Summary:Daredevil catches Ryoshi as they leave the intervention Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Ranna drops to the street in a back alley in Hell's Kitchen. Her head *hurts* but at least the nose bleed has stopped. She doesn't pull her mask down but leans against the wall as she breathes.
It had been a good raid, the woman a bit standoffish - not that Ranna could blame her. Just now, the Order Ninja has to deal with the aftermath.
In Hell's Kitchen it's hard to tell when or where the Daredevil will appear. He considers the whole area his haunt, and tends to come and go soundlessly, with little fanfare and announcement. But after the bout with the Hand, and the investigation into what they wanted to with Dietz, he had noticed Ryoshi's condition. Technically this was the way he wished to go. So he wasn't following. One could fault him for that, but they would be in error…
And yet…
Perched above and crouched upon the edge of the awning of the corner pizzeria whose alleyway she now sought shelter in, Daredevil's voice lifts as he asks, "No luck with the implants?"
There's a faint scuff of his boot and then he drops down into the alley, landing lightly then straightening up to his full height.
Scrubbing her face, Ryoshi starts and looks up. "You should warn a woman when you're going to sneak up her. Particularly one that can your head off with her weapons." The small woman murmurs, shaking her head. "No. I … need to see someone but …"
There's a raise of a shoulder, emphasising how slight she truly is.
"Shiranui found documents that detail the mods. They're … " she doesn't finish that thought, but he can see, and possibly hear, her shudder. "… There's a failsafe built in, they're designed to kill me if triggered. I can only think that Shiranui's beating broke them enough that that's faulty."
The upshot of that though is that they might malfunction and kill her anyway. "You … I didn't follow up, you were going to talk to your friend."
"Yeah," It's strange how in some ways Daredevil is all business when they are out in the field, how when they're exposed to possible chaos and mayhem he is this tight-lipped controlled individual. But there is a line at some point, some sort of barrier that is difficult to get past and is ill-defined to those around him, that has him more at ease when they are 'off the clock'.
"I spoke to her, and she's never heard of such a thing. And only reinforced what we were afraid of. That you'd need an expert in cybernetics." He folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side, as if looking slightly past her. "And I don't have any in my contacts."
That said he turns to the other side and lifts a hand to his chin, thoughtful as he considers. "Though there is a colleague I work with at times. She has some inroads to the Avengers. But…" He shakes his head, "They seem… busy."
"I'd be surprised if they had…" Ranna sighs, rolling her neck to try and loosen the muscles. "They're an Order special. Something we grow up to aspire to. I was given mine the day I turned sixteen." Happy Sweet Sixteen, Ranna.
"They … trigger when Shiranui uses his powers. Tuned to detect them. Before they got damaged they turned me into a mindless killer. I … don't know how many of Shiranui's friends and family I killed."
"Avengers? Why would they be able to help? I didn't know they had people who knew cybernetics with them."
"They have some big brains." A pause, "Not Thor." His lip twists but then he adds, "And they know people. Maybe I can make myself useful somehow and get them to take a look. They also have connections with SHIELD." Though that path seems to be one he's less inclined to travel.
He tilts his head to the side and leans back against the wall, arms still folded over his chest. "Have you tried meditation?" To shift focus, to help deal with the headaches. "Or Yoga to a certain extent?" Either of those might well help her get through the trying times, but he knows relatively little about Ryoshi.
"There may be a way to be able to perhaps if not relieve you of the circumstances to deal with the aftermath."
"Not Thor? He's got nice hair, I don't suppose he has to." Ranna answers, smiling faintly. A gesture that barely touches her eyes. "You … don't do that for me. I … pay my debts." There's the slightest tilt of her chin as she says that. Proud, even in the face of adversity.
"I do, yes. It helps. I just need to get somewhere I can. Tonight though, this is the worse they've been. I don't usually get nose bleeds when it happens." Which probably means the implant is failing and causing other problems.
