Open

[blindninja]

» WHO? Matt Murdock & OPEN
» WHEN? Now
» WHERE? Deck 6 => 6.27 => Deck 5
» WHAT? Arrival
» WARNINGS? TBC

Arrival Hall (CLOSED to Frank Castle)
It's cold.

He's not where he was before. He knows that much. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets his senses go, scanning his surroundings like an uncalibrated radar. Metal. Lots of metal, clanging, banging. But everything is wrong. Lighter, like things are floating even when they're not. People are talking. Laughing, maybe. But distant, like the next apartment building over, or somewhere down the next block. The fine hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stand with the low buzz-hum of the vessel, creaking, engine churning like an old ship, suspended in space.

It's like a hangover, except. He feels heavy even though he's light. Shackles on his feet. His head hurts. Everything hurts. And God, what is that noise?

Less of a waking up, more of regaining consciousness as Matt rolls over with a pained cry and a grimace.

His hand crawls over to the smartwatch, trying to mute the beeping and humming and screeching grating against his ears. What day is it? What time? What happened? He clutches the device with one hand and runs the other hand down his body. Daredevil's gone. Only Matthew. A jumpsuit covering the bandages. Stitches. Blood. No pearly gates, no apostles. No questions to answer about how he's lived his life, whether he's lived it well, whether he's repentant. Paid enough of a price. Just a jumpsuit... and a pair of boots?

"...lectra." Talking feels like rousing up a sandstorm in his throat. He groans and struggles to his feet, using energy he doesn't have to drive him forward. Out. Just the one thing on his mind.

I have to save her.

He gets blood on his palm as he presses his hand over a wet bandage, stitches having been ripped as he sluggishly stumbles deliriously down the corridor. His boots clunk along at an uneven, unsteady pace. Everything is too loud. Too cold. Too heavy. There's blood on the wall where he braced himself against it. And then there's a door. Everything flickers behind his closed eyelids. Black, red, black, red, black, black, black...

Room 6.27. Where everything's a little quieter. And he can just focus. Keep the red lights on in the dark.

6.27. Matthew. Chapter Six. Verse Twenty-Seven. 'Can any one of you, by worrying, add a single hour to your life?'

Hn. That's funny. The chuckle bubbles to the surface. For all the pain He's inflicted, God still has a decent sense of humour.


Departure Lounge (OTA)
He doesn't take kindly to being dumped in the med bay, but there's not much of a fight he can put up against Frank Castle in his current state. He's not sure how long he's been resting there, but when he's well enough to orientate himself again, he's not staying in the med bay. The machines are noisy. He has questions. He's scared.

Matt makes it two steps out of the med bay before space sickness kicks in. The sheer wrongness of the gravitational pull throws him off, throws everything around him off. He sinks down to his knees and clutches his head, curling up against the wall. He looks pale, like he's about to throw up.

Comments

[oorah]

Today is the day he finally gets his shit together to go talk to Karen about everything between them. After a long sleep in Elektra's room, he can think again, mind unclouded. Everything seems a little brighter, a little clearer this morning - well, nearing afternoon. He had been tired, go figure. He's always tired.

6.19 is a welcome reprieve though he hasn't seen the inside of his own room since June, it feels like. Maybe that's accurate, honestly. Frank shaves the sides of his head and shaves off days of stubble, feeling more like himself every moment that goes by since he regained his sense of touch. He makes his way through a shower and a fresh change into the same worn navy jumpsuit he always wears, trying not to think of his daily showers at Karen's place a week previously; needing her help for even the simplest of tasks.

A sound outside his door strains his hearing, though it feels next-to-superhuman after not having it at all. He's just so grateful that he can even if it sounds fucking bad. It sounds like-- someone's in trouble, maybe? It's enough to get Max's attention for sure, facing the door and pinning back his ears, growling lowly in uncertainty. Frank steps forward and ruffles his ears, taking the time to strap on his communicator, and drop his extra one in his pocket just in case.

