2014.02.15 - The Long Road to Emmaus Part 2

Lower Metropolis - Hell's Kitchen

The gritty streets of Hell's Kitchen were forged from a group of Irish American immigrants who were ostracized upon their arrival to America. This trial by fire emboldened the residents and gave them a tough edge that people stereotypically equate with New Yorkers. Much of what can be found here are the services for the rest of Midtown such as hospitals and schools. This area of town is also known for its risque establishments and taverns.

. . . "He's still here." Daredevil says as he tilts his head back over his shoulder towards Kwabena.

"Watch out!"

Daredevil holds his hands out towards Kwabena as all of the sudden loud pops ring out all over the street! POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOP.

The sounds bring Daredevil to his knees and his hands come up to cover his ears as he grimaces. But the sounds aren't gunshots. . .it sounds like. ..

"Fireworks."

The moment those shots ring out, Kwabena turns to smoke, letting his clothing fall to the sidewalk. The only sound is the clinking of a few metal objects, one particularly heavy. The clouds of smoke, roiling about in a manner that can best be described as aggressive, linger in this state until Daredevil offers a potential identification. Only then does he reform, clad in gunmetal gray with a red 'X' emblem on his belt buckle. It comes paired with a soft sound of air being displaced.

"Fiahworks?" Kwabena looks about for a second before pulling the hood up and over his head, now completing his transformation into the X-Man, 'Shift'. He goes for the clothing, snatching up a few items; a StarkPhone and zippo lighter, which he stows into his uniform's pouches, and a particularly heavy duty pistol, painted black, which he keeps held in his right hand.

"... da fuck."

He can't make out anything in the shadows.

The echoes of the fireworks finally fade and soon Daredevil is able to let go of the grip of the sides of his skull. After a moment of heavy, pained breathing, Daredevil gets to one foot and then another.

"He's gone. He had a plan for me."

Daredevil shakes his head, trying to get the cobwebs out. Clenched teeth follow another shake as a kid might shake his head after getting out of the pool. In addition to attempts at trying to get his bearings, it's very clear that Matt's also angry as hell to have lost the perp.

But all is not completely lost.

"What he didn't consider is that I might know who he is."

With a slightly arced eyebrow, Shift looks on as Daredevil clears his head. A few things are starting to make some sense. Matt's blindness... and yet, for someone to take up the costumed life? Perhaps there's more at work than mere sensory enhancement. Not every blind man takes up a costume and acts with such experience.

Walking forward, he sets the safety and stows the pistol into a pouch that looks decidedly like a holster. "What plan?" he asks smoothly, as if unaffected by this revelation. He doesn't press otherwise... if Matt wants to disclose an identity, he would.

Instead, Shift's masked face moves about, scanning the streets and the buildings within visual range.

"The fireworks. These streets are sort of my turf. Criminals, kids, and victims tend to know me here; and those who know well of me know how to disrupt my observations."

Daredevil sighs and seems to curse quietly under his breath.

"His name is Jamaal Jennings. He lives about a quarter of a mile away over in the housing project on 45 th with his mother Tareese."

"My old turf's in East Brooklyn," allows Kwabena. "Lotta big game is connected, dough." He glances over toward Matt, then jerks his head toward a shadowy place nearby, where an unlit basketball court lingers beneath the shadow of a dimly lit building. He moves to gather up his discarded clothing, and heads toward the shadows. "Got my bike, too. Cut all de cables. What do you think his play is? Is he fucking with you, or is dis serious?" Shift glances again toward Daredevil, his expression hidden, but his tone grimly determined.

As if he'd be willing to 'deal' with Jennings.

"He's had a tough upbringing," Daredevil says. He taps his billy club against the curb and walks over towards Kwa's bike. "16. Single mom. Latch key kid. Dad died a few years back. Never shown much violence before this. Neighborhood fights, nothing big..." After a brief pause, "I don't thi...I'm not the target."

"He's fucking, as you say, with you."

Slowly, the grim determination turns into a look of surprise that is quite well concealed thanks to Shift's mask, but it's apparent in the silence and the way his lips part just so. Sixteen changes a lot of things. A lot of things. Soon enough, Shift closes his mouth and forms the slightest of frowns.

"Was he dere? In de church?" Because that could present a whole slew of other problems.

"I don't know," Daredevil is apparently sticking to the ruse. "But I know where he's likely going. Meet me at his place. We can take him by surprise and get to the bottom of this. 2344 45th. Apartment #1324B."

