1963-09-24 - Down the Rabbit Hole
Summary: Daredevil and Jessica Jones track down the motley duo of Raven and Domino. Marcus brings a demon to the meet and they all.. with the exception of Domino, wind up inside the Hellmouth.
Related: http://marvel1963mush.wikidot.com/log:1963-09-23-precinct-breakout
Theme Song: None
marcus jessica raven daredevil domino 

There's something very satisfying about leaving death and ruin in your wake… It may not have been the revenge that Domino had been pining for but it's a definite start. She's out of the box, back out in the world, and better armed than before. On top of that, she's managed to make it into this 'Brotherhood' crew she currently knows nothing about.

So why not start pressing for more information now?

The tricky part is keeping the M-16 tucked low at her side. Thank goodness it's night, makes it a -little- more subtle. If anyone tries to take it she'll just give it to 'em one bullet at a time. Rather, her focus is on the mystery blonde. The crew 'boss.'

"Who the hell are you, anyway? Been hearing people toss the 'mutant' flag all over the place but you look normal to me. How'd you get caught up in all of this?" The other two guys, she could buy them being muties.


There's something to be said about abandoned buildings. It seemed to be the staple of meeting places as of late, the condemned bricked building carried the memory of fires passed and not all too savory trespasses that have been filtered out by the two big men they carried in tow. While the drinks that they promised themselves were sought after, it left the two women behind. Raven, settled upon the wooden chair that looks as if it might break, one leg upon the right shorter than the rest, and a table that had a few too many cracks that was set up and squished together to form a delicate balance.

Atop of that table was a drink of her own, a bottle of liquor and a solitary glass. No candles to light the darkness but a few dim lights that surround the perimeter that still carries an air of mystery and forebodence that would cause people to look once, and scurry past there after.

"Mystique." Is all she says for the moment, shuffling the cards with expert ease. "Little known thing about mutants, they may look like the norm, but often times, they are not." Her hand lifts, tapping against her temple. "And I didn't get caught up in all of this. I am the result."


Raven and Domino are not alone; they've been tracked from the police station in Hell's Kitchen which is now surrounded by first responders. In point of fact, the Governor has actually considered calling in the National Guard, given reports of 'strange phenomena' ripping across Manhattan and centralized in the Kitchen, but bureaucracy takes time. Lots of it.

Fortunately, Daredevil doesn't need to follow his prey at a close distance. He's filtered and focused his enhanced hearing to the two women he's following; even going so far as to hone in upon scents coming from both that no human nose could discern.

He keeps to the rooftops for a while, stripping away pieces of his red costume as he goes. Red gloves peel away up to his elbows, and the mask is lifted and tucked down into itself. Upon one rooftop in particular is a backpack, and a change of clothes. Doesn't take long to look partly normal again, though his face carries more than a few bruises and small lacerations. It's been a tough few days.

Three blocks away from the abandoned building in question, Matt Murdock inserts a nickel into a payphone. A local number is dialed, and soon after, the telephone at Alias Investigations begins to ring.


This whole problem with the Hellmouth, it's been an issue. It's kept Marcus later most nights recently than he would expect. Or really, like. Having never even considered the whole idea of running roofs, it was Danny that really opened him up to that aspect of moving around. So moving around like that hasn't been difficult. The personal joy was realizing he could jump so far. Granted, he has no idea about the super soldier serum that was used on him, and even if he did, he'd probably just figure it was just another injection via Hydra scientists.

Still, the whole thing about whatever breakouts from police are a secondary matter. To the elementalist, the whole 'demons spewing out of a gate in central park' tends to take more precedence. But, so does the large winged shoggoth-looking thing that he's been chasing after all night, that been lazily flying low circles around the buildings in the area.

Eventually it gets close enough, close enough to jump to, and Marcus leaps at it, hands clenching at furry tendrils on his back, causing it to give off what might be construed as an annoying screech. This…may not have been the best idea for Marcus. It was just kind of a spur of the moment sorta thing, because now he's in for ride, as the creature starts to take off into the sky. "Oh shit. Oh…shit." he sputters, more at this point trying to hang on than anything else, which is taking him in the vague direction of said abandoned building that's being used as a temporary hideout.


The ring of her phone causes Jessica Jones to stir in her makeshift apartment-office. With her head on the table and a nearly-empty whiskey bottle in front of her, she should be, theoretically, down for the count. But the noise does cause her to perk. The bottle earns a vague frown — particularly at its nearly empty state — and she rather irritably trudges to the phone. "It's fucking late — " or early by some accounts " — you better have an emergency." There's a flatness to her tone that hadn't been detected so easily in the past.

But as she's relayed information, the dark-haired woman is on the move, muttering quietly to herself, "I need more booze anyways." She tugs the men's leather jacket over her navy tank top, and steps to the door, en route to help with whatever situation seems to be brewing not-too-far from home.


Having an otherwise empty space gives the albino plenty of room to pace, and pace she does. There's a lot to digest even before her questions are answered, though the answers themselves only lead to more questions. "Mystique," she quietly repeats to herself, frowning then ultimately dismissing it with a tiny shrug. She's going by 'Domino,' she has no place to judge on that one.

Admitting that the whole mess was -because- of this lady causes Dom to stop pacing long enough to look her way, one brow hooked upward. "Are you -trying- to start a race war? Everyone's all up in arms over recent events and you just poured gasoline on the damn fire. I'm not even one of you lot and I can't find anywhere to catch my fucking breath around here."

In truth she really is a mutant, just one who doesn't realize it yet.

As if her own question brought her more irritation she goes to set the assault rifle down and instead look for either a small piece of metal or anything that might cut through hardened steel, she's still got the bloodied handcuffs dangling from one of her wrists. It's not helping her mood any.

..Did she just hear something -screech- off in the distance..? A cold chill rolls through her spine, then is promptly ignored.


"I give, now you give." In regards to the names. Raven was all about keeping things on an even keel unless it directly suits her, then she's playing everything close to the vest. But isn't that like all things? "Trying?" She finally asks, looking up from the shuffling of cards, arranging them upon the broken table face down, with a great amount of care. "A little girl gets shot. A mutant gets beaten up just by walking home from the job that he's blessed to have, and yet still gets treated worse than the blacks. Trying?" Raven purses her lips, then gives a shake of her head. "Another one was experimented on and was going to be dumped into the garbage like trash."

She fixes a card carefully below another, her hands were only shaking because she attempts to keep her movements light. "You want to find a place to relax? Go to Westchester. I am very sure they'll take kindly to you out there."

