1963-06-25 - The Chase
Summary: Daredevil gives chase to Frank Cavassini, while Arachne gives chase to Daredevil.
Related: O' Death
Theme Song: None
jess daredevil 

The roofs tend to be Daredevil's favorite spot. From there, he can track his prey with relative ease; there are advantages given by corners, rooftop water towers, radio towers and fire escapes, which he uses in concert with his grappling hook-laden billy club to swing and leap in pursuit of the car carrying Frank Cavassini.

That doesn't mean it isn't a grueling pursuit.

Cavassini's driver clearly knows his shit, and is making it challenging for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen to maintain his pursuit. At one point, the man in red leather misses his mark, and ends up swinging down too early, striking the side of a building with his feet. He walks the bricks to keep from injuring himself, and with a snap, vaults himself up onto a fire escape.



Roofs are little trouble to Jess. Then again, she has a few unfair advantages. Like a bone structure that lets her glide between buildings, and the ability to cling to the sides of them. Which doesn't count the enhances strength and speed that make the whole process even easier. She's no stranger to stealth…But then, she's never come up against someone who could hear her heartbeat.

For anyone else, the corner of the building where she clings against the wall to watch the Daredevil, she'd be invisible. Who looks at thesides of buildings, after all?


Daredevil scrambles up the fire escape, but pauses near the roof. There he waits, head dipped low. He's been utterly focused upon the sound of Cavassini's car, and needs a moment to tune out the rest of the city in order to track it properly.

It takes a few moments, but as he blocks out the errand, unwanted noises, something catches his ear. Breathing, slightly elevated than should be normal, and a heartbeat that isn't coming from where it should. Up too high, yet outside.

Stifling a grimace, the masked vigilante leaps into the roof and charges south. He leaps right over an alleyway and fires the grappler at a rooftop water tower across the next street, then drops down fast.

With a crash, he lands on the hood of Cavassini's car. There comes the screeching of tires, followed by the sound of metal crashing against metal.


Jess can't fault him for determination, at least. And as far as her handlers are concerned, whatever happens to the Italians is none of their concern, as long as it isn't good. But this guy's putting a lot of effort into going after them. So if nothing else, it's bound to be interesting.

She pulls herself back to the rooftop, flipping over the edge as she follows without the benefit of grappling lines. When he lands on the car, she stops short, dangling from a fire escape by one hand. Why is this so important?


Daredevil leaps off the car before it wrecks. His body bounces gracefully off a nearby wall, then his hands grasp hold of a traffic light post. He spins about it like an acrobat, then lands upon the driver as he scrambles out of the car.

With one hand, he cracks the driver's head against the curb, knocking him out. The other flings his billy club at the muscle riding shotgun, knocking out a few teeth and spraying blood all over the interior windshield.

Cavassini scrambles out from the back, but Daredevil is just too damned fast. He leaps upon the car, performs a hand flip off the roof, and lands with his feet in the Italian's chest, sending his foe sprawling.

"What are you?" cries Frank. "What do you want??"

"Justice." Daredevil snatches up his billy club and cracks the mobster across the jaw, knocking him out cold. Then, he freezes, frame hunched over, listening.


It's still there, following him. A heartbeat. Oddly, one that doesn't race from the chase or the shock of the violence below. Steady. And still very much in the wrong place for anyone normal, as Jess swingsfrom the end of the fire escape onto the side of the building, clinging there with the soles of her feet and the small of her back against the wall, arms folded over her knees.

"No need to stop on my account," she calls over when he pauses. "You seem to be handling all of this just fine on your own."


"Who are you?" Daredevil's question comes more in the form of a statement or a demand, rather than a question. "What do you want?"

He remains utterly unmoving, frozen between his target and his follower. The only motion comes from his head, which cocks oddly to the side at what he hears. Steady heartbeat, far steadier than his own. Abnormal, given the chase.


Jess hesitates for a moment at the question, considering her answer. It's not that she doesn't have a code name. She picked one for herself. Just like she picked the costume. It's more that suddenly, when it's time to tell someone what it is, it feels a little bit juvenile.

