucking the covers under her chin as she smiles subconsciously.

"scaredy cat, huh?" he whispers fondly.

"'m not," she automatically flounders, "you're stupid, big clown."

he finds her sleep talking utterly adorable. he can't think of why she would think being a scaredy cat is a bad thing. it's okay to have fears.

a boost of confidence suddenly runs through him as he realises she might want him to think she's tough and strong, trying to get him to at least like her as a friend.

his lips quirk into an odd smile at the very thought.

that would explain her embarrassed expression. and the way she suppressed her shivering.

but that also meant she wasn't comfortable around him. he frowns.

unable to resist, he pokes her shoulder continuously. she rolls around, annoyed and grumbling in her sleep, trying to dodge the poking.

finally, her eyes open wide, before her form relaxes as she realises a fire isn't actually happening.

"y/n?"

"mhm?"

"do you not feel very comfy with me?"

y/n ponders the question, "why?"

"well- you kinda seem on edge?"

"on edge?"

"like you're tryna hide something."

"huh?" y/n doesn't really want to explain it all to him, it seems really silly to her.

"i don't mind if you're scared of stuff, really," he smirks, "i find it cute."

"uh-erm, i-" she's rendered speechless, spluttering, "it's not cute! i'm a gryffindor, for godric's sake!"

"well, not all gryffindors need to be brave."

she narrows her eyes, flipping over with her back to fred, "now you're just insulting my womanhood."

"not all gryffindors need to be brave in an obvious way," he offers.

"that's a lil bit better. i-, i still wanna be brave and not fearful, but it's hard, if you know what i mean?"

his expression is bewildered, "wha?"

"never mind. so you don't really mind?"

"love, it's not a big deal."

she wonders if it's traditional english custom for all the people to call all the other people 'love'. apparently though, where she comes from, it's a mocking thing.

people say it when they go, "hey, love, stop being a jerk, won't you?" and "lovely, shut up." and "do us a favour and stop your ignorance, won't you, love?". it's meant as a sarcastic term.

so when fred says it ever so casually she nods and returns to her dreams. the problem is, she can't. the image of the clown is still imprinted in her head. fred's scribbling things down on a little desk.

she doesn't want to disturb him, so she quietly begins daydreaming. daydreaming about a nice love story.

sirius and remus would look good together, she muses, having seen pictures of the two standing side by side a little younger.

and sometimes, she thinks, a little creepily, of what it'd be like to have fred love her.

a small smile is on her lips as she creates little tales and images in her mind about the couples in her life.

cuties, she thinks about harry and ginny, guess the potter men have a thing for redheads. but redheads are kinda cute. ginny has the most beautiful features, ron has the nicest eyelashes, george has angie's love? if that counted- she chuckles to herself.

blushing a little, she admits in her head that fred has cute freckles, and whenever he wasn't up to no good, he has this sweet little smile on his lips.

percy's smart, charlie's got nice tattoos and bill has the best hair.

the exchange in her head doesn't go unnoticed by fred. he's confused by the little sighs of dramatic happiness she lets out and smirks. when a dainty blush paints over her cheeks he's got to say something.

"thinking of me, love?"

she really isn't listening, so she hums a "mmm" back and he laughs.

"you are?"

"huh?" her eyes snap back and she frowns.

"i asked," he says slowly, "if you were thinking of me."

she gives an awkward laugh, "nope! not at all! good try!"

and that, followed by another blush, is reason to fred that she might just be thinking about him.

"hey, y/n?"

"yeah?"

"i think about you a lot, too. probably more than you think of me."

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years ago

Note

Naomi’s finishing her shift when Ethan surprises her with a mysterious date invitation, refusing to reveal any details. How does she react? What has Grumpsey planned for them? 👀💖

Her initial reaction:

👀🤨

Her natural instinct is the be nosy. What is he doing? What does he have planned? How is she supposed to dress appropriately if she has no idea where she’s going????

Ethan tells her she looks beautiful in anything, even a paper bag but while Naomi appreciates the compliment, it doesn’t help. He then tells her to dress up, but not full on ballroom attire.

She tears their closet apart, grumbling and fussing that his secretiveness is annoying f

She settles on this:

He has half a mind to say fuck it and just have sex on the floor of his closet.

