โPowerplex, or Scott Duvall, is passionate. Flawed. Swallowed by his pursuit for justice and Matt can only sympathize, his yearning for what's right when the system has made everything so wrong. So hard. He listens, and listens, and listens, as he explains his case. Presents his evidence. As they cross examine timelines, gather a case. It's the first time he's been involved with something so blatantly superโ it makes his skin itch.
(He wonders if Jennifer feels the same crawl on her body as he does, hearing the things a super plaintiff has done (allegedly, always important to discern: allegedly) done.)
Scott Duvall pleads, to him and Kirsten.
Matt has to stand there and pretend like he can't relate, the complications of heroism. Unneeded deaths. Pain and grief, and misery. His hands only grip his cane as Kirsten takes hold of the conversation, covering for a very distracted Matt Murdock. By the end of it, he reassures Scott that he is in good hands. Asks if there is anyone he personally knows that can corroborate his story before parting ways. Insisting he contact the firm, or either of them.
It's mostly a courtesy, him saying that.
Cherry wouldn't approve. No one would, really. Matt dons his cowl and he is on the streets, gathering intel. Biding his time. By day three he's got a good whiff of Invincible and his erratic schedule. He's leaping on roofs and climbing staircases, slowing where needed as Invincible hovers in the air and fights lower-level baddies, his destruction minimal. ]
[ Most of the time, Mark has no idea what's going on in the civilian world.
There's his own life, of course. His time spent with Eve, his mom, Oliver, William. There's the bowling alley and fast food meetups and comic shops and his own small group because since his senior year of high school, his civilian life has been severely whittled down to just a handful of people, and he's too young with too much of the weight of the world on his shoulders to appreciate that it should be different.
Which means, of course, he knows absolutely nothing about impending legal proceedings, the fact that he could ever sit in a courthouse, be accused of anything. He is so blatantly a good guy. Nevermind the other versions of him that caused so much destruction, he is a good guy. Look at what a good guy he's being, he just stopped a bank from being robbed, a bizarrely common occurrence that Mark doesn't question because that's just something that happens frequently. He's hovering in the air, surveying his work (three guys groaning out on the street, two broken windows, a building that's going to need a bit of plastering but is otherwise fine), waiting for the cops to arrive so they can take over the stuff he has no idea about.
Like putting people in jail, and stopping anyone else from trying anything because of the broken windows, and how to fix a couple of holes in a couple of walls. None of those are his department, and so, Mark waits.
Swears something just moved behind him? He turns around to the building behind him, tilting his head and squinting from behind his goggles, like that'll help him see better. ]
Uh, if you're here to rob this place you can try, but I already took care of all of your buddies, so...
[ Youthful, and cocky, and not entirely undeservedly so. Round four with another goon? Sure, why not. ]
[ His lips stretchโ it's something resembling a smile. It's hard to tell if it's from recognition of a familiar situation (not the first time someone's assumed he's responsible for a breaking and entering), it's mirth, or at getting the attention of Invincible. He angles his head up just enough, pinned where he hovers in the sky from the displacement of air, the steady heartbeat thrumming in the sky. Blood pumping from veins beneath a costume not too dissimilar from his own.
There's a steady reach of his billy club, his head easing down and ear pointed towards a collapsed part of the bank. Matt's voice is more a natural gravel in return, raised only slightly for his benefit. ]
Not all of them, looks like.
[ Unlike him, Matt has plenty of experience in the smaller stuff. He lives and breathes small stuff (even if he's technically retired), tracking down criminals and helping out every denizen of Hell's Kitchen. Being able to throw himself into the line of danger. Keeping an ear out for odd things, here and there.
(Like the sound of foot crunching over glass and gravel. The distant sound of sirens, tires rolling and burning against the asphalt.)
It's almost absurd, comical, the trajectory of his billy club. The route it takes from one street light to railing to person. It's an unlucky passerby who thought he could pull a fast one, see if he could slink by and into a window. He's laying on the ground now, groaning, right as his club thwips back to him, wire gleaming where it catches street light. ]
[ Not all of them? Mark is looking at this guy flatly, like he can't believe he's trying to weasel his way out of his upcoming date with the cops that Mark is going to see to. He just has to swoop in, grab him, knock him out or something? Okay he hasn't thought that far ahead yet, butโ
But he's throwing something?? It's an instinctual reaction to flinch, even though it probably won't hurt him; especially because it isn't even aimed at him. It's all Mark can do but turn to watch the billy club's trajectory, from streetlight to railing to person, a person Mark had not noticed was there, who was not even remotely on his radar. He stares, hovering there, jaw slackened and heartbeat steady, dumbly watching as the club snaps back to his current guy.