"And yoga. I'm quite flexible, you know." She's cheeky too.
"I heard of a clinic in M-Town. For mutants. Maybe … they're a place I could go and try. They might be better suited to … I don't know. I can't go to hospital. I don't have the money to start with but Shadow Stalker and Nightmare will find me there."
"I'm not doing this out of some sense of altruism. It'll be harder to handle this Hand situation if we're down a pair of hands." Perhaps that sounds a bit mercenary, or perhaps it's just an excuse to get her to let him make this effort on her behalf. In any case she might find it hard to tell if he's lying, what with being unable to see those eyes and instead only able to see her own reflection there in the red surface.
At her comment about Yoga he smirks a little and seems about to offer a rejoinder, but instead he says. "Good, you check out that possibility. I'll check out the other." He nods his head once thoughtfully then hrms to himself.
He takes a step closer, moving toward the much smaller ninja and holds up a hand in front of her features as he says quietly, "May I?"
There's still the worry that Shadow Stalker and Nightmare will find her in M-Town but it's less of a worry in Ranna's mind. "I meant that if you find the contact in the Avengers, I will take the debt. I can be useful in many ways."
If it sounds mercenary, it doesn't seem to bother Ryoshi. That's the life she leads and she agrees. It's why Shiranui has been at her to get it seen to. She's a ticking time bomb really.
As Daredevil steps closer, Ranna doesn't move back. Instead her head tilts to hold his 'eyes'. "You want to see me again? If I show you mine, will you show me yours?" but she nods, giving her assent to his question.
The tall man in the red and black nods to her, the shadows obscuring much of him in that dark alley. He stands in front of her, just a step away, one gauntleted hand lifted before her then joined by the other. He lowers his head slightly as if he were 'looking' somehow through or past her…
Then she'll feel the faint touch of those fingertips, leatherclad but gentle as he lights them upon the curve of her brow. Just a small stroke over there, fingers drifting low and slowly down the side of her until each settles below her cheeks.
"Close your eyes." He says quietly, and this close in proximity she can feel the warmth of not only his touch but his nearness, can smell that tang of leather and steel and sweat that permeates the suit with a hint of blood just on the edges.
And should she close her eyes he'll gently bring his thumbs in to brush them over her eyelids, along the curve of her cheekbones, down into the small valleys beside her nose, along the lines of her lips… then down over her chin. It's a lingering and leisurely caress, a facial massage that continues with just a steady touch to relieve some of that pressure.
Each movement is slow, and deliberate, as if her features were composed of clay and he were molding her into life. At times a fingertip slips slowly over the shell of her ears, along the line behind them, drifting over the nape of her neck… and at points his fingers brush through her hair, pressing tenderly on her scalp.
For some this form of exercise helps to bring focus, and relaxation, to ease the weight of regrets and responsibilities upon an already troubled brow. Perhaps it brings her no relief. But perhaps it might give her some small respite as he slowly repeats the motions. Taking his time, and the whole while 'listening' to the sounds of her body and her heart in response to those light caresses.
At the touch, Daredevil can feel Ranna tense and lean back for a moment. The sharp intake of breath that's almost inaudible. She's not used to being touched like this. Her heartbeat accelerates to support that.
Let her beat someone up - that's much better.
She stills though, eyes wide as she watches the red suited man carefully. It's a moment before she does let her eyes float shut and her nostrils flare at the smell of the leather. "Wha wha…" the sentence isn't finished as the effects become obvious. Her heartbeat slowing gradually, Ranna relaxing a little, as Daredevil massages.
"Feels … better …" she murmurs, not moving.
His own heartbeat mirrors the steady slow beat of her own, his focus fully upon her as he continues that gentle touch, massaging the stress away from her features, slow languid movements and caresses over her cheekbones, as if sliding away the excess clay. Then one thumb easing along her eyebrow and then around, down to the corner of her mouth as if putting subtle details of her features into the sculpture that is Ranna.
