1963-06-13 - Nothing
Summary: A quick investigation leads Ayasha, Misty, and Danny to the same man.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
mercedes daniel ayasha 

This isn't the bad part of town, that's three blocks West of here. This is beyond bad, this is the worst part of town. Abandoned partially skeletal rat holes, half collapsed apartments, liqour stores, street corners where every manner of narcotic can be purchased. Cops stopped coming around here years ago, most capes don't even give this place a shot. This isn't where blurry photos and legends are made, this is where cocksure hero types get shot to pieces and left to rot in back alley ways. This is where women get found in old refridgerators, this is as nasty as New York can get. It's worse right now of course, because the sun went down like four hours ago. Rough men and women for sale stroll the filthy sidewalks, like so many sharks prowl the ocean's depths in search of blood.
This is where we find Big jim, and his cadillac. Big Jim runs a lot of what goes down around here, or at least he likes to think he does. Truth is he's a bank roll, and three rather dangerous bodyguards. That's enough though, for him to get the kind of respect he needs to do his work. Rape, murder, human trafficking, drug dealing. You name it, Big Jim can be blamed for some of it. Tonight for instance, well the body of that woman in his trunk hasn't even cooled and he's hard at work. Shaking down a drug dealer for a cut amidst the armor of his guards.

Not that she needs all that much motivation, if we're being strictly honest here. They haven't even figured out what to call her yet, but there are rumors. Some indian chick, like head dress and tomahawks and everything? She's been working the periphery for awhile, and she don't leave dudes cuffed to the street light for the cops to find. So far it's one more wild rumor, except she's right there. Waiting silently for Big Jim to get himself into a better position, as she ever so casually shoves 3" magnum shotshells into the magazine of her auto-5.


'Help my daughter.'

The message was given to Danny and relayed to Mercedes who was going to do the footwork. Funny that. The footwork and paper trails all lead to this broke down excuse of a street. Misty had been watching from afar, her lips curled and turned up as she remains in the shadows. Black outfit hugged upon her curves and afro high and fresh as all get out. And the arm. The golden arm that replaces her natural right, clenched in a tight fist as she watches on.

Mesha Davenport had fell on hard times. Her mother was sick. Her father worked three jobs and was barely home. Every bit of money went to feeding the other three children and medicine and hospital bills for his wife. The mother noticed that Mesha wasn't herself those past few days. The money that she gained from hooking was skimmed off of. She even took a bit of coin for herself to give to her father no questions asked. Leaving at least four five dollar bills in his underwear drawer.

Then she didn't come home.

The young black girl was a star in her school, but her grades were slowly declining. Yet she didn't come home.

They were worried enough to go to the police who put her down as low priority, her mother got out of bed long enough to plead with police detectives and cry as her father head his lady love against his chest. Just so that she wouldn't try with her weak might to beat the officers to death. That's when Mercedes saw the forlorn expression. That's when Mercedes pushed Daniel to reach out to the family with the promise to find their daughter.

The young woman who's corpse was slowly cooling in the back of the mans trunk.

But Misty didn't know that. With the sleeve pulled up over her golden arm to hide her treasure, she walks with confidence towards Big Jim. Hips swaying, heels clicking upon the street as she draws a fingers through her afro with a bite to her lower lip. She pulled of the sexy young thing well, even as she praced like a devil looking for a hot soul to swallow. Big Jim was on the menu.

There was a crack of the whistle from her plush lips as she gives a smile and a wink to the foul man, stopping right.. possibly in Ayasha's way. Which was not good. "You Big Jim?"


Danny Rand watches from the shadows, but not very far away. Blending into the darkness had been a part of his life since he was a child in K'un-Lun, sneaking through the encampment to try and steal a bit of bread, a burnt end of pork, anything more than the poor scraps the outlander orphan had tossed his way. Not that he considered it stealing - just survival. He needed the energy if he wanted to survive the beatings he would receive through the day.

Since it wouldn't do for the local gym teacher to be identified getting into it with crooks, he'd taken a yellow bandanna and wrapped it into a mask, a pair of eyeholes cut out and his blonde hair tucked up into it. He trusts Misty's abilities - if she says she can handle herself, she can handle herself. She probably thinks of him as the amateur in this situation - she's never seen him in action. He would like to imagine they can find the girl, rescue her and get out of this situation without it having to come to blows.

But, idealist though he is, he suspects such hopes are fruitless. But he will react to the situation as it comes, rather than try to control it. He breathes and stands perfectly still and waits, unaware that the isn't the only observer.


