2013-01-05 What's Cookin' in Hell's Kitchen

While the cold does cut down the crime rate considerably, not all are repelled or staying in at home. The petty thugs, the wannabes, the grunts and such are at home, it's true. The streets are quiet, now that the darkness of night has blanketed the sky. Stark white street lights stand out, replacing torches and shadows. Long shadows splay here and there, hiding treacherous ice, hiding those bold enough to still try to ply their trades. Addiction is a cruel disease, devouring its victims whole from the inside out. Taverns stay open, and the voices and boisterious rocket are only slightly subdued.

Few workers walk along the sidewalk, and the streets are generally peaceful, snow mingling with grit to provide a salt and pepper look to the earth. A man argues with someone over a baggie. Too much, not enough, not the right quality. Words, words, words, that might shock a more proper audience fall and spill out into the night like a bowl thrown onto a marble temple floor. The two arguing get 'oh shit - it's cool man!' expressions and bolt, as a new party claims the place. A man - nearly 8 feet tall - in a huge trenchcoat, and a wirey woman beside him take over.

"Do you think we'll get any tonight?" The woman looks to the man. He grunts. Their scents are not natural. "It's hard... when it doesn't always take." She hmphs She smells of death, of incense and myrrh, of mourning and ash. He has a fiery, brimstone kind of scent that marks him as one of Hell's minions.

Those familiar with the world of crime might be aware of its intricately woven net of dealer, buyer, customer, contract - such things offered, broken, held tantamount all at once. Of late, the stakes have been raised. Odd things like once wirey punks becoming berserkers, some just melting... surely, surely those are rumors? You must've been trippin', man, one slaps his friend's sleeve. Better buy the good stuff from so and so on the corner. Yeah, yeah, that's it... mere rumors, mere whispers, right?

But this is a bandit's love song and there's business to be done. A man approaches the two with a piece of paper. He heard they had the good stuff? Oh, but they do...

With the cold and the reduction in the common thug on the street, Daredevil has swung over to Fogwell Gym; the old boxing gym where his father used to train. He sits on a window ledge, slightly pushing the window up, so he can catch the scent of old leather and sweat. He breaths in these scents of his father for a few moments before his attention is turned else where. Below him, two scents which just don't seem to belong on a New York City street; even here in Hell's Kitchen. He shifts his position on the window ledge, narrowing his search as he zeros in on the new smell. There. Two people. Man and a woman judging from the sounds of their voices. Still odd. He remains perched as he follows a man holding something coming towards the pair.

As Daredevil is keeping tabs on the strange people below, the door to the gym swings open and shut behind him, and it is quite obvious that two others have entered even without the blind vigilante's enhanced senses. Two had entered, but only one was talking. And he wasn't on the phone.

"She just wouldn't listen to me, I'm telling you! She could've accidentally killed someone out there, or hell, even herself--Oh, don't even--" Robert lightly slaps at Joey's hands because you know that is how you shut up a mute person. "Come on, she was hot. And she was totally your age. Don't tell me you wouldn't have enjoyed the showering p--Whoa! Is that...is that who I think it is?!"

Rob fumbles for his phone camera.

Maybe the name drew them here. There's likely too many mobsters and such in most places. But this corner... this is quiet enough to begin their insidious plan. People have forgotten to be afraid of winter, to be afraid of those eternal souls who defy existence. They have forgotten fear of hungry beasts, driven into a ravenous, frightened frenzy by hungry. But here, they can ply their trade, to build the damned under their own banner. To frighten and claim souls. They are so very hungry. To trap those who wish a fast path to might and wealth. Tearing into fools, ah! Business is profitable. If a few innocents are caught up, all the better. They lay traps beneath hope, just below escape.

Maybe that man wasn't trippin' after all. Their potential customer smirks, eyeing the woman. "Yeah, man, I saw your guys' little note," He explains. The woman smiles, her voice unnaturally smooth, the sickening oil dripping from a corrupt deal. "Of course... it's very exclusive. You must have a good eye," She offers him praise, soothing that ruffled, puffed up ego. The man in the long coat says nothing. He merely reaches into a pocket for a vial. "Why don't you try it first?" Free samples. It's always how they get you. "All you do is drink it..." Smile. Smilesmile. All smiles, the plastic politeness of service. "Yeah, sure," Unfortunately, he takes the vial, uncorks it and chugs it NOW.

The duo stiffen. "- not NOW -" Oh goodness. They hadn't counted on someone so eager. With the last contents drank, the man blinks. He holds his stomach. Uh oh.

