2013.09.07 - The Way

2:32 AM

It's been one of those long nights at the Theatre when you get to working and work to getting and when you look up it's been hours and it felt as if you just started. Lots of work done, lots of work to go, and its out onto pavement because you have to go home sometime.

At this time of night people tend to tread carefully, but Amanda is not the normal type of person. Things like thugs and nasties don't phase her as much as they might the normal young woman of her age.

So as she makes her way down the street along the wet pavement with thunderclouds and intermittent lightning flashing above and between the skyscrapers, there's no reason for alarm.

Not until she notices quick movement among the shadows. A flicker of movement off to her right down an alleyway and another above that looked as though it was upon a fire escape.

Having ready access to mage armour and other such tricks does make one a little less likely to respond with the same level of fear an average, entirely intelligent, young woman might. Amanda's response, as she notes the quick movement in the shadows and up the fire escape, is to keep walking. As she does, however, she pulls in her will and formulates what, for her, is a very simple illusion. Down at the far end of the block, a blue-and-white sedan with cherries on top slowly comes around the corner, wheels cruching over the natural dust of the street, as it goes about its patrol.

The sorceress keeps moving steadily along the block.

The attack is a double strike, but there are more than just the two who come at once.

The first attacker, dressed in dark black robes and a face covering moves with feral quickness out from behind a dumpster upon feet that make nary a sound upon the concrete. He bends low and sends a sweeping leg in an attempt to kick Amanda's legs out from under her.

There's an attack from up top as well.

Almost sticking to a wall was an unforeseen ninja who leaps out and down at Amanda wielding two clubs about a foot and a half long. His leap takes him just out of the arc of the first, making it clear they are working together.

Meanwhile, the street becomes filled with scores of adversaries, making no sound, all dressed the same, and all who seem to be coming for Amanda.

Oh, screw that.

The cop car disappears in a wink -- it's enough to scare off most regular perps, but it's obviously no deterrent for the hoards of assassins coming straight at her.

Acrobat that she is, when the sweep comes for her legs, she flips into a tumble that sends her just barely out of reach of their sticks and limbs.

Crouched, she crosses her arms before her, hands held in a sharp gesture. A violet nimbus thrums to life around her like a protective dome, creating a shield between her and them. As the rest begin to appear, she whispers her words of power and her appearance ripples, the leather jacket and jeans she had been wearing morphing into rune-etched combat leathers with a deep black hood embroidered with mystical sigils around its front hem.

Her right hand closes into a fist, while her left maintains the shield. Green power glows around that fist, an eldritch bolt ready to fly at the first one to advance any closer.

"Helluva greeting, boys," she quips, eyes glowing as she faces them. "You coulda called, first."

Another quick movement comes from behind and to her left. Instead of a figure in black, the streak is crimson in color, and every bit as fast as the ninjas who are now filling the place.

Daredevil draws in closely towards one of the adversaries and brings both hands up to block the uncoming shot. A knife hand is brought down upon the ribs and then an elbow to the back of the face signifies the end of the evening for the first. The second tries to take Daredevil from behind, but Daredevil seems to feel him coming even before the ninja approaches. The man in red reaches over his back to grasp the ninjas robes and mask and pulls it over the eyes of his enemy. From there it is a quick shot with a billy club to the side of the head and the adversary is done for.

Daredevil takes a defensive stands as there is a break in the action; the next two who approach come straight for Amanda.

With at least part of the circle distracted, Amanda rises swiftly out of her crouch and fires off that magic bolt at the pair that come straight for her. Another powerful word, a flick of her left hand, and her violet shield explodes outward, clearing the immediate field around her by virtue of the wave of force it creates.

Daytripper is good, to be sure. She's trained with the X-Men and has spent years fighting magical bad guys with more tricks than a cheap hooker at a porn convention. But, she's not ninja good. Her hand-to-hand skills are all about getting and staying free enough from her assailants to be able to put the whammy down on them from a distance. Thus, as she flips back out of the way, now, it's only to put more distance between herself and them.

Then, another word and a very ninja like puff of smoke... and she vanishes from sight.

(Though not, perhaps, from 'radar'.)

The bolt hits the targets dead on; the full force of the power coming over their bodies quickly and completely. Meanwhile, after Amanda Sefton's disappearing act, the foes, without hesitation, decide to turn their attention on Daredevil.

While any one assailant is no match for the hero from Hell's Kitchen, the sheer numbers of them who keep coming are able to overwhelm him. The first two who approach are given a punch to the throat and kick to the midsection, while the third gets a jaw full of elbow. The fourth and fifth, however, are able to get their hands on him and soon it's a black and red pile up. One of the ninjas pulls a dagger from his boot.

