So, ugh, something happened? I lost all the "enters" somehow? I'm trying again.
[It seems that sooner or later, I always try to fill my own prompts. Let's see how this goes.]
The first time it happened, he was at home: alone and safe, two qualities that he didn't know to appreciate at the time. All he gave attention to was that air-splitting sound of water going through the pipe, an then... fear. He screamed himself hoarse, and only realized after. He was surprised none of his neighbors called the cops, but then again, none of them called the cops when when Stick was trashing his apartment, either. People were private in New York.
The second time it happened, he was out, and somewhat lucky that the Punisher didn't *actually* want him dead. Matt thought about that night a lot, remembering the shot ringing through his ears, remembering the sound of a heart stopping. If he had kept his shit together that night, a man would still be alive.
That thought is what fueled him the third time.
There was a man, another man, younger, good - still smelling of roses and perfume, and the happiness of a woman he must have been walking home not long ago... there was a man, paralyzed by fear. Right there behind them, and the street was a dead end.
The thug was bleeding already, and smelled of stale cigarettes and too much alcohol. He had a knife. He came to kill. Matt gulped in the crisp air, and followed the scent. And hit.
And hit again.
And hit again, and again, blindly, viciously, again .
He didn't know what he was hitting, until he was hitting only air before him. The ground smelled of alcohol and stale cigarettes. Matt knelt - fell - and felt around. Knife, hand, chest, shoulders. His fingers tightened around the man's throat.
Breathing. Pulse was fast, but rapidly slowing into unconsciousness. It seemed steady.
He pushed himself back up. He felt like he was shaking, but he wasn't sure.
The other man was still here. Matt opened his mouth to tell him to go, or maybe calm down the fear and adrenaline coming off him in waves; nothing came out. Right. Right.
He reached with his hand, remembering that on his right side, there should be a fire escape or... something. There was an escape there.
Rail. Yes.
He reached for it with his other hand, put the first one on the wall beside him, and ran.
Again: Fill? - "It's like something from a sitcom"
[It seems that sooner or later, I always try to fill my own prompts. Let's see how this goes.]
The first time it happened, he was at home: alone and safe, two qualities that he didn't know to appreciate at the time. All he gave attention to was that air-splitting sound of water going through the pipe, an then... fear. He screamed himself hoarse, and only realized after. He was surprised none of his neighbors called the cops, but then again, none of them called the cops when when Stick was trashing his apartment, either. People were private in New York.
The second time it happened, he was out, and somewhat lucky that the Punisher didn't *actually* want him dead. Matt thought about that night a lot, remembering the shot ringing through his ears, remembering the sound of a heart stopping. If he had kept his shit together that night, a man would still be alive.
That thought is what fueled him the third time.
There was a man, another man, younger, good - still smelling of roses and perfume, and the happiness of a woman he must have been walking home not long ago... there was a man, paralyzed by fear. Right there behind them, and the street was a dead end.
The thug was bleeding already, and smelled of stale cigarettes and too much alcohol. He had a knife. He came to kill. Matt gulped in the crisp air, and followed the scent. And hit.
And hit again.
And hit again, and again, blindly, viciously, again .
He didn't know what he was hitting, until he was hitting only air before him. The ground smelled of alcohol and stale cigarettes. Matt knelt - fell - and felt around. Knife, hand, chest, shoulders. His fingers tightened around the man's throat.
Breathing. Pulse was fast, but rapidly slowing into unconsciousness. It seemed steady.
He pushed himself back up. He felt like he was shaking, but he wasn't sure.
The other man was still here. Matt opened his mouth to tell him to go, or maybe calm down the fear and adrenaline coming off him in waves; nothing came out. Right. Right.
He reached with his hand, remembering that on his right side, there should be a fire escape or... something. There was an escape there.
Rail. Yes.
He reached for it with his other hand, put the first one on the wall beside him, and ran.