Daredevil shudders as the duo speak more and conduct their business. Their voices feel like someone had just poured rancid grease over him. He almost feels physically ill and that stops him from moving while the junkie gets the vile. Even as the man begins to clench his stomach, Daredevil begins to move. He leaps off the window's ledge in a swan dive. He hits the yawning over the entrance to the gym with his hands and that springs him back upward. He twists in the air, spinning and bringing his feet around, so he can land feet first on the street next to the man who drunk the vile. He is aware of the two that just came out of the gym as well, but for now, he looks at the junkie listening for his vitals. "Hold on, sir. We can get you help."

"That's--that's Daredevil! THE Daredevil!" Rob exclaims excitedly. "Man, I've always been a fan." he tries to get pictures of the costumed hero but the man jumps down and lands smoothly onto the street near the man who had just drank some weird chemical in a vial. "Whoa that was /so/ cool!"

Of course, he pays little or no attention to the imminent danger and starts rushing back down out onto the street to try to get better pictures...and maybe an autograph? Joey grabs his friend's arm to try to stop him, but he is unsuccessful and ends up following him outside.

Rob rushes up to Daredevil with a pen and a notepad while Joseph facepalms. "Hey, Daredevil, could I get your autograph? I mean, I've kinda been collecting hero autographs and stuff and you're like, one of the only people whose Hancock I haven't gotten...so...yeah."

That would be a good impression of them. Greasy, loathesome. Very much the less alluring faces of demons and their human cohorts. Stories so often neglect that part, in favor of the equally terrifying lure. But the disgust, a dinner returned to one's throat, would not be amiss. The junky is gasping, coughing up a bit of black, brimstone and bile goo. For better or worse, his body has been strengthened against new chemicals by the barrage of old. He may yet be saved with a good, ole fashioned purge. Their formula is not yet perfect. He looks pleadingly to Daredevil. "Shit man, I'm sorry," God, man, he whimpers. Some part of him is dimly aware of the addiction that eats at his own tail, much like Ouroboros. He's sorry for it. It's an escape, so good... He forgot how easily these things turn against their masters.

The duo turn to look at Daredevil, unamused. "Well. Well." The woman seems to do the talking. That oily voice, so alluring but so - sickening. Twisted. The tall one turns as well. "Have we a second customer?" But Daredevil's words make her go 'tsk, tsk'. "Help? He deserves every ounce of it. He wanted it." They merely gave him what he wanted, can't you see? Not their fault he's one of the unlucky ones. "I was unaware we had summoned a judge. If you're not here to buy..." The tall man is stepping forward. He's definitely a slow, powerful bruiser. But as demons go, these don't seem as strong as normal. Being on the mortal plane has weakened them. They are street demons, now. The duo pause at Rob and Joseph. They blink simultaneously, look at one another and rub the backs of their heads. That's new to them. The woman pauses. The junky just kind of stops gurgling long enough to chuckle. "Man... reminds me of my kid brother..." Maybe his addiction hasn't eaten all of him. But the brief reprieve is ... brief. "If you children do not mind... we've business with this fellow." The tall, huge bruiser cracks his knuckles. At least the duo haven't sunk so low to murdering - well, this threw them for a loop.

"Put your finger in your throat. Whatever you are feeling, it isn't worth it. They are burning you from the inside out," Daredevil says to the junkie smelling the brimstone that is on the man's breath now and the charred smell from inside him. He stands up, looking towards the pair, and reaches down to unholster his billy club at his side. "How long have you two been pushing this stuff on my streets? The Kitchen is under my protection. It..." He is interupted by Rob coming up and asking for an autograph. The horned mask turns towards him. "This isn't the time. These two...." Daredevil searches for the words that will fit with the skin crawling sensations their voice produces all over him, "things are not good people dispensing candy to all the good little boys and girls for Russian Christmas." He turns back towards the tall one as the knuckles crack. "Back off. Now. This is your one warning."

"But..." Suddenly Rob's eyes go wide as he finally notices the demons. Man, they were creepy as hell. Joseph reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, urging his friend to obey Daredevil's words and step back...

Though Jericho himself is prepared to assist the vigilante if necessary. Even though he wasn't a Titan any more, he still had that natural urge--an instinct, even--to do whatever he could to keep the nasties off the streets.

