TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[penancemods]

ARRIVAL

You remember a dream.

Or maybe nightmare is more accurate.

It was full of hellfire nipping at your skin and a sensation of being pulled down no matter how much you struggle or cry for help. There's a voice that feels like it's coming from all around you at once. Contrasting with the nightmare unfolding around you, it's smooth as silk. It makes you want to listen with every bit of attention you can muster in the moment.

"Judgement has come upon you, but not to worry. It can still be undone."

The voice promises you redemption for your sins. It promises you a better life and everything you could ever want, if only you just stop struggling so much.

And so you do.


Everyone wakes up in the same room initially. The room is done up in red with a cushy bed, a window, an old TV in the corner on a desk, and a few Hieronymus Bosch paintings lining the wall. There's a bathroom to clean up in and any belongings will be sat around the room to be gathered later. There's a duffel bag provided for your convenience.

After feeling a sensation of falling or dropping onto the bed, characters wake up feeling like they've just slept for a week. Their body will feel heavy and stiff, they'll have a massive headache at first.

They'll quickly notice the list of their sins written with their blood on a bedside table on an old piece of parchment. This will mean the list is tied to them and can't be changed or tampered with. They'll also receive their device to connect with others and the network. It won't be anything terribly fancy. As a matter of fact, it looks like a very old Blackberry type phone.

Once characters are ready to leave the room, they'll head down long, winding halls. They're dimly lit and ominous feeling. They may encounter fellow sinners or demonic staff that will direct the newcomer down to the lobby to get their actual room key to settle in. They may be pushy, they may border on courteous. It really just depends on the mood of the staff at the time and how they're treated in return. Eventually, everyone comes to stairs that lead downward.



Once down to the lobby, you'll notice the front desk manned by a demon who looks bored out of its mind. To the side of him is the door to the kitchen where guests may help themselves. To the right is a small duty free shop that seems to have a surprisingly normal, expected stock of items. Look around a bit further, there will be a tiny bar tucked in through a corner door. It seems pretty well-stocked and best of all, self-serve if you want to get away from your demonic hosts for a bit. Of course there's some seating, bar games, and a jukebox tucked in the corner if you'd rather stay and socialize a bit.

Please note that all the songs on the jukebox are appropriately hell-themed. Hopefully Sympathy for the Devil is universally loved.

STAND YOUR GROUND

Prompt I

With the Mares leaving, the nightmares fade right along with them. Unfortunately, the hotel outside is looking rather worse for wear because of it. It's been pummeled, cracks in the siding and broken windows are everywhere. It looks much more befitting of the hellish landscape surrounding it, true, but Lucifer is already putting the demonic staff on repairs. They'll be enlisting the help of guests, whether they want to or not. Watch out when the whips and other punishments come out to play for those who seem to be slacking too hard.

The staff hardly has patience for it, whether the guests are feeling up to it or not. In truth, neither are the demons. Exhaustion is hanging heavy in the air for everyone.

But life must go on.

On the plus side, at least all the doorknobs and locks seem to be returning.

For current guests, they may now be dealing with a Frenzy come down and finding that they still itch for another fix. It won't be an easy ride. Withdrawals come with extreme fatigue, aches and pains, chills, depression, and an urge to potentially hurt yourself or others as agitation sets in. If asked for tips on dealing with it, the staff will tell the guests to just rest whenever they can, stay hydrated, and eat. The nausea that follows might make that difficult, but the staff seems to have very little time for sympathy at this point in time.

For new guests, they'll find things in quite a bit of disarray. Fortunately the demons are eager to hand out chores. They range from cleaning up broken glass and other items around the hotel, to removing boards from windows, to Hell beasts that need to be moved back from the basement to their enclosure just outside the hotel and helped to settle back in.

Anyone is free to visit any new beast friends they've made whenever they desire after this point. As a distraction, the hotel staff will even be offering riding lessons for larger beasts, both horse and canine-like ones.

Despite the push for normalcy though, there's a wariness in the air. Whether that's because of the recent bout with the Mares or the hushed whispers continuing on about the Veiled Order, it's uncertain. Something just feels off. Not to worry though, it's probably just paranoia creeping in. No one really wants to talk about it either way.

