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Two hours have passed since things quieted down in this part of Harlem. Emergency workers, police, and volunteers with the Red Cross have been joined by citizens to help the wounded, the scared, and the hysterical. Not many noticed Daredevil's presence during the affair, but he's still here.
There is an eight story apartment building at the edge of the mess. Upon the lip of the rooftop, Daredevil sits perched upon his haunches, like a quiet sentry, overlooking those below.
*
Lynette wasn't aware of the guardian devil. She had hidden herself away for the last two hours; her abilities, at least the more violent ones, tended to take their toll on her. She watches the people as they work, hiding in the shadows of the alley, hugged away by two building.
Her eyes had yet to change back, still solid and slitted down their middles. And the diamond pattern on the back of her neck and its sides lingers. During the day, the battle had raged and everything was on the line, and out; but now? She's not so keen to have others see her.
*
The battle had been an assault on Daredevil's senses. The past two hours have been something of a reprieve for the blind man with superhuman senses; the sounds have normalized, the rumblings of the city back to normal, with a focus upon the work already underway to repair this part of Harlem. The odors are the one thing that remains nearly overwhelming. Sulfur still hangs in the air. The smell of blood, sweat, even piss, from those who lost control of their bladder when the earth opened up. Dirt, grime, and a number of other things that remain somewhat unidentifiable. Unfamiliar.
One such oder lingers in the alleyway nearby. Daredevil's face scrunches up, and he turns to look toward the alley-facing edge of the building. With curiosity, he leaves his post, creeps over to that perpendicular edge, and hooks his grappling club into a nook between the rooftop and an old TV antennae. Then, with a silent motion, he leaps over the edge of the building and begins rappelling down toward the source of that smell.
*
There was something odd about the girl. Off, perhaps? The sweet aroma of honeysuckle and lilacs, but tarnished by iron and copper. The girl's clothing is a bit musty, never coming clean from the secondhand Salvation Army that is practically woven into its fibers. Her head down, she continues watching the street, taking a deep breath and exhaling.
She rubs at her hands, kneading at the unwounded palms, even if she had driven a knife through both during the ordeal. Turning, the girl starts heading down the alley to exit its secondary mouth, still unaware of the Devil.
*
Hearing movement, Daredevil stops, planting himself against the wall not more than two storeys up. "Hey." His voice is non-threatening, quiet in its own way, not wanting to alarm the girl. As non-threatening as a masked man in blood red can be, perched upon a wall. His attire far different from hers, it doesn't leave much to be guessed about his size, with muscles pushing through the skin-tight fabric, which is torn in a few places and stained with blood and dirt.
*
Lynette freezes in her steps, her serpentine eyes looking down at her scuffed boots before finally rolling up to view the figure in red. "Hey." She repeats gently enough, not so much startled as she was nervous; paranoid. She notices the blood and grim, and with a quick flick of her tongue, she takes in his 'smell' at a hightened level. "Y'doin' ok? Y'ain't hurt are y'?" Glancing behind herself, she takes a step or two closer, and rubs at the textured nape of her neck. "I t'ink I seen y', earlier t'day. T'anks f'all de help. Y'saved lots 'f lives t'day."
*
Daredevil waits for a moment, taking some time to judge the woman's reaction. He doesn't want another fight, especially if she was fighting for the good folks. Soon enough, he drops down to the alley floor, landing in a partial crouch, before jerking at the billy club in his hand. A ripple travels up the line, shaking it free from the item above, and it retracts into his hand with an alarmingly fast recoil.
"Not seriously," he answers. "Getting banged up's sort part of the gig." Then, he shakes his head slowly. "All I did was hit some poor teenager in the head. Crude, but effective. Someone would've gotten to him sooner or later. Maybe someone with less of a… brutish approach." There is clear regret in his voice. That poor kid's probably going to be hospitalized for a while. There might even be permanent brain damage. It's not a good situation for anyone.