She makes Ethan take at least 15 pictures of her before they leave the condo. Ethan grumbles about punctuality but Naomi ignores him and tells him to get her good side.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand up when Ethan slips a silk blindfold around her eyes when they get into the elevator.

“Stop asking me so many questions and just trust me,” is all Ethan says. And she does trust him, so she closes her eyes and attempts going with the flow.

When they step off the elevator, Naomi can’t tell where they are. She knows they’re outside, but it doesn’t feel like the street she’s been gotten so accustomed to. And that’s when she hears it.

The sound of helicopter blades.

“You can take the blindfold off, I know you’re itching to do so.” And Naomi doesn’t need to be told twice. All she can see is Ethan, and a helicopter pilot.

“What do you have planned, Mister Ramsey?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Ethan extends a hand for his girlfriend to hold onto. “Now come on, our ride awaits.”

They’re on the helicopter for approximately an hour before making their landing. It takes Naomi mere seconds to figure out where they are. New York.

When they’re helicopter lands, there’s a sleek town car waiting for them, and their first stop is one of Naomi’s favorite Manhattan restaurants, overlooking the skyline. A bouquet of red roses are hand delivered to their table.

Once dinner is done, Naomi is certain that’s the end of their evening, but she’s shocked to find out it’s not the end of their night.

Their second stop for the evening is to see The Lion King on Broadway, Naomi’s favorite Disney movie.

As soon as the play ends, and they’re back outside on the chilly Manhattan street, Naomi turns to him, eyebrow raised, wheels in her head turning. “Did I miss an anniversary or something?”

“No.”

“So what is the occasion?”

Ethan shrugs. “No particular occasion. Can’t I just want to take you out on a nice date every once in a while?”

She’s known him for years at this point, but Ethan’s romantic side still takes her by surprise. Who knew this grumpy old man was such a softie?

“Okay, one more question for you and then I’m done, Doctor,” Naomi starts, taking a step closer. Ethan snorts because he doesn’t believe for one second she’ll ever stop talking his ear off, nor does he want her to. “Are we going home right now, or did you book a hotel room?”

“There’s a suite at the St. Regis waiting for us, my love.”

“Good.” Naomi smiles before pulling Ethan into a quick kiss. “Because I am not patient enough to keep my hands to myself until we get all the way back to Boston.”

#open heart #ethan ramsey #Ethan x Naomi

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cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien · 10 months ago

Text

Korvo: I can do this! Somehow, I know it! I'll get the new Order behind my plans!

AISHA: Korvo, hold on...

Korvo: There's just no way I could blow it Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance!

AISHA: It's just a meeting.

Korvo: To change their minds. And touch their hearts… Or... whatever Shlorpians have!

AISHA: This could be bad...

Korvo: Cheer up, AISHA! This could be swell! Something tells me that today will be a happy day in the New Order!

AISHA: Okay, but just don't... sing to them.

Terry: That hubby of mine is halfway down the street!

AISHA: Is he—?

Terry: Oh, he’s dancin'!

AISHA: Ugh, no...

Korvo: There's a warm, fuzzy feeling

That wafts through the air

Every street so revealing

It's hard not to stare!

It's a realm so appealing it beats anywhеre

If you don't mind the smell...

It's a happy day in the New Order!

Hi, mister! (Citizen: Go fuck yourself!)

Citizen #1: There's an endless trash fire that's burning my soul (Korvo: Hello!)

Electrician: And a ton of barbed wire to shove in his hole! (Korvo: Ah, excuse me!)

Citizen #2: Doing what is required, we all have our role

Citizen #3: I'm not doin' well!

Humans: Another shitty day in Earth!

Korvo: If I can show them the dream I've dreamed

That any soul can change!

(AISHA: Those members' minds are hard to change)

Then they will know everyone can be redeemed

From the evil to the strange!

(AISHA: They're bloodthirsty and deranged!)

I can hear all their stories

The lost and displaced

And I know that they're more of an acquired taste

But if I open the door and I give them a place

At my lovely home

It'll be a happy day in the New Order!

From the porn studio

Where the citizens go

To watch award-winning broadway bukkake shows!

To the China Town

Where they don't wear a frown 'cause

Holy shit! Ew, my gosh! WHY?!

