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daredevilkink2015-06-22 07:24 pm
ddk_mod) wrote in daredevilkink2015-06-22 07:24 pm
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Prompt Post #4
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The Devil's Due Part 3.3
(Anonymous) 2015-08-02 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)___________________________________________________________________________
The streets that Foggy loved so much had never seemed quite so welcoming or lively to Karen. Every shadow hid a potential assailant, every pedestrian that looked at her just a little too long became a threat. Foggy would have laughed it off, were he with her. Foggy would have goaded her into laughing along and regaled her with stories of his childhood growing up here, sprinkled with anecdotes meant to prove this city was not as rough as it seemed. She knew better. His love for Hell’s Kitchen blinded him, kept him from looking around long enough to see the city with heart he had loved so much was slowly rotting from within.
She lengthened her strides, tilted her chin up and dared anyone to walk too close, one hand tucked into her purse with fingers clenched around her house keys- far sharper than nails, and guaranteed not to break.
Her paranoia was justified tonight; she was going to kick a wasp’s nest and in the end she had decided not even to inform Foggy of it. He would have wanted to help, he would have sent Brett to talk sense into her where Ben could not. She just hoped none of those dire warnings actually came true.
The building before her loomed large and decrepit, straggling weeds forcing their way between the cracks in the sidewalk only to wither and die in the unseasonal heat. Withered ivy still clung to it, thorny and dry. Bars across the windows blocked some of the precious light that managed to seep through, dim and unwelcoming as it was. Her imagination, she knew, painted it as far more sinister than mere brick and mortar had any right to be.
Steeling herself against flights of fancy, Karen forced herself to climb the stone stairs and try the door- locked against unwelcome visitors, as she had expected. She glanced at the names pasted on the intercom beside it, trying to decide which among them sounded most likely to let her in. At this hour of the night probably none of them would, and hanging around outside waiting for someone to go in or out would only be asking for trouble.
She tapped a thoughtful heel against the concrete, digging in her purse as though looking for a key. Coming back in the day was not an option, not with her work in the office and the sure knowledge that if she took an extended lunch break like Foggy had, he would insist on coming along. Come back on the weekend and Ben was sure to follow. She knew what she was doing was reckless, and she didn’t want to drag him any farther in than she already had. If anything happened to him it would be on her conscience. God knew it was already heavy enough without adding a good man’s life to the burden.
But if this were as disreputable a place as it looked, surely it couldn’t be all that unusual, people entering at odd hours of the night? If she held her bag expectantly, tried for that eager, desperate look she remembered too well from earlier days… just another junkie looking for a fix.
Without giving herself time to rethink it, she pressed the lowest-numbered button.
She was buzzed in without so much as a cursory question.
Before she could work up the courage to step in, she felt an arm wrap about her neck and squeeze with enough force that her vision turned splotchy and dark. A sharp heel applied to a vulnerable shin bought her a split second of precious oxygen before a hand tangled in her hair and yanked her off balance, a steady stream of profanity assaulting her ears, incomprehensible threats she could recognize from the tone they were spoken in,
A short scream was all she had time for, not nearly enough to attract attention, even assuming this was the sort of neighborhood where anyone would dare to peek outside for the sound of a struggle,.Better not to waste her breath on it. She sank her teeth into the meat of her attacker’s bicep, choking on a pained cry when a second pair of hands pressed viciously into her jaw, forcing her to release her grip.
“You fucking bitch.” A fist connected with her side, deflected in part by her bag. She recoiled, trying to put enough space between them to at least spot a defining feature. The voice had not been familiar, but if she could just match a face to it- her keys raked across unprotected skin, just as a back-handed slap sent her to the pavement, elbow skinned on the stair’s edge. She screamed again when a rough hand tangled in her hair, drawing her head back for what she was sure would be a killing blow- one hit to her trachea and she would be down, defenseless.
Not again.
The snarl that forced its way past her bruising throat was inhuman, filled with such impotent rage her assailant’s grip faltered for all of a second. She wept when as her fingernails bent and broke raking across and through the material of his jeans, scraping exposed flesh viciously. A boot connected with her stomach, sent her writhing to the ground, unable to do more than gasp for breath, taking in dirt and rock but still deprived of air. Dimly she tasted bile gathering in the back of her throat, spit it at the foot that was drawing back for another blow.
Her teeth cut into her cheek when it landed, sharp iron flooding her mouth. She couldn’t do more than writhe, trying desperately to force herself up off her knees, arms still clasped defensively around her ribs, braced for the next blow she knew was coming.
She was not meant to survive this. They were going to beat her to death here in the street, and her unable even to plead or curse them.
It was the first laugh that broke her, a joyous shout that drowned out the sound of her first desperate gasp of air when one of them kicked her hard enough to send her tumbling to her side, dazed and in agony, fury and fear clawing at her insides in equal measure.
“How dare you?”