Goon #4, who just took out Goon #5? Or maybe Current Guy just took out Goon #4, which would make himโ ]
I don'tโ Heyโ How did you even do that? [ Sputtering, in part because he's surprised, in part because he's a kid whose ego just took a hit and he's trying to figure out how to cope with that. ] Aren't you, like...
[ gesturing at Matt, now. Feeling a little wary of coming in any closer, like he's going to get bonked on the head. ]
... I mean, there are horns on your head, dude.
[ Isn't that kind of a universal signal for bad guy? ]
[ Thatโ isn't the first, or ever will be the last time he'll get that reaction. Matt can't see his horns, but he's felt them throughout it's different iterations. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen has an imposing image to keep up, even if people outside his neighborhood tend to misread his intentions. He sinks his billy club back into the holster by his thigh and looks up at him.
Tilts his head minutely, searching out for his heartbeat among the groaning of the man below them. The genuine surprise and fluster in his voice so very loud in his ears. He takes only a little satisfaction in itโ it's not like he came here to impress, or team up with, Invincible. Only feel him out, really. More work off the clock. How else would he get his attention without putting himself at risk? ]
And you're flying.
[ He's not going to get bonked on the head, but he will get a little bit of that trademark (sarcastic, vaguely cheeky) delivery of his. ]
And staring dumbly at Sarcastic Horns Guy, unsure of how he's supposed to proceed here. It's justโ He feels like he's being watched? Obviously he's being watched, because Mark's sense of imagination is fairly limited, but it feels like SHG is really perceiving him, in ways that Mark does not know how to interpret. Should he be feeling bad about this? He looks around from side to side, like, are there more of Angstrom's drones here, does SHG work for him, but...
Mark's hands fall to his sides, limp. ]
... What you want, I guess. Since I have no idea.
[ He doesn't think there are any drones here. He doesn't think this is a continuation of anything Angstrom has going on. SHG probably wouldn't like him? He thinks? He doesn't know, just, this feels like something else.
A beat. ]
Do you want me to come down?
[ Is his flying an issue or was SHG just being sarcastic?? Really, it feels like it could go either way at this point. ]
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๐ฉ๐๐ฉ๐ก๐๐๐๐ง๐ ๐ mark
โPowerplex, or Scott Duvall, is passionate. Flawed. Swallowed by his pursuit for justice and Matt can only sympathize, his yearning for what's right when the system has made everything so wrong. So hard. He listens, and listens, and listens, as he explains his case. Presents his evidence. As they cross examine timelines, gather a case. It's the first time he's been involved with something so blatantly superโ it makes his skin itch.
(He wonders if Jennifer feels the same crawl on her body as he does, hearing the things a super plaintiff has done (allegedly, always important to discern: allegedly) done.)
Scott Duvall pleads, to him and Kirsten.
Matt has to stand there and pretend like he can't relate, the complications of heroism. Unneeded deaths. Pain and grief, and misery. His hands only grip his cane as Kirsten takes hold of the conversation, covering for a very distracted Matt Murdock. By the end of it, he reassures Scott that he is in good hands. Asks if there is anyone he personally knows that can corroborate his story before parting ways. Insisting he contact the firm, or either of them.
It's mostly a courtesy, him saying that.
Cherry wouldn't approve. No one would, really. Matt dons his cowl and he is on the streets, gathering intel. Biding his time. By day three he's got a good whiff of Invincible and his erratic schedule. He's leaping on roofs and climbing staircases, slowing where needed as Invincible hovers in the air and fights lower-level baddies, his destruction minimal. ]
no subject
There's his own life, of course. His time spent with Eve, his mom, Oliver, William. There's the bowling alley and fast food meetups and comic shops and his own small group because since his senior year of high school, his civilian life has been severely whittled down to just a handful of people, and he's too young with too much of the weight of the world on his shoulders to appreciate that it should be different.