By the time he's made it out into the corridor, no one is there and at first he thinks he just imagined it - if not for Max's reaction. That's when he sees the blood. Frank runs over to the spot on the floor, and from there looks up to see another smear. Someone was hurt here, or. This could be another station trap or illusion but if someone needs his help he has to take the chance. Telling Max to get behind him, he follows the trail to 6.27 and steels himself, all six mag-boots of man and canine heralding his arrival against the heavy metal grating of the floor. But for good measure, he raps S-A-F-E into the doorframe with his knuckles, the same way he always does.

The door opens on its own, apparently unlocked and he takes in a little breath in surprise. Max is on the slumped-over figure before Frank can physically get there, but then a solid hand is landing on Matt's shoulder and turning him over. He can't see the familiar, bruised visage of one Frank Castle, but he can smell him (sorry, at least he just showered) and feel a flat dog tongue lick at the back of his neck nervously.

"Red?" Matt will hear next, Frank's gruff voice carrying in an incredulous tone. Before he can fully think it through, he's hefting the other man over his shoulder as gently as he can and beelining it for the elevators.

[blindninja]

He didn't think the noises could get worse but six mag boots clanging around echoing down the hallway banging against his skull is definitely worse. Frank doesn't smell like what he normally smells like. Cheap soap and generic aftershave. Old leather that's been sweated and bled into. Gunpowder residue. But dog smells like dog and Frank's voice is unmistakable.

Matt tenses up as he's being moved - no, this is bad, where's the floor, no everything's upside down, or sideways, he's going to throw up, why is this happening - and he grips onto the back of Frank's shirt tightly until his knuckles go white.

"No... no." That kick looks more like a limp flail. He digs his elbow unhelpfully into the back of Frank's head. Where are they going? He doesn't like this. Put him down.

[oorah]

Wincing as the man's bony elbow digs in, he redoubles his efforts to hang on, doing his best to walk slowly and keeping his steps light so they don't jostle Matt overly. He can only imagine what it's like here for the other man's enhanced senses, and for some reason until this moment Frank never even considered the possibility that he'd ever show up. But of course he would. It makes as much sense as any of the rest of them being here.

"Yeah, asshole, you need medbay." But his voice is softer than usual, maybe even sympathetic. He sets Matt down in front of the elevator button and mashes it, still holding him against the wall but testing to see if the other man can carry his own weight. Throwing up would probably be really bad right now, worse than throwing up in space is usually, even. Frank leans in close, tapping his hand against Matt's cheek to get his attention. "Stay awake and we can walk together. If you pass out again, I have to carry you. Got it?"

That's all the kindness Matt is afforded before they're all in the elevator car and '5' is pressed with a jab of Frank's elbow. He hits a button on his device to engage Max's magboots and forcibly tips Matt backwards onto his heels until his boots come online, gripping the metal beneath their feet as they get launched for several seconds into zero gee. It will probably feel great for Matt right now, like his injuries are much less and his bones are all where they're supposed to be, but it's extremely shortlived, the gravity reengaging as the car arrives one deck above where they started out and doors sliding open with a cheery bing.

"You awake? You can do this?" He nudges the other man with his hip and locks a strong arm around him just in case it turns out Matt can't support his own weight, even at a third what it usually is.

[blindninja]

The back of Matt's head thumps loudly against the wall when Frank puts him down and he winces, one hand moving halfway up before he decides the pain shooting up his arm is too great to bother bracing himself. He starts to slump when Frank stops supporting him which isn't a good sign, but his legs shift as he tries to steady himself. He's conscious, at least, but his eyes when he can keep them open look a little glazed over as everything comes in and out of focus.

He winces when the elevator starts moving. All the cogs, the pulleys and the magnets that make their metal box work chugging away. If he didn't feel like throwing up before, as soon as the gravity seems to slip away from under his feet he thought he might have thrown something up.

Oh, no. That's just what coughing air out of his lungs is supposed to feel like. He's fine.