Only to find that dagger blasted out of his hand by another green bolt of magic.

Indeed, Daytripper's still there. She just happens to have a veiling spell wrapped around herself. As long as she keeps moving, she'll be hard to pin down -- it keeps her almost completely silent and invisible. But, every time she releases a bolt, she makes it easier for them to target her -- like tracer rounds or a muzzle flash from a gun.

Consequently, she's careful not to move in a straight line, ever. Sometimes, she backtracks, sometimes, she pelts clear across the street before she fires again. Her goal, however, is to try to give the red-garbed vigilante room to maneuver.

Finally, however, she swings up onto a fire escape and inscribes a circle on the metal grating with a trace of eldritch fire.

Yes. It tells them where she is -- several yards distant and several yards up -- but it also provides her a modicum of protection while she preps a much bigger spell to deal with the assassins.

Daredevil is buried beneath his attackers now, despite the knife being knocked away. None seem to bother Amanda much at all anymore as she pauses and hides.

Underneath the pile, another of the assassins uses a dagger of his own and neatly slides it into Daredevil's back. There's a scream of pain and as blood begins to spill on the concrete, the group begins to let up and look around for Amanda.

There!

They see the circle and approach her with menacing pace. Whatever she does she had better do quickly.

Amanda releases her will and her spell. Golems made of concrete and steel rise up from the street, their eye sockets glowing with green, eldritch light as the sorceress cannibalizes the materials the city provides her. Cars, street lamps, bins, sidewalk, and roadway all curl and reshape into compact warriors fully the equal of the ninjas that assault the man in red and the sorceress, and much more durable besides.

Flesh and bone, after all, will give far before stone and iron, after all.

The fire escape on the floors below the one upon which she stands pulls away from the brick wall and spirals up around her, becoming a stout bartizan between her and her assailants, providing another layer of protection.

She hears Daredevil scream and she knows she'll need to reach him before long -- she has healing potions in her satchel that will help -- but that will need to wait until she can get through their attackers more easily.

At the moment, her concentration sustains the golem spell, which means she won't be casting a portal or teleport spell to reach him as quickly as she'd like.

There's a groaning sound as Amanda's machinations come to life from the depths of the Earth below. Magic did not scare these men, and either did a costumed hero such as Daredevil. But when they realize that they are no longer in such a great numerical mismatch, they seem either to get scared or get smart.

Someone must have put in the retreat call, but since they have been silent throughout the entire interaction, it is unclear how they all know. Much quicker than the golems, they begin to fall back quickly, easily evading the monsters. It seems as though their prey, Amanda Sefton, will have to wait. At least for now.

It's only once the ninjas have disappeared from the block that the sorceress lets the golems collapse back into the stuff from which they were made. Then, she launches herself off the fire escape, winging her way toward the man in red.

She crouches down beside him, trying to get a look at the severity of his injury, even as she fishes a potion from her satchel.

"Here," she tells him, looking at his peculiarly masked face. "Drink this. It will help."

A beat. "I'm sorry you got caught in this. But, thanks."

"Wish getting in the middle would have ended up a little less literal," the oddly dressed figure mutters in a low voice that comes out almost in a whisper. He's oddly calm under the circumstances, despite the large pool of blood around him. He nods to her and takes the drink from her, downing it at once.

Up close the costume he wears is oddly non descript. It's plain and red, with two horns over the top, while an interlocked pair of D's are over his heart. Oddly, the lenses of his mask seem to be completely opaque.

The potion creates a warm tingle going down the throat and into the gut. But that tingle soon washes throughout the body, and he can probably feel his flesh knit together -- partly through the lessening of the pain and partly through the odd sensation the closure would bring.

"Yeah," the sorceress agrees, chuckling ruefully. "Me, too."

It's an interesting costume, to be sure. Not one she's encountered before. "They call me Daytripper," she notes. "What about you?"

"Lunchmeat," he responds, even as he feels better and better. Daredevil sits up and continues speaking to her, but doesn't bother to look in her direction. He groans a bit as he rolls over onto his knees. "I'm known as Daredevil." From his knees he stands and leans backwards. "The drink. What is it?"

Daytripper smiles wryly at the question -- the expression probably lost on the man, though it no doubt shows up some in her voice. "A healing tonic," she replies. "One of my own recipes." She rocks to her own feet, now, and glances about. No further trace of the ninjas. That's good. The street's a bit of a mess, however. Public Works is gonna love that. "You ever encounter those guys before?"