The screech from afar as Raven pausing, her eyes glancing towads the ceiling, a quick draw upright has her standing and the chair falling by the wayside as she points upward. If Domino were to blink? The blonde woman would be replaced with red hair and blue skin. Yellow eyes that covet a particular glow in the dim light.

Hopefully, she wasn't the only one who had heard that noise.


"Jones. It's Murdock. Sober up, I need you. There's-" Matt pauses, turning blind eyes slightly upward at the sound of screeching. Unlike Jessica, he's successful at muting the vulgarity from his lips.

"There's about to be some trouble in the village. Gonna need your help with cleanup. Hold on…"

He lowers the handset for a moment, listening carefully to the sounds of the city. A police cruiser isn't far, reporting an incident at Bleecker and 10th. Headed south on Bleecker, two blocks up.

"Bleecker and Grove." Only a block from the MTA. Good. They can rendezvous there, and move in on the building from three blocks away. "Gotta run."

Murdock hangs up the phone, taking a pause to hone in on the conversation between Domino and Raven once more.

He fishes into his pocket for another nickel, which he spins around in his hand for a moment or two, before dropping it into the payphone. "Forgive me, Father," he murmurs, "for what I am about to do."


This thing is twice the size of Marcus, who's not a small guy, having been a soldier and augmented as he has been. Still having literally climb this winged thing is a task. He's never ridden bulls in a rodeo, or at least he can't remember if he has, but damn if he isn't getting a good idea of what it's like now. Then again, one isn't this high off the ground with with a bull either. "Oh no, I've been hunting your ass all night and I'm not going to lose you now!" Eyes flash red, elemental magic suddenly fueling through his hands.

If there's one thing that Marcus has learned through this whole Hellmouth affair, and some of the lessons have been harder than others, it's that, somewhat ironically, demons don't like fire. One would think they wouldn't mind it, and maybe that's the case with you're normal variety. Elemental fire is a bit more potent, like trying to compare a can of Red Bull to straight cocaine. In completely different ballparks. A lance of white hot fire punches through the shoulder of the demon-thing causing it this time to cry out in pain, it's forked tails lashing back at Marcus, trying to dislodge him. Which it does. Kinda. Knocked over the side, the man yelps, realizing that's a longer drop down than he really would want to deal with, and scrambling is able to clasp onto a clawed foot.

You know that sound Goofy makes when he falls off some high cliff? Marcus kinda sounds like that. Even if he's hanging one-armed from this thing. A look around, eyeballing flat roofs. Yeah, that one will do. Which just so happens to be the one Domino and Raven are holding up in. Though he doesn't know that. One building is as good as the next. Another blast from his freehand, burning off one of the wings at the joint. So they're going to fall from about fifty feet up onto the roof, the pair of them now in a complete tailspin, the skrieking as it's now one-winged creature careers into the top of the building, impacting with a hard and crunch 'thud'.

As for Marcus, he was able to call up a gust of wind below him to lessen his own fall, but not enough to actually stop his own drop. So…that's gonna hurt. Sadly, for some, they're both still alive.


The entire trip to Bleecker and Grove has Jessica murmuring about whiskey and the bottom of the bottle. She looks out at the bar crowd slowly tapering off, not entirely sure what kind of trouble she's in for. In her own hands, she'd nabbed (somewhere on her journey) a large cup of coffee that she has (mostly) downed on her way.

In some ways, a single woman walking by herself through New York at night probably seems suspect. In others, few would think of messing with someone so surly by all appearances. Her heavy-footed steps, long gait, and nearly pained expression are enough to keep most at bay.

Inconspicuously, she meets the place where the signs meet, and her chin lifts as she hears a fellow make a rather unusual sound at the skyline only to see Marcus and his tussle with the large winged creature overhead. Her lips part and she looks at her coffee as her eyebrows draw together, "Maybe I really do need to sober up…"


In that one moment of time she looks a whole lot more irritated, though this mystery lady isn't going to keep holding things over the white woman's head in the meantime. The extra irritation quickly dissipates, returning to her search for a makeshift lockpick when she offers "Domino" in return. If she didn't happen to be so hell-bent on ditching the cuff she might have really paid Raven more attention, but the words are not lost between the two.

"So it's more a matter of vengeance, sticking up for those who can't stick up for themselves." Then she frowns anew, at mention of Westchester. 'They'll take kindly.' "Not one for a crowd. Just need to get my feet back under m—.

It isn't the falling of the chair that cuts her off. It's that she happens to pass another glance back to Raven, only now seeing her true form. A second later and a "Fucking hell" is muttered in shock, the albino suddenly more focused on the blue gal than what might be lurking above them both.

"That's..you're really like that? This isn't..some hallucination, or some shit?" Dom asks, looking legitimately concerned. As if she might be fighting a losing battle with her own mind. On her own merry journey to insanity.

Naturally, things are only going to get worse here. Another shriek, louder, closer. Just like that she's abandoning the lockpick idea and lunging for the rifle, barrel pointing upward as she flattens herself against one of the walls. Blue was onto something. Dom needs to pay more attention!


"The -fuck- was that…" she insistently whispers.


Raven keeps her eyes upon the ceiling. Not answering 'Domino' outright, but she was focused. Both hands reach to her sides to retrieve the custom made daggers within her belt, looped within her fingers by the 'O' ring, twirled and captured by the hilt of the blades as she turns and begins to take a walk. The stairs were her approach, even as Domino aims and was at the ready, she motions the woman forward with a boot planted upon the rickety staircase that would lead to the platform and the rooftop egress of the building.

"Vengence. Yes. Sticking up for them, yes. All for one and one for all?" She pauses in mild thought. "We could say such. And if we take Hell's Kitchen by storm and create our own mutant city instead of a small city block, all the more better."

She was climbing the stairs upon the sound of the thump, her ascension quickening in its place. Yes.. She was really blue. No. It wasn't a hallucination. And if she really wanted, she could look -just- like Domino herself. But now wasn't the time for games. Now was the time for action.

Someone was going to wish that Cain and Fred were there to provide comedy relief, for there were no jokes when it came to the two. "Let's find out."

Its a quiet conversation, and a short one at that. Murdock's head remains lowered until it's finished, then hangs up the receiver with a sense of determination. Moments later, he's coming up alongside Jessica Jones, his head oddly tilted toward the rooftop in suspect, shades concealing blind eyes beneath.