Every evening, once all the hard work is done, the staff seems to find the time to get a roaring fire going in the lobby fireplace and set up a buffet of food and drink for everyone to enjoy. There's every sort of food imaginable, and even some you wish you'd never seen. Spit-roasted dog, anyone? It's a delicacy here. There's also a lot of desserts of varying kinds from chocolates to ice cream to cakes and pies. Beer, coffee, sodas, and anything else people could want to drink is also on offer. There are even some specialty drinks for the vampiric guests around here.

There's entertainment as well. The demons are putting on makeshift plays and doing improv comedy routines, as well as dragging guests into the act if they seem interested. They'll ask them to perform tricks or act out Shakespearean scenes. For what it's worth, it does actually seem like everyone is trying to just have some fun. There's no harm in refusing to act anything out beyond some mostly good-natured booing and ribbing.

The succubi have also been given a room to set up for personal massages (with or without the happy ending). Massages are done in groups though, so you might want to rethink anything too frisky. If asked, the succubi will step aside and allow guests to massage each other instead, if that's more comfortable.

They're offering to help bathe and wash anyone who desires it for extra pampering, but most folks are understandably wary of the succubi and incubi around. No sexual play is actually being forced in these circumstances since, for once, the demons are well fed on sexual energy.

Oddly enough, the staff does seem to just genuinely want to do something refreshing. Although it's still probably clearly more for themselves than anyone else. Better enjoy it while it lasts though!

Prompt II

As another way to spoil (or distract) the guests a bit more, a new location has been brought to life!

Lucifer has insisted upon a movie theatre. It's located a short walk from the hotel. It's impossible to miss as the sign flickers and it's surrounded by a few very broken down, abandoned buildings still.

Outside, it looks like an old classic establishment from a time long since passed, but it has all the modern conveniences inside at least. From plush seats that recline and maybe get a bit too into giving a massage to all the treats you could ask for. So grab yourself some popcorn, a soda, hot dogs, or whatever else you want. There's also alcoholic beverages available for those who really need help getting through a movie.



Currently, the theatre is showing: Bedazzled, Manos: The Hands of Fate, Captain America (1990 version), Troll 2.

But there are request slips to be filled out by sinners if there's another movie they'd like to see when they rotate films around each month.

Located within the theatre is an arcade with zombie-themed shooter games, Pac-Man, motorcycle racing, and claw machines. There are also a few other gaming machines and one that's supposed to test romantic compatibility between couples. See if you're truly meant to be!

REACH UP HIGH

Prompt I
Warnings: cutting, blood, torture.

Whether you've been here for months or you're freshly arrived, your demonic overlord expects some participation. You can try and shirk the responsibility, of course. You can bargain your way out of it for a while. But eventually, you may find yourself trapped in a room just off the gym that's been fondly dubbed the torture room. It has all manner of equipment in there, along with an iron maiden even.

But don't worry about any of that right now. It probably won't be used.

You can try the door, but even with super human strength or every lock picking skill in the book, you won't be able to open it.

It soon becomes apparent what you're supposed to do soon enough when someone else is eventually shoved in with you. Both of your lists of sins will appear on a table that's been placed in the center of the room with two handy knives. You can choose to guard these or not care at all that they're on display.

"Know that honesty is a good place to start on your road to redemption. Sure, it can be terrifying at first, but that's why you've been given a partner in this journey. Pick up your knives and carve at least one sin into each other's flesh. Help in the journey to be candid with everyone you should meet here!"

The voice echoes all around you again, just like in the nightmare, and once again there's the pull to give in. This voice really does seem like it has your best interests at heart.

"If you need a bit of encouragement, we'll be giving it shortly."

It isn't a lie or idle threat either. The longer you wait to do what's been requested of you, the more shallow cuts that will appear on both of your bodies. Are you really prepared to endure this pain when giving in would be so much easier?

And more than that, are you willing to let another suffer along with you?

Eventually, the cuts will stop if you suffer them long enough, but you'll have failed this challenge and sustained more damage than if you'd just gone along with it. Satan will also be very disappointed in you.

Prompt II

"Offering one another counsel is a trait God rather admires. Compassion, goodwill... all of that. He has requested a demonstration that all of you are complying with your redemption, so I thought of a rather interesting way to show him." Lucifer's voice rings out warm and almost affectionate as he speaks within the guests' heads, the sound ringing within their skulls and beckoning them to trust him.