Theres a glance between the guards, before one of the burly fellows steps in to block Misty's path. "Yo spook, the fuck you want? You tell me and maybe I'm convinced you're worth the man's time right?"Greasy suits or not, the trio of fellows look like they were recruited out of the local boxing Gym. They're big, and well this is New York so they're most probably packing heat. That might be a problem, but at least Big Jim ain't so much as turned his head to glance over at Misty.
"Hey-hey-Heyaaa!"That isn't a shout, it isn't a declaration. It's a god damned war cry, and that right there is about when shit finally gets real. The entire street seems to grind to a halt, and well Big Jim's guards, Big Jim and even the dealer he's shaking down all pause to peer down the alley just opposite Misty. Then she comes into view, and well it's kind of understandable that nobody thinks to do anything. Not at first anyway, because this is New York and that is a little indian.

Bandana pulled up across her nose, which only partially hides all that black and white war paint decorating her face. War bonnet atop her head, eagle feathers and bead work. It's the whole nine yards folks, it's the rest of the package that doesn't quite make sense. Tall leather cavalry boots, leather trousers, offset leather jacket. It'd be more comical then if it wasn't for the pistol slung at her hip, the shotgun sheathed across her back, or well the weaponry in her hands. Tomahawk and bowie knife, and well neither of them looks like it's a toy.
She runs like the wind, twisting her shoulders as she takes a running leap along the alley wall. Theres another few strides made there before she launches off into the air, and yaknow what? It isn't until she lands, and rams that Tomahawk more than halfway through a Guard's skull that People start to really react. Shouts of alarm, as another Guard steps between Big Jim and the Little Indian. Reaching into his jacket as she jerks that Tomahawk free of her victim and starts foreward. "Okum-aye!"


Misty's approach was halted by the interaction of the guards. Both of her hands flying up akimbo as she takes a step back in preparation. "Oh oh oh.. I'm just looking for a pimp. Lil' ol thang like me can't be out here in these streets all willy nilly, right?" She puts on a smile.. but that smile only goes so far, especially since she hears the warcry behind her.

With a disarming turn, she looks towards the direction of the chant, her eyes searching out the darkness in hopes that Daniel could get a closer beat. "What.. the hell.."

She spies her, the little indian who moves like swift, one step taken back as she tries to at least gain a little bit of a distance in case she has to fight. Everything is a bit of a whirl, spotting the flash of metal fitted to the little woman, her eyes widen and..


The guard.. he was down. The spray of the blood smacking against Misty's side as her hand immediately reaches for the cloth that covers her arm. "COVER BLOWN!" Yeah, it was blown, but if anyone was going to get to Big Jim? It was her. She needed him alive.

That metal arm draws back to issue a punch that sends the lower jaw of the guard cracking and shattering beneath the mechanical weight, her fingers opening up as the little red pulse upon the palm of her hand lights up and..


The concussive force sends the broken guard flying back, his back arched in the air as he hits the ground with a bounce, a thud, and a roll to smack against the wall to knock him clean out.


Misty had probably expected Danny to run or duck for cover when things got messy. She was the experienced detective after all, he was just tagging along, right? Of course, the fuse lit by the little Native American burns fast and Danny doesn't have much time to do anything but act.

He's by Misty's side in a moment, his foot lashing out and cracking another guard in the jaw, his arms sweeping to disarm one of the others. He takes the man's gun, snatching it from his hands and, with a flicker of fingers, disassembling the weapon and flinging the pieces over his shoulder harmlessly.

"Friend of yours?" he asks Misty, nodding towards Ayasha and her tomahawks as he casually blocks a punch from another thug.


Big Jim is pretty evil, but he isn't fucking stupid. He skins that smoke wagon of a revolver with one hand, as he turns to take off towards his car. It's not unwise, but it's just not going to work. She sprints like a cat, scrambling across pavement and well it only takes a blink. He trips over the curb as he turns and, -CRACK- goes the S&W Model 28, and well this is 1963. The .357 Magnum is the most powerful handgun around still, so the muzzle blast? Yeah it raises heads. The flash alone is brilliant, and well his aim is true.
Theres a quick flick of Ayasha's bowie, and an audible metallic ring as she cuts that bullet from the air. She's on Jim even before the severed halves of that bullet have hit the ground behind her, slamming that Tomahawk into his hip hard enough to shatter bone before the mighty cleave of that tomahawk blade. "Aye-yaye-yaye! Die!"And in comes the scream as the pair plough into the rear fender of Big Jim's car hard enough to leave a sizable dent. Slamming that Bowie under the man's arm and out the top of his shoulder before rearing her head back and slamming her forehead into his nose hard enough to bounce Jim's skull off the pavement with an audible -Pop-.


Too much commotion, too little time. Misty kicks up a guard, foot planted within his face to follow him down with a bump and a smash of his skull against the ground. He wasn't dead, but out-cold. Probably concussed, it didn't matter.