And I don't give a guy that

His brain's got in my eye!

Cause I know I can spare them

From New Order’s genocide!

I can do this, I just know it!

(Citizen #1: There's an endless trash fire that's burning my soul)

I'll get the New Order behind my plans!

There's just no way I could blow it

(Citizen #2: I kinda like the barbed wire that's shoved in my hole)

Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance!

To change their minds

(Trenchcoat Citizen: And touch my parts!)

Korvo: Uh... No thank you. I'm just gonna...

Fulfill my destiny!

(Trenchcoat Citizen: Your loss, bitch!)

I can already tell!

Today is gonna bе a fuckin' happy day in the New Order!

For @avaveevo

Solar Opposites Song

Korvo has just recieved his letter to join the New Order led by his old teacher Tortus

#solar opposites #spotify

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phoebe-delia · 3 years ago

Note

harry potter characters ass musical songs (i'm not big with musicals, and so only have ideas about regular music and am interested in your thoughts)?

My dear nonnie, thank you ever so much for this question. I love getting these types of asks.

This was a challenge in the best way. I loved thinking of the HP characters and matching them to a song that captured their development or personality. I hope you enjoy this list, and that it might spark further interest in musicals for you. And if you'd like any recommendations of shows, just shoot me an ask or a DM!

Also--if you want to watch something super funny, look up "A Very Potter Musical" by Starkid. They've done 3 parody musicals based on Harry Potter and they're fantastic. Lauren Lopez, who plays Draco, is fantastic. It also has Darren Criss as Harry; you might know him from "Glee" or the Gianni Versace show.

Without further ado, here are HP characters as musical theater songs.

Harry Potter: "Totally Fucked" from Spring Awakening--This boy has been through it. He's cynical but still pushing through life. This song would really fit from 4th year on, when he starts to realize the world just seems stacked against him, out to kill him.

Hermione Granger: "Everything Else" from Next to Normal--She puts a lot of pressure on herself, and all she wants to do is put her head down and succeed. She's a little bitter, but still hopeful, and she focuses on her studies and interests to keep her going. She's constantly stressed but she knows she had to keep pushing in order to achieve her goals. She studies and works as a coping mechanism, hoping that the world will be okay if she just works a little harder.

Ron Weasley: "Mister Cellophane" from Chicago--Oh, poor Ron. He feels so underestimated and overlooked. He's the youngest boy in the family, and he doesn't have the traits that make his brothers and Ginny stand out. He seems average in every way, especially in comparison to the fucking Boy Who Lived and the Smartest Witch of Her Age

Draco Malfoy: I have two songs and they're both from Heathers.

1. "Candy Store"-- Tell me this isn't Draco offering his hand to Harry. Just. Someone pleasseeeee draw Draco and Pansy and Blaise as the Heathers I need it stat please and thank you.

2. "Lifeboat"--This is Draco in 6th year, desperate and paranoid and terrified. This is him realizing what he's gotten into by being a Death Eater and being scared for his life. He's questioning everything he's been taught and wishing for it to be over.

Ginny Weasley: "Right Hand Man" from Something Rotten--This is Ginny proving that she's just as strong and helpful as any man. She's constantly had to prove her strength against her rowdy brothers, but when her husband (or wife if she's with Luna or Pansy bc that girl is gayyyyy if not bi) needs help, she'd be like "let me help you damn it!"

Luna Lovegood "Sonya Alone" from Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812--This is my dear, sweet Luna. She's sort of been quietly protecting and helping the Order during the war, never imposing but always there when needed. She's strong in the way most of the other characters aren't, in that she has a quiet fortitude that makes her in some ways more powerful. She has that in common with the character of Sonya, who does the right thing to help Natasha in this song. Luna is loyal, dedicated, and selfless, and this song reflects that.

Pansy Parkinson "Charming" from Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812--Just, this is Pansy. Helene is Pansy Parkinson, it's a fact. Manipulative, seductive, confident, and smart. It's just perfect for her character.

Thanks sm again for the question nonnie! This was so fun.