The liquid in his inner ears is probably gurgling and screaming in protest as he stumbles out of the elevator, falling against Frank, trying to push the marine away with one hand groggily while the other goes to where he's bleeding through the jumpsuit.

He doesn't know where he is yet, but every fibre of Matthew Murdock's being hates space.

[blacksky]

She hasn't slept this deeply since that night at Matthew's apartment, the one before everything fell apart. It was blissful even with the obnoxious doggie snores coming from Max. Elektra hadn't realized how much she missed simply being with someone else or maybe her denial was simply that strong. She certainly didn't spend the first two months here drinking with Miller for her health.

Elektra is past all that now. She has friends. Karen surprisingly is one of them after such an awkward first meeting back home. She's working on prying herself out of bed to see her. They've got codes to plug into a door. She wants to check in on Karen too after her half of the lovebirds turned up at her door. She's sure there's a story there. The least she can do is let Karen share it.

Her hair is tied up in a ponytail as she puts on that awful faded blue jumpsuit and magboots for the hundredth time. One of these days she'll have to see if she can coax Karen into borrowing her something. She might actually learn to appreciate her style if only because it's not a jumpsuit.

It's the sound of Max's magboots, so distinct because really who else, but Frank Castle would ask for such a thing? that really gives her a kick to get moving. She makes sure her hair is tied back straight one final time before she heads out to greet Max. She's grown to love that dog if only because deep down she's not all that different from him. Usually that sound means Karen or Frank are nearby too. Either way, it is something to look forward to. She moves towards the door in time to see the trio of boys disappear over to the medbay... and she masks her heart like a coward.

For better or worse, she never counted on Matthew coming here. She planned on it being an enemy. She planned on it being Stick. Elektra never thought he would come. She spends too long in her doorway simply trying to work through how it makes her feel. As far as she remembers? He wounded her deeply. He threw her out after letting her pick him over Stick for killing a boy who would have destroyed them with his brothers. She is now truly alone in the world thanks to him... or was. This place was difficult to live in, but she isn't alone here. Frank said as much and she believes him.

Worse, it's hard to stay mad when she knows what she saw. Even if she could miss the way Matthew carried himself, she knows the smell of stale blood anywhere. She knows how his senses must be struggling to adapt to this. She knows him even when she doesn't want to. She also knows herself too. She's not going to stay away. She can't.

Her legs move forward, hand shooting out to shut the door shortly afterward. As much as it hurts, she has to try to offer some aid. Matthew is more her responsibility than Frank's. Incidentally, she also loves him too much not to be there for him when she suspects he'll be struggling most. Elektra really doesn't know how long she stood there as she agnozied over what to do. It's clearly long enough for Frank to get things under control.

He takes off once their eyes meet. She knows this is truly on her. Elektra puts her big girl pants on and lets her heart beat normally again. It's as close to hello as she gets some days as he knows. "Hello, Matthew." It's tentative, uncertain. She's bracing herself for another rejection. She approaches him slowly as she tries to make peace with her foolishness. How many times does she need to be told to go away? She really is pathetic.

[blindninja]

Third time's the charm, or so they say. That voice. It cuts through all the other horrendous noises in this God forsaken place.

He's died and finally gone to wherever they were going to meet. In their holiday home with the children they were going to raise together. Santorini, listening to the sunset in Fira between blue-domed churches with the smell of donkeys and barbecued fish tickling his nose. Decrepit and old in purgatory. Still arguing over the most mundane things in hell. He doesn't care. If there's no place for her in heaven, he will gladly burn with her in the depths below.

But he hasn't died. And neither has she.

This is their life, before the first time she died in his arms. The second chance they never had. They've run so far from the Hand he doesn't know where he is anymore. And they'll make it work this time.

He twitches when she approaches, and when she gets close enough the bewildered look in his tired eyes fade away. He reaches out to touch her. Pull her in. Hold her close. The ridiculous crinkling of jumpsuits when their bodies meet makes him want to laugh but that's not why his shoulders are shaking.