"No, that's very much real," he quips in response to her remark. "And… that's… got nothing to do with the phone call I just made, either." His chest rises and falls in a deep, troubled sigh. Something tells him the next confession is going to take even longer than he'd planned for.

Still, he has an ear trained to the conversation between Raven and Domino, and Raven's words draw a parting of his lips. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he curses. "She's planning to take over the Kitchen."

About this time, a series of black cars come ripping down the street, followed by a handful of vans and a trio of motorcycles. The vehicles pull up outside of the building; a smaller number take to the alleys sandwiching it. As they stop, men in suits and armed to the teeth begin pouring out and begin advancing on the building.


They've both made dents into the aluminum-sheet covered roof, granted the demon made a larger one than Marcus, who's currently screeching and clawing it's way to it's feet, while the elementalist is a bit woozy, rolling onto his knees. "You big bitch…" he spits, realizing there's a bit of blood mixed with that by the taste of his of mouth. "Nastier than any Nazi, I'll give you that."

The creature doesn't seem too urged to really talk, it's hulking shaggy form lifting up to it's full height of nine feet tall, it's body seemthing to writhe with a crawling mass of tentacles, it's limb seems to be constructed by smaller ones. It's head looks like it's constructed by hundreds of eyes, they even look kinda human, but none of them blink, they stare with an unmoving slightly unnerving horror to them.

For much for that brand new hoodie that Danny had gotten him, a deep wide tear going down the length of it. Slowly getting up to his feet, he pulls it off him, casting it aside. He doesn't like people seeing the four brands of ancident and unknown arcane runes and symbols branded into his skin, but that hoodie is just going to get in the way. Each burn with a glowing representative color; red, blue, yellow, and black. And because he knows that demons don't much like elemental fire, so his eyes turn a glowing red, pupils and whites replaced by that solid color.

A lance screams from Marcus' hand, but this demonic thing is fast for it's size, countless eyeballs tracking him, it's large form twisting in an inhuman angle, out of the way. Helps to not have a spine. The blast strikes a metal exhaust vent behind it, which instantly starts to melt into slag. It returns the favor by an an arm shooting out from it's 'shoulder' extending farther that seems feesible, wrapping around Marcus' neck. "Grck!" he chokes, started to be reeling in, before his hand grab at the thick rope of leather, slimy tentacles. He doesn't have to shoot the fire out, rather just channel it through his hands, burning through it, ash erupting from the burnt ends and breaking free. Coughing, the elementalist backs away, holding out a hand, eyes flashing black. A fog or mist seems to curl around feet and legs of the creature, which seems to slow it down, as if it were suddenly stuck in a mire or bog.



Jessica's jaw actually tightens when Matt says what she's seeing is real. "Well it's good to know Lev's coffee still works," she mutters as she glances at the cup. But then Murdock relays a conversation that Jones definitely cannot hear. Her jaw tightens, her hands ball into tight fists, and she shakes her head. "No one takes over the Kitchen," she answers.

The cars pull up on the building. And the monster continues to assault a man on the street. Jessica's eyes tick towards Murdock, "What's your play: the monsters in the cars or the monster on the street?" Her head turns towards the street monster. "I say we try to unleash one on the other. Divide and conquer?" Her gaze darkens, and before Daredevil can answer, she stalks over to where the man wrestles with the winged beast.

She grasps a street sign and tugs hard to draw it from its spot on the street, breaking cement as it moves. She charges forward to use it as a bat against the now-slowing beast. A fleeting glance is cast towards Marcus, but introductions, at this moment, seem superfluous.


Now the various answers are starting to conflict. How is all of this a ruse, exactly..? This chick is waging a war on humankind, from the sound of things. Last Domino knew, all of the local families were human. Besides, trying to take over Hell's Kitchen? That'd be an improvement! Dom's spent the last month in this awful place and it had been the mutants which treated her the best! Or at least those who were decidedly -not- human.

Despite their immediate concerns she watches Raven with a somewhat more contemplative expression. There's something about Blue's words which resonate within her thoughts. Wars have been declared over much more menial disagreements and she's a soldier without purpose, so…

For now she's right behind Raven and those wicked looking blades, rifle in one pale hand and the other bracing on the ladder. "Don't know about you but I'm not real keen on surprises," she quietly replies.

Then promptly gets surprised -again.- Lots more angry screeching up above. Vehicles down below. And a lot of 'em.

Another curse is muttered, instantly followed by a snap decision. "More inbound. Ground level. Probably gonna try to surround the place. Got it covered." Blue goes high, White stays low. The match is set. And she is NOT going back to jail.

Now who the hell are -these- chuckleheads..?


Halfway to perdition, Raven stops with a hand upon the railing as the stairs do shake with the battle that looms above. Her jaw tenses, for a decision had to be made in that moment, especially when Domino takes her stance. "I'm not keen on surprises either.." She mumbles slightly, picking up the pace as the two women separate, reaching the top of the stairs to blow open the metal doors with a solid kick and..

..what in the fresh hell? From a glimpse and glance she remembers Marcus from the night at the restaurant, and whilst he battles that demonic foe another person steps in with a pole. A goddamned pole. There were bits and pieces of concrete stuck upon the pole and that was telling of her strength. And down below? The tires.. and it seemed like one too many heavy cars just for the two women to contend with.

The door was promptly slammed shut, leaving Jessica and Marcus to their own fight. Raven heads down the stairs, skipping two of them upon her descent as she hits the bottom with a slight jump and a crouch.

"Change of plans!" Raven calls out, slamming her daggers into their respective sheaths. "We're getting the fuck out of here. Pack it up and lets move!"


"Associates of the Bonanno Family," Murdock explains. It seems that was his play. However, before he can explain further, Jessica is moving out. Matt follows close behind, making quick work of ripping his shirt to reveal red underneath. "It's a double blind!" he explains, while chasing after the woman.

There is a brief reprise while Jessica rips up that pole, during which Murdock stretches the mask up over his face to amp up his transformation into Daredevil. Red gloves are torn from his pants and quickly stretched over his fingers. Then, he leaps upon a hanging fire escape and begins climbing, one handed, using the other to make quick work of his pants. Disrobing in public, always a great idea whilst wearing red tights underneath.

Meanwhile, the mobsters continue surrounding the place. Two of them take aim at the front door, which then becomes riddled with bullets. A third moves forward to kick it in, but one of the gunmen goes down when a billy club whips in out of nowhere and knocks a few teeth right out of his jaw.