"Tough to tell. Style is far eastern. Japan, I imagine. Tells us nothing." Dardevil's head is tilted downward and askance towards the blonde. "Seemed pretty intent on doing harm to you. Any idea why?"

Daytripper shakes her head, regarding his opaque mask and the way he moves his head. He's listening. Not looking. She notices this.

"No," she says aloud. "I can't say hoards of ninja are my usual foes. I tend toward more esoteric and Lovecraftian adversaries, myself. This is new."

She considers some of the various places she's been lately -- Egypt, Rheelasia, Germany.

Then, she looks around. "I wonder if they left anything useful behind." The dagger she knocked out of a hand or a scrap of fabric. She begins scanning the rubble with a critical eye.

"Good question," Daredevil says. Almost belying a lack of grace one who saw him fight might find odd, he scratches his toe slightly as he begins to walk towards his fallen billy club. A moment later, its in his hands, and he too is searching for the dagger.

Amanda glances to the man as he scuffs his toe so purposely and then moves unerringly toward his fallen weapon. That's interesting, too.

She purses her lips slightly and considers throwing an illusion to ping off a far wall, just to see what he does, but decides against it. He'd hear her preparation, in any case.

Instead, she turns her attention to finding whatever her assailants might have left behind. After only a moment or two, she finds one of their daggers wedged in a pile of rocks. "Found something," she tells him, pulling it free. Its blade scrapes against the crumpled asphalt. She turns it over in her hands, inspecting it for any identifying sigils or other unique design clues.

The handle has particular markings that seem to back up, or at least hint at backing up what Daredevil had said earlier. The handle is wooden and carved in an ornate design with script in some form of kanji. "May I see it?"

Wordlessly, Daytripper passes the dagger over, placing its handle lightly into his palm. She doesn't read Japanese. The kanji means very little to her -- though she knows, if she can get a translation of it, it may be more helpful than it seems.

Daredevil slides his hands over it and pauses, "Japanese. I'd have to have it looked at to be sure, but I believe this is a weapon from the rural area between Kyoto and Osaka. A group there, known as the Way, trains mercenaries. Ninjas. If I'm right, I have no idea why they'd be here or why they'd want to harm you."

Daytripper purses her lips, now. "So... knives for hire," she concludes.

Daytripper purses her lips, now. "So... knives for hire," she concludes. Her nose wrinkles. She can think of any number of people that might hire mercenaries to go after her. Most, though, resort to some sort of magical contractor.

(And, blessedly, none of them have considered sending a long-range sniper after her. A bullet through the brain pan from a mile away is a lot harder for her defend against that the usual street ambushes and cursed artefacts she usually encounters.)

She reaches for the dagger, now. "May I?" she asks, laying her fingers lightly on it. "I might be able to use this to suss out a bit more information."

Or at least track them back to their base in NYC.

The Man without Fear shakes his head, "Seems unlikely. What I know about them is that they are very violent, but very principled. Honorable one might say. We would not be those who'd agree, of course."

Daredevil nods and puts the dagger back into her hand. "Be my guest. Seems like you dabble in the mystical." He pauses. "I have a dry sense of humor."

"You could say that," Amanda replies, chuckling dryly. "And, I do, too." She slips the dagger into her satchel. "But, you're right. I do have a certain amount of arcane skill. And I tend to collect artefacts others would probably really like to get their hands on. So, there are any number of people who'd probably like to rectify that particular situation."

She shrugs now. "I've always figured it's better to lock those sorts of things away -- or, you know, toss them into the fires of Mount Doom -- rather than let them float freely into the wrong hands. It's not a very popular opinion, I've discovered."

"Women and their trinkets," Daredevil says in response. "I'll do some digging and see what I can find out. I'd ask for your number to contact you, but you wouldn't give it, and I frankly don't need it."

"Leave a message for me at the Majestic, if you really need," Daytripper says, arching a brow faintly at the suggestion he doesn't need it. "If I find anything interesting, I'll..." She considers it. "I don't know. Ring a bell or something."

The point is, they'll chat.

With pursed lips, Daredevil nods and gives her a grimace smile, "Well then. Keep that bell...or something...close." His billy club is lifted and twisted, producing a long chord of somesort. He swings it upward where it latches and he pulls himself up in a fling towards the sky.

Amanda stands on the street a moment longer looking around. Kurt isn't going to miss the fact the street a block from the theatre has been torn up and is rife with magic.

She sighs lightly, glances back to the old theatre, and gives a mild shrug. She'll deal with it in the morning. For now, teleporting home, rather than the walk she'd intended, seems like a much better idea.

Presently, there's a flash of magenta light, and, finally, the broken street stands empty once more.