For a very long moment, Shift seems to be looking right at Daredevil. He's not one to trust easily, and this was something altogether different from what he'd seen before. He knows the way, of course. He glances down the avenue, then back toward Daredevil for another few long seconds.

Then?

-poof!-

Kwabena disappears, his clothing forms into the shape of a man, and then he's back, unmasked, and disappearing into the shadows.

Making his way begrudgingly toward 2344 45th St.

- - - - -

A long time ago. ..

A small black Cadillac pulls up to a Hell's Kitchen curb and idles. It's one of those old cars from the seventies that was once probably quite impressive but since has become a rust bucket that's seen better days.

In the driver seat is a black man, thin, with a bit of a grown out goatee and searching eyes. Mad eyes.

He knows the way of course.

The window is rolled down and the routine is always the same. Another man comes come up dressed in a military inspired outfit and with a thick accent.

"Foh-dee"

The deal is quick and practiced, and the boy in the back seat is barely noticed.

_ _ _ _ _

Daredevil can be found outside the window on a small ledge looking into a bedroom 13 stories up. There's no one inside, but that will change soon. He slides open the window and dips in, moving silently. He leaves the window open as a courtesy. There is no one home. Jamaal is a latchkey kid.

As for Shift, for some time he's nowhere to be found. A simple lock picking job and he's onto the roof next door, stowing his gear and getting back into his costume. He's got eyes on Daredevil below, and as soon as the man enters, Shift leaps off the rooftop above, body forming into a graceful swan dive.

Down he goes, body unfurling into tendrils of a gaseous black, concealed against nightfall. The smoke curls up and through the cracked window, piling up into the shape of a man once inside, but it's only for a moment.

In utter silence, the cloud rises to the ceiling. It spreads out into a thin veil, spreading out further and further until the color fades. There's only a quiet whisper, so quiet that only a person with heightened senses might hear, as the thinned gas vibrates ever so slightly against the air.

"Right behind you, boss."

The voice is whispy, as if the air itself were whispering into Daredevil's ear.

The kid is certainly no dummy. It takes quite a while of hiding in the dark before he gets back. He didn't come straight home as Daredevil thought he might. Instead, he made sure he wasn't followed.

Daredevil nods at the nothingness of Shift, but doesn't say anything. Instead, here merely hides in a corner of the room. Hides and waits. Finally, after what seems like forever, the door in the apartment opens. Then the padding of feet. The television slips on. Someone goes to the bathroom. Someone fixes themselves something to eat with the microwave.

And then the door opens slowly, creaking light into the room from out in the hallway.

Lingering for such time in an altered state is very difficult for Shift. Fortunately, he's learned the art of meditating. He doesn't breathe, he isn't even really human... he simply lingers, body absorbing and discerning the sound waves that bounce through him.

The ticking of a clock. The quiet buzzing of a PC hard drive. The sounds of an old building moving and sighing in the cold.

The opening of a door and the footsteps that follow.

Shift doesn't make a single move. He's lingering... and listening.

Looks like it's Daredevil's show right now.

Almost a split second before the young man enters, Daredevil moves. He brings his billy club up horizontal and just below shoulder level. Taking two steps towards the doorway with the club outstretched, Daredevil pounces upon the boy, clotheslining him onto the bed.

Daredevil is in top of him and over his chest, pressing down. Knees on arms; he has him pinned.

Jamaal writhes angrily, but the pressure on his throat prevents him from crying out. Instead he tries to go invisible, but Daredevil isn't fooled. Daredevil hasn't been fooled by that trick all night. But from Kwa's point of view the boy appears and disappears in fits as he tries to get free.

The sounds of struggle go on for a while before Shift reveals his presence. The ceiling goes black, moving... and then a column of smoke drops and forms into the masked X-Man. He takes two quick steps forward, thrusts out his arm. Fingers unfurl into smoke, a reaction that crawls up his arm. The tendrils lash forward and find Jamaal's mouth, his nose, forcing it's way in.

"Case you haven't noticed," he says drily, "you're kind of fucked right now." Shift takes a step forward, his hand going deeper. "I can feel your lungs. Each of dem. Stop changing, or I'll leave pahmenant damage."

The boy does as requested, but when he becomes visible his eyes are transfixed upon the Ghanian, and that look.

The look of hatred; pure and vile.

As Shift's body threatens Jamaal's insides, the young man lies defiant; his eyes give Shift the 'fuck you' even if his body can't.

