Summary:Daredevil and Echo catch up while investigating the scene of a Hand shrine. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Silence. Even at this time so late at night in Hell's Kitchen, silence is a rarity. But around this building, a three story old textile mill that has seen many a better day, it seems almost eerie how quiet it is around. As if all the animals of the city that prowl the night avoid it, and the distant traffic noise that is omnipresent in Manhattan is muted even here.
But it is a silence that is not broken by their arrival. Two dark silhouettes limned against the skyline only by the moon's light. Quick movements darting across a neighboring rooftop, then he lands upon the wall that separates this building from the abyss.
Turning his head he speaks to her quietly, facing her fully.
"The building ahead. It's where I faced them. There were roughly two dozen. They were attacking two others from another clan. I intervened." The brief is given cleanly, their shared language broadened by the experiences of the past, letting her read his body language with an ease of facility.
She can tell this place displeases him, and can tell that something about it has been niggling at the back of his mind. Lest why should he bring her here? "Come on. The shrine was on the second floor."
And with that he breaks into motion again.
"Two dozen were attacking two from another Clan? Did you see anything about who this other Clan might have been?" Echo follows after Daredevil, her eyes remaining trained on the man's lips as they walk together. She speaks clearly and softly, her New York accent, with the faint hints of Parisian French and some Native languages rarely spoken in the modern day, is soft and measured, but it's easy to hear a hint of concern in the way her heart quickens a few beats. As always, Echo quickly controls herself, and that disparity vanishes.
Long, purposeful strides. Echo never wastes a movement. Not so much as a twitch of muscle is out of place; she creates an economy of motion that translates into perfect precision. To Daredevil's ears, it makes her movements remarkably clear and easy to follow. She is a singulasr presence.
Briefly, those dark eyes will cast off around the room, studying their surroundings, but Echo is sure to keep Daredevil's features in her periphery. She is dressed relatively simply, in dark gray with the white handprint across her face that is so distinctive - to everyone except her current company, of course. A sword is at her belt, and she has knives as well.
Pretty typical, really.
"Yes, one was called Ryoshi. She may have been an exile. Shiranui was the name the other gave." He stops speaking, knowing that when they need to maneuver she can't read his lips as easily. He flips over the edge of the building and dropping to land in a crouch on the roof then through the already shattered skylight.
Apparently police hadn't been there as it's still a mess, sill with the ashen remains of some of the Hand. There's an overturned shattered table that seemed to have bits of ceramic statuary on it as well as a myriad of plant material and some powders. Matt gestures to it then turns his head toward her, "This was the shrine. They had drugs as well. Some were creating concoctions combining these things together. I'm having some of the plant samples analyzed. And I am to meet those other two ninja here in a day's time."
She'll see a small flicker of that smile she's known for years as he adds, "Maybe I could convince you to be around then too. Keep an eye on my back."
"I've had more than enough of looking at your backside, Matthew," Echo replies, though the sharp retort contains just a hint of amusement. It's subtle, but there- alongside a smattering of nostalgia. "But I'll make sue you don't get into more trouble than you can handle."
Maya breaks off from Matt then, moving over to the plants and reaching out to delicately handle the powders. She's wearing gloves, as always, and manipulates them by shifting the containers about carefully. "What do you smell from these?" The slender woman asks as she searches their surroundings.
"The colour is… COncerning," Maya sighs. "I wonder why the Hand chose here, of all places. Significance or convenience?"
Following after her he'll wait til she gives him that look back and his smile is a little wry as he murmurs, "Now I remember why we broke up." He offers as he steps neaer and then has his attention drawn to powders. He'll kneel beside her, brushing his own Kevlar and leather-clad fingertip over each powder and sniffing faintly.
His head turns to the side so she'll have to shift her gaze a little to read him. "Some Middle-Eastern spices. Chalk. Sodium. Essence of the coca plant…" He frowns and then without hesitation touches the tip of his tongue to one of the splotches and takes a moment as he turns his head back toward her.
"Some kind of binding agent. Complex compound with aspects of something I haven't tasted before, but burned, good amount of carbon."
He rises, pushing himself to his feet, armor creaking faintly. "I don't know enough about this. I need to know more."
He starts to step around the room again, but there are just not enough objects in the area that haven't already examined. Though he does pull that glove from his hand and touches his bare fingertips to the wall, slowly drawing them down along its length.
"Coca, sodium, chalk, spices…" Maya ticks off the list in her head, shifting her shoulders from left to right as she considers the words. "I still don't understnad how you can stand tasting things like that," she notes in a murmur, though her amusement is clear in her tone. To Matt, at least. An observer would probably find Maya a rather serious young woman.