It was no more than a whisper, sustained by the last bit of air in her lungs. Her mouth protested the movement with a stinging sensation she knew would blossom into pain if she focused on it. Her arms nearly gave beneath her as she pushed herself up, swallowing her blood rather than giving them the pleasure of seeing it. She hoped whomever found her would find the skin beneath her nails, minute traces of DNA that would leade them back to these fuckers. She hoped Brett wasn’t half as good a cop as Foggy thought he was, that maybe they would both end up thrown into the filing cabinet rumor said the downtown department had to replace every three months for all the accidents they kept having.
Neither moved toward her when she forced herself to her feet, tears seeping down her cheeks to dot the concrete no matter how she tried to stifle them. She had been here before, had never thought to be here again. Last time she had sworn it wouldn’t be like this, that she would be braver and make them pay. That hadn’t happened. Turned out that frightened little girls grew into frightened women after all.
They spoke in a language she couldn’t understand, and though their faces were concealed from the light by the brims of their hats, she could make out the curve of smiles.
“I hope the fucking Devil takes you.” If they were going to be her last words, at least they should be memorable. And in this city, that meant something.
The smiles disappeared at last; she braced, tensing for one final, desperate lunge when one of them finally took a step toward her, light glimmering on the wicked edge of a knife he pulled from the folds of his jacket. She nearly strangled on the whimper that rose in her throat-
The light above her flickered and fizzled, sparks falling before her in a bright shower just before darkness took them all. The panicked moan that drifted through the air was not hers, neither the stream of broken profanity, mixed English and Russian? She lowered herself back to the sidewalk, beyond caring but unfortunately not beyond feeling. Their running footsteps echoed in her ears, their final words just before they dissolved into screams. Karen couldn’t even lift her head, didn’t flinch when she felt something move past her, more of an impression than any actual movement.
The shadows gathered about her, smothered the unmistakable sounds of her assailants’ death rattles mere feet from her. Every part of her was afire without the protection of an adrenaline rush. She coughed, curling in on herself like an infant, protecting her vulnerability. She didn’t register when the light flickered back to life, the streets all around her conspicuously empty of life. Just her, lying on cool stone in the hope that it would stop the burning-
Footsteps approached, slow and measured, a peculiar swish accompanying the sound that she could not recognize. Mustering her strength she forced herself back to her knees, using the lamp-post’s leverage to regain her feet, scrabbling at the catch of her heels until she could finally kick them off. She wasn’t steady, but she was standing when the owner of the footsteps approached, leaning over the edge of the curb wondering if she were going to vomit into the street.
A soft thunk drew her attention back to her surroundings, sent adrenaline rushing anew through her system-
Her purse. She glanced at it, taking in the cane that had tapped against it, the puzzled frown of the man that stood before it, kneeling to gather it up into his hands. He didn’t quite look at her when he spoke, glancing instead at the pole slightly to her left, “Ma’am, are you all right? You dropped this and-”
“Mr. Murdock?” Her voice was hoarse, but she could hear the shock threading through her tone, could see the frown on his face deepen at the greeting.
“Yes? I’m sorry, have we-”
“Karen.” She choked out.
His brows flew up, questioning frown replaced with lines of worry- “Miss Page, are you all right? What happened?” He stepped nearer, reaching out to her slowly, pulling away quickly when he felt her flinch back.
“Muggers, I-” She couldn’t go to the hospital, but she hurt-
“But your purse- you’re hurt. I have a phone, we should-”
“No! No.” Even her shout was little more than a murmur of sound, and her head pounded with the effort of it.
He gathered his cane near, hands twisting about it reflexively, “Please, Karen, you sound like you’ve been hurt very badly. Let me at least call a cab- you should be going to the hospital. I can come along, we’ll file a report-”
“No, please, just- my purse. I need my purse.”
He offered it to her slowly, extending his hand again as though asking for hers in return. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay standing without it, and he looked so perfectly unassuming-
Unthinking, she rested an arm against his, allowing him to bear a little of her weight, only now beginning to tremble in every line of her body.
“Please, at least let me call a cab to get you home.”
Karen nodded mutely, remembered herself and quickly squeezed his arm in assent, bleary eyes scanning the ground for her keys.
She didn’t speak a word as he fished the cell from his pocket, didn’t ask what business he had on this side of town or how he had known her voice damaged as it was. Those questions did not occur to her until much later. She turned inward, allowing him to shepherd her along gently, drawing her back into the shelter of the light while they waited. She hardly noticed when he left her side, locating her keys with unerring accuracy and slipping them deftly into the purse clutched protectively in her arms.
She rested instead, withdrawing comfortably into the familiar armor of shock.
___________________________________________________________________________
Just a short part today, and late at that! More to come soon, promise!
Re: The Devil's Due Part 3.3
(Anonymous) 2015-08-03 06:04 am (UTC)(link)Re: The Devil's Due Part 3.3
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 03:03 am (UTC)(link):P
Re: The Devil's Due Part 3.3
(Anonymous) 2015-08-06 01:34 pm (UTC)(link)Re: The Devil's Due Part 3.3
(Anonymous) 2015-08-16 03:04 am (UTC)(link)She's also potentially going to regret said ass-kicking so... :(