"I don't know her from… eve.." Misty manages to cry out, her arm lifting to shield herself from the ricochet that may come her way as she follows after the two in a light jog. Here's to hoping her midjudgement in speed doesn't cause the man to get killed. She needed answers. And she wanted them at least before he took his last breath. The way she saw it? One less thug that no cop will do anything about was a god send, Ayasha would have her day. After Misty got hers.

It was gruesome, to be sure. The way Ayasha moved. Misty hardly could keep up with the damage that was being dealt but she did have enough moxy to cry out.

"STOP! DON'T KILL HIM!" Her hand reaches out, happening upon them with a quick rush of speed. His wound was grievous in the sort that he just may die due to shock, the head slam causes her to nearly slow in pace but she keeps moving. "STOP! I need to find the girl!"

And once she gets close enough, she tries to reach out to grasp Ayasha by the arm. Good lord.. that probably wasn't the smartest thing she could have done..


Danny's first concern is the girl as well and, at Misty's cry, he leaps into action.


Danny's first concern is the girl as well and, at Misty's cry, he leaps into action. He grasps at her shoulder, using it almost like a pivot as his legs spring, projecting him up before he vaults up and over her. The position should serve to intersect himself between Ayasha and Big Jim. Danny, of course, does not believe in killing regardless - he doesn't even eat meat, an unusual act in this period of time - but the first priority has to be trying to recover the girl.

"Enough,' he says, putting his arms up to block any incoming attacks, crouched like a praying mantis atop Jim's prone form.


Big Jim has already pretty much lost one leg at the hip, and well he's got an arm thats hanging on by skin alone after he's had his shoulder joint nearly pulverized. He's not doing well then, and well it's Misty's grab that likely saves his life (for now), but well maybe that wasn't a brilliant idea. She's not just fast, she moves like lightning. That Tomahawk swings free and around to hook onto Misty's arm, and well luckily the underside of that Tomahawk is not sharpened but well it likely doesn't feel great either. That Bowie flicking around from foreward to reverse grip to potentially ward off Danny, as Ayasha rises to a low crouch. Fixing Misty with more than a little bit of a glare.
Blood spattered, war painted and then whatever it is she's got going naturally. Fierce doesn't even begin, if she wasn't quite so tiny who knows she might even be downright terrifying, but well she -is- just tiny. All but growling behind that bandanna before finally speaking. "She's already dead, and now you're worried over this fool? Where were you two when she was alive, huh? Now got to walking, I have work to do still. This man's rotten heart and his scalp, they belong to -me-."


The crook of the tomahawk against her arm has her crying out in a brief moment of pain, her body twisting as she falls to one knee, her metal arm drawing up to smack the tomahawk away which causes a faint cut within her arm. She leaps up and back, just out of harms way, her hands in a stance that meant she was ready to fight to get the answers she needs. But.. the dent to the back end of the car has the trunk flying open, the young girls body being shown into the open view, Ayasha's words ring true for the moment as Misty's eyes darken at the sight of the beaten, broken, and dead girl.

And it hurt.

It hurt worse than when her arm was torn asunder, or when she was pelted by the hard spray of a firehose. When she was smacked with bricks and beaten with bats. It just hurt.

Misty relaxes in a sense that her body went rigid and still, backing up and off of the scene with a shake of her head. They were too late. Too slow. And now she had to tell that family that their first born baby was gone. "Lets go." She murmurs to Danny, already turning. Big Jim sealed his fate once he looked upon the girl, and Misty was not going to stop them from having their due.


Daniel looks after Misty, considering staying for a moment. He, too, mourned for the little girl - she'd been a good kid and had a lot of potential, so much that would never be fulfilled now. But he also believed in the sanctity of life, that violence beget violence, that spilling blood never lead to anything good.


He also knew he could only be responsible for his own actions. Whoever Ayasha was, whatever had driven her to…this, had its reasons. And, while he did not believe in killing, Big Jim had certainly provoked the whirlwind that had swept him up. Perhaps, then, best to let the wind take its course. So he moves and steps away, drawing himself away from Jim and inclining his head to the petite warrior before he turns his back and moves to follow in Misty's wake.


She waits for Misty and Daniel to untangle themselves, all but glaring for long silent seconds. Then well, comes the screaming. There is no neat killing blow, it isn't over quick. She makes it last, and he -screams- like a wild thing as she hacks and chops and carves and breaks. Stepping away only to toss his scalp up onto the hood of his car, before lifting her tomahawk skyward with a whooping war cry. From there, well she doesn't linger. She doesn't debate morality, she shakes the blood off her tomahawk. Wipes the blood on that bowie off on a thigh, and just walks away like it was nothing. Then again it -was- nothing, Big Jim was nothing now anyway.

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