Marcus wasn't expecting help, honestly. Not like he's going to say anything about someone crawling up the side of the building or outright jumping onto the roof. Whatever works, and he's not the picky sort. The problem he's found is why these things don't like fire, they are a pain to them to catch alight. That slime on them may have something to do with it.

But he's kinda holding the thing in place, slowed as it is, so he's able to spare a look to the blue women in the stairwell. He blinks, but then then he's dodging another tendril arm, jumping out of the way of a lashing strike before returning with a firm laser-stright line of fire erupts out of his hand, striking it in the chest, creating a crater of ash, causing the thing to howl in rage.

But there's a woman carrying a streetlamp post with her? Huh, well, again, not going to say no to help. She do whatever she's gonna do, so long as he's not torn to pieces by big, nasty, and demonic over here. Though that might be the least of worries, because currently he has no clue about the mobsters downstairs as of yet.


The street sign is used like a bat against the beast's head and in quick succession of several sharp hits, the beast bucks and angers at each successive blow. Which, in fact, could be the point. The blows are meant to push the beast towards the building in question. Bullets + winged demonic beast thing + mobsters? Something has to give, right?


Back at the station, being shot at in the dark after nearly a week's worth of torment, that other lady had been surprisingly collected. Hearing her sudden call for an evacuation is almost like getting slapped across the face. Domino's going to go ahead and guess that this situation is a lot worse than either of them had anticipated. There is no arguing. In this moment she is content to be receiving orders from somewhere.

"Copy! On point!"

Of -course- she isn't going to lead them out through the front, that'd just be silly! When the first shots sound out behind the yet closed door there's nothing on the other side for them to strike.

Dom's cutting around back, the furthest exit from where the mass of vehicles had arrived from. The M-16 is ready, though silent for the moment. If the others don't realize these two oddly colored gals are here they'll have a much easier time getting away. All it takes is one wrong move for things to get loud very quickly.


The few hours after their rescue gave them no opening for a chat. No opening for relief, no opening to relax. Though, it was something that Raven, in all of her long life was used to. Constantly on the go. Constantly moving and checking, the only quieter parts of her life were admittedly spent in Westchester but the coming of age of the others proved that it was time to move again. And this time, it was for keeps.

She immediately grasps the duffle bag that was gifted to her through Cain, an arsenal of weapons that the large man was able to get his hands upon, net left behind for others to play. This was her own. And while Domino lead point, the blasts through the front of the door and the bangs from the ceiling gave the cues that this safe house was completely blown.

And what was shocking out of this entire ordeal? Raven was calm as a peach. She wasn't exactly walking, but there was an added pep within her step. She was preparing to run once the wind hits her face.


The second billy club impacts next to the front door, this one attached to a cable. Daredevil comes whizzing down on the line at breakneck speed, using the second gunman to stop his approach with boots to torso, and the gruesome cracking of ribs. The vigilante splays himself down on the ground and enters a spin, one fist cracking against the third gunman's face while the other snatches up one of his discarded billy clubs.

There's barely time to blink before that stick is flung fifteen meters into the head of another mobster. Weapons cock and take aim, but the bullets disgorged find home in the sidewalk; Daredevil has already scrambled out of the way on light feet.

Why on earth did he tip off these mobsters, only to swing in and fight them off?

Raven and Domino won't escape too easily. Those goons who went into alleys to flank the building are able to spot them, and begin shouting alarms at each other in Italian. They're moving in an attempt to cut off the escaping women, which leads them away from the beast currently engaged with Jessica and Marcus.


Marcus would make some pithy remark about a woman using a street post like a bat is kinda hot, because A, he's never seen something like that before. And B, it's pretty damn cool. When it impacts on the demon, it's like hitting wet sand. Sure it does damage, but when someone doesn't really have bones, how much damage is one doing?

However, it's done something, because repeated impacts like breaks and snap off bits and pieces of inky tendrils, falling off and writhing on the ground, backing up from being momentarily stunned by the sudden assualt.

Added by another gout of elemental fire from Marcus. His plan, as is his usual plan, is just reduce the thing to cinders and ash. He's done it before, why wouldn't that work again. But if Jessica has something in mind specifically, he might be more than happy to oblidge. Granted if the thing is driven right into the oh-so welcoming arms of armed mobsters? Well…that's just a bonus to him.

Thankfully that plan seems to be the one that's working, starting to move forward to drive it, each burst of elemental fire burns and craters another hole into the eldritch horror, more ash spilling out.

"Who the hell is shooting?" Marcus suddenly says, as if now aware that there's someone, a lot of someones, around with weaponry.


The sign is moved to an angle, almost like a pole vault against the large demonic beast. She aims to impale what's left of the beast in a single, incredibly propelled motion. Her shoulder actually ricochets against the force she sends to hit the beast square in the chest.

The remark has Jessica motioning towards the building in question. "Apparently there's too many cooks in the Kitchen," she snarks as her hands ball into fists. With the beast seemingly managed, she ticks her head back towards the building in question.


Urgency, yes. Certainly. But this is a proper battlefield. Other people, other guns. With the hellbeast up top being looked after by the others it's just a straight run and gun for the odd gals.

One of the shooters has a spot around an eye and a big nasty military rifle in her hands. Compared to most other weapons the M-16 emits a sharp *Crack!* every time she pulls the trigger, the rounds moving ridiculously fast and flat but designed to change course when they hit a body, tearing them up from the inside out.

Also unlike the Mobsters, she's got ready access to a full twenty rounds in a rifle she's trained with for the last couple of years. The Mobsters may have numbers but they came woefully under-equipped for this fight.

"Watch the flanks!" she yells out while putting two bullets clean through the brickwork and into a baddie lurking just around the corner. "These poor bastards don't stand a chance!"


There was almost a need to drop the bag and readily arm herself, but thankfully Domino was in full force this eve. But Raven wasn't an idle boss. Domino begins her return fire and Raven drops the bag to draw out a knife which ends up as a sticking point towards the flank of their position. Into a mobsters chest. "On it." It was a casual grump, and for half a moment she wanted to say that she wanted things to be non-lethal. That the mobsters would eventually kowtow whether they liked it or not. But on this day? That line was crossed.

Raven went into full fuck it mode, the bag soon slid down the alleyway as the body that leans forward was caught by her arm. The blade soon removed from his chest, arm held out and stuck within his side to rip and tug all the way up until his armpit was splayed. As another attempts an approach, she turns herself to shield herself with the now bleeding and quite dead man, who takes a few shots to the back and was soon overcome with deadmeat that he tries to catch and brace for a fall.