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

#harry potter #musical theater #starkid #draco malfoy #ron weasley #hermione granger #showtunes #musicals #great comet #something rotten #next to normal #luna lovegood #ginny weasley #pansy parkinson #ama #ask me #ask box #ask me stuff #ask me anything

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ur-jinji · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I saw that requests were open again and felt an urge to send one in. I hope you’re well! I was wondering if I could request a Zuko x Reader with the kissing prompts 24 and 27?

a/n: thank you kind anon i hope you’re well too!! also this is a lil spicy request hehe i’ll do my best

24: hands on hips, pulling the other into a soft kiss that turns heated

27: heated kisses that keep getting interrupted by someone else

tongue tied

zuko x f!reader modern au

navigation // atla masterlist

summary: when things get heated between you and zuko, you two can’t seem to escape interuptions

It was hard to ignore the stares Zuko was giving Y/N all night.

They and their friends were sat in the living room of his family’s vacation home, on break from their college semester, carrying on and laughing as the night grew older. The sound of the waves hitting the shore outside was muted by the constant chatter and giggling. But Y/N found herself getting quiet when she saw Zuko consistently peering at her with a look on his face that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. They were sat on different couches, but the looks and growing tension were hard for her to ignore.

“I think we should play a card game,” Aang suggested.

“I brought Cards Against Humanity!” Sokka replied, jumping up from his spot on a recliner chair, completely forgetting Suki had been on his lap. She collapsed onto the floor, gaining a few laughs and a concerned look from Katara.

“Hey, watch it, asshole,” Suki said teasingly to her boyfriend, who offered her a hand to help her up. They began to make their way out of the room, and Aang and Katara jumped up from their cushions on the couch.

“I’m gonna get some more snacks,” Katara announced before making a beeline to the kitchen, Aang following close behind. “Let’s all meet in the dining room in five!”

That left Y/N, Zuko, and Toph.

“I can’t even play that dumb game,” Toph stated, crossing her arms.

“You can, Toph. Just put down a random card. It’s funnier that way,” Y/N spoke up as she stood up. “I’m gonna go on the balcony to get some fresh air.”

Y/N snaked around the coffee table. She slid the balcony door connected to the living room open, and closed it behind her. She sighed and walked further to the railing, looking at the view of the moonlight on the ocean. She buried her face in her hands, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks thinking about Zuko.

Almost on cue, she heard the door behind her slide open and close, followed by a footsteps. Y/N lifted her head up, letting her arms fall crossed on the railing. Her eyes landed on Zuko.

“Wanna talk about why you’ve been staring at me all night with that look,” She asked as he joined her at the railing. He leaned one arm against it, his body facing hers. She copied him, and arched an eyebrow.

“Maybe I like teasing you,” He smirked, shrugging.

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, tapping her shoes against his. His eyes flickered down to her lips as he scooched closer, his fingers grazing her waist. Y/N smirked in reply to his touch and inched even closer. Zuko craned his neck down and his hand slid down to her hips, pulling her in to kiss her softly. She responded quickly, kissing him back eagerly. The pace began to quicken as Y/N’s hands moved off the railing to wrap around his neck, tightening her grip to deepen the kiss even more. His hands gripped her hips tighter.

“Y/N! ZUKO! WHERE ARE YOU!” Sokka’s shrill voice shouted from inside. The pair flinched and separated, breathing deeply trying to catch air. Y/N leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Zuko’s lips again before spinning away and walking towards the door. He followed her a few moments after. They made their way into the dining room where everyone was sat around the table, waiting impatiently.

“Where were you guys?” Katara asked curiously.

“Oh, just looking at the moon. You guys should check it out later,” Y/N fibbed, sitting in between Toph and Aang.

The game started, Aang went first, the card being “Coming to Broadway this season; ________: The Musical.” Everyone threw down their selected cards face down in a pile. Aang cleared his throat and scanned the cards.

“Coming to Broadway this season; ‘Dying of dysentery: The Musical’, ‘Depression: The Musical’, ‘A bag of magic beans: The Musical,’ ‘Scalping: The Musical’, ‘Old people smell: The Musical’, and ‘Peanut Butter Jelly Time: The Musical,” Aang read, earning laughs after he read each card option. He thought for a while.

“I don’t know why, but ‘Dying of dysentery: The Musical’ really stands out,” He chose. The room was silent, everyone looking around to see who was going to claim it.