What're you talking about? He's not crying. She's crying.

[blacksky]

He isn't cruel. That's what surprises her. The thing about heartbreak is that it can warp and eat away at even the sweetest of memories. There is more to Matthew than the moments he gives up her just as there is more to her than the moments she loses control of the beast inside her. She had forgotten that up until he pulls her in. Elektra is reaching to wrap a protective arm around him in return. She doesn't know what caused all these injuries, but she'll keep him safe this time. She has to.

That desperate thought fades away at the tears. Her eyes well up for the second day in a row. This time she lets herself cry. She never could stand his tears when they were so few and far in between. "Oh, Matthew." Her voice is wet and tinny. What brought him down so low that all the problems between them no longer mattered? She can't help wondering what she left him too. She should have fought to stay. Once again leaving turned out to be a mistake they both suffered for.

Her fingers tangle through the hair on the back of his neck. "It's alright. I'm here now. We'll get through this together." She sounds so painfully sincere even if an uglier voice in the back of her skull reminds her that this will be short-lived. How can she care when he's suffering like this? Let him change his mind again as long as he's alright in the end.

Departure Lounge ALSO HI I RECOGNIZE YOU

[resleeves]

He's been lying low since everything happened. If he emerges from his room, it's to see Miller or Ricki and then he goes back and sits there and stares. Occasionally, he rages at no one and falls asleep only to dream of Reileen's face.

Today, he feels decent enough to come out and take a walk if only because he needs some fucking food and he doesn't want Miller having to bring it to him all the goddamn time.

So, today would be the day he leaves his room and that would be the day some poor fuck stumbles out in front of him and crumples to the ground, looking like he's about to barf all over the fucking place.

"Need a bucket?" Kovacs asks dryly.

ORLY

[blindninja]

Matt hasn't gotten used to the boots banging around yet, clobbering his eardrums and he almost misses what Tak said. But he at least picks up the word 'bucket' and the lilt that signifies it was a question. "...yes." Otherwise he's going to puke all over Tak's feet and that's probably not the first impression he was aiming for.

this isn't quite curtis but CLOSE ENOUGH

[resleeves]

"Too bad. I don't have one. Puke on the floor," Kovacs says, clearly showing that he's all heart. He takes a few steps back to make sure he's not in the way of any errant vomit should it come and eyes the man coolly.

"What happened to you anyway?" he asks, crossing his arms. "Eat some bad shit from the replicators?"

They'd never hear the fucking end of it now.

[subplot]

When Frank tells Karen that Matt is here and gives his location, she stops what she's doing and immediately makes her way over to him. She almost doesn't believe it, not until she sees him with her own eyes. He's stepping out of the medbay as she's heading in, and she has to come to a fast stop so she doesn't run right into him. He looks like shit, though that isn't much of a surprise given his nighttime hobby back home and the fact that he's new to space. She remembers being sick for the first month or so after arriving. But this doesn't seem to necessarily only be space sickness, which makes her fall right back into her old role of worrying too damn much about Matt Murdock.

"Frank told me you were here," she explains, hurrying in so she can try to help pull him to his feet. Whatever may have happened between them, it doesn't matter now. He needs her, and she's going to take care of him the best that she can. Starting by getting his ass back in one of the beds in the medbay. Maybe later she can take the time to give him a hug but for now she's all business. She can't let herself be happy that he's here until she knows that he'll manage to survive his first few days.

"What happened this time?"

[blindninja]

A part of him knows he's not in New York, but with all these familiar people from home coming to visit and all his senses off-kilter you could probably try to convince him he's upstate or somewhere he's never been before where gravity is not what it should be and some of the people he cares about is here.

