2014.02.02 - Dark Eternity

Hell's Kitchen. It's a rough place, all things considered. But not a bad one, should one be a biker or of the rough and tumble persuasion. People sometimes eke out an honest living, while others lurk in the shadows, others outright defy authority as they can and still others walk some strange medium in between. While winter has cooled the jets of most of the more thuggish, simple punk-ish elements (who wants to brawl in a polar vortex? No one sensible, that's who. They can pummel each other in reasonable temperatures like /sane/ human beings). That doesn't stop everyone. Recently, fliers have turned up - offering eternal happiness, eternal life, an end to needing fixes. How strange! But they aren't obviously placed. They come with drugs, fixed on phone booths, fallen into gutters.

More alarmingly, a small spate of victims has turned up with their organs dissolved, eyes torn out and covered in a black goo that remains hot to the touch for days. The police chemists can't seem to pry any answers from it.

The night is cold, crystalline and beautiful in a chilling way that cuts to the marrow of one's bone and produces an involuntary shiver when the breeze picks up and scatters frost, fallen plant life and such. A velvet black sky is adorned with pinprick stars, tiny gems cut to a queen's specifications when they are not dimmed out by streetlights, stark and still. Shadows are long. Desperation knows no time zone, knows no boundary. And so an alarmingly beautiful woman stands near a huge, Eastern European looking man in a coat. "Do you think they'll come?"

"They always do..." Junkies are apparently not well regarded by the two. And indeed, a tattooed young man is ambling up. "Hey... you the ones?" He holds up the flier. The woman giggles. "Oh yes." A deal in progress, it seems.

High above, just behind a gargoyle atop one of the spires, a figure clad in crimson hides. Under the mask eyes are closed--sitting, waiting, and listening. His left fist tightens around a billy-club as he sits in a coiled position, ready to strike stories below.

Creeper usually dwells in Gotham's gutters, but Jack Ryder had to film a segment for a political show and visit the Daily Bugle to get yelled at. With his alter ego squirming in his skin, Jack decided to let Creeper loose in Hell's Kitchen, figuring his wicked other self should at least find suitable prey there. Nobody had fun when Creeper got bored. So, here he is, landing on a rooftop across from the crimson-clad man in a tucked roll, throwing his arms out in a 'Ta-Da' gesture, looking around the rooftop and glaring at the pigeons, "Really? Nothing? Oh, what good are you?" he says with a raspberry.

No roofs for Gabriel. Instead he's in the shadows of an alley, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his long, leather coat, shoulders hunched forward against the cold. His eyes are sweep back and forth along the street until he see the exchange that is apparently about to start. At that point he starts watching to couple and the tattooed youth like a hawk.

If anyone can sense supernatural things, the couple are Definitely Not Human, but they do seem to appear otherwise to those without specialized senses. The woman seems to do most of the talking, and indeed, there's a palpable aura of wanting about her. She seems to pull one in, even with just a smile and a glance. They remain unaware of those in the shadows and above. They have business to conduct. And doing business in Hell's Kitchen requires both brute strength and more than a little skulking atop a touch of skill. And it shows.

The woman nods to the youth. "Oh yes," She promises. "You all aren't involved with ... y'know? My friend got some bad shit, looks like it melted him," And indeed, this youth seems to know his way around, too. Probably not a first timer, if one could see the track marks along the inside of his arm.

The woman giggles, waving a hand. "Oh, good heavens, no. Just awful, that business." And those who can watch vital signs or pick up on lies? Total lie. "Then I'm interested." The fine art of buying without buying, speaking without speaking. A vial of black liquid is handed over for money. "Eternal life, huh?" "Mmhm."

But then... things are never as they seem. "Give it a drink, you'll like it." "Drink? I thought-" Well, a shrug. And he takes a swig. Just like that. Then he winces. Anyone who reads vital signs or such miiiiight notice that something is terribly awry here. The couple just giggle.

As soon as the sound of that glass hits the hand of the other, Daredevil leaps out from behind the gargoyle and down through the space between the buildings towards the street below.

As he swan dives, the wind catches up under the sides of his mask, rippling in the space between. The leap is practiced-perhaps a hundred times over-he knows exactly how far he has before he needs to. .