Even as demons grab at guests and haul them into a room only to lock the door. As usual, the doors can't be opened through any means guests will be able to perform. At least the room is cozy looking, with a plush couch and chairs.

"I must say that I'm proud of all of you. What I ask, I have no doubt that you will accomplish. Please, both of you have a seat and discuss anything from a bad memory, a fear, or even a silly little phobia you may not be proud of. Listen to each other, help one another as I know you can."

That's right. Guests are expected to share a bit about themselves, whether it's a trauma or a past sin they feel guilty for. Maybe it's even something as simple as an irrational fear of spiders... as long as it's sincere, it counts. Guests must absolutely share something if they don't want to be punished. They'll also have to provide sympathy or counsel.

If no one speaks, there's always a catch. The longer one of the participants refuses to speak of anything real, or lies, the more a headache will start to set in. Guests will feel a slight throbbing in the temples that grows steadily worse until it's almost blinding. Gradually, blood will start oozing from eyes, nose, and ears.

All of it will stop the minute guests comply and play along.

It is possible to wait out the punishment if guests are willing to let each other suffer for it, but this will be considered a failed challenge and Lucifer will have to rethink all that pride he said he had.

FOLLOW ME DOWN

Prompt I
Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, potential non-con/dub-con, kinks.

Those newly arrived to Hell will hear about a drug called Frenzy. The effects of which include the lack of a need to sleep for as long as one uses it, feeling like the best version of oneself, and feeling better than they possibly ever have. It may even get to the point where pain is minimized or even welcomed as a pleasurable experience.

The downsides of the drug include giving into a frenzy of one's basest instincts, whether it's lust or anger or anything else that they're naturally inclined towards.

This drug will be offered at the club outside the hotel, but the succubi who make it will demand payment up front this time. This can come in the form of keeping the club up and cleaned, serving guests, or performing on stage. It may also include sex with the demons or other patrons, or putting on solo performances for an audience. The succubi won't particularly care how willing guests are when they come to demand their payment and may force it.

Some will tell you that it's absolutely worth the price though, especially down in Hell where there's so much pain already. What's wrong with a little bit of escape, really? Others will tell you to stay far away from it all.

Of course the demons fail to mention it has the potential to be addictive, but users will probably figure that out on their own once they've come down. It isn't their fault if no one did their research!

Beyond Frenzy, the club also offers a variety of drinks and aphrodisiac-laced foods. There are poles for dancing, plush couches throughout as well as more private tables. There are stages where sex machines are set up, as well as other areas to tie up volunteers or to set up any other type of play imaginable. There are private rooms that can be rented out for the night for those who really want to explore their desires.

Attractive succubi and incubi roam the club as staff or active participants. Some will become more forceful if they're hungry, others will gladly offer any sort of temptations they can.

Careful if you ever see through a their pretty illusion and see the old, angry crones they really are though. It's a bit hard to forget that.

Regular demons also frequent the club, ranging in looks from tiny, mischief-making goblins to goat-like beasts to more humanoid types. There may even be tentacled-beasts who may not be the best at conversation, but will be eager to participate any play they're invited to.

There's a dance floor and loud music pumping through the club in a dedicated space for those who'd rather just dance the night away safely detached from the sexual side of things. All manner of drugs will be offered for those who ask staff, not just Frenzy.

Prompt II
Warnings: Potential violence and abuse.
There are hooded figures making their way through the hotel, but it's oddly hard to focus on them. The more guests try, the more their attention wants to drift to anything else.

For those magically inclined, they may notice the hint of a spell or black magic, but it's just as easily forgotten as everything else.

Guests won't even notice when the figure brushes against them, a skeletal hand adorned with gold brushing over any exposed skin they can reach with a whisper light touch.

It's an encounter that's so easily written off as guests continue on with their day, it really isn't worth mentioning at all later.

But ever since it happened, it feels like there's a poison that's entered the guest's system, twisting around their insides until they feel almost hollowed out. It's a whisper in the ear, inspiring envious feelings towards their fellow guests and the local demons that may never have been there before.