He doesn't want to throw up all over Karen so he holds her for now, steadying himself. He doesn't want to go back to the med bay but he's not putting up too much of a fight when she leads him back there. He's in some emotional turmoil after having spent some time with Elektra and now Karen's here, and he's half-expecting a slap for jumping down into Midland Circle like that. Those same old arguments they would have had about Daredevil dancing in and out of retirement. Maybe he's just lucky he's in such bad shape.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he manages with one of his small, sad laughs as he sits back down on the bed he'd only just managed to crawl back out of, feeling defeated on all fronts.

"I didn't do this. Wherever we are." Oh, he's getting dizzy again.

[subplot]

"It means that the last thing I knew, you were supposedly dead." She snaps a little, getting him situated in the bed. It's not fair to take her frustration with his being here out on him, particularly since the frustration is there because she's guilty that she's happy to see him again. She shouldn't be happy that Matt is trapped here. Terrible things happen here.

"Frank and I have been here for months now. We both woke up here at the same time."

She sits on the bed, frowning as she starts to look him over. He's in terrible shape, and she doesn't know where to start.

[morphogenia]

Kamala is here because she's curious. It doesn't get any deeper than that. She wants to know about the medbay and see who was leaving blood on her deck. The answer to that is ridiculously easy to find. This is the story of how a 4'10 Pakistani-American teenager is running up to Matt while he's getting sick. "Hey!" It's probably not all that pleasant considering she wears heavy mag boots like everyone else here. She's dressed up in a Captain America t-shirt and jeans so at least you know it's possible not to be a fashion disaster, Matt? Lucky you.

Kamala touches him with one of her hands. It's noticeably a bit heavy thanks to her antique gold bangles attached at her wrist. "Are you okay? Do you need a bucket? Because I can totally get one!" She's wavering on what to do when she spots it. Randomly (if you're missing context at least) Kamala laughs. "Oh my God! Frank got you with the Hello Kitty bandaids! Does this mean you're a friend of his?"

[blindninja]

There's a young woman. Not-quite-child but still much younger than him. Running up to him. Clonk, clonk, clonk comes her boots, louder and louder until she's within projectile vomit range and that is not how he wants to greet her so his eyebrows furrow as he turns closer towards the wall. Her bangles clink and rattle against his ear as he tries to focus on something else to dull his hearing. This is officially the worst hangover he's ever had.

"No," he groans. God, who would let Frank Castle anywhere near children? His hand, still with its faint tremors, goes up to the bandaid. Hello Kitty? Are you serious? Matt starts trying to rip it off.

"I'm--... was. His attorney."

[morphogenia]

She's going to grab his hand to stop him from pulling it off. The fact that this weird guy is his attorney is... well weird. Kamala is less concerned about the backstory here. Her concern is the fact that the bleeding man is trying to take off one of the things that stops the bleeding. "Will you knock it off? Okay it's totally cute, but you also need that! You're going to get an infection!" She huffs. "You're blind anyways so for all you know Hello Kitty is super manly protection against germs!"

Take 2

[oorah]

Matt showing up is a huge inconvenience for Frank, but so far he's taking it in stride. While he wouldn't call what they have friendship, he does care if the man lives or dies as evidenced by his hasty rescue earlier in the day. Since then, he's had time to think about it, roll it over with his closest friends on Reverie; but he doesn't come up any more bitter. He doesn't find Matt any less deserving of his help, even if he knows the man doesn't want it. He'd told him he wouldn't be an option to refuse it and he'd meant that.

He knows if this were him, Matt probably wouldn't help him - would leave him to his own devices to die or survive as he always had. But it wasn't a fair comparison anyway, and he'd had Karen when he first arrived here. She was his rock, even now. Even as he's steeling himself for what's to come. Max is with Kamala so the poor thing won't get stressed out again if Matt takes a swing at him. Also he's pretty sure all the noises of his boots and general dogness stresses Matt out in turn, so not a great combo.