Oh right. Why didn't he think of that? The junky is looking less good by the moment. Mercifully he's turned around to barf. And it's a mess. It's burning him up. He's not one of the lucky ones to get powered up, if there were any. So much for incredible power, hot women and all that comes on the platter. The two smirk at Daredevil. The woman laughs, and pats the man's arm. "That's none of your business. And we didn't see your name on it? It's open... so if you're going to get in the way of our business, we'll just have to deal with you," She makes a gesture with her hand- the ole 'dispose of him, would you?' handwave. Their voices are still oily, sickening. Their scents are unchanging, pervasive.

They do not intend to give up lightly. While they don't seem to have any interest in harming Rob or his friend, it may not be wise to jump in their way. The bruiser-man lunges at Daredevil, throwing a rather wicked right hook. But odds are good, DD's got the edge in speed. The woman is hanging back, and one gets the impression she is brewer, saleswoman - not fighter. Until that is, she slips a throwing knife from a pants leg. "Let's show them how business works." Fwing!

Daredevil drops into a crouch as the large man swings the hook over his head. As he comes back up, Daredevil aims a boxer's body blow the demon's midsection. Being this close to them is making his head swim a little with the stench of them. Every time she speaks, it makes him feel ill. But there...there is a different smell. Steel. Knife. Coming towards him. He grabs the male demon's clothes and literally tries to climb the eight foot man with a foot at his waist and a tug at the man's jacket as he tries to get out of the way of the knife.

Joseph watches as the woman flings the knife, wishing he could call out in warning, though Daredevil avoids it easily. He glances at Rob, who is practically pissing in his pants by now. He is tempted to assist the other vigilante, but it seems he has the situation handled for now. First things first, he needed to ensure his civilian friend would be safe. Thus, he guides him back inside the gym.

'Stay here.' Jericho signs, and Rob nods shakily as Joey leaves him inside. "Dammit, why do these things always have to happen to me...?" Rob mutters to himself.

Whoosh! The bruiser is built for power and far less agile folks. Could be they just haven't been building up power fast enough. The woman looks faintly concerned, but scowls, "Oh, c'mon, honey. I know you love to play but this one looks serious--" She is concerned now. Most humans don't duck her lover's swings. The junky is out of the way and equation for now. The knife goes wide then, though from the way it tears through cloth, it's apparent she wasn't playing. She grits her teeth, a pair of demon's fangs evident. "Ugh. It figures we finally get some momentum and some wannabe wrecks our party." She looks irritated. Perhaps the two are here to peddle their wares and gain strength on the mortal plane. "We can't - lose this one..." Likely, if there's any sort of thing to be known, it's that demons dislike being banished by force and that's what it's coming down to. It's a tremendous setback to their desire to screw with humanity.

The male demon grunts, the wind knocked from him for a second. Boxers don't mess when it comes to body blows. He seems irritated. They don't fight back. This is new to them. A low blow towards Daredevil from the left. He's a slow boxer, but woe to those he actually manages to HIT. The female demon is weaker, but much faster. Another knife with a soft SHNKT sound is drawn. "Die already!" She flings it with impressive force.

It isn't often that he fights someone that has two feet of height on him. Daredevil's punches are liable to just be fly taps against him. The demon man has height, weight, and reach. He is not going to be able to win a straight forward fight. As the demon swings low, Daredevil tries to catch his hands onto the forearm of the demon and flips himself so that he can try to get his legs around the demon's neck. Biggest problem though is that even as he is attacking the male, he can't dodge the second knife. It buries itself in his side with a wet thunk. Daredevil winces with pain and his attack on the male demon's neck will lose a little steam.

Oh, they thought /this/ was new? They hadn't seen new, yet. Jericho makes his way back out onto the street, closing the gym door behind him. He watches the puking junky with concern--he would need medical assistance. But Joey would deal with that in a moment. He turns his gaze upon the woman with the knives, focusing on her eyes...aaand...

Contact.

Suddenly, Jericho is gone from where he had been standing a moment ago in front of the door to the gym. And the female is suddenly shouting at the bruiser. "Hey! Hey stop that immediately! Stand down, I say! No point in continuing a fight we know we can't win. We've never faced a foe such as this one before."

"Heh heh," The male demon seems amused as Daredevil gets hit with one of his girlfriend's knives. What does this 'Daredevil' think he can do to a real devil? Not with so many edges - but Daredevil does have speed over the bruiser. There's a little time for gloating, at least. Though, it doesn't last long - he's noticing now that there's hands on his arm and now legs around his neck. What is this? He reaches to grab Daredevil off him. The junky is probably having the worst 'trip' of his life and likely considering taking up that rehab thing. Always seems to start with a bad trip... Regardless, the female demon blinks at Joey. She opens her mouth to speak, then - contact is made. It is apparent Daredevil's fight is wearing the male demon down. Finally, the male speaks, with a voice of burned, crackling earth, to compliment her oil, "... the hell?"