Which means, of course, he knows absolutely nothing about impending legal proceedings, the fact that he could ever sit in a courthouse, be accused of anything. He is so blatantly a good guy. Nevermind the other versions of him that caused so much destruction, he is a good guy. Look at what a good guy he's being, he just stopped a bank from being robbed, a bizarrely common occurrence that Mark doesn't question because that's just something that happens frequently. He's hovering in the air, surveying his work (three guys groaning out on the street, two broken windows, a building that's going to need a bit of plastering but is otherwise fine), waiting for the cops to arrive so they can take over the stuff he has no idea about.
Like putting people in jail, and stopping anyone else from trying anything because of the broken windows, and how to fix a couple of holes in a couple of walls. None of those are his department, and so, Mark waits.
Swears something just moved behind him? He turns around to the building behind him, tilting his head and squinting from behind his goggles, like that'll help him see better. ]
Uh, if you're here to rob this place you can try, but I already took care of all of your buddies, so...
[ Youthful, and cocky, and not entirely undeservedly so. Round four with another goon? Sure, why not. ]
no subject
There's a steady reach of his billy club, his head easing down and ear pointed towards a collapsed part of the bank. Matt's voice is more a natural gravel in return, raised only slightly for his benefit. ]
Not all of them, looks like.
[ Unlike him, Matt has plenty of experience in the smaller stuff. He lives and breathes small stuff (even if he's technically retired), tracking down criminals and helping out every denizen of Hell's Kitchen. Being able to throw himself into the line of danger. Keeping an ear out for odd things, here and there.
(Like the sound of foot crunching over glass and gravel. The distant sound of sirens, tires rolling and burning against the asphalt.)
It's almost absurd, comical, the trajectory of his billy club. The route it takes from one street light to railing to person. It's an unlucky passerby who thought he could pull a fast one, see if he could slink by and into a window. He's laying on the ground now, groaning, right as his club thwips back to him, wire gleaming where it catches street light. ]
You should be keeping a better eye on them.
no subject
But he's throwing something?? It's an instinctual reaction to flinch, even though it probably won't hurt him; especially because it isn't even aimed at him. It's all Mark can do but turn to watch the billy club's trajectory, from streetlight to railing to person, a person Mark had not noticed was there, who was not even remotely on his radar. He stares, hovering there, jaw slackened and heartbeat steady, dumbly watching as the club snaps back to his current guy.
Goon #4, who just took out Goon #5? Or maybe Current Guy just took out Goon #4, which would make himโ ]
I don'tโ Heyโ How did you even do that? [ Sputtering, in part because he's surprised, in part because he's a kid whose ego just took a hit and he's trying to figure out how to cope with that. ] Aren't you, like...
[ gesturing at Matt, now. Feeling a little wary of coming in any closer, like he's going to get bonked on the head. ]
... I mean, there are horns on your head, dude.
[ Isn't that kind of a universal signal for bad guy? ]
no subject
Tilts his head minutely, searching out for his heartbeat among the groaning of the man below them. The genuine surprise and fluster in his voice so very loud in his ears. He takes only a little satisfaction in itโ it's not like he came here to impress, or team up with, Invincible. Only feel him out, really. More work off the clock. How else would he get his attention without putting himself at risk? ]
And you're flying.
[ He's not going to get bonked on the head, but he will get a little bit of that trademark (sarcastic, vaguely cheeky) delivery of his. ]
Anything else we need to get out of the way?
no subject
And staring dumbly at Sarcastic Horns Guy, unsure of how he's supposed to proceed here. It's justโ He feels like he's being watched? Obviously he's being watched, because Mark's sense of imagination is fairly limited, but it feels like SHG is really perceiving him, in ways that Mark does not know how to interpret. Should he be feeling bad about this? He looks around from side to side, like, are there more of Angstrom's drones here, does SHG work for him, but...
Mark's hands fall to his sides, limp. ]
... What you want, I guess. Since I have no idea.
[ He doesn't think there are any drones here. He doesn't think this is a continuation of anything Angstrom has going on. SHG probably wouldn't like him? He thinks? He doesn't know, just, this feels like something else.
A beat. ]
Do you want me to come down?
[ Is his flying an issue or was SHG just being sarcastic?? Really, it feels like it could go either way at this point. ]