Stepping off the elevator with Matt's device clutched in hand, open to the welcome screen, he strides into the medbay, careful to keep his steps lighter than before. Deliberate. His heart too is at a steady pace, and the blind man will easily be able to pick up on how strongly he smells of Karen, which wasn't the case this morning. And Karen hadn't smelled like him, so he'll know it's recent. He walks up to the man's bed, relieved that he at least stayed long enough that he's looking a little better. Someone had brought him a fresh jumpsuit and cleaned him up a little, he's assuming Elektra, but he must be restless as Hell and ready to get out of here.

Frank comes up in front of him and holds up the device, knowing Matt will hear it hum. "You think of a username yet?"

[blindninja]

When the elevator stops on this floor, Matt's eyes flutter open. First it's the footsteps that come into focus. Hazy and in the distance though they may be, they're evenly paced. With purpose. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. The heartbeat says Frank. The scent says... Karen? Matt's brows furrow. Matt's trying to scatter his senses, trying to let them maintain some semblance of privacy and also because he really doesn't want to know what the two of them are doing in their own space and time.

No dog, for better or worse. Matt's probably ruined his potential relationship with what could have been a four-legged friend. That same knife clinking against Frank's body, but no gun.

"What am I going to do with that? I can't read anything on it. And what's wrong with my name?" Snappy already. This is going well.

[oorah]

"Murdock's taken. Red isn't." Frank is smiling, Matt will be able to hear it. He's giving him a choice, and he won't even cheat. "It has accessibility, asshole. I set up voice-to-text." He's not that stupid otherwise he would have just handed it to Matt and let him go wild.

At least he seems to have calmed down, like he isn't about to deck him any minute. He's surprised the bandaid stayed on, though he has to admit it looks good on him.

"Just do this one thing for me and I'll take you to the Mess Hall. You must be hungry by now." Or if he isn't, his body is. He needs food to mend.

[morethan084]

[Daisy sees him go down and rushes over to him in the hopes of catching him, but thankfully he doesn't seem to injure himself even more. Daisy moves to kneel down in front of him, hand almost reaching out to touch him before thinking of it.]

Hey. You okay?

[She only catches a glimpse of his face, and it takes a moment for her to process because the facial hair was new, but...]

Matt?

[blindninja]

[He's groggy, confused, disoriented. Planting his hand flat against the wall, his eyes seem to stare through her collarbone when she calls out his name like she knows him.]

Hm? [Who is this? He tries to listen out keenly for something he can recognise, but the groan of the elevator and the roar of laughter upstairs makes him wince and try to shut everything off again. He reaches out to touch her forearm, grazing his fingertips against her top.]

[morethan084]

[It's been literal years since she last saw him. Almost 10 years at this point. God, he's aged. Daisy looks down when he touches her arm before her eyes are back on him. What the hell happened to him?]

It's me, Dai--

[No, he wouldn't know her by that name.]

It's me, Mary Sue Poots.

departure lounge!

[marineris]

There are few enough people on this station that Bobbie's come to at least recognize all of them in passing, even if she doesn't know them personally. This guy, crouched on the floor, is new, and clearly not having a very great time. Honestly, she's surprised she hasn't seen more people actively puking from the spin gravity on this rust bucket. She hopes that's what this is, at least.

She approaches, but doesn't crouch down next to him just yet. She's wearing an odd suit compared to most of the people he might have seen so far—it's skin tight and covered in small bits of armor embedded with some kind of circuitry.

"Hey. First time in space?"

[blindninja]

Her voice sounds muffled to him and it takes him a while to realise someone is actually talking to him. That she’s standing right in front of him helps. He seems to be staring at her shins when he starts to uncurl, partially distracted by the buzzing and almost crackling underneath the top layer of her body suit.

“...yeah.” She’d probably think it was pathetic if she knew it was Matt’s first time out of the stretch of a hundred blocks or so where he’s lived his whole life.

What the hell is she wearing? Can she hear that buzzing? It’s probably just him.

[marineris]

"It takes a little time, but you'll get used to it. It's worse the closer to the core of the station you get."

Now she crouches down, offering him her hand to help him up.

"Earther, yeah?"