Daredevil pulls the switch on his billy club and a whizzing line shoots outward and upward, catching hold and pulling him into a large arc. What was a dive headfirst is now an attack coming towards the dealer, boot first, legs extended, aimed for the chest.

The Creeper flops on his belly as he hears the voices below, eyes bulging maniacally, "Oooooh, tasty morsels, tender vittles. I love chicken, I love liver, scumbags, scumbags, please deliver..." he singsongs to himself, pushing his toes up, claws scrabbling on the rough surface and worming forward on his belly like a large, yellow worm until he can peer over the edge of the roof. When Daredevil swings into his line of sight, he snickers, "Oooooooooh, goody goody, a playmate, too!" he cackles, pushing up on his hands and balancing for a moment on the very edge, "Checking with the Romanian judge...he'll have to pull off the double axel twistsault to have a chance at gold...wait, wait, what's this? Oh, my, he's going for the "F*** it, let's make the biggest f***ing splash I can"! That crazy bastard! HAHAHAHAHAHaHaHahaaaaaaaaa..." he cries, laughter trailing off as he somersaults and cannonballs himself down into the alley in his own right.

One, two three steps and then Gabriel stops. What's this? Daredevil? And some weird yellow and green dude? He stops just short of leaving the shadows of the alley, instead opting for watching to see what will happen next. Maybe he won't have to get in on the fight and still learn where these weird new drugs have been coming from.

The woman was clenching a deal, laughing as the young fellow seems to be in rather extreme distress. He throws what's left of the vial down and away. Gabriel might even be able to pick it up if he's feeling brave. Meanwhile, the youth is gasping and coughing. Even the large man shares a chuckle. "Eternal life... has many definitions," She grins wickedly. Right before getting kicked smack in the chest. Her hat falls away, revealing the horns of a succubus. It seems physical pain is enough of a distraction for her to drop her illusion. The wind is knocked out of her sails and she's going to land smack on her back and backside. "Agh! What the hell!?" Her voice even sounds more harsh, a tinge of brimstone and scraping.

Her bodyguard moves in to action now. He's aiming for Daredevil although he pauses, hearing the Creeper laughing and doing his thing. "... you got a posse?" He's going to try to bring both fists down on Daredevil's head. But he's not exactly fast - the bigger fellow is a slow behemoth. You don't want to get hit by him, but the gaggle here likely definitely has speed up on him.

Daredevil feints left and dives right, narrowly avoiding the two hand jam from the big behemoth. The pain from the cold pavement ripples through his back, amplified due to his powers, but he grits his teeth and bears it. No time for pain at the moment.

There's a zing as the billy club's wire retracts and just before a terrible upswing is given by the Man Without Fear straight to the groin of the Man Who May or May Not Be Able to Procreate, should the strike prove effective.

The Creeper lands in a crouch, his eerie laughter bouncing off the walls of the alleyway, and whips his head back and forth, a mixture of sweat and spittle flung out around him. His eyes settle on the bodyguard, taking in his bulk and his two handed swing at Daredevil, "Hey there, Redman! Me wampum big kick in honkin' big white man! Yousum fight itty bitty bitchikins! How! Ungawa! Olly olly oxenfree!" he cries and them promptly leaps, his strength allowing him to spring the full fifteen feet from him to the bodyguard, all four claws outstretched to start kicking and slashing at the big man like a feral cat freshly sprayed with water.

Gabriel sighs as he sees the girl change from girl to succubus. Muttering to himself he says, "Maybe I will have to help after all." Bending down he picks up the empty drug vial and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. The same hand that stuffed the vial away comes back out with what looks like a small photo album. Flipping through it quickly he stops at his selected page and focuses on it for a moment. His form seems to melt, turning into a man-sized, golden amoeba that grows in size over the next second or so, reaching about ten feet in height before solidifying into what can best be described as a were-bear. Crouching down he waits another beat, watching the fight a little longer to see where he could be of the most use.

