First Stike
The Devil stalked Hell’s Kitchen along its dark paths. He creeped along the roof of an old warehouse. His footsteps are silent and he can hear the hum of the few lights in the building, in a corner a burnt out candle smolders. In minutes he changes the game.
He can hear the murmurs of the criminals as clear as if they were next to him. He tunes out their conversation for a moment and focuses on the hum of electricity centered at the fuse box. He hears it calling to him like a muted Gregorian chant. In an instant the power ceased flowing into the warehouse and the rooms were swept in darkness.
In an instant he's in through the roof. A club strikes one of the men, knocking him back away from the hostage. Daredevil feels the body heat of the room's occupants. They call to him like beacons in the ever present dark. The hostage is cooler and her heart is fluttering like a humming bird's wings. She is a woman who was important to their aims, he doesn't know why.
“It’s the Daredevil! Get ready!” One of the men yelled. He heard one of the men scream. Matt threw himself, reading himself for guns and knives. He prepared to strike-He did not expect t be doused doused as the unexpected hum of back up lights came to life in the moment. (How had he missed those?.
He jerked back in surprised as the cold liquid (water, his mind supplied) hit his face and entered his mouth. He began to spit in an instance as he shifted his stance.
“Be gone, DEMON! In the name of Jesus!” What? Demon?
“Hit him again! Hurry! Go! Run!” This time a bottle hit him, breaking and splashing him with more water. He flailed back, from the damage, ready to take down the first crony to approach him. The body heat and hearts beats around him resonated at him and *left*. He felt stunned as the criminals ran out of the room, leaving him, alone and wet, with the hostage.
“What the fuck?” He thought wondering why they threw water of all things at him. He turned toward the hostage. The woman screamed as he got closer to her and undid her bonds.
“DEVIL!” She screamed, hysterical and began getting away from him. Okay….wait was she flashing the cross at him? He couldn’t make out the exact gesture in her flurry of heat signatures her arms sent out. What was going on?
“Ma’am, you’re safe.”
“DEMON! BE GONE! I AM INNOCENT!”
All right. She apparently didn’t need him. He disappeared in a display of athleticism that would leave Foggy breathless from sympathy fitness envy. Daredevil, Matt, grumbled on the roof and checked his burner phone. It seemed okay and beeped when he pressed a button, this was really something he needed eyes for.
A piece of glass was caught in one of the folds of the suit. He shook it off. He didn’t see the fragment of the cross printed on the section of the bottle. He made his way to the next crime, readying himself for battle once again.