Why do they have it so easy? Why do they have fewer sins and why do more people love them than they do you? Why are you so unimportant to them? Why does everything come so easily to them when you have to work so hard for it?

Envy doesn't have to make any rational sense at all. It can happen at the most inopportune times and leave one feeling like they're burning up from the inside at the injustice of it all.

Even if it's someone a guest generally likes or gets along with, they'll feel this nasty little sensation creeping in.

Rage replaces the envy eventually. The anger starts to become overwhelming. After all, you're the one who is truly worthy of all the attention, all the adoration, all the things they've got. Other people are merely foolish for not realizing it.

Or perhaps it's not even envy at what the other guy has. Perhaps it's because the guest craves all the attention and all the affection of this other person. The guest may never have sought love or possession before, but suddenly it's all they seem to crave from this one person. They'll do anything to have it or to become as close to one person as possible.

Doesn't it eventually just make you want to hurt them for it all? Whether verbally or physically, guests will be drawn to action, or even force if they must. They will desire to either claim what they want or make the other admit to never having deserved it.

Alternatively, guests may also be reduced to begging to be noticed by the object of their envy, desperate enough to do anything to get what they feel is rightfully theirs.

This influence will be hard to fight off, but stronger guests will be able to fend off the envious effects of the mysterious demons. Others won't be so lucky.

MISC.
Thanks for joining us for our fifth test drive meme, sinners! Reserves are now open for the upcoming app round on September 1st

If you want to speak with Lucifer, you're free to text or pray to him right here.

If you have questions, comments, suggestions, etc., go here.


Navigation | Premise | Arrival | FAQ
Rules | Taken | Reserve | App
Network | Logs | OOC | Memes

code bases by tricklet

Comments

Reach Up High II

[blindninja]

He's never liked being manhandled, even by people with the best intentions making assumptions going off the very visual, very obvious cues that he might possibly need the help navigating and getting around. Clenching his teeth, Matt breathes a sigh against the closed door. He can't really hear what's going on outside, so he doubts they'll be able to hear him even if he screamed his lungs out.

This whole place makes him want to scream his lungs out. But he feels fairly resigned to his fate. He's been judged, and he's been damned, and while he's currently not necessarily fine with the idea, he's swallowing the hard pill down as best he can.

Turning his head towards a version of someone he ought to recognise, but doesn't, Matt bites the tip of his tongue to stop two dozen confessions from spilling out. He's no stranger to laying his own sins bare but he can smell ambivalence before Lester had even said anything.

"What should we do then?" he asks, pressing his lips into a thin, flat line.

[clozapine]

Lester makes himself comfortable on the couch and scratches his stomach like the place is his own and he's just lounging at home. He doesn't know if there are consequences to not complying or what those consequences might be, so of course he has no inclination to start sharing just yet.

"Therapy has never been my thing. Never takes." He shrugs, gesturing for the guy to sit if he wants. "How long have you been in this shitstain? Don't suppose you have any idea how to get out?"

At the back of his mind he's a little concerned about the headache that's growing steadily. He doesn't usually get them so he's worried it may be related to all this, but makes sure not to let it show when he speaks to the other man.

"We don't do anything. Or they'll think we are susceptible to their bullshit every time."

[blindninja]

"I'm partial to confessions, myself." It's hard to do therapy when he can smell them judging all his words. At least with a priest it seems like they've heard it all, or at least enough of it not to have that spike in body heat-generating emotions or pull creaking muscles to make that face.

"Not long, and. I think we're sealed in." The corner of his lips twitch but he doesn't seem to respond to the gesture to sit, instead just lingering by the door even though he's turned to face Lester now.

"We should come up with a plan to leave. Otherwise they might leave us here to uh. Talk it out."

[clozapine]

"Confessions? You a catholic, pal?" he asks, brow raising curiously when the guy seems to entirely ignore his invitation to the most comfortable couch in the room. Whatever, more for him

Lester notices the glasses on indoors and wonders. Instead of asking he waves a hand in the air then puts up a middle finger to see if the guy can see.

"Alright, smart guy. Tell me how you think we can leave a sealed in room? Those locks are on the outside, so we can't pick em. The windows ain't budging with anything short of a missile launcher. "My plan to leave is to not do shit until they get bored and realize it's a waste of time and resources."