With an upnod, Daredevil redirects the attention upon Lynette. "So, what are you still doing here?"
*
Blinking, her eyes widen at the display. "Fancy." She murmurs under her breath ernestly. "Ain't dat d'truth? Still, if y'need t'get patched up, y'do it, non? Dey's a clinic jus' down de road fr'm here." She doesn't point out where it is, though, perhaps it was part of the street that would need a few more repairs.
"Y'knocked out a kid. I took 'notha kid's hands 'way. So…I t'ink y'win de least 'brutish' award." Another rubbing at her palms, her limbs then swing lifelessly by her sides, the sleeves of her weater jacket swallowing them up whole. "Me? Was worried 'bout de people here. I work at de bar jus' down 'ways. I like dis part 'f de city, so…I dunno. I was hopin' dey be s'mt'ing good left here afta all dat. I hope de donations weren' lost. I feel bad f'all de babies if dey were." A pause. "What 'bout you? Heard y'usually stick 'round de Kitchen. 'less dere's more den one devil?"
*
"Yeah, I've heard of it," Daredevil admits. "Not sure I'm quite ready to roll in there, dressed like this. There're people out there who want my head. S'why I wear a mask."
Once the billy club is secure, the masked man takes a few steps closer. "So, you took a kid's hands away?" he asks, with the tone of a man who's not unfamiliar with difficult decisions. "There are worse fates." He stops a friendly distance away, and offers a hand. His right hand, which is, unfortunately, covered in dried blood. He clears his hand and switches to the left, the glove clean. "Daredevil." Once they've properly met, he gestures around. "Wasn't just for Harlem. There were people here in support of the Kitchen, so… here I am. Came to make sure things stayed… peaceful." There isn't much to go on as far as Daredevil's emotions go. Body language, mostly, and the exposed lower half of his face, which forms a bitter expression. "See how well that turned out."
*
"Non. Wouldn' let'm hurt y'. Not here. If y'need help, I make sure y'get it." The girl promises without hesitation. She nods to his words, her vertical pupils glancing toward the flashing blue and red lights. "Oh, I know. Dat was m'idea f'de whole t'ing. I wanted t'let people jus'…rest a bit, non? N'do s'mt'ing f'de kids f'r here, de Bronx, n'de Kitchen. M't'ankful f'de Fisks n'dere help, but it all jus'…went t'hell." A deep breath, she sighs out. "S'tirin'."
Then, she notices his hand, and the name that comes with it. She smiles warmly enough, and offers out her own grip. "M'Lynette. Or…sorry, 'suppose t'say Anima Sola, I t'ink. Still not use t'code names." Smirking, she grips at the scarlet fabric. Her petite form goes stiff as a board as she stares out with large eyes, focusing on nothing that's visually before her, but all enternal. After today's events, she young mambo causes a magical backlash for the Devil.
It's a wave of discomfort. Of fear, or a void; there is also pain. All is black and he can feel as if something sharp piercing into his chest, over, and over again. A chorus of screams echo from far away and so close it causes one's ears to ring from resistance. A wash of ruby floods the senses, copper, iron, and dirt. Then the salt of tears that he can practically taste. There's foot steps; someone running. The thundering of a heart rate racing. Then, nothing.
*
Well it's worth noting that Daredevil hasn't provided any real names. It's by design. There are two too many people who know who he really is, and that is far more of a risk than he was ever willing to take. "Well, 'code names', as you put it, are a -"
There is a span of not even a second, during which Murdock's mouth parts. Then, it all comes rushing in. First, there is a flash of memory; a young boy grasping at his eyes, screaming as they bleed and burn, smoke rising. A weathered father, holding his young son with rags pressed against his eyes. A woman, smiling, faded into the image of a grizzly blind man with a staff, striking a young adult over, and over, and over again. A blind man, curled upon the ground, screaming for mercy at the hands of a brutal and heartless sensei. The flash shows Daredevil's face, masked, then the face forms facial hair, which covers a sneer. The future, and a knife thrown from his gloved hand into the forehead of that same grizzled sensei. A killing stroke.