Raven was upon him as well, her bootheel lifting high and slamming down upon his eyesocket with an intent to shatter. "We need to move, NOW! Clear a path!"


A whole lot of someone's who are dropping like flies. Daredevil may be tired and wounded, but his drive is insatiable and borders on suicidal. His movements are precise, well trained, using anything he can get his grasp on as a weapon. Doesn't matter whether it's a billy club, a discarded weapon, or the body of a downed mobster. At one point, he even snatches up an inky tendril and flings it into a mobster's face; the Italian's neck is quickly engulfed by something horrible, with little fingers that grow to invade his mouth and nostrils.

The revving of motorcycles draws his focus out of the fray. The trio of bikes have heard their associates' call, and are ripping away toward the alley as a backup plan, in case the foot soldiers fall to Raven and Domino.

Which they are. Quickly. Thanks to skill and perhaps a touch of probability manipulation.

Must explain why Murdock asked for preemptive forgiveness before making that phone call.

Of the three departing bikers, one of them ends up with a Devil on his back. There's a great deal of cussing and struggle as the biker tries to shake Daredevil free while falling behind his party, who are headed down the alley to bolster their dropping associates out back.


The sign happens to be one of those 'YEILD' signs, but Jessica certainly doesn't. It's buried into the creature. It struggles with it, trying to wrap it's arm around it to dislodge it. Which actually gives Marcus an opportunity.

"Let go of it." he tells her, guiding his hand to point at the post that's flailing about in the thing's chest. Another blast come from his hand, but it strikes the post, beginning to heat it, in the beginning stages of melting it.

A swirl of yellow mixes with red in his eyes, his other hand now causing the wind to pick up around demonic thing, making the hot, softened metal wrap around.

Which seems to be about as much punishment as it's willing to take, finally catching on fire the way Marcus had been intending it to. Which means he pours the fire on with both hands, causing it roar and screech out with a terrible scratching sound before the entire form of it begins to shift and turn to ash. It's blasted one last time before there's little left beyond one large scorch mark, creating a wind stiff enough to scatter said ashes. Just to make sure.

"Fantastic." he pants in a deadpan, the man himself ignoring the steam the rises out from two of his four brands on his body, a pair of them glowing more intensely than the other to. "You plan on doing something that too? Or isn't it your problem?" He has no idea these guys are mobsters. Even if he may char-broiled a couple of them a number of days ago.


With the YIELD sign effectively embedded in the monster, and Marcus seemingly having dealt with the whatever remains of the beast has Jessica turning on her heel to stalk after the building. Her lips twitch twice, but the coolness of her back reads a different story for Marcus. "I can't seem to fucking mind my own business," she states loudly. But the moment the words are out, she breaks into a run. Her hands pump hard at her sides, and she kicks off the ground into flight.

Even the motion of the flight causes her expression to deaden. Fly for me. Her shoulders twitch. She murmurs to herself, "Jessica Jones. 485 W 46th st. New York. New York"

Her arms extend in front of her as she lifts off the ground to pursue the bikers, still muttering her name and choice of address under her breath. While Daredevil may be on the back of one, a second feels a very sharp punch to its cheek, causing it to tumble underneath the force.

The woman follows the body and flipping motorcycle, tackling the man into a large pile of garbage bags alongside the alley.


The nice thing about all of these Mobsters showing up on so many different vehicles? There's a lot of lovely escape options all laid out for those trying to make a hasty retreat. Domino's willing to bet her last bullet that the guys cutting them off in the alley used something small and quick to get back here and beat them to the chase.

Which means motorcycles.

Maybe it's psychological but Dom swears she can feel the heat on her back even from down in the alley, some godforsaken abomination she fortunately never had to witness herself getting crispified in a hurry. Even closer to home, several of those bikes are already getting taken by others! When she hears the sound of an engine just up ahead she throws the rifle onto her back and dives around the corner, grabbing the handlebars and leaping up and over to kick the previous occupant right out of his seat.

Then shoot him in the head with one of her pistols.

The clutch is snapped, bringing the bike right in front of the alley. Right to where Raven can simply hop onto the back. Already the engine is revving up for a fast retreat. Wherever those other bikes are going, she's going to go -away- from them. No more pursuing! She's tired and cranky and in dire need of a half gallon of hard liquor!


Perhaps these two women were of likened minds. She could the battle reaching it's end upon the rooftop, hear the crunch of orbital sockets beneath her feet even through the racket. Feel the way the man trembles beneath her boot as well as the roar of the motorcycles that tremble the ground that makes their approach. Instead of grandstanding upon the mans eye, she dashes off towards that bag tha was slid, the handles taken so that she could take off into a run further down the alley.

The lights signify their approach, Raven turns just as she sees Daredevil piggy backing upon one, and Jessica jumping upon another. Were they being rescued? She didn't know. All that mattered was that she needed out.

But the devil of Hell's Kitchen was starting to become a goddamned thorn in her side.

With a whip of red hair that soon shifts to black, Raven takes off into a run just as soon as Domino skirts into view. The black woman soon hops upon the back of the bike, keeping the heavy bag ajar as a hand grips her shoulder and feet kicks up to rest upon the exhaust. "It's me, Mystique." Just in case Dom had any question of the new persona upon the back of her bike. "FLOOR IT!"

Yeah. Drink and a nap. Then more drinking and a thousand naps.


There were three motorcycles. Three motorcycles now in the hands of anyone but the mob. Bringing up the rear, Daredevil finally manages to hook his arm under the biker's neck, and throws him into a dumpster. Then he gives chase, just in time to 'see' Mystique's transformation. Well… he could hear it. A familiar sound.

A blind man should never drive; unless its Matt Murdock, and he has someone to follow. He might not have given chase, but… these gals want to take over his turf. His and Jones' turf.

"After them," he calls to her, then twists the throttle and gives chase.


The elementalist will still pick up his hoodies, sliding it on, even though it's one nice big tear in the front. Don't need to be running around shirtless. When Marcus wants to drop from a roof, he'll just walk off it. This time he's prepared, calling a wind slow his descent. But not too slow, because he drops down on a pair of mobsters who were running, letting his weight drive them both into the pavement. They both get a crunching punch to the jaw to take care the two of them, getting up. But Daredevil is fleeing on bike, then Jessica, and finally the other two ahead of them. Well, he did tell the Devil that he'd be willing to help, are there no more bikes. He ponders a moment.