[blindninja]

He thinks to come up with a silly joke about his faith, but in the end he just nods and adds a quiet 'yes'. Not really been in the mood for snark since he got here, if he's honest with himself. Not really... been in the mood for much of anything.

It's not the classiest thing to do, flipping off a blind man, but if Matt noticed anything, he didn't react to it at all. He keeps one hand on the door and starts walking the perimeter of the room, fingertips grazing over the wall. Maybe there's a weak spot somewhere.

"You could tell me a story. It doesn't have to be exactly something you've been through. See if it works." Matt is full of stories himself but he's not sure there's a sympathetic ear here to listen to it.

[clozapine]

The way Matt doesn't respond to the finger with the way he feels around the door cements it for him. "A blind catholic? Must be my lucky day. Don't suppose you're a lawyer too?" Hell, he'd kill the guy just for ticking two out of the three boxes. Maybe not right now, though.. He might need him to get out of this room.

A story? Lester doesn't know what the hell is up with this guy, but what the hell. Why not? "I doubt you have the constitution to handle one of my stories, pal."

He leans back and crosses one ankle over the other as he relaxes on the sofa. And then the headache worsens to the point where he has to put his hands on either side of his head. "Fuck me."

[blindninja]

That makes him pause, long enough that he can't recover from it like he might have stumbled on something or lost himself in thought.

"Uh- yeah." Momentarily distracted, he wraps his senses around the other man in the room, trying to gauge his reaction. There's only so many blind Catholic lawyers around, and he's sure he doesn't know the man.

Unfortunately, Matt can't stay focused on that for long. The reason for Lester's apparent discomfort becomes clear. It sets upon the clarity in his head like a dark, heavy fog, and Matt grimaces. Squeezing his eyes shut and turning towards the wall, he makes a soft noise and takes a step away from it, towards the inviting couches. Headaches aren't... usually contagious, as far as he knows. And he's not sure how either of them are supposed to start telling stories with this splitting and shattering going on in his skull.

"Do you dream?" He asks through gritted teeth. "I do. Often. Suffocating. Drowning." His eyes dart around aimlessly. He's not sure what he's supposed to talk about. Where this is supposed to go. He only knows that he's fine to just scratch at the surface of how he's coping with being banished from the pearly gates, even if it's to a recalcitrant partner.

[clozapine]

Yeah? Lester's heartbeat quickens at that news. If there was a physical resemblance between this guy and his Daredevil it was minor, but the crap about being blind, catholic, and a lawyer. That is too much of a coincidence for him to ignore. His headache is making it hard to think, though.

"Yeah, I dream. About suffocating and drowning...other people." He gives the guy a wary look as he gets closer to where he's seated. All Lester can think about is what if that's the guy? Is he ready to know that? What would he do if it was him? It can't be. "You remind me of someone. Gimme your hand, Mr. McGoo."

He doesn't ask permission before he takes the guy's hand to put his fingers on his forehead where a version of himself had carved into his tattoo. Tracing the lines with a sai leaving behind a scar of the same shape. "This mean anything to you?"

[blindninja]

Well, that's dark, and honestly, telling someone you have serial killer dreams is not really conducive to inviting someone to touch your face. Lester should probably work on that. At least it's only slightly more appropriate than putting his hand, well. Anywhere else.

Matt gets pulled slightly off balance and his knee ends up pressed against the edge of the seat. His other hand flies out to grab the armrest to balance himself while eyebrows furrow at the bumps of scar tissue under his fingertips.

"No. Wha- Is- this your face? Who did this to you?"

[clozapine]

It's hell. He's not working on shit. If he can't be his serial killer self here, then that's unfortunate, but it's too late now.

"Some blind catholic lawyer jackass who prances around in a dumb red suit with horns in his free time." Although he's got a hunch about this guy, the way he responded to feeling the crosshairs on his forehead doesn't seem like how his Daredevil might respond. Unless it's an act? It's hard to tell. Lester lets go of the guy's hand after a bit.

"Know him?" Logic is saying there's no way a guy like that would end up in hell, but Lester can't help the mild suspicion.