Daredevil yelps, his hand squeezing with uncontrolled strength in an effort to pull it away.
*
Lynette shudders, trembling and attempting to pull away as well. His grip bruises her hand, already aching as it was, but thankfully, those fleeting moments are gone. Contact is lost. Stumbling back, she rubs at her temples and whimpers. Her hands then cover her eyes, tenderly rubbing at them to sooth some pain. "M'sorry. M-m' so sorry. I don'…I c'n' c'ntroll dat n'been pushin' m'powers t'day." Now there were more faces, more scenes, running around in her mind. "M'sorry 'bout y'eyes." The girl whispers at length.
*
Daredevil shakes his hand out after pulling it away, turning his face as if he could see it, to inspect it, before lowering it to the side. His chest rises and falls slowly for a moment or two, before he looks back toward the young woman. "It's, it's okay. You're… gifted. Like me." He shakes his head for a moment, trying to remember where is, what he was doing here. When she apologizes for his eyes, a bitter grin forms. "Well. One thing lost, another thing gained. Believe it or not, 'Anima Sola', I see much better now."
Turning away, Daredevil finds somewhere to sit; an old milk crate, left behind in the alley after some shipment long ago. He sits down with a heavy sigh, and allows for some silence to linger. "What exactly was that?"
*
"I ain't one t'judge. Seen y'work t'day, n'dat's impressive." Working at her hand, she tries another smile, but now she seems unsure if it matter? He's blind after all, right? Wait, no, he said he could see better now? She keeps the smile.
Watching him move and sit, she moves as well, and rests her back against the wall of a building, using it as her make-shift backbone. "I don' know. Jus'…s'mt'ing dat happens now n'den. I don' c'ntrol it or n't'ing. I t'ink de visions? Dat makes sense, non?" Rubbing at her curls, she scritches and lets her hand drop once more. "I didn' hurt y', did I?"
*
"No, I'm… I'm fine," Daredevil answers. "Just saw some things I hadn't thought about in a while." The whole thing about Stick, and the knife… his brow furrows, beneath the mask, but his face does show a bit of a frown. "I saw something that never happened." He turns to look at her intently. "Does that happen often?"
It's interesting that he isn't responding to her compliments. It isn't that he doesn't appreciate them, but… Matt Murdock is a man who never sees himself as good enough.
*
Lynette stares across at the devil in red. At first, her breathing hitches, and there's a flutter of her heart that doesn't believe him. Regardless, she doesn't give the concern voice. Slumping down, she squats with her back against the wall, keeping her rump off the wet, and cold, alley floor. Hugging at her knees, loosely, she continues to stare and then, he comments on what he saw?
Confusion crosses the girl's face before she finally breaks the silence. "I-non'. M'de one dat sees t'ings most time. N'less y'magic?" Her head cants to the side at the possibly new revalation. "What'd y'see? If y'don' mind me askin'."
*
It takes some time for Matt to finally remember how old it is. Watching Lynette struggling to find a place to sit, he decidedly stands up. "Not here. It's too damn cold." He turns and looks from side to side, then gestures with his head down the alley. "Come on."
Walking down toward the opposing entrance, he stops at a door. One of his clubs comes out, and he sticks it into the handle, wedging it against the jamb, then breaks the lock with a shove of his elbow. Breaking an entering, true vigilante style. Once the handle is discarded, he pushes the door open, revealing an abandoned storage room inside, where at least it's dry and warmer than outside.
Daredevil goes inside, then grabs a pair of old chairs, setting them up. He sits down then, waiting for Lynette to join if she would, before coming to answer her question.