Echo is soon moving again, following along the opposite side of the room from Matt so that she is able to look over and see his features whenever she is so inclined. Which is, indeed, most of the time, if only to facilitate conversation.
"As for why we broke up- I was young. We both know it wouldn't have worked out." This is stated matter-of-factly, and without any malice. Maya might have been mad with Matt for a few months after bu she got over herself. School was always her focus in any case.
We should take a sample. The coca makes me wonder what sort of effect this was intended to have on the people breathing it in. If it contains a hallucinogen…" Maya pauses for a second here. "Perhaps your new friends will have some new insight for us.
"Did you find out why they were here, at a Hand shrine? …Why were you here, for that matter? Not that you need a reason to risk your neck."
"Turning his head to the side so she can see his lips, he'll wait for a moment for her to be looking his way when he replies, "I thought it was your rampant casual cruelty and horrible habit of hogging the covers." Perhaps an exaggeration, though ok the covers thing was dirty pool. If anyone was even within 100 meters, Matt wouldn't be talking this way, however, so his smile is there and only she can see it.
Then it's back to the wall but he shakes his had and frowns to himself, taking a deep breath. He turns his head to rest his ear against it. Nothing even in the bones of the building. Around he moves and then back towards her. His own gait is precise and even, though not as smooth as her own.
"This may have been partially a trap, to draw their former member into it. But this seemed too built up. And they were… prepared. But not the level I've seen the Hand prepared when they expected to punish one who had betrayed them." He kneels then to start to take a sample, reaching for one of the small pouches at his waist.
"If they were expecting to capture one of their own there would have been no way to escape," Maya agrees quietly. She briefly bites hr lip, reaching out to touch the wall as well, fingers drawing across it. Of course, her ssense of touch would be dulled by those gloves. Unlike Matt, however, Maya deigns to keep her own on.
"Cruel? Me?" Maya snorts, though Matt wouldn't be able to see the eyerolling accompanying the dismissive noise. Maya picks upa jar now, eyeing the salve apparently stored inside. "And I do not hog covers. …" She pauses for a full heartbeat before adding, "Perhaps I do. But it was your fault. I kept telling you to grab another blanket. You were just trying to take advantage of young, naive girl who just finally got out from under the thumb of her overbearing godfather. You know what you did, Matthew Murdock."
Maya doesn't actually laugh, but… She hardly needs to. Matt can hear her pulse, the way she breathes, how she shiftsh er weight toward him as she speaks. t's a conversation they've had before with far more pathos.
For a time there is silence between them, once again returning to that dark corner of the neighborhood. Only now it is not some ominous thing, it has the warmth of old sentiment and shared memory, nostalgia, and that lovely feeling that remains when one is with an old friend.
It is a wonderful thing that isn't experienced enough with others. That sense of comfort and belonging. But then he turns back toward her and he tells her, that small smile still there though just a ghost and freely shared. "Come on."
He turns his head to look out across the city and then tells her, "Let's go see what good we can do tonight." And with that he brings a baton from its holster and raises it, letting the grapple fire with a soft /chuff/ and the line trail out behind it with a whisper of movement. Before it retracts he extends a hand to her, offering silently to carry her should she wish.
And if so, then they'll swing off into the night. To run across rooftops. And, if they're lucky, to find someone that needs a good fight.
For a time there is silence between them, once again returning to that dark corner of the neighborhood. Only now it is not some ominous thing, it has the warmth of old sentiment and shared memory, nostalgia, and that lovely feeling that remains when one is with an old friend.
It is a wonderful thing that isn't experienced enough with others. That sense of comfort and belonging. But then he turns back toward her and he tells her, that small smile still there though just a ghost and freely shared. "Come on."
He turns his head to look out across the city and then tells her, "Let's go see what good we can do tonight." And with that he brings a baton from its holster and raises it, letting the grapple fire with a soft /chuff/ and the line trail out behind it with a whisper of movement. Before it retracts he extends a hand to her, offering silently to carry her should she wish.
And if so, then they'll swing off into the night. To run across rooftops. And, if they're lucky, to find someone that needs a good fight.
"Well. If you insist," Echo agrees. She looks up and then takes another of those deep breath, steadying herself. As Matt exends his baton she looks out toward the city past his shoulder before giving a faint nod. A small hand grasps his own and a hand drops to her belt, coming to rest at the end of that conspicuously placed sword. And, without any other words, she'll let her companion drag her into a familiar world of crime and largesse. To do battle with the forces of Evil. IT's a good, familiar feeling, even if it's dirty work.