“Must be Toph,” Y/N said, grabbing the winning card and handing it to a satisfied Toph. The room filled with groans and complaints that their cards weren’t chosen. Then came Y/N’s turn. She picked a card off of the pile, which read “What’s a girl’s best friend?”

The group placed down their selected cards, and she picked them up to read them aloud.

“Okay, what’s a girl’s best friend? ‘Powerful thighs’, ‘The gnawing sense of dread’, ‘The invisible hand’, um ‘Sexual tension’..... ‘Another goddamn vampire movie’, ‘A Bop It™️,’” She said. “Jesus, this one’s hard.”

She glanced up and gave Zuko a quick squinted look, knowing he put down ‘Sexual tension.’ He sent you a smirk.

“I’ll have to go with ‘The gnawing sense of dread.’”

Suki cheered, claiming the win, and snatching the card from Y/N’s hand, which earned many groans.

About an hour later, the game came to an end, and somehow Toph ended up being the victor with her randomly chosen cards. The group of friends dispersed throughout the vacation house. Y/N found herself in the hallway upstairs, waiting for Sokka to be done in the bathroom.

“I’m gonna be a minute!” He shouted when she questioned how long he would be. She groaned loudly to be dramatic and started to move down the hallway. The sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. She turned her head towards the source and saw it was Zuko.

“Oh, look who it is. Mister “a girl’s best friend is sexual tension,” Y/N teased, leaning her back against the wall with her arms crossed,

“Yeah, I figured you’d like that one,” Zuko replied as he moved in front of her. He stretched an arm out over her head, his hand pressing against the wall, looking down at her. The girl smirked before reaching to grab his t-shirt, gripping the loose fabric at his chest, and tugging him down. Their lips collided, the kiss deepening immediately. Zuko��s hands found their way to her hips, pushing her against the wall and pressing his body against hers. They carried on for a few moments, so distracted that they didn’t hear the opening of the bathroom door a few feet away.

“Oh!” A shocked Sokka voiced, startling Y/N and Zuko. “Ew! What is this!? When did this happen!”

They quickly pulled away, looking like deer in headlights at their disgusted friend. They had no words.

“Nothing? You guys have nothing to say to explain yourselves!?” Sokka said, his face twisting in distaste. “You’re animals!”

Sokka spun around on his heel, speed walking down the hallway, and the pair already knew that he was going to spill the newfound drama. Zuko looked at the girl, smiling nervously and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wanna just go to my room?” He offered.

“Yeah, that’s probably our safest bet to get away from the judgement,” Y/N replied, following him to his room.

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westerburgresidence · 1 month ago

Note

He disparaged my father's legacy in front of a crowd I can't have that, I'm making my father proud I saw him just up Broadway a couple of blocks, he was goin' to see a play Well, I'll go visit his box (god, you're a fox!) And y'all look pretty good in ya' frocks How 'bout when I get back, we all strip down to our socks? (ooh, okay!) Blow us all away George (shh!) George! (shh, I'm tryin' to watch the show!) Ya shoulda watched your mouth before you talked about my father though I didn't say anything that wasn't true Your father's a scoundrel, and so, it seems, are you It's like that? Yeah, I don't fool around, I'm not your little schoolboy friends Well, see you on the dueling ground That is, unless you wanna step outside and go now I know where to find you, piss off, I'm watchin' this show now Pops, if you had only heard the shit he said about you I doubt you would have let it slide and I was not about to (slow down!) I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel They don't exactly cover this subject in boarding school Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace? He refused to apologize, we had to let the peace talks cease Where is this happening? Across the river, in Jersey Everything is legal in New Jersey! Alright, so this is what you're gonna do Stand there like a man until Eacker is in front of you When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air This will put an end to the whole affair But what if he decides to shoot? Then I'm a goner No, he'll follow suit if he's truly a man of honor To take someone's life, that is something you can't shake Philip, your mother can't take another heartbreak Father! Promise me You don't want this young man's blood on your conscience Okay, I promise Come back home when you're done Take my guns, be smart, make me proud, son My name is Philip I am a poet And I'm a little nervous, but I can't show it I'm sorry, I'm a Hamilton with pride You talk about my father, I cannot let it slide Mister Eacker, how was the rest of your show? I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go Grab your pistol (confer with your men) The duel will commence after we count to ten (count to ten!) Look 'em in the eye, aim no higher Summon all the courage you require Then slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky

Rolling my eyes....

