matt murdock's life is out of control. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
guardiandevil) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-11-27 05:15 pm
guardiandevil) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-11-27 05:15 pm
Entry tags:
I got a new life
WHO: Matt Murdock
WHERE: Porter room, then to Natasha's apartment.
WHEN: Backdated to Thursday evening.
WARNINGS: Description of a stabbing?
SUMMARY: Matt is back from the dead and also he's crazy.
FORMAT: Solo!
The very last thing he felt was the bursting of skin and muscle as the blade entered Bullseye's body. The last thing he smelled was the sweet intoxication of Bullseye's blood rising up into his nostrils and dripped down his arm, leaving a faint burgundy stain on his black sleeve. The last thing he heard, high above the roar of the news choppers and the shattering glass of the convention center was Bullseye's breathing, his low, raspy, pleading breathing, and his heartbeat slowing and fading until there was nothing at all.
He hadn't éven recoiled from the stabbing motion when he was pulled away and out of that moment completely, thrust into emptiness and darkness, greeted only with the taunting voice of Lachesis, "Welcome to the City, Hero.".
And after that, his world was black and silent.
It'd been so long since he'd been without his radar. A year and a half, when Vulcanus had abducted and experimented on him. He leaned so heavily on it, felt nearly naked without his extra compensation, he'd nearly forgotten all the tricks Stick had taught him all those years ago. That was his fault, for being such an ungrateful, disappointing student. Everything he'd done lately would have disappointed the old man.
Not that Matt was honestly thinking about that now. He needed to get home, off the street and out of this black costume. In the middle of the day his work was out of place, he needed the protection of nightfall to truly exact his mission. Whatever that was now, without the Hand.
He would worry about them later.
He slipped inside Natasha's apartment after a brief taxi ride over, having stumbed gracelessly up the stairs and jimmied open her door. He didn't have his keys on him anymore. He didn't even know how long he'd been gone or if she would still be living there. Luckily, the furniture was arranged the way he'd remembered, so he made himself more or less at home, sinking onto her sofa with his head in his hands.
What was he going to do now? Everything he'd planned for over the last several months, all of it was back home, back with the Hand. Here his mission would be useless. The desire for justice was strong in him, it always had been, but the all consuming need, the near possession to manipulate and seize control… it was almost as if those passions were beginning to fade now that he wasn't in the thick of it.
But did he want it to fade? Hadn't his path been a righteous one? He'd been constructing a system that wouldn't allow criminals to escape without punishment. He'd found the correct way to do the work he'd always known needed doing. Now that he'd been enlightened, it seemed like such a waste to just let it fall to the wayside like that. But without his radar, without his fighting skills…
Those would return, he nodded, remembering what it had felt like when they'd returned last time. Like a light switch flipping on, suddenly his world had been illuminated. Until then, he would bide his time, put away his black costume, and pretend on like his eyes hadn't been opened back home.
There was work to do in the City, corruption and injustice from the bottom, all the way up to the Mayor's office. Hundred and his henchmen would be on his list. But first, he thought, there were judicial officials who might make better examples to the masses, police officers who were open to bribes, and all together too many people who watched and stood idly by. And that simply would not do.
No, that wouldn't do at all.
WHERE: Porter room, then to Natasha's apartment.
WHEN: Backdated to Thursday evening.
WARNINGS: Description of a stabbing?
SUMMARY: Matt is back from the dead and also he's crazy.
FORMAT: Solo!
The very last thing he felt was the bursting of skin and muscle as the blade entered Bullseye's body. The last thing he smelled was the sweet intoxication of Bullseye's blood rising up into his nostrils and dripped down his arm, leaving a faint burgundy stain on his black sleeve. The last thing he heard, high above the roar of the news choppers and the shattering glass of the convention center was Bullseye's breathing, his low, raspy, pleading breathing, and his heartbeat slowing and fading until there was nothing at all.
He hadn't éven recoiled from the stabbing motion when he was pulled away and out of that moment completely, thrust into emptiness and darkness, greeted only with the taunting voice of Lachesis, "Welcome to the City, Hero.".
And after that, his world was black and silent.
It'd been so long since he'd been without his radar. A year and a half, when Vulcanus had abducted and experimented on him. He leaned so heavily on it, felt nearly naked without his extra compensation, he'd nearly forgotten all the tricks Stick had taught him all those years ago. That was his fault, for being such an ungrateful, disappointing student. Everything he'd done lately would have disappointed the old man.
Not that Matt was honestly thinking about that now. He needed to get home, off the street and out of this black costume. In the middle of the day his work was out of place, he needed the protection of nightfall to truly exact his mission. Whatever that was now, without the Hand.
He would worry about them later.
He slipped inside Natasha's apartment after a brief taxi ride over, having stumbed gracelessly up the stairs and jimmied open her door. He didn't have his keys on him anymore. He didn't even know how long he'd been gone or if she would still be living there. Luckily, the furniture was arranged the way he'd remembered, so he made himself more or less at home, sinking onto her sofa with his head in his hands.
What was he going to do now? Everything he'd planned for over the last several months, all of it was back home, back with the Hand. Here his mission would be useless. The desire for justice was strong in him, it always had been, but the all consuming need, the near possession to manipulate and seize control… it was almost as if those passions were beginning to fade now that he wasn't in the thick of it.
But did he want it to fade? Hadn't his path been a righteous one? He'd been constructing a system that wouldn't allow criminals to escape without punishment. He'd found the correct way to do the work he'd always known needed doing. Now that he'd been enlightened, it seemed like such a waste to just let it fall to the wayside like that. But without his radar, without his fighting skills…
Those would return, he nodded, remembering what it had felt like when they'd returned last time. Like a light switch flipping on, suddenly his world had been illuminated. Until then, he would bide his time, put away his black costume, and pretend on like his eyes hadn't been opened back home.
There was work to do in the City, corruption and injustice from the bottom, all the way up to the Mayor's office. Hundred and his henchmen would be on his list. But first, he thought, there were judicial officials who might make better examples to the masses, police officers who were open to bribes, and all together too many people who watched and stood idly by. And that simply would not do.
No, that wouldn't do at all.