He's never done this before, but Strange did say something about being a conduit. He's never manipulated the elements in way he's thinking, but might as well give it a shot. Eyes go yellow, brighter than before, mustering up and channeling as much as can. The sigil for Air burns on his chest before a torrent sized wind, carries him off his feet, shooting down the stree, in puruist of the other three bikes.

It's not flying. Not exactly. More like really long jumps. Or skips. He's skipping down the street. Every time he lands, another burst of wind sends him flying forward, a flash of yellow from his eyes and shoulder.

Whooosh. Thud. Whooosh. Thund. Repeat ad nauseum.


The now-vacated motorcycle is pilfered. Not that Jessica couldn't fly after the escaping women, but she knows control and speed on a vehicle is just different. The motorcycle's engine revs, and she leans forward on it, hands clutching on the handles as she rounds a corner to maintain their chase. "On it!" she calls back.

Jessica has no qualms or regard for her wellbeing, prompting her to step on it with abandon as pursuit is taken. Her bike revs higher as she puts it into drive in an effort to catch the first bike.


Suddenly there's some gal with black hair and normal colored skin jumping onto the back of—

Oh. Right. This is going to take some getting used to!

"Gonna take me a while to figure out all of your sides," Domino dryly replies before kicking the rear wheel into a spin and launching the two out and away from the fight.

It isn't long before she can hear those other bikes. -In pursuit.- "Alright..I am going to really fuck up someone's night," she growls.

Sure, she's got her handy little power, but she's still not aware of it. Right now she isn't trying her luck, she's ticked off and no longer giving a shit. Another turn is taken then she pushes the bike so hard the front wheel momentarily hops free of the pavement, eyes narrow and jaw set as she sets off in the wild pursuit of racking up numerous traffic violations.

And trespassing. There's another warehouse, one of the doors open that little tiny bit… Just enough to be inviting for someone who's gone a tad off the deep end. In a flash the bike vanishes inside of the warehouse, tires howling as she weaves through rusting industrial equipment inside.

Roads are for chumps.

"If anyone follows be a pal and -Shoot Them To Hell.-"


People were hot on their trail; Raven keeps a duck down with a slight grit to her teeth. The cache that they were carrying was keeping them down, as well as keeping Raven's hands occupied. Before any more trouble kicks up, Raven leans back, unzipping the bag as best she could to retrieve two colts. And with the sign of the cross, the bag itself was heaved with a little bit of an effort towards the side. Lost and discarded. So what.

"You got it darlin.." Raven calls out over the thunderous roar of the bike. The black woman creating a twisted feat of limbs after her colts were stored carefully to place herself ass to ass with Domino..

Too bad for everyone else this is not Requiem for a Dream.

There were at least two hot on their trail that she could see, for with a shake of her head and a grit of her teeth, she begins to fire wildly, hoping that would be enough to get them to back off.


Lets just say that Daredevil is something of a reckless driver. He gives chase to Jessica, but every so often, the wheels bounce over a curb, or he comes dangerously close to decapitating himself on a stop sign.

"Jesus fucking-" he cuts himself off, then blurts out, "She's crazy!"

Of course, so is Murdock. He's just not sure yet how crazy Jessica Jones might be.

Grinding his teeth, the masked man doubles down and keeps pace with Jessica; unless, of course, she chooses to bail out, at which point he'll relentlessly follow. Nobody fucks with the Kitchen. The bike hits the curb and goes airborne for a moment, before hitting cement with a squeak of tire against rock.

Incoming fire! Daredevil whips the bike to the left, putting old dusty machinery between his bike and Domino's. Raven's munitions pelt into old industrial saws and table presses, the vigilante ducking low and breathing heavily. It's all adrenaline now; flying blind in close quarters with nothing more than the touch of wind, the minutiae of sound echoing to tell him where to go.


It's amazing what one can do with a concentrated burst of wind. Marcus rockets through the air with the…flailing of ease, beginnint to catch up to Daredevil and Jessica. Every now and again, he'll appear in the street before being launching yet again into the air. A bonus to this is that he can bound over cars and some smaller building, taking shortcuts over corners and gaining on the bikes. Granted, the sudden acceleration in G force is something to contend with. There's just this lone figure with glowing yellow eyes on them, until land just to the side of Jessica's bike as he passes, shoved into the air once again.

These people they're chasing after, Marcus doesn't know them. But he did make an agreement with the Devil to protect the Kitchen. So he's not quite sure what he can do. Until a thought occurs to him. Motorcyles work on balance, so he concentrates on the directly infront of his hand, charging and channeling it. Until it's released, a narrow and focused gale-force wind directed at the lead bike. If nothing else it'll slow them down. Best case, it'll make the bike careen out of control if you shove it hard enough to one side.


After months of being under Zebediah Kilgrave's thumb, there's little question that Jessica Jones is crazy.


She shudders as his voice calls her. Dead and still present.


Her chin drops to her chest as the echo resounds like the devil on her shoulder calling her to whatever his whims desire. Disgust pulls her further; it calls her to remain in hot pursuit. "She doesn't fucking care!" she calls out back to Daredevil. It's a sentiment that, for better or worse, Jessica can attest to.

Her engine revs higher as they cut through the warehouse. She doesn't veer easily until the gunfire has her weaving, taking on a serpentine path that zig-zags back and forth to make her a harder target. While she doesn't know if bullets can puncture her skin, she has no desire to find out.

"Knock the fucking wheel!" she calls back to Daredevil; hoping for some use of his billy clubs. She bears no weapons — that's not her style. Jessica Jones has always (and will always) been a brawler rather than a trained fighter.


Y'know what, Domino's not even going to think about whatever the hell Raven just did back there. All she knows is that the bike just lost a lot of cargo and became that much more responsive.

And that an unseen force is suddenly shoving the bike off course.


Another quick jolt of the clutch snaps the bike in a most unnatural twist, the albino's boot darting out for balance and screeching shrilly along with the tires across the smooth concrete floor. Shoved off course..but not out of the game.

Now they're rushing right for a sagging wooden structure that had never been intended for use as a stunt ramp, but does a pretty keen job of it these days. Inside of the warehouse the sound of a screaming engine is deafening, probably giving poor Daredevil a heap of trouble if he follows after them.

In another moment two ladies and a howling motorcycle come crashing through a filthy collection of rotting wood and dusty glass, followed by an unsettlingly long descent into a parking lot. The albino flicks the lights off to further discourage continued pursuit, zipping around a battered shipping container then pushing the engine harder still.