Too late now.

"Arachne," she answers after that pause. "And they called you the devil of the kitchen. Kind of a mouthful, though, if you ask me." In regards to his other question, she shrugs, glancing back to the car. "You went through a lot of trouble to make a big show. I guess itdidn't feel like the show was over."


"Their name, not mine," the masked figure answers, without missing a beat. "You don't think the Irish made a bigger show than me?" he asks. After all, they're the ones that mowed down the Italians and lit fire to their ristorante.

Daredevil finally moves. He strides forward, grasping the snoozing Frank Cavassini by the shoulders and dragging him back to the car. He bullies the body into the seat, then pulls the seatbelt around and ties it around the thug's body.

With a harsh motion, he shoves the billy club into the steering wheel, jamming the horn into an 'on' position. Then, with a fluid motion, he fires the grappling line toward Arachne.

It buries itself into the brick next to her shoulder.

The masked man rises through the air, coming to a perch upon the wall next to her. The leather clings to his face, without any way for him to see through it. His body weight is bent between his grasp on the line and his boots, planted firmly against the wall.

"Arachne," he echoes. "You like cops, Arachne?"


The club hits the wall, and Jess spins to the side, moving three feet away to the same position she was in by the time the grappling line can retract and pull him up. "If I was the sort of person who liked cops, would I be sitting here watching you beat on mobsters?" she counters, though she pauses right afterwards. "On second thought, for certain definitions of person who likes cops, I might be. I'm cop-indifferent, really."

She looks more closely back at him, noting the mask. "What about you, devil? Do you like cops, or just really hate robbers?"


"Got nothing against cops," Daredevil answers. "But they don't like people like us." Yes, he's roping her in on this mess, but no normal human perches on a wall like that, after that kind of chase, with nothing more than a regular heartbeat and even breathing.

"I want the cops to find him," he explains. "Hence, the horn. I want them to question him, because a bastard like that won't talk to me, 'less I do things to him. That compromises me. Get me?"

The grapple line is released, dropping Daredevil down to the nearest fire escape. He grasps it, twists down beneath it, and vaults himself up onto its ladder. A few quick scrambles and he's up to the roof, looking down toward Arachne's general direction.

"What about you?" he asks. "Why did you follow me? What were you doing at the Italianette?"


"Uh…"Jess is still hung up on the part where someone will talk to cops but not the masked stranger. That's not her life experience. When he climbs up, she turns to the wall, palming her way to a windowsill before flipping herself over the edge, landing light as a feather on the roof itself.

"Making sure the Irish made it out, which was the biggest waste of effort ever, apparently," she answers, snorting softly. "You even broke up the party and gave them a chance to be ready for the hit, and they still managed to lose." She crosses her arms loosely over her chest, head tilting.

"What kind of cops do they have in New York City where gangsters will fold in interrogation, but they won't fold if you bang a few heads?"


There is a long pause. Fascinating. She moves through the air light as a feather, as if there were no weight to her, very little wind resistance.

"The Irish knew what they were doing." Daredevil closes the distance without drawing too close. He's wary, but curious.

Arachne's question causes him to smirk from the exposed mouth of his mask. A scoff escapes. "You don't know NYPD. These cops are on the Irish payroll. He'll talk. If he lives."

Daredevil turns to peer down toward the street below. "And I'll be there to hear every word he says." His head moves slightly back toward Arachne, as if gauging her response to this revelation.


"And then what?" Granted, Jess isn't really one to talk about information for the sake of information. She's the one who followed the strange man in red leather through half a borough and onto a rooftop. When he steps closer, she keeps a wary eye on him. There's no fear there…but there is another odd sensation around one of her hands. Like electricity? Maybe?


"That's for me to decide," Daredevil answers. All he knows is, this war between the Irish and the Italians threatens to tear apart his home. Information is power. Information is what he seeks.

The sensation he picks up from her hand draws another perk from his head. The slightest of twitches, as if he can see or hear something that she cannot.

