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Fan Fiction

Paradise Lost

by Russell Paulette (inadvertant@hotmail.com)

Paradise Lost

Chapter 2 - Storytime

The midnight commuter traffic around the destroyed area of the subway was sparse, with barely any bodies shuffling. This reduced the number of scents wafting into DareDevil's already urine-filled, sweat-caked, scorched n nose.
The sight of the bombing was that strange amalgam of subway smells morphing onto the heavy stench of death and destruction. Letting his senses flow past the anaseptic gloves and hydraulic whinny of his partner and continued to search amongst the wreckage and debris.
A rat scurried over ragged metal, desperately seeking some morsel of food, finally stopping at the wreckage of a trashcan. Skittering over the debris, the rat found a small nugget of charred wheat and carried it back to his new found home on the blackened skeleton of the subway car.
DareDevil re-tracked the path with his senses and noticed a quirk. He motioned to his partner and she climbed over the wreckage, sifting through the maze, to the burnt out shell of the ticket booth, where the Devil was currently hunkered down.
"What do you need?" she asked, slipping off her plastic gloves and running a finger through her black hair. He offered her his hand and helped hoist her on top of the ticket booth.
"What seems out of place with this scene, Misty?"
She shifted the revolver under her shoulder as she crouched down on her haunches and surveyed the scene. "I dunno." she mused, slipping her other hand out of the glove. She looked at the blackened shell of the subway car and noticed the sides of the car were blown inside and upwards, lying around the wreckage in a haphazard fashion. Scorch marks on the platform led away from the tunnel and towards the exits. "I dunno. I guess the subway car is a bit strange."
"How so?" he asked with a Sophoclean grin.
"Well," she continued. "the subway car was supposed to be the epicenter of the explosion, right?" He nodded. "I guess that it's kinda strange how the sides of the subway car are blfour-hundred pounds.
"Well, I'm no munitions expert, but it would seem to me if the car were the center of the explosion, the sides of the car would explode outside, instead of inside. So, I guess the bomb was on the platform.
"Which would put it where?"
"In the trashcan. Explains the star-shaped scorch marks where trashcan used to be."
"What about the scattered debris of the car on the outside; some of it's farther away on the platform."
"Well," she said, pensively. "I guess it tells me there was two bombs."
"Bingo. That's just what I was thinking." he said, drawing his billy club. "Right now, however, I'm also thinking you might want to duck down and turn your attention to the subway car."
Misty Knight drew her pistol as fast as DareDevil pulled her down to hunch on the roof of the booth. Her eyes darted amongst the wreckage as she saw two figures climbing down onto the tracks and up on the platform.
"Which one do I take?" she asked. When she turned her head, she realized the Devil had just leaped from his hunkered position to the platform, placing him between the two men and the exit. Amazing.
"Turk!" the Devil smiled. "It's been so long. What no calls? No cards? You didn't even remember our anniversary, did you?"
Turk turned to the Devil, handed his partner the plastic bag with a heavy, metal form inside and yelled, "Run, Gath, take whatever the hell this is!"
"Hiding evidence, Turk?" DareDevil lunged at Turk while Gath made a break for the exit. Misty grabbed the edge of the exit with her bionic arm and swung onto Gath's trail, bouncing a few nine-millimeter bullets in front of him.
Turk turned away from DareDevil and reached inside his jacket, producing a switchblade whose knife unsheathed with a spwang!
He slashed down across DareDevil's chest as DareDevil flipped backwards, feet connecting with Turk's chin. "That was a close shave." he said with the cheeziest grin on his face. "Man, Red, you have the worst puns, I swear. The Spider's rolling over in his grave, now."
DareDevil pivoted with his left foot as he landed, throwing his shoulder into his right arm while releasing the billy club into the tiled floor. The club ricocheted upwards, connecting with Turk's wrist, causing the immediate release of his knife, and sailing back into the Devil's waiting hand.
"If the ol' WebHead is dead, that is. I can never keep track of things these days."
Turk went down to his knees, yawlping in pain. DareDevil snatched Turk's good wrist and, in one fluid motion, swung it into the small of Turk's back while pushing him forward. The result was Turk's face slamming hard into the side of the ticket booth.
"So, Turk, enough about me..." his voice turned sinister. "What have you been up to?"
"I don't know nothin', man!" he whimpered, his arm a flame of tendon and joint.
"I could have told you that...Oh!, you mean about why you and a friend of yours were scouring around a sealed crime scene! Here I was mistaken in thinking you might know why you're here." On the word "here" DareDevil gave Turk's arm an extra shove into his back.
"Ahhh! I don't know nothin'."
"Turkey, Turkey, baby! Don't you know you can't lie to the Devil. He's the Prince of Lies, ironically enough, and knows you know something." Shove; then calmly he said, "So talk."
"I tol' you, man I don-" A shove pushed Turk's arm furher as the pain traveled up to Turk's clavicle, traveling down the length of his spine. "Look, man, there isn't anything to tel-" Shove. "I would tell you if I knew any-" Shove. "Okay, okay, okay. I'll tell you all I knows." Turk was nearly in tears.
The Devil released his arm and allowed Turk to slump against the booth, nursing his wounded arms.
"All I knows is that Gath and me, we was in Josie's Cafe out there; y'know, the place you always bang heads in?
"Anyways, we're in there playin' pool, twenty a ball, when we hears a commotion out in the bar. I'm thinkin' it's you, so I peek my head out to see what's goin' on. Well, this big dude-seen him around a few times, didn't know who he was-grabs Josie by the collar and stretches him down the length of the bar, dumping the taps into his pants.
"Well, Josie's all cussin' an' fussin', sayin' 'Ain't no one here workin' for that crazy samurai; uh uhn, no way!' And then this big dude stuffs peanuts int' Josie's throat 'till he's pukin' Planters.
"Then, he turns and with this voice as big as the city, he says, "I need two men for a simple job. I'm paying fifteen thousand." My eyes went buggers at that, and I turned to Gath, only he wasn't behind me, he was actually walkin' out there.
"'We'll do it,' he says, and then the big dude starts talkin' technical and Gath knows what he's sayin', I ain't got no clue. Alls I know is we're gettin' fifteen C-notes for findin' some sorta radio thingey."
"That's a touching story." DareDevil said, wiping his eyes. "Really, brings tears to my eyes. Actually, it should bring tears to yours."
"Why?" Turk didn't follow. DareDevil shoved his red-cowled face inches from Turk. DareDevil could feel Turk's labored breathing, hot on his nose and cheek.
"You're not touching a cent of that money. I'm letting you go, but I want you to go to the closest precinct and turn yourself in for trespassing." Turk nodded, his eyes wide. "I just wanted you to know that I'll be watching you. When you're out there, running some scam, and you feel sweat on your brow thinking you'll be caught, I'll be close enough to wipe your forehead for you." Turk nodded again. "Get out of here."
DareDevil straightened and Turk bolted for the exit, slipping past Misty who was standing at the threshold leaning up against the wall.
"How long were you there?" he asked.
"Heard his story. Sorry, but Gath gave me the slip. Think Turk will turn himself in."
"Not a chance. I'm more concerned with this big dude Turk was talking about."
"I am too."