"Mostly stuff from the past. But then I saw my mentor, and I killed him." A pause. "With a knife, here." He points to his temple. "I don't kill, Lynette. Not my style. Why would I see something like that?" he asks. "Some sort of… magic?"
*
Wiggling up, she stands and follows after the Devil. The quick crack of a door, she enters and then helps close it up behind them. Thankfully, she was use to squating, and since the building was empty, she was sure whoever owned it would understand.
Watching him fetch the chairs and set them down, she can't help but question aloud, "How y'doin' dat if y'c'n' see?" She claims a chair for herself, and still curls up, trying to bundle herself up as much as possible by downsizing her body space, which wasn't much to begin with. "Dat's what I saw, too. Fr'm y'. I don' make t'ings pop int' people's heads, Daredevil. Dat w's all y'."
*
"When I went blind," Daredevil explains, "My other senses became… something else." He pats the chair he's seated on. "I don't know how else to explain it, but… I can feel things. Hear things." A pause. "Two people just walked by outside, one of them, probably… forty pounds heavier than the other." He smiles then, a bit sadly. "Kurt's smell will linger in this place for months, long past the time everyone else stops noticing."
That being said, he sits forward now, resting his forearms upon his knees. "Well, I don't have much love for Stick. He's a bastard, you know. But he helped make me who I am today, so, I suppose I owe the son of a bitch a debt of gratitude. I can't see myself killing him though." He shakes his head, then turns to look toward Lynette. "That wasn't the only thing I saw, though. Other things that… weren't me." He nods his head slowly. "Was that you?"
*
Lynette perks up and looks in the direction of the people in question. She smiles, making a soft 'huh' sound. "Dat's…s'mt'ing. Kurt?" Another name she didn't know, apparently. "Dere was lots a'smells 'round t'day." Giving her legs another squeeze, she settles her chin atop her knees and listens. Her heart is calm, and he can tell she's relaxed.
"Stick? Dat de man usin' a, well stick on y'? N'if y'didn' kill'm den don' worry 'bout it. S'vague s'mtimes, de t'ings I see." Her voice is tender, and heavy with reassurance. There was more? "I-I don'…what else did y'see?"
*
Daredevil is considering the young woman, noticing the calmness of her heartbeat. That is a good thing. When she asks him what he saw, though, he finds it difficult to explain. "It wasn't… something I saw, exactly. It was dark. Heavy. And painful. Like being stabbed, repeatedly. Blood." Yes, he knows that taste all too well. The copper and iron. There's a bit of that taste in his mouth, and he can't be too sure if it's his own blood, or some echo of what he experienced when their hands touched.
"Screaming," he adds. "That… wasn't me." Even when he says it, though, he doesn't sound entirely too convinced.
*
Her heart quickens now. The longer he speaks, the things he says, makes the girl become tense; a rabbit feeling that something is near and soon, it will die. Her hand moves away from her grip of its mate's wrist, and then rests on the flat of her petite chest. "I…'m sorry. Dat was me. S'all true n', well, guess I aint' ova dat yet. 'M sorry y'had t'see, n'feel, dat." The fabric of her shirt tugs and wrinkles, fibers bending and stressing, before relaxing back into place.
"I felt de pain in y'eyes. N'dat pain in y'daddy's chest. Heard y'screamin' f'mercy n' I wish I could've helped y'have it. S'link, f'a second but, y'gonna keep it f'eva. What y'felt? Heard? Guess dat was m'losin' m'eyes, too. M'normality."
*
Daredevil stares forward for a long time, before finally turning to look Lynette's way. He nods his head slowly, then reaches across to set a gloved hand upon the girl's forearm. "Well, I'm sorry you had to feel that, too." He nods his head slowly, and gives Lynette's forearm a gentle squeeze. "You know, Lynette, people like us have to stick together." He looks away, and makes to remove his hand. "It's a big, angry world." He nods his head indicatively, perhaps to the wall, but to encompass everything out there in the cold. "People like us, we aren't going anywhere."