The tall man seems bent on causing plenty of - just that, pain. He doesn't seem human when one looks very closely. Especially not since his partner's dropped her magic and was gasping for air. She struggles to stand, as the large man, who does have genitalia gets nailed in the groin home video meets martial arts style. He oofs and doubles over a bit, only to get a Creeper attack from behind. He howls in pain as he's slashed and kicked at. His fine, fancy jacket is getting shredded. "No!" The female of the duo cries out and stands. The big male demon is going to try to grab Creeper off his back, but he's wincing and slowed to the point of almost being kind of sad, really.

She's managed to get up. And that means another combatant. Kind of. She's huffing a little, but she's up and irritated her partner is being wailed on. They don't seem to be higher level demons - more thugs picking on a few mortals to gain power.

Meanwhile, the youth seems - to be struggling. He's not out of the fight yet and indeed, he's throwing up behind a parked car. It's horrific to see steam and gouts of black goo, but it gives him far more of a chance of surviving this ordeal. He's throwing up amid spoken vows to 'go f***ing straight man, gonna go work at a car garage, dang,' and various other curses, pleas for sobriety and so on. Rock bottom is an ugly place, whatever path one takes to it.

Daredevil is up in a flash and with a backhanded throw, the billy club is aimed straight for the female in an attempt to hit her straight between the eyes. After the throw, it's clear that the billy is connected to a line on his wrist for retraction purposes. Meanwhile, the sounds of vomiting and the smell--God the smell--have Daredevil's mind racing. "Someone help that boy," he grunts.

The Creeper has no interest in helping that boy, unless helping him involves recording his explosive vomiting and posting it on the Internet under the title 'LOLZ'. Hmmmmmmmmmm...must carry camera phone. Oh, yes, demon mutilation! He lashes down and bites at the top of the demon's head, getting his scalp in his jaws and worrying it like a bone as he reaches around and claws at his face, locking legs around him from behind so that he's riding piggyback. "Whee! Yee haw! Giddyup, little freako! Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to...oops, wrong hi-ho! Ooooooooooo, that sounded bad, did I squish your eyeball there, buddy? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The massive mass of muscle, claws, teeth, and fur that used to be Gabriel rushes out of his alley at a surprisingly good clip of speed for such a large creature. In passing he gives the junkie a 'love-tap' around the stomach area, hoping to increase the speed and volume of his vomiting. As he passes by he growls, "Going straight, good idea."

Then the were-bear is rearing up on his hind legs, right behind the succubus. Raising his huge paws over his head he brings them down in a double hit very similar to the one the large man tried to used on Daredevil a few seconds ago.

The youth can only reply 'effin tell me about it beardude,' *HRK* Not pleasant, not pretty and not detailed here because ew. And he gets a 'love tap' around the gut. The results are as expected. Purge ahoy! Let's leave it at that. At least he wasn't so far gone that his body's responses to poisons were completely shot.

The female demon was going to start casting a spell. Hands come up in a gesture, then DONK! Right between the eyes. She staggers back, just in time to get BEAROWN'D and tagged over the head by the were-bear. She finally collapses in a heap. A couple of the black fluid filled vials roll out onto the pavement.

And the male demon? Faring equally badly as he's losing vision, blood over his face and losing an awful lot of blood. He's going to be collapsing alongside his partner as his attempts to grab the Creeper are failing. This fight is all but over and fleeing doesn't seem an option. Still, he's probably going to take a solid konk or two to keel over.

With the bear on the spell caster, Daredevil turns his attention back towards helping creeper finish off the male demon. There's a zzZzzzZiiip of his billy club and then he's back to hacking at the demon around the head region, careful not to thwack Creeper in the process. The Creeper starts to bounce up and down, kicking his heels into the demon's kidneys (Do demons have kidneys? What are hell's toilets like? Who has to clean them?) and driving him down, trying to buckle the big monster's knees. When the billy club bounce off that face, Creeper throws his weight forward to try and bear him down and smash his face into the asphalt, "I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU, DAD! i...LEARNED...IT...FROM...WATCHING...YOU!" he cries, each pause punctuate by a thump of face on alley.

Were-bear decides he is way too big to be trying to join in on the incubus beat-down. So instead he just drops down to sit on the succubus pining her arms and legs under himself in case she wakes up too quickly. She's a demon, she should be able to take about 500 pounds of man bear sitting on her, right?