* * *

Karen flipped the switch and removed her earphones as the capstan in the tape deck played a station identification. She rubbed her eyes and blinked wide to clear them of sore sleepiness. She stood, waving good day to her producer and slipped into her brown leather jacket, brushing a hand through her hair.
Sometimes, she couldn't believe Matt. She still couldn't overcome her anger at his jealousy. Matt's not jealous, she thought, correcting herself, he's just... just...overprotective. She could understand his mega- protector stance, what with his parents and everything. And his being DareDevil, of course.
She laughed as she walked out of the studio and slipped some quarters in the drink machine. As the bottled spring water bounced at the bottom of the receptacle, she laughed again. Now, for some reason, thinking about Matt cavorting around the city in his fake horns made her laugh, despite her anger. Something about his face when he puts on the mask, she thought...
He's just too damned irrisistable, she concluded, taking a swig of the water and walking towards the door.
Stepping out into the sidewalk, she stepped to the curb to motion for a taxi. As a taxi pulled up to let her in, a man with sunglasses and a devilish grin took her by the arm.
"Sorry, Ms. Angel, but I believe you have an apointment." Matt smiled at her.
"Matt." she weakly protested as he escorted her back into the WFSK building.
The taxi driver watched as his Angel was being led astray by...him. Who was he? What was he doing with his angel? Amazing trick, the little devil...