He turns towards her. He points at Daredevil. "My new hat?" He's unaware of the smackdown about to ensue. O, hubris! O ego! Who tore you away from the heavens and cast you down? ... those two sins, it would seem. He looks more concerned about his female companion. Their connection to this world is tenuous, and he points out, "Well, I mean, if we're out here for too long - what time is -" Oh snap. Between the beatings and time... their time in this plane in material bodies is winding out fast. He's gonna flail in earnest at Daredevil now. The tide is slowly turning, though his companion's actions confuse him.

Daredevil curls himself up, gritting his teeth at the pain in his side, and begins to swing at the demon's head as he is perched around the demon's neck. Even as he punches, he tries to add pressure to cut off the tall one's breath. He can hear the woman, but her voice has changed. The oil feeling isn't there any more. There is something different about her even as she is trying to call off the fight.

"Hat? I don't know what you're talking about." the female sounds frustrated. Why wouldn't the bruiser listen to his companion? "Did you not hear me, I said stop! Or I will have to hurt you, which I am reluctant to do."

However, her hand goes to another throwing blade, and suddenly she springs forward and presses the blade against the back of the larger demon's neck. But wait, she wasn't supposed to be much of a fighter, was she? Where had she learned /that/ move? "Now, stop your ridiculous flailing. And Daredevil, if you would be so kind, please get off of him and..." she pauses, reaching her hand into her pockets as if she hadn't been sure if she had a certain thing there or not. Nope. She looks back up at Daredevil. "Do you have a cell phone, sir?"

Gah! The male demon snarls. He's not having much luck trying to pull Daredevil off. "Wait, what?" He looks alarmed. She wasn't a fighter, far as he ever knew. She used poisons, wiles and throwing knives before actually wading into combat. He roars in irritation and rage, going to wheel around to swat his companion- "Woman, this is no time for -" Time. Their time is running up. He realizes the ritual that brought them there is winding down. "The summons is -" Now that the junky is quietly swearing off every drug ever (even the good one), the vice that feeds them is ebbing. No more! He's gonna be clean, maybe work at that junkyard... yeah... chicks love muscle guys... there's a plan... Typical young American male. Didn't he totally have an uncle score a classic car that was tossed out? Man, he's gonna find him one of those... BLEEEEEEAH - maybe later... of course. But the desire that bound the three is gone, wavering. "Shit." He's gonna grab for his girlfriend.

They're fading out. Between the damage, and the time, the demons are disintegrating. And Daredevil is going to find himself minus a demonic mount shortly, provided he's not grabbed in the flailing already. It's hard to get a good grip and lift at that angle.

Daredevil gives the woman a look as she comes up to the demon he is on top of. He is pushing himself off and backwards even as the demon begins to fade beneath him. He summersaults in the air to land on his feet. He gives the woman a look and shakes his head. "No cell phone. Not really the texting sort." He moves towards the junkie recovering now. He pats the man's back as the last of the crap comes out of his system. "C'mon. Lets get you some attention."

The demons are fading, so it's looking like it's time for Jericho to leave. And thus, just before they disappear completely, he emerges from the woman's body. He waves a cheerful goodbye to the two of them, smirking slightly before making his way over to Daredevil and the sick man. Joey attempts to sign at both of them to ask them if they're all right, though the one who had drunk the chemical probably didn't know ASL. Didn't seem the type, really...and since Daredevil doesn't have a cell phone, he will probably have to get Rob to call an ambulance.

The female demon is nabbed and the two fade just after Jericho leaves. They do not seem happy, departing with snarls and vanishing into the night air. Good has at least made some dent in evil this evening. They and their filthy concoction are gone. The junky is mostly clear, though - he has no idea the hospital likely has a friendly charcoal based treatment waiting for him. Yick. Just another reason he's probably going to swear off all this. He looks meekly towards Jericho and Daredevil. He wipes his mouth. "Yeah, thanks, man. They sell bad shit, I guess." Looks like the friend wasn't seeing things, after all. Yick. He smiles weakly at Joey, "I have no idea what you're doing, but - yeah - shit's bad," He's off it then. He'll accept assistance to the hospital.

Really. The guy's grateful, if rough around the edges from street life and that icky addiction. Thank goodness for 24 hour care in the city. The night is silent once more.