*
"We c'n' changed what happened, non? Made us." She agrees with him from before. Looking at his hand, she moves her own and grips it around his wrist. Squeezing, she caresses there briefly and then pulls away. Nodding, she follows his 'gaze' and sighs. "I know. M'tryin'. M'findin' m'place, n'm'side of de board. Gotta pr'tect our own, right? Dat's what I plan on doin'." Pausing, she rests her eyes on the Devil. "If y'need help, ask. I c'm runnin'."
*
"Well, when you figure it out… make the right call." A lopsided grin forms at the last, and the Devil turns to look back at his new friend. "Hell's Kitchen a long way downtown from here," he points out. "But, I know some people. And, worst case scenario, I know where you work." He tips his head forward, the lopsided grin forming a bit. "Guess I know there's one bar in town I can walk into dressed like this and won't get harassed."
*
"I made it 'lready. I t'ink 'm in de right. I know how I feel." Nodding again, she keeps motioning and reacting to him as if she had forgotten that he was a blind man behind a mask. "I been t'de Kitchen few times now. Guess we both got 'r work cut out f'us." A smirk of her own causes the girl's cheek to dimple. Then, she giggles. The sound is bubbly, melodic, and most of all, genuine. "Well, dey might be a prick 'r two, but dey easy t'quite down. Don' eva worry 'bout dat, dough, ok? I help y'." Then a scoff, "Merde. Look at y'. People be stupid t'harass y' 'nyway."
*
Solemnly, the man in red nods his head. Everyone has choices to make, and they are never easy ones. It's a sentiment that remains visibly clear on the exposed lower half of his face. "Pricks, I can handle," he says. Then, at her compliment, the man actually blushes. "Well… there're a lot of stupid people out there," he answers, totally deflecting her compliment.
*
Lynette chuckles and nods, causing her curls to bounce. "True 'nough." She sees the blush easily enough, and reaching out, she teases and brushes a finger across his cheek. "Ah, sorry. T'ough dey was s'mt'ing on y'face f'sec. T'ink s'blush." Resting a foot down, she stands and takes a step closer to the Devil. Should he allow her two, both of his cheeks are cradled in the warmth of her palms. Leaning down, but not by much, she presses her lips against the brow of his horned helmet. "T'anks, f'all y'did t'day. S'tough call, but y'saved countless lives. M'sorry m'rally failed, but, m'glad t'know y'round."
*
Well, Murdock doesn't budge. His breath does catch for a moment when she touches his cheeks, but he doesn't do anything about it. Not at first, not until she kisses his helmet. At that point, he reaches up with a hand to touch her wrist, and allows for a small smile. "I'm glad you tried," he answers. Then, he removes his hand and moves it toward her face. "Do… do you mind? I'm… still a blind man." He can discern a person's height, weight, general attributes, but he still can't make out a person's face. Not without touch.
*
"Sorry." She stalls, feeling his grip on her slender wrist. Another nod, another smile, she moves back to her chair and pulls it over. It causes a horrible noise, but she doesn't think about it, perhaps unaware of how heightened his abilities really were. The sound ceases, and she sits back down. "Dat's right. M'keep tryin'. Non', I don' mind." There she sits, waiting for him to do as he needed to to map out her face.
*
Daredevil nods his head, then reaches out to do just that. He feels the contour of her chin, cheeks, forehead, even her nose. After a few moments, he nods his head and lowers his hand, satisfied. "Now you're more than just a voice, and a name." And a scent, but… Matt usually keeps that part to himself. Even Foggy and Karen find that whole thing a bit awkward.
Daredevil pushes himself to his feet, and walks toward the door. "I'll see you soon. Hopefully without… explosions and earthquakes." He brings two fingers to his temple and flips a mock salute her way. "Take care of yourself, Anima Sola."
Not more than a moment outside the door, he flings his billy club skyward, then disappears into the night.