[blindninja]

Matt's eyebrows crawl up towards his hairline as his face starts morphing from mild surprise to disbelief to confusion, lips parting as if to begin defending himself but coming up wordless. He's not sure the 'I don't know what you're insinuating' line is going to work here - isn't the lies he has heaped upon the lies he's made himself believe one of many reasons why he ended up here in the first place? - but while he might be guilty of some 'extra-curricular activities' in what free time he doesn't have, he doesn't know this guy nor would he do something like this to someone.

"He wouldn't," is the only line the stubborn, pious Matthew can manage as he takes a small step back after being let go, intuitively knowing not to back up any further into any furniture and fall over. He's dealt and been dealt plenty of pain, tried to defend himself against undying ninjas, played with fire and sharp objects and tall buildings. He wouldn't intentionally carve up or carve anything into someone's face. He's not that kind of man. He doesn't deserve to be here. Everything about this is wrong.

"He wouldn't do that to anyone." I wouldn't.

[clozapine]

"So you know him, then?" Lester rolls his eyes as he remembers the time he figured the guy's identity but he made a whole thing of trying to prove that Mattew Murdoc and Daredevil were not one in the same person.

Whether it's ideal, at least he's the one party sharing things. That's what all of this was supposed to be about, right. Lester smirks because he knows the next thing he says is really going to fuck with the guy if he is who he suspects.

"Not even if I killed your girl? Elektra? Hard to be a man of god when a guy takes away the love of your life right? Enough to make him sin and send him straight to hell?"

[blindninja]

"No. You're lying." It's completely plausible to think that anyone would know of Elektra given the circles she's been around in, but who would know of their relationship? She could have anyone in the world and she chose the near penniless orphan from halcyon college days with laughter in his eyes and summer trapped in his hair. The number of people who knew about them, about Daredevil and Matthew and Elektra, he could count on one hand.

It's him. You know it's him. He's tried his best to ruin Matt's life. Driven him out of his house, framed him, turned the cops against him. Turned him against everyone - made him believe he couldn't trust anyone, they're all working for him. Driven Matt and almost everyone he knows to despair, to near insanity, cornering them. Toying with them.

Matt curls his hands into fists, clenching his teeth. He knows how Elektra died. He dreams about it every other night. The thunderous roar of a skyscraper coming down upon them, her warmth in his arms, dust filling his lungs. He hopes (without hope) that she somehow survived the ordeal, the way he did. But any sliver of hope he's managed to cling onto is dashed, by a madman sitting on the couch in front of him goading him, pressing his buttons, and the flare up of paranoia that That Man has instilled in him. Who's the madman now?

Because it could always be The Hand, but Matthew knows. It's Fisk. It's always going to be Fisk.

There's nothing particularly funny about their current predicament, but it makes Matt laugh anyway. A small, defeated little noise that moves his shoulders and has him ducking his head. He came all the way here. Fallen from grace, tumbling all the way down to hell. And still, the torment follows, relentlessly.

You're in Hell now, Matt. It's okay. You can let the devil out.

All pretenses of being unable to navigate the space around him dropped, one hand flies out to grab Lester by the collar while the other stays fisted while calloused knuckles look to make landfall somewhere between Lester's jaw and cheekbone.

[clozapine]

“Nah. I think you know I’m not.”

Lester savors every bit of this moment. He has no way of knowing exactly what the guy is thinking but he can only imagine he’s trying to connect the dots and put pieces of information together to get to some conclusion about who he is or what he wants. He can practically taste the confusion.

The thing that he has going for him is that he knows how all of this works. Waking up in a strange place with no memory of having arrived. There were people from different planets, times, dimensions, and/or universes. So even if he doesn’t look like the guy from his universe, he seems to know enough to prove his identity. His reaction pretty much said it all anyway.

The blow doesn’t surprise him. He could have stopped him, but wanted to let it happen. It’d been so long since the last time he had that fist on his face. Lester feels the skin of his jaw already starting to swell a little bit. “Ah, there he is. Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is right here where he belongs. In hell. With me.”

He rubs his jaw briefly before he’s grappling with Matt to try to get a hold of him to repay him in kind. The thing is he’s at a slight disadvantage without projectiles to throw.