* * *

"So, can I take the blindfold off yet, Matt?"
"Not yet, not yet." She heard him say, almost seeing his boyish grin. She noticed as he led her up the stairs, finally ending their journey on the rooftop, that her senses were heightened a bit, just like they always say.
"So is this blindfold some kind of 'in your shoes' exercise, or what?"
"Frankly, Karen," he said, with a laugh. "I didn't even think about that. I basically want this to be a surprise."
"Well, I hear wine glasses, so I assume it's a late dinner or something."
"Or something," he said, removing the blindfold.
She turned to the card table set near one end of the rooftop. Matt had spread a red and white checkered tablecloth across it, leaving two small plates, each with a fork and napkin, adorned with heaping piles of eggs and bacon. Behind each plate was a wine glass, and in the center of the table, a candelabra sat, motionless.
"It's...nice, Matt." she said, with a quirky smile as she sat in the chair he offered.
"I almost forgot," he said, slipping a lighter out of his pocket and igniting the three small wicks.
"Isn't it too early for wine?" she asked.
"That's why I brought this." he said, producing a carton of orange juice. "Pure, one-hundred, percent Florida gold."
She giggled and looked down at the plate before her.
"How did you get all this up here, anyway?"
"Can't say; it's a trade secret. Let's just say a Spider helped me put the curds with the way and the eggs are re-heated in a rather...unorthodox manner."
"Care to explain?" she asked, taking a satisfying bite.
"Well," he said, sipping the orange juice, " I had a friend from Westchester down, and, well, he gave me some interesting Cajun recipies I really want to try."

* * *

The intercom buzzed, "Mr. Norombi...uh, a Mr. Nelson is here to see you."
"Send him in, please." Norombi said, waving his bodyguards to the door.
Foggy opened the door with a nervous sweat emenating from his body.
"Mr. ...um... Mr. Norombi, you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Foggy, please sit." He stood as Foggy sat and walked to his picture windows. "I apologize for calling you in so early in the morning, but I have an apointment in Tokyo for which I shall be leaving by mid-day."
"It's no problem, Mr. Norombi. I am here to assist you with whatever you may need." Foggy said, with a composure he wasn't sure he possessed.
"Well, good." Norombi said, with an abrupt turn. He reached onto his desk and handed Foggy a file folder. "This is an insurance claim and a possible suit agianst the City of New York for damages."
Foggy glanced at the paperwork. "What is this all about?"
"That subway bombing the other day, I'm sure you recall." Norombi's responce was an absent, "Yeah, nasty stuff."
"Well, for the past year or two my company has been here testing a new navigational program comissioned by the City of New York for their subway system. Ironically enough, the platform that was bombed was about three- fourths of the way down a mile long stretch, or so, which was using my equipment. I lost about $1.5 million and three expert technicians in that bombing, and I think we'd have a strong enough case to take against the City."
"Um...Well, Mr. Norombi, it does seem you have a strong case, but I wouldn't want to push it, what with the investigation going on and everything."
"Mr. Nelson...Foggy, I don't think you realize. The families of those technicians want an explinations for the deaths. My stocks are beginning to fall. Unless I do something, my buisness ventures over here will fall apart."
"I understand, Mr. Norombi."
"How is the Fisk Plaza leasing coming? This building is far too unsatisfactory."
"Well, I've--" Foggy was cut off by the buzzer.
"Yes." Norombi said into the intercom.
"A Mr....Spades? is here to see you."
"Send him in." Norombi barked.
Foggy followed Norombi with his eyes as he angrily marched to the door just as the large visitor entered. He heard the two of them wispering and Spades handing Norombi a small plastic bag with some black metal inside before storming off. Norombi handed the bag to one of his bodyguards and walked up to Foggy.
"With my buisness associates, there is a certain look we give. This look is as good as your word and it means silence. Do you understand?"
"I...(gulp)...guess."
"I am giving you that look now." Norombi said, and walked away, saying, "I'm afraid that I must take my leave of you."
As the bodyguards escorted Foggy out of the office, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Norombi slipped through a door seamlessly hidden in the wall.