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too-scared-to-do-this · 4 years ago

Text

Prestige

Chapter four -Tiny crumbs of imperfection

Sanders side fanfiction

Idea by: @hestianerd1

Wordcount: 2133

Pairings: prinxiety

TW: !!! It’s not so well written (and I’m not sure how accurate it is), but there is a pretty big part about verbal abuse and a car accident so if that is something you can’t read skip to the part where the slanted text stops !!! Besides that there is a full on panic attack scene, a long rant about dyslexia and it’s annoyingness, cursing and just some light teasing. If I’ve missed any, don’t hesitate to let me know!

The summery of the whole story: Prestige. Such a simple construct. All you have to do is act the way you want people to perceive you, keep up the image, wear a big proud smile and never ever dare make a mistake. That’s why Weltingston Heights University is such a well known school. Everybody knows that anyone who got in must have some prestige tied to their name. Educational records, family history, or even literal fame. So why not treat students the same way? Because what’s a little more pressure on their young and strong bones?

But prestige and image are precious things. You slip up even the tiniest bit, step out of the line you drew for yourself and it’s all gone. So now that the pressure is on, and everyone already knows their place in this small circle of society, only one question remains. How far are they willing to go to keep the false image up?

(Or: Very over-dramatically with a noticeable amount of sarcastic undertone: "Oh my god! They were roommates!")

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

Chapter four - Tiny crumbs of imperfection

“You fucking useless piece of shit! I’ve told you hundreds of times to-“

“Virgil. Headphones.” Raimond ordered. His voice meant nothing but business - cold and determined. No room for discussion. Virgil knew better then to oppose his big brother. He reached for his backpack sitting next to him on the back seat.

“Why should he? A fuck-p like him would just benefit from this. You see Virgil, if you don’t want to end up weak and completely useless, like you brother here, you should listen. Or maybe you-“

“Now.” and this time there was an urgency to his brother’s voice. Pushing out all the acidy sweetness of Richards’s words. Virgil’s finger’s shook as he pulled the headphones out of the bag quickly.

“Playing big rother now, are we?” Richard scoffed. “Where were you when your father ran? How fucked-up of a family do you have to be to drive that man away.”

Virgil heard that. Even through his headphones, he heard it. Richard’s voice wasn’t exactly easy to toon out. Low and loud, bouncing of every wall and surface, making the hair on you back stand.

Virgil Hated his step-father. More then anything. And judging by the white-knuckled grip Rai had on the steering wheel, he did too.

No matter how ‘nice’ this man pretended to be when sober. A drunk Richard was a disgusting, unbearable, suffocating man.

Virgil put his music louder. Blasting whatever was on his phone at the moment at full volume. Maybe that would drown this out. Maybe that would stop Richard from saying all these things to him and his brother…

But no… Richard’s mouth was still moving, words still spilling out into the tight air in the car. Suffocating everybody.

In the rearview mirror, Virgil could see the tight squeeze of Rai’s lips. The way his jaw was set. The way he was just seconds ago from bursting.

But they both new better. They both knew that wouldn’t help.

So, Rai’s nostrils flared. Chest expanding with a deep breath. And then those tightlipped three calm words left his mouth. Virgil didn’t need to hear them to know what they were. It was a well-rehearsed script by now. “You are drunk.”

“No shit, sherlock! At least that’s better than whatever you’re fucking doing with your meaningless pitiful life.” would usually come next. Rai would just swallow, keep his head high. Then glance and Virgil and take them both out for ice-cream or the park. Rai loved the park.

But this time… This time something went wrong…

There was a different look on his stepfather’s face. Not the usual furrowed-browed, sneering ‘I’m so done with this bullshit’ kind of face.

No. This time was different. This time it was pure hate and disgust. And suddenly, his lips were moving. And his hand was moving. And through all the music and movement, Virgil heard it. His shout. “You ungrateful moron!”

And Richard’s hand was on the steering-wheel. And Raimonds eyes went wide with panic. For the first time in his life, Virgil saw his brother completely terrified.

His glassed blue eyes immediately shot to the rearview mirror, searching for his little brother. Trying to tell him to hold on, but no words found their way out in time…

That pull of the car. That loud noise. And then it was dark.