The male demon gets thwacked and ridden like a rodeo bull. His demonic kidneys are taking quite an assault. They probably do have kidneys, Hell's toilets are hellish - see your local truck stop for examples - and often, it is the souls of the damned who end up cleaning them. The guy who spills soda everywhere and laughs because it's totally someone else's job to clean it. The lady who does unspeakable things like smashing milk jugs. The usual suspects. And indeed, the male demon is smashed about the head with a billy club and then creeper bear'd down into the asphalt. Thumpthumpthump. He's not likely to get back up anytime soon. He's not dead - he is a demon, but he's entered The World of Pain, as it's known in mortal slang.

And the succubus is out cold like a six pack left in Canadian snow. Such is the hazard of being a caster and getting clocked over the head.

The black vials that have rolled out of her pockets lay still and the youth seems to still be up, last traces of the black drug evacuated in a most unpleasant manner. He is gonna be the soberiest guy that ever was after this.

Red boots pad over to where the vials were dropped. Daredevil leans low and takes one into his hand, feeling the exterior as he thinks. A moment later, his hand reaches up towards the skies.

* PFFT*

The billy club's hook is fired upward and a moment later, Daredevil is taken with it, without so much as a word for Gabe or Creeper as he disappears upwards.

The Creeper continues pummeling for a few moments, switching up beats: "Billie Jean"..."Make 'em Laugh"..."Master of Puppets"..."Call Me (Maybe), "And this is crazy, but here's your spinal fluid, so...hey, wait..." Creeper looks up and sees Daredevil zipping off over the rooftops, "YOU'RE WELCOME!" he cries, then looks over at the giant were-bear as if it were the most normal thing in the world, "Sheesh. I'm gonna report that guy to the union. Superheroes and Tight-wearers 404!"

Were-bear watches Daredevil leave then looks back down at The Creeper. After a moment he growls at Creeper, "So... What do we do with these two? They don't seem to be a police kind of issue." He doesn't seem fazed by Creeper's crazy. After all, he teams up with Deadpool and Lunair pretty often. Although he does seem to be mouth breathing without looking like he's mouth breathing. Which, considering all the teeth and fangs its putting on display, could be a bit intimidating for a sane person...

They're both out cold and sadly unable to appreciate the Creeper's mad beats. But it's not long before a siren wails off in the distance. Even here, the odd brawl in the street is bound to attract attention.

The Creeper is, quite luckily, not even vaguely sane. "Really? The muckety mucks don't have a freaktank downtown? "Toss 'er in, Clancy, this one's had a little too much of the Satan Juice an' started sproutin' tentacles from her vulva!" Anyway, I just do the savage, potentially fatal beatings, I let other people do the paperwork. Dyslexic, dno't uoy knwo?"

The Man-bear lets out a grunt then gets to his feet. Going to the nearest street sign he bends it one way then another, back and forth a few times then once it snaps he take it back to the unconscious demons. Sitting them back to back he proceeds to wrap the sign post around them, "That should do. Wait, is iron bad for demons? Or is that faeries?"

That's fairies. But considering the sheer physical strength of the bear, the pummeling they just received and the fact they are now bound by a friggin' bar of metal twisted up, those demons aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

The Creeper squats down over the unconscious succubus and calmly flatulates in her face for about 25 seconds, "Ooooooooooh, youch, I think I may've herniated my superplexus...hrm...I can give you directions to the Blue Oyster Bar if you wanna know about fairies. Tell 'em Bruce Wayne sent ya," he laughs, springing up and starting to clamber up the alley wall, "Nice to meetcha, Major Ursa! Say hi to Piglet and Owl and Christopher Robin for me! Remind that bastard Eeyore that he owes me money! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Bear Gabriel watches The Creeper climb away, waving a large paws at him in a slightly bemused way. Once he's gone Gabriel disappears back into the alleys, finds a shadowy area where he can change back to normal without being seen. As he searches for his changing spot he mutters, "Wow... And I thought Deadpool was off. At least DP doesn't go for the bathroom humor. Much."

The cops will probably be there in due time to round up the two demons and likely hand them off to someone federal or far more equipped to handle it. Although, why does the female of the duo smell so terrible? They will never know.