* * *

"Don, I'm glad you invited Doris and I over." Ben Urich said, as he sat down and clicked his pen, flipping pages in his stenographer's pad.
"I want this story to be told."
"Doris, honey," Ben said, a hand on her knee. "Can you handle this?" She just nodded weakly.
"Well, where should I start..." Donald Witherspoon weakly mused. "I guess it all started a little while ago. Kathy told me an amusing little anacdote.
"'Well,' she said, her face an amusing little smile, 'I'm in the frozen food section, and I'm carrying a basket 'cause I wanted to make something special for that, and anyway, long story short, I had it spilling to the brim and a cantelope spilled out of the top.' She laughed as she described the cantelope rolling away and hitting the foot of, who she described as, a burly, attractive young man.
"He leaned down and handed the cantelope to her and she smiled and picked out the ice cream and went on her way. When she finally reached the checkout, as she reached in the little fridge for a Fruitopia, she noticed this man was standing behind her. They made small talk, and as she had everything scanned in, she realized she had enough cash to pay for it all, but was short the price of the Fruitopia; she'd left her change purse at home, accidentally. Anyway, this guy offers to pay for it and he helps her carry her bags to the car. He had a carton of milk, or something.
"Anyway, as she's driving home, she noticed the guy was a couple cars behind, but with people turning, he was right behind her. He smiled and waved and she returned his courtesy, feeling a little worried, but as she turned down our street, he kept on driving.
"About a week later, our phone gave out, so I told her to call the phone company and they'd send a guy down. Well, turns out this guy worked for the phone company. She let him in and they laughed, remembering the Fruitopia and everything, and she served him tea and they small talked some more, and he fixes the phone.
"About a week after that, we started getting weird messages on our machine. At first it was nothing. Then, whoever it was started leaving random song quotes. By the time she finally told me, the message was a burbled recording of the Beatles' chorus in "Baby, You're a Rich Man."
"So," Ben said, writing furiously. "You think the phone guy was leaving the messages."
"Of course I do; I know it was him who--" he choked up and stopped himself.
Doris asked, "What was--what was the chorus to that- that Beatles' song?"
He stopped and looked up at her, a dark circled, pain-filled look. He spoke the lines in a dead monotone. "'How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?'"
The room was silent as Donald wiped away the clear lines of saline flowing down his cheeks.
"It's kind of hard to talk about it."
"I understand." Ben said, putting the notepad and pen away. They continued the rest of the afternoon talking about Doris' recovery, not mentioning a word of the attack.

* * *

Karen walked into the apartment, charmed beyond belief. This time yesterday she was ready to kill Matt, and today there was no one who she would have rather accompanied.
She checked the clock, and although it was about mid-day, she felt energized despite her expected weariness.
She checked the machine, washing her hands and grabbing and apple and a knife.
"Karen...hey, this is John. Give me a call when you get home, I've got some updates you'll probably be interested in."
--BEEP--
"Karen...hi, this Artie, just seeing if you were home."
--BEEP--
"Matt...Foggy, call me."
--BEEP--
"Matt, dis be Remy. T'anks for calling in de marker dis morning. Now, we even."
--BEEP--
The next message was a grainy recording of some new song she remebered from that new Shakespeare movie she and Matt went to see.
"Angel...hold onto me...love is all around you..."
I love Matt, she thought, as she picked up the phone and called John back, writing the messages down for Matt and erasing the machine.

Chapter 3 coming soon...

Daredevil (and other related characters appearing) and the distinctive likenesses are Trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. and are used WITHOUT permission.
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