“Hhhhh!!!!” Virgil shot up in bed gasping for air.

He couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t fucking breathe! He couldn’t-

“Virgil?” there was a voice somewhere in the distance. From behind thick glass.

He needed to take a breath! Come on Virgil, breathe!

“Hey… Virgil…” this time Virgil heard it. Still from behind that glass, but it was there. the voice. A hand on his shaking shoulder.

He was shaking?

“Listen to me okay?”

And he tried. He really did. But the thick glass was getting thicker by the moment, voice lost with it.

The touch getting lighter and lighter until he could barely feel of that hand on his shoulder.

Until all he could hear were his thorn up breaths and suffering lungs. His heart in his ear, blood rushing.

Until all that was in front of his eyes were those big blue eyes. Panicked.

All he could hear was the screeching of tired. The loud noise. Humming.

Humming. Virgil’s mind stopped spinning for a moment. Humming?

He focused on that. On that unknown melody that somehow broke throw the thick wall. Brough back the heavy hand on his shoulder.

Brough back the air that got sucked out of his lungs.

Humming.

Virgil opened his eyes, still beathing heavily. But at least breathing.

It was dark, yes. But the moon shone through the window, breaking up every sell of that overwhelming dark from before. Making it so much easier to see Roman sitting in front of him, smiling lightly. Never stopping his hum.

Even in this not-so-much-dark Virgil could see the concern and relief in his eyes. It was so obvious. Roman could literally never hide anything. It just wasn’t possible.

It was still harder to keep the air down. Even harder to move or just stop shaking. He listened to Roman hum his toon over and over again, the sound swallowing Virgil whole.

Soothing his panicked mind. Blocking out all the memories.

He uncurled slightly, letting his numb limbs rest after the tight embrace they held him in.

That’s when Romans toon stopped. And his hand pulled away. “Better?”

Virgil didn’t yet trust his voice. (And after this fiasco, he wasn’t sure he ever was going to again!) So, he just nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The tall one offered, as if this was the most normal thing two ‘mortal enemies’ (as he put it earlier) could do.

Virgil just shook his head.

“Alright then.” Ro shrugged like ‘whatever’ with a kind smile and stood up to walk back to his bed.

It was pretty late anyways. But neither of them had class in the morning, so who cares really.

And that moment - that one moment when Ro stood up and made his first step - was the moment V’s limbs decided to work again. He doesn’t even know how or when, but he was reaching out, grabbing onto his hand. “Can you… can you stay and talk for a little bit?”

And, oh my god, that look in V’s eyes! Even if Roman would have wanted to say no (which he didn’t, obviously - this man might be his mortal-enemy, but not even he deserves that much cruelty), he wouldn’t be able to. In those dark broody eyes, that always cast cold glares at him was this need, this silent plea.

And so Roman smiled this soft smile and sat back onto the bed. “Sure.”

He knew the drill by heart. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Virgil wasn’t about to force himself to talk, so this was up to Roman. Thankfully, he was the master of endless rants about pretty much nothing!

And so, it started. “I love writing so much! And acting - obviously. My dream is to be this big actor and playwright one day! You know - have my name on the script, cast on Broadway and stuff. I just kind of find it ironic, since the one thing I love I can’t really do. Not acting, obviously - I’m awesome at that!” he smirked self-assured and confident. Virgil made this sound with his nose - blew out some air as if laughter. And roman took it as a win. “I’m talking about writing. Like, literally. No matter how hard I try, grammar just won’t be my friend. I have dyslexia and that shit just sucks. Like, I don’t mind it, and sometimes it’s the funniest thing, but other times… well it gets on one’s nerves. I can’t type an email on my phone for example! Or anything important really. And yes, I know there is that thing called ‘autocorrect’ - but it just kept on correcting my words into something completely different and it annoyed me so much! So, I just shut it off. Oh, and don’t even get me started on reading! It really depends on how tired I am, but on bad days, man… That Shakespeare you helped me with the other day. I would have stayed up until literal morning just trying to figure out what even was on those pages! So yeah, thanks for that. That rehearsal went fantastically, by the way! The teacher was blown away. Do you know mister Greenwitch? He’s this kind of ‘do it my way or don’t even try!’-” Roman mimicked his voice, which made Virgil laugh slightly. “- kind of guy. And even he said it was, and I quote: ‘Acceptable’. Everybody was floored! I was floored!”