His hands press faintly at her temples, the pressure relieving with a subtle give as his fingertips then all slowly push through her long hair, as if bringing forth those dark locks from whatever medium he is sculpting her from.
His voice is peaceful, quiet, letting her focus upon that as well as the sensation of touch as he tells her. "You need to relax, Ryoshi. Find something that allows you to turn your thoughts elsewhere than inwards."
A curious thing for him to say, with how hard it is for him to let go, but he is not the patient here. She is.
It's odd really, standing in the alley with the sounds of the street behind her, doing this. The touch is intimate in a way but not in another - confusing the woman who grew up as a killer. A loyal daughter of The Order.
As Daredevils fingers work through her hair, the hood falls back and the ponytail loosens, spilling the dark locks over her shoulders.
"And what of yourself, Daredevil." Ranna speaks in a whisper. "I'm not the only one who needs to relax." She's deflecting a little though she can manage sometimes when she's alone. Then, though, it's mostly exhaustion that allows that.
A slow final caress, fingers drifting through her hair, slightly twisting to bring the locks over her shoulder as if preferring that style for some reason. He turns his head to the side slightly as she speaks, listening to her and she'll see a small smile flicker over his features, perhaps a hint of amusement there at the curve upon its edge.
"Ah. Well for that…" He lowers his hands from her, but doesn't step back. Not yet at least. He leans closer a little as if sharing a small secret, then murmurs quietly. "I have Yoga." But the way he smiles might seem as if he's not being entirely truthful.
"But how do you feel now?" He can sense the slight lessening of pressure, and the way she seems more relaxed. But it does no good if it does not let her mind rest a litlte as well.
Ranna resists the urge to brush her hair back and twist up into the severe ponytail that she usually wears it. Resists the conditioning that tells her that's the only way to wear her hair.
Daredevil might not step back, but Ranna certainly leans back slightly as he leans in, catching herself and holding still. "Yoga is it? Are you flexible too?"
Minx. But it's likely a protection mechanism as much as anything else.
"Better. The pain has eased. Thankyou." The Order Ninja can be gracious and she shows it. "I … it will stay eased, I believe, until Shiranui happens by again."
"Where did you learn to do that?"
"When I was young I had an accident. It gave me… horrible headaches for a long time." He turns his head slightly as if looking down that alleyway away from her, his jaw tensing a little, then he turns back. "Until a teacher of mine taught me how to let myself focus on… one small aspect of the world around me. The easiest way is to close your eyes and explore your sense of touch…"
His lip curves up a little, "And sometimes it's just good to feel close to another human being every now and then. Without, you know, punching them." The smile grows a little more as he then finally steps back, back to lean against the wall with his arms folded over his chest.
It's only then that he answers her question, "And yes. To you other question. Very. Flexible." A small smirk comes to the fore, matching her at her own game.
"I'm… sorry you had such an accident. It's not something I'd wish on my …." Ranna sighs. She can't speak, as far as she knows she killed in cold blood and who knows how much her victims suffered. "I'm sorry…" she finishes quietly.
There's no comment to feeling close to another human being but Daredevil won't miss the slight flinch. Ranna's eyes follows the red suited man as he leans against the wall.
"Are you now? Maybe I should explore my sense of touch, when I'm alone."
A small exhalation slips from his lips, almost a laugh but the smile lends it some more weight as he turns his head and seems to look away. He takes a deep breath and then tells her with that amused tone in each syllable. "Well, let me know if so. I can perhaps make myself available to supervise."
He holds up a hand as if to hold off any objection she might utter. "Purely to make sure you're doing it right, wouldn't want you to make a mistake and show up to a meet agitated and on edge. Might slow you down when we're fighting."
That said he pushes off of the wall and then holds up the other hand as if in farewell. "Be seeing you, Ryoshi." He starts to turn away.