"What's your interest in the Irish?" he asks, though the question is in part a feint. He's interested in knowing what her play in all of this is, but he doesn't yet know her motive. Is it for good, or for ill?


Jess shrugs to that question, pacing a few steps. That, at least, seems to get a rise out of the woman. Irritation. "Don't know. They didn't tell me. Just that it was important the Irish make it out of that confrontation on top."

"What is it you're trying to overhear from interrogation? And just how are you going to get in there, anyhow?"


"Doesn't matter," Daredevil answers. His tone becomes relentless, pushing. He heard something in her voice; that irritation. It's vexing.

"Who is 'they'?" he presses. "What interest do they have in you? In the Irish?" He takes a single step closer, while reaching out a hand to her. "Tell me," he pleads, face frowning, for this is altogether unnatural.


"I'm starting to think they don't have any interest in me," Jess muses, frowning to herself. It's the gamble of raising a spy. You need them to know the world, but you need them to see it your way. But eventually, you have to put them out in the world, with nothing but a vast store of theoretical knowledge and training…and see where they go from there.

Looking back up to him, she takes a step back to match his forward. "I don't know why the Irish. Maybe their moves are going to keep some crooked government official from kicking families out of their homes." Or maybe it's going to make sure HYDRA profitsfrom it. "What's it to you, anyhow?"


"I seek to protect my home," Daredevil answers. "Hell's Kitchen. It's mine." He pounds his chest. "Good people live here, and they're getting trampled by all of this violence."

The masked man doesn't relent in his approach, though he does bank his head to the right, curious, like a feline. "You want to know what I think?" he asks. "I think the Irish want a foothold. Vice trafficking. Pushing grass and dope into the black communities. And I think the powers that be want this to happen, so they can paint the blacks in a certain light." He gestures toward the street below. "They want the Irish to win this fight. If Cavassini spills, then maybe… maybe I can do something to stop it."

He's grasping at strings, but he seems so desperate to stop the conspiracy that perhaps, just perhaps, he's not thinking so clearly about the whole situation.

"I want to keep my neighborhood safe," he admits, with no shortage of restlessness in his voice.


"The whole world's getting trampled by violence," Jess counters, watching him closely. Curious. "The people in power do it to stay in power. People who want power do it to gain power. What makes you think you can change any of that just by knocking around some gangsters?"

From some, that might be a challenge. From this woman, it sounds like a genuine question. One she desperately needs to know the answer to. "You didn't finish off that body, did you? You found it that way."


Daredevil breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling evenly beneath red leather. "So, what are you?" he challenges her. "Are you someone who answers to people in power? Or do you want to see real Justice?" He gestures down to the street. "I let them know that what they do isn't okay. I hurt them, but I don't kill them. They go home and tell their loved ones what to fear. If they fear me? Maybe the world will become a safer place."

Daredevil shakes his head. "I don't need to finish off a body. That's someone else's job…. but ill stop them too, if I can."


What are you?

Isn't that the question? For some reason, that's the one that really makes Jess pause. "Maybe they stop because you make them afraid. Or maybe they crack down and things get worse. But you're playing a big game here," she points out. "Just you, up against the whole world?"


"Maybe." Daredevil looksdown upon the crime scene below, before turning his masked face toward Jess. "Because no one is helping, yet."

His masked face lingers upon her, unwavering.


Jess hesitates, looking back down toward the car for a long moment. "I've got someone of my own I need to save," she finally says, taking a few steps back. "But…" Reaching the edge of the roof, she steps up onto it. "Could be you'll see me around. Maybe."

She flips backwards, arms snapping out to catch the wind and glide her down the alley until she catches the next building.


For a long moment, Daredevil stands there upon the rooftop, silent and listening. His eyebrow perks up in curiosity at her vague answer, but he doesn't speak of it, instead letting her depart in her own way. He'll listen, denoting the sound she makes as she floats through the air.

Theres work to do at Precinct 17, and sirens are inbound…

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