"I'm going to lift up my billy club now," Daredevil says calmly. "And you're going to talk." After a few seconds, Daredevil slowly lifts up the club and backs away. They have him now, and between Shift's powers and Daredevil's senses, there is no escape.

It is with an utter lack of remorse that Shift meets Jamaal's anger. He doesn't smirk, he doesn't glower. He just stares, waiting for a sign that the teenager is relenting.

Only then does he withdraw, smoke flying out of Jamaal's mouth and nose and reforming into his arm again.

He doesn't speak a word. It's Jamaal's turn to talk, as Daredevil said. However, demasked and with his eyes visible, there's enough deadly warning to make most men cower.

"I'll fucking kill you, you piece of shit!" Jamaal says far too coolly for a boy his age. "You killed my father you asshole. You're going to rot in hell."

"Easy," Daredevil says to Jamaal, unconsciously putting himself in between Kwabena and the boy.

Those words cut like a hot knife through butter. It's been a long time since Kwabena's past came back to haunt him, and this is like a punch to the gut.

For a moment, Shift takes it. It almost appears as if he's utterly unaffected by it. However, the change is visceral. His mouth parts, he takes a step back, and stares at Jamaal as if he were looking at a corpse.

The flashbacks come vividly. He can almost feel the weight lifting with the get well he'd scored. In exchange for the dope? He had to off a man named Jennings. And he did it, because he was a slave. An addict, and worse, one who believed himself to be invincible.

Worse yet? There's probably no way Jamaal could actually live up to his word.

Kwabena reaches a gloved hand for the nearest surface he can find. It's a small computer desk. His fingers clench, and there's a cracking and popping sound as his flesh hardens. Fingers sink into the desk, crushing and twisting it's corner like paper.

"I aint gonna stop, bitch. Imma come after you and do what you done to him," Jamaal says. "Aint no Daredevil, aint no fuckin' Iron Man gonna stop me, bitch. You gonna pay for what you did." Daredevil stands there, eyes pointed towards the floor, breathing low. This has gone from his fight to Shift's, and truth be told he has no idea how to get out of this one.

Shift looks to his hand. When his fingers uncurl, it leaves an imprint.

It was the same hand that killed Jamaal's father.

He looks at it until Jamaal is done. "Come at me. All you want. I won't stop you." Then he looks up at Jamaal. "But if you endangah any innocent peopah in de process? Den we'll both have a problem."

He's not sure whether an apology is even warranted. The kid wouldn't believe him, and excuses? a There are no excuses. In Jamaal's world view, Kwabena is a monster.

Daredevil tries to stop things before they start, "I don't thin--"

"Shut the fuck up, Daredevil. This aint your shit."

Jamaal takes a final look at Daredevil before coming towards Shift as fast and as hard as he can. His goal, literally, is to push the Ghanian right out of the window.

What Jamaal probably didn't expect was to encounter such a well trained fighter.

Shift doesn't move until Jamaal is close enough to strike him. His arm comes out, he slips to the side, and quite literally catches Jamaal before he throws himself out of the window. With a heave, he lifts Jamaal into the air, swings him about like a bolo, and slams him down into a beanbag chair nearby.

Within moments, Kwabena has the kid pinned in much the same way as Daredevil had earlier. His face comes close, eyes strikingly vicious.

"You want to kill me?" he snarls. "You don't stand a fucking chance. You want to know what kind of a wahthless piece of shit I was when I capped your old man? I'll drag your ass down to 47th and 9th and buy you a muddahfucking needah myself." He presses in upon the kid, exerting such sheer force of will that there's simply no room for interjection.

"You walk dat path? You'll end up just de same as me. A killah. You walk hard and push like some nigga straight out of Compton, and one day, it'll be you pointin' a gun at someone's dad's head, rapin' someone's mom. Come at me like dat again, and I promise you--when some cuntface Guido has cold steel at your grill, you'll wish I'd killed you too before you evah went down dat road."

He holds Jamaal by the neck, lips curled. "You want to save yourself? Make it all worth while?" He lifts Jamaal then shoves him back into the beanbag in an effort to get the kid's attention.

"Back de fuck off and honah your fathah by not getting into de same shit he got caught up in."

With one last shove, he moves off. And before anything else can happen, Shift poofs into a cloud of black smoke and goes tearing through the window and into the night.

Daredevil stands, watching the young man who just sort lies there fighting back tears.

There's nothing to say, nothing to say at all.

He knows the way, of course.

And slowly, Daredevil slinks out, leaving the boy behind.