Virgil wondered how long would this rant last. (And how self-absorbed could one person be to be able to talk this long about themselves, but that was for a different day.) But he didn’t complain.

It was actually kind of surprising - hearing about this dyslexia thing. So Roman wasn’t so picture perfect after all. No super human - just regular old, grammar-fighting Roman.

That somehow lessened that reasonless resentment he was feeling towards him. Broke a crumb off of that barrier he so carefully built up to protect the people around him…

Roman was taking a deep breath ready to spew another avalanche of words at him, but V beat him to it. “What is that song you were humming?”

The man’s head cocked to the side in the most adorable way (which Virgil would never ever admit!). “An old lullaby my mother used to sing to me and my brother when we were little. It was the only thing that would calm Remus down enough to sleep.” he chuckled at the memory.

“Hmm…” Virgil hummed in understanding. There was this little pause - Roman lost in his head and Virgil watching him, just as much thoughtful. And then the thought slipped out. “How did you know what to do?”

“Hm?”

“With my… with me. How did you know the song would work?”

“Oh! My sister, Cassie, you met her. After our mum died, she started getting these panic attacks and I used to sing to her until she calmed down. I just figured I’d give it a try, you know.” Ro shrugged.

“You would have looked so ridiculous if it wouldn’t have.” Virgil smirked.

And Roman was gone. Completely gone. He mocked offence. “How dare you question my skills!”

And Virgil started chuckling. Softly and quietly, still weak from everything, but he laughed. And it made Ro’s heart happy. (For some inexplicable reason, he will never admit to or think about ever again.)

“You give me too much reason to, princey.”

“I am offended!”

“I can see that.”

And they both laughed. Just softly. Just quietly. But suddenly it was lighter in the room again.

“But it did help.” Roman concluded, just for his own sake.

“Yeah.” V nodded tiredly. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. It was four in the morning. “Don’t you have class in the morning or something?”

Roman just shrugged again, gathering up to move back to his bed. “Nah. I’m free. And so are you judging by your schedule.”

“Did you memorize my schedule?! Are you some kind of stalker?”

“It’s on your table, dimwit.” Roman laughed. “I checked it and remembered some stuff. I’ve got a good memory.”

“Right.” Virgil said, but it was clear he was mocking disbelief.

“By the way, you’re handwriting sucks! Like I already have problems reading printed text, but that mess…”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re very much welcome. What major are you in anyways? You know mine, it’s only fair if I know yours.” the man flopped onto his bed, pulling the covers over himself. It was so warm and comfy! Not like at home, but pretty close.

“Psych.” Virgil did the same.

“Really?!” and the surprise in Roman’s voice was so obvious, if he were anybody else, Virgil would be hurt by it.

“Yes, really.” he just rolled his eyes.

“How did you end up in psych?” the taller was pushing himself up again, ready for another round of talking.

But Virgil had enough of that for one night. he was exhausted. He needed sleep. He closed his eyes - blue ones in glasses still edged in his memory, but their blow softened by the repeating memory of Roman’s lullaby… “Good night, Roman.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t leave me hanging now. I’m really curious! Tomorrow you’ll go back to your sulky self and I won’t even get a word from you!”

And that made Virgil grin into his pillow. Because yes - he was going to do exactly just that.

“Good night, Roman.”

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

I told you I’ve had some backstory planned! And that isn’t even the whole thing yet! (@hestianerd1 you said angst from both sides. You’re getting a generous dose of it :3 - Btw, thanks for that website! I’ll be using that! <3)

Also, that dyslexia rant - not me projecting XD (It is long and pretty much useless and unimportant, but it stays, I’ve decided XD)

So, heavy subject and sad stories aside... I really do hope you enjoyed it and weren’t troubled too much...

Thanks for reading though ^^

Tag list:

@a-formless-entity

@cirishere

@ray-does-stuff

@lovelivingmydreams

#prestige #very scary tiny V #very lovely tall Ro #virgil angst #some light Roman angst #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #creativity sanders #anxiety sanders #thomas sanders #sander's sides #what else should i tag?#prinxiety

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