Then comes to mind a terrible..terrible idea. These guys want something wicked to chase? She banks around and changes course, making a beeline for ground zero.

The Hellmouth.

"Come on..COME ON!"


Raven continually fires her gun, the bullets pinging off of the motorcycles with a purposeful miss of their mark. But they were still coming, and Raven was clean out of ammo, the guns were soon tossed by the wayside as she hangs on for the ride. Backwards. Dizzying enough for her to get sick. Sick is what not she gets but the woman does grip ahold of the hook upon the cycle to leap off, her shoes skinning against the ground to leap back upon again, a near spider monkey against Domino's back.

Spider Monkey! We love that.

Moving on, Raven keeps her head down low, ducking the fray of glass and old wood, gaining a few little cuts and ripped leather as her prize all the while keeping her hold upon Domino true.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Raven shrieks out. She just knows.. she just so totally knows she's not going straight into the Hellmouth.. seriously..



Truth is, the deafening sound only makes this easier. Doesn't mean it's pleasant. In fact, it hurts like hell.

Daredevil banks hard to the right, barely avoiding a deadly collision with the warehouse's western wall. Heeding Jessica's advice, he takes the bike one handed and withdraws one of his clubs, but Domino's driving is simply too reckless. "Shit!"

With a gulp, the vigilante goes right out the same exit, but when his bike lands, it goes cockeyed. There's a vicious scream of metal against cement, the impact throwing Murdock into the air. His hands fling about, a silent scream kept within, until he feels hot air coming from Jessica's bike.

A familiar scent.

A heartbeat.

Daredevil's hands find the woman's shoulders, and he holds on. His body comes crashing down onto the bike behind her, and he quickly pins his legs against the chassis, ignoring the brief burn. "AAGH!" he cries out.


The moment they start moving in direction for Central Park, there's a cold lump in Marcus' stomach. Oh no, please don't go that way. Because he can already feel a certainly roiling and burning in his brands. Whatever magic fuels that portal, it's powerful enough to make his magic starting to act weird. The downside to this is he tends to over-exert himself to the point of passing out from the influx of wild energy making his powers go off-kilter. The upside this? It amplifies everything he does to stupid degrees, like lacing cocaine with angel dust then given a chaser of Everclear. Like making a torndao out of fire. And he can already feel that pull to let go. Because the elements want to be let out, to do what they're meant to do. To burn, crush, drown, and suffocate anything it pleases. And just like Strange told him, he is their conduit. He either controls them, or they control him. And that battle is already slipping.

Coming into range of the Hellmouth, he no longer has to leap to stay in the air, the air simply decides to carry him aloft now flying. Because he already had a target when he first started, the elements now decide that continuing after that target is a really good idea. The best way to do that? Taking out the engine. His eyes are now swirling with all four colors of each brand. Whatever water was inside the gasstank and oilpan have suddenly evaporated, being pulled out of the motorcycle and towards him.

And if that doesn't stop the them? Large, angry shards of pavement, road, and earth shoot out of the ground, their points angled directed at the pair trying to escape, perhaps to impale them both on. In the sky, Marcus literally explodes into white flame, body wreathed in it, causing a nearby roof's tiles to melt and gass over. Powers now thrown into Maximum Overdrive from the influence of the Hellmouth, the man is no longer in control. The elements are. And they want to have fun. White bolts of elemental fire scream out from his hands, aimed at the tires, as if to try and melt them into solid lumps or completely off. It's a proverbial onslaught. Granted, there suggests at least some meager semblence of control. He's trying to disable or just stop the bike. If he had lost all control over what he was doing, the effects would be much more lethal. Granted, it's about all he can do at this point. He's just going along for the ride now.


Jessica's shoulders tighten underneath the feel of Daredevil's hands. In fact, they tighten so solidly that Matt can feel the obvious tension within them. Her hands clamp harder around the handlebars, causing her hands to imprint along the metal. Jessicaaaah

Her muttered address is mumbled once more, keeping her present in the here and now. She mumbles it to herself once. Twice. Three times.

And it's only after the third time that she says, "Hold on!" The bike complains against the sudden anger in her grip as she shifts the bike into a higher gear. If crazy is what is needed to remain in pursuit, Jones will, at least, call their bluff.

The caution tape that cordones off this part of Central Park acts as no deterrent for the dark haired woman. Nor do the complaining government agents that have taken to patrolling the area in an effort to keep anything coming out at bay (and, likely, to stop folks from randomly wandering in).

The closer the bikes draw to the Hellmouth, the more agents seem to flood the area. Evidently there are many efforts to keep the public safe.

"Stop!! Don't go any further!" Kenneth, the always-assistant, calls out to the incoming women, attempting to stop the traffic. He runs towards the bikes, "You can't go into the Park, it's too — "


That assistant calling out in protest is only greeted with the incoming, and outgoing, roar of an engine as the two mutants rocket right on by.

One portal to Hell. Vile creatures running thick as thieves. One seriously demented game of chicken. When you have no more bullets to throw at the other guys, find something else to throw!

Some small critter..thing nearly bounces off the front wheel as the two lead ladies sail past at ludicrous speed, the world growing more hostile with every foot of distance gained.

Or lost..?

"I have no fucking idea!" Dom yells back while ducking out of the way of some -other- creature that is all wings and claws.

There is the portal, itself… Not easily accessed with its positioning. Probably for the best, Dom's not so sure she wants to see what's on the other side. It's the hazards surrounding it which interest her the most. What they call a target-rich environment. If the others don't collide with hellspawn then maybe they'll be encouraged to stop the -pure- evil rather than the just -mostly- evil that's riding on the bike.

Not that the trip itself is a simple one. Quick work of the bike's controls results in a fresh muddy rut across grass, and the ramping over a wrecked car.

"I am not going back, I am -Not Going Back!-"

Then she notices the bike isn't giving her any more get up and go, because SOMEhow..the fuel got up and went without her.

Starved of fuel but coasting at a fast speed the bike slides through the remains of the empty pond, just in time to miss a world of unusual shrapnel swarming overhead. Uncomfortably close. -Too damn close.- Close enough to shred clothing and bite into the skin beneath.

Up ahead the raised bank which used to be the outer edge of the pond has also turned into a natural ramp, one which -could- throw someone into a certain dimensional gap…

A dimensional gap which they miss passing through by an inch and a prayer, thanks to the sudden loss of both wheels dragging their momentum down further still. As it turns out, Dom's luck is also starting to kick into high gear with sudden death around every corner.

