Matt Murdock (
blindninja) wrote in
reverielogs2018-07-18 08:56 am
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Open
» 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.
» 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.
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Me? I'm not the one who just collapsed on the floor. What happened to you?
[She has her arm wrapped around his midsection, allowing him to put more of his weight onto her if he has to. Once they're back in the room, Daisy moves over to one of the beds and holds onto him until he's fully on the bed.]
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I got bullied. [Sort of.] Just like old times. Guess some things never change.
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[Yeah, why does she have a hard time believing that? Of course, she remembers the fights at the orphanage, there were a lot of angry kids who lived there. Daisy lets go of him but stands close, just in case.]
By someone here?
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[Daisy pulls back the blanket before remembering he couldn't see her subtle hint that he should lay down.]
You should really be laying down right now. I don't need you falling off the bed.
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There wasn't much laughter in that place, so he thinks he remembers every single one.
The way she avoided his question didn't evade him, but it seems like neither of them want to talk about what they've been getting up to since they last were together.]
Do I look old? [The question might seem a little out of the blue, but. Most of the people who have seen him that young are dead.]
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Daisy lets out a soft laugh at his question, momentarily looking away.]
Yeah, you look like the cryptkeeper.
[Of course it’s sarcasm.]
You said you got here a few hours ago? Where’s the last place you were before you ended up here?
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[He licks his upper lip and his gaze seems to settle somewhere on the ceiling.] I never left New York. It just- was always home.
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But their stories were different, he had his father for the first twelve or so years of his life. Daisy didn’t know her parents until much later in life until well after she had been kicked out of the orphanage. Finding a chair, Daisy pulled it over so she could sit next to him.]
Did you fulfill your dream of becoming a lawyer?
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I made it. Got a scholarship to Columbia. [He knows that he should be more grateful about upward mobility, opportunities and all that, but right now he just feels defeated. Battered, bruised and tired.]
What about you? [He knows she had a harder time.]
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[And she means it too. She knew far too many people who were in that orphanage who went downhill as soon as they got out. She happened to be one of those people, at least for a while.
When he asks about her, well, there's a lot she could say. For a while, it felt like she had been going nowhere, except for this drive to find her parents. Who she never really talks about with anyone. The team knew better than to ask questions because they had experienced a lot of what she dealt with alongside her.
Exhaling slowly, Daisy finally answers him.]
I found my parents, and, uh--
[It was a huge disappointment? Yep. She still cares a lot about her dad, but she rarely visits him because it's safer that way. He's happy. At least, she hopes he's happy. He doesn't remember her.]
It was a lot.
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Settling back down quietly, he blinks a few times and listens to her body language without saying anything.]
Yeah. I guess that... I mean you try not to tell yourself that you screwed something up, or that they just didn't want you. But reunions don't always go how you picture it might have. In your head.
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[They don't usually end with you getting powers, and your mother trying to kill you though. Not to mention finding out that your father had murdered a lot of people to try and get to Daisy.]
I go by Daisy now. Just thought you'd probably want to know that.
[Because her 'original' name never sat well with her and just brings up memories she'd rather not think about.]
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Did you ever go back? Visit our caretakers?
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No. As soon as I turned eighteen I left.
[And never looked back.]
Why? Did you?
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Maybe it was just a dream.]
No. But I dream about it, sometimes. [He'd been a little troublemaker before his senses went haywire. And then he was just troubled. They probably wouldn't want him back.]
They always used to try and comfort me, telling me losing my sight was part of God's plan. That I would be called to a higher purpose. [So that's how Matthew ruined his life. He put on a Halloween costume at night and helped those that the law couldn't help. Because he was called to action, and he has to use these gifts. He has let one father down and he will not let down his father in heaven, no matter the personal cost.]
I think... I might have taken that a little too far. I don't want them to see me like this.
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Of course now she knows the real reason behind all of that, that it was SHIELD protecting her. Still, the damage was done.
She isn't sure what he means by taking it too far, but he looks like hell. So she assumes that has something to do with it.]
What really happened, Matt?
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[Maybe she was asking about a lot more than that, but that's all he's offering until she clarifies.]
And then I came to. One floor up.
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Shit. It's a good thing he can't see her because tears are welling up in her eyes. There was a very real possibility he died back there and he just didn't know it, and she sure as hell was not about to be the one to break that to him.]
That must have been one hell of a fight.
[It's said as a joke, but there's a lot of it that doesn't exactly add up. Buildings don't just fall like that.]
Has anyone told you where we are?
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There's a lot about this place that doesn't make sense, but I'm guessing you know we're in a space station at least, right?
[She could sit here and list everything, but did he really want to hear about all of the shitty things that have happened?]
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I suppose stranger things have happened. Have you been here long?
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[It's hard to keep track of time when there's no sunrise or sunset.]
But people keep coming through, and we still don't know how it happens. Everyone is working on it though.
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Are we... going somewhere? Or just... floating? Do we know where we are? [In space he means. Somewhere with recognisable planets still in sight maybe? Or are they just lost in a sea of black? That'd be... oddly familiar.]
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[Which is as comforting as it sounds. He shouldn't be worrying about that right now though, and Daisy isn't ready to warn him about all the weird things that happen around here.]
But a lot of progress has been made in here. This place you're in right now? It was sealed shut until last week.
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