[blindninja]

"Why?" Matt growls, sounding four parts pissed off, seven parts desperate. To no one's surprise, getting a retaliatory punch in the face isn't improving his mood. Whenever Elektra's involved he tumbles easily into irrationality, into blind rage, into a version of himself that is all passion with no restraint. It has always been that way, from when they first got together until now when he should be older and wiser and have mellowed out. He has always been somewhat of a wayward Catholic boy.

Trying to keep an outstretched arm between them, Matt tries to keep enough distance between them to avoid a headbutt, but also give himself room to pull an arm back and throw a mean right hook. This is where the Devil lives, in the undercurrent of overwhelming anger and pain, heart pounding in his ears and blood rushing through his veins.

"Why would you hurt her?" He throws another punch. And then another. Fueled by adrenaline, he doesn't seem to particularly care if his fist ends up in furniture instead.

bullseye is disgusting and i am sorry

[clozapine]

It's good to see that no matter what version of Daredevil's alternate identity he gets, they all may be just as susceptible to provocation. Particularly when Elektra is involved. The Matthew Murdoc from his world has learned that giving Bullseye more attention only fuels his fire.

The distance does keep Bullseye away enjoy that he can't land a headbutt, and he takes the right hook like champ, his head swinging to the opposite side from the force of it before turning it back to look at Matt. He licks his teeth as he does. God, he missed this.

"The same reason I do anything else, hornhead. To make you hurt." And because he likes killing, but that goes without saying. Then the punches come and don't seem to stop. He feels blood well up in his mouth and in an attempt to spit it out, sprays it all over the other man's clean clothes, laughing. His vision is starting to get blurry around the edges, so he decides now is as good a time as any to retaliate.

He reaches out for him, grabbing at any bit of fabric he can get his hand on, and once he does he draws Matt back in range to punch him firmly in the gut. Lester then shoves him aside hard enough to get to his feet despite being a bit dizzy from the series of punches. "You're different than my Daredevil, but you'll do."

it's a good kind of gross i love him <3

[blindninja]

Getting bloodied in the process isn't new to Matt, and while he flinches, it doesn't quell or sate his anger. The blow winds him and he doubles over a bit, coughing as he draws his knees in and struggles to stand. The strangest thing that's happened to him is the Battle of New York and he's not as familiar with this my-Daredevil, not-my-Daredevil business, but hurting Elektra isn't okay with him regardless.

"Why? Why me? And you? You working for Fisk?" Logic somehow dictates that they're all working for Fisk, but he wants to hear it. Maybe he needs the justification to really rip into Lester.

aw shucks. thanks. <3

[clozapine]

"Why not you, honestly? It started as a grudge, but then I realized our bond is deeper than that. You're the day to my night, hornhead. There doesn't need to be any other reason than that."

Sure there were the handfuls of times he's gotten his ass kicked by the guy, but he's not giving him the satisfaction of knowing that those things get to him. Though, obviously, it's clear this one may not have been the one to do those things to him. Not that it'd make revenge any less sweet for him.

"Fisk? Sometimes. Sometime I work for The Hand. I prefer the former because at least he pays me rather than holding me hostage.." He mumbles that last big because it's probably just going to confuse Daredevil more. "Do you really not have a version of me where you're from? That's disappointing. A world where there's no one to keep you in check? Terrifying."

While he's talking he's careful to circle Matt while looking around for something--anything, really-- that he could use as a projectile So far he's seeing nothing but couch cussions.

[blindninja]

"I don't even know you," Matt retorts, sounding more frustrated than exasperated. It isn't even meant to be a personal insult, Matt just can't figure out who this is and what he wants on top of why Matt's here, how he ended up here, and what he's going to do now.

He at least knows Fisk. And he knows the Hand. And for once he doesn't know which is the worse to work for. They're both crazy in their own way. Cunning. Unscrupulous.

"Why would I need to be kept in check? I'm helping my city. Protecting others - from people like you." He gets to his feet, slow, calculating angles and distances, spaces, soft parts of tissue and flesh that stretch and strain in between the bones.

When he thinks he's got a good angle to trap Lester against the couch, Matt lunges for it. There's no justice here. No trials, no juries, no defences, no bails. Only violent men left to their violent whims. And he's blinded by his own self-righteousness to see how futile this ensuing punch up is going to be. All it's going to do is make him feel worse about Elektra, about himself.