The jump is cleared, the portal is missed, and the bike is falling apart like it was held together with the wrong kind of glue. However, its two occupants still have as much mass and momentum as they ever did. Also there's a third storey window coming up to greet them at an alarming rate.

Late night at the office, anyone?


This chase was never ending. It wasn't going to stop. Raven wasn't the one to surrender without a plan and taking out that entire police precinct was something that was written in the cards. Cards that was dealt with her own hand. So Domino was doing it. She was going towards the Hellmouth. The sea of angry agents were met with a chuff of something green snatched from a demon and a boot kick to get them out of the way. Even a claw was snatched and grabbed, tossed behind them with wiggle to the bike..

And with a glance back.. it seemed that Marcus himself has joined the chase.

Fuck it.

The black woman upon the bike slowly reveals herself, the blue skinned woman with yellow eyes looking over her shoulder towards the three in persuit. No, not three. There were agents closing in. Some with the look of shock upon their faces and the other angry, guns raised.. if no one was going to protect these women they would protect the world.

"Domino." Calm as kept. "Don't come after me."

For if there was luck that was needed, it was for her now and not Dom. During the glide up the raised bank that sends them sailing, Raven lets go. That upward tilt of the front will has her leaning her back with a slight arch, hands immediately crossing over her chest as her eyes close and she 'soars'.

Downward that is. Right over the open spout where the Hellmouth lays. This is no longer a game of chicken. This is no longer a game of who is much more crazier than who. If they really wanted Raven? Really, really, really wanted Mystique?

Then come and fucking get her.


Teeth are borne beneath a mask of blood red. Daredevil isn't letting go; to do so at such breakneck speed would be suicide. He's also not going to complain either. Jessica's in control, and he'd very much like for neither of them to become a smear on the pavement.

As the motorbike breaks the barrier, he reaches down to retrieve a billy club. Beasts that get too close are swung at, the sheer speed and brute force shattering manifested evil into shards of ugliness. The club swings from side to side, each time he changes grip in a daring feat juggling weapon with shoulder.

He cannot bear witness to what's happened to Marcus, but the effect such elemental force is having on the environment is deafening to him. He stows the club away and holds onto Jessica's shoulders, doing his best not to tremble. "Hail Mary, Mother of Grace," he mutters to himself.

The tricky thing is, Marcus' talents were not aimed at Jessica's bike. Her tank is still relatively full. So, when the motorcycle hits the enclave, it goes skyward. It follows Raven, no longer at will or control of its driver. The sounds that fill Murdock's ears cannot even compare to the putrid aroma that stings his nostrils. Sulfur. Brimstone. Piss. And worse… burnt flesh.

He can't see the hellmouth, but he can feel it. He can smell it.

Daredevil opens his mouth to scream. "NOOOOO-"

His voice, the sound of the motorcycle, it suddenly goes silent as they disappear into the portal. There is no echo, no bouncing of engine or voice off trees. A haunting mute, the sudden cutting of tape. Jessica Jones, Matthew Murdock, and Raven Darkholme…

… they're gone.


Marcus is not here, please a message at the beep. The man wrapped in fire comes to a slow stop, floating in the air for a moment before landing on the ground when he sees the bike coming a slower pace. The agents in his way? A hand moves, a flurry of wind knocks them aside like cardboard cut outs, sending them ragdolling and scattering like so many pieces on a chessboard thrown by an angry player. For some reason, the elements seek out Raven and Domino. They don't know why, they only know it was something Marcus was doing, and even he isn't quite sure of the answer.

Every step he takes causes the blacktop to sizzle and boil, even if his clothes remain unharmed and intact. But apparently Raven is making some kind of stand, and the elements are now curious. It's not fun when there isn't something to chase.

The elements attention get turned as Jessica's bike keeps moving, watching it, almost casually, four colors blending and swirling for eyes, each brand burning with such a glow they could be car lights. And then, they vanish into portal itself. And whatever is left of Marcus screams inside his own mind. He grips at his head, a struggle between the two different forces a very real thing.

Fire explodes again from around, radiating from the center, causing grass to catch alight that's not burnt to blackened grass outright, glass over into chunks. A look at the portal before once more before a gathering of wind around shoots him into sky. And like some kind of perverse, burning comet, he follows after them into it.


There's no question Jessica is on a warpath. And definitely no question that she's feeling haunted by the voice in her head. Yet her will to fight kicks into high gear as she loses all control off the bike. "These fucking ass — " but the words are ate by the Hellmouth itself.

The world falls away at a breakneck pace. The heat that radiates from the walls of the Hellmouth threatens with each passing moment. A thin layer of black ash lines each surface as dust and decay that creates a safe passage over fiery nearly-volcanic surfaces that bubble underneath. Within instants of appearing in the entrance, creatures of various imaginings begin to emerge from the walls, winding their way across the passage in a pattern akin to cockroaches skittering along a seedy motel floor.

Without stopping, the bike has assumed a third passenger as Jessica nabs the other woman onto it with a single forceful tug. No, Raven Darkholme isn't getting away. Even if it means going to hell to pick her up.

The entrance into the Hellmouth continues to wind downwards, and Jessica Jones can't seem to get the bike under her control. She fights with the brakes, "Piece of shit bike!" But the endeavour proves useless, finally prompting her to throw down her legs to catch the earth. The pain sears through her muscles as the combat boots create friction with the ground.


Here's Unconventional Means of Ending a Pursuit #10914.

The shapeshifter..is gone. The bike..is gone. Domino's pursuit..is gone.

Domino's luck is about to be gone.

"Oh -Fuck Me—!"

*CRASH!*The massive window, already made brittle by the incredible heat, shatters into thousands of diamond-like shards that glisten in the night air as the black, white, and red-splotched woman is hurtled through it as if shot out of a cannon. Across the polished tile floor she tumbles and skids, colliding sidelong against an office desk with enough force to shove it a couple of feet out into an open hallway right along with her. In the next instant the phone falls hard onto the floor with an exaggerated chime, as if signalling the end of a boxing match.

Seconds pass as she lies still, glass chiming across the floor as it continues to merrily skip along right after her.

"Sonuvabitch..landed on my gun," she croaks at length, slooowly turning to fall heavily upon battered elbows and knees as debris falls off of her body.

Now she just has to find a way out of the quarantined zone.



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