Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)
"'Hell's Kitchen is home to many different types of people and cultures. During the day, you'll find your average working class citizens just trying to get from point A to point B. But walk the streets at night and you'll find something else entirely,'" I read aloud Alison's article to Clint, in my lobby. It's actually the first time I've bought a paper in years.
She explained how the Russians had kidnapped her, but pretended like it'd happened to someone else. That was a smart move, not naming names. But, the Russians know who she's talking about. She just splashed their failure all over the front page. She even describes them as part of the Russian mob working out of Hell's Kitchen. "'The victim explained that she dove beside a taxi cab just before a wave of arrows launched over it, aimed for a Russian mob member not far from her.'"
"A 'wave of arrows'?" Clint asked, skeptically. "What exactly went down that night?" I rolled my eyes, knowing he was teasing me again. He took the paper out of my hands and then began scrutinizing it. "'The residents of Hell's Kitchen can sleep easy knowing they have The Angel of Hell's Kitchen watching out for them'?" He flicked the paper down, looking up at me. "This is child's play."
"The article, or how we risked our lives to save her?" I pulled the bath towel draped across my shoulders up, drying off the rest of my hair.
"The article. And, where's the stuff about what's his face? She's left that out, making it seem like you did that all by yourself."
"Thanks," I scolded, snatching the paper back. "I might be the only one shooting arrows, but Alison's not one to play favorites. She must've talked to the Mask before she wrote the article. Most of this town had no idea they had vigilantes running around."
"Well, now they do. But that's put a target on your back. People will be looking out for you, putting you in the spot light."
"Yeah. Though I guess it was only a matter of time before someone put me on YouTube. Now everyone knows." I stopped and thought, staring at the article.
"I like the name, though: 'The Angel of Hell's Kitchen'," he said it with a lot of enthusiasm. Probably a little too much. I rolled my eyes, biting my lip. "I think you're taking this 'vigilante' thing way too seriously. Every time I see you you've become more of the hero this article is calling you." I know he's only referring to the fact that I just dyed my hair bleach blonde, so I shrug.
"The wig was becoming too much of a liability," I mumbled.
He looked around, "No kid today?" I shook my head. I sighed, walking over to the desk.
I tossed the paper down and then turned around, "The Russians now know I was involved. They'll want us both dead now. They probably think we're working together."
"Well, aren't you?"
"Three times," I held up three fingers. "I've worked with him three times. The only problem is that Dani and Angel are now Russian targets, since Wesley seems to be in bed with them. I need to find Wesley."
"And do what? People like him don't spill their guts easy, and you've never been much for interrogation."
"Please. I know how to threaten someone and make them believe I'll follow through. Just the other week, or whenever it was, I dangled some idiot off a roof…and he talked."
"And after?"
"The Mask pushed him off," I sighed. "But, there's something…something I'm not seeing about this guy. Wesley. I don't know what his end game is. I've got plenty of theories. But that's all. How am I supposed to stop Wesley from getting what he wants if I don't even know for sure what that is?"
"Please. You'll figure it out." Clint nodded, then stood. "But, you're missing the bigger picture. You need to worry about the guy next to you before you worry about the guy with the gun to your head. Are you sure this guy-the Mask- is someone you want to trust your life with?" He walked a little closer, then crossed his arms. "Or should I say, can you trust him with your life? That he won't turn on you in order to fill whatever agenda he has?" I don't know anything for sure. And just last week I wasn't sure which side he was on.
But after what happened with Alison…he took it really personally. I might not have super hearing like he does, but with him, I don't need that to be able to tell if he's lying. He seemed completely genuine. He was truly upset that she got caught in the middle of his war. I nodded. "Yes…I'm sure." Clint didn't seem convinced. And neither did I.
I tried to forget about it and move on with my day. I went to my room and slipped on a wig almost the same shade as my natural hair color. It'll take a while to get used to wearing a wig all the time. But kicking people's butts will be easier, knowing I don't have to worry about my wig falling off. I said a quick goodbye to Clint and then headed to the law firm. Foggy needs me to look at some printer that's not working. He also said something about electrical wires. I hope he knows that my business cards don't say 'electrician'.
About twenty minutes later I was at the law firm. I walked in and found the trio in the main room of the office space. Foggy saw me and smiled. "Hey, Dani, you read Alison's article?"
"Yeah. Interesting, huh?" I said, giving Foggy a look saying 'I don't want to draw any attention to this'. I mean, really. The stinking hero described in the article just walked into the room. He nodded, but I could see the realization on his face. "Who knew this place had a secret vigilante."
"Actually there are two," Karen said. Ah, poo. I forgot that the Mask saved her. Oh, wait. I was there too. Dang it. Well, that plan didn't work. Right now I'm inwardly slapping myself. The only way to get out of this is to play alone until I can change the subject. "Two?" I asked. "So, the rumors about some guy in a black mask beating people up are true?"
Karen nodded. "Yeah. Both him and the woman in Alison's article saved me at my apartment."
"How do you know it was the same girl?" Foggy asked, skeptical for my benefit.
"The description Alison gives," she picked up the paper and unfolded it. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked at the paper. "'She described the girl as tall and thin, wearing a blue leather jacket with bleach blonde hair in a braid. She wore blue tinted glasses that covered her face'." She lowered the paper. "That description is exactly like the girl who helped save me."
"Well it sounds like this isn't the first town she's saved people in. So I honestly wouldn't be too shocked if it was really the same girl," I said.
"Plus, she sounds like she knows what she's doing," Foggy suggested. "She sounds more…professional than the other guy."
"Yeah, from what I've heard he just runs around town in his pajamas," I scoffed. My comment caused everyone to chuckle. But, I'm serious. No one takes me seriously. The Mask's outfit does need a few upgrades.
"Hey, while we're on the subject," Matt said. "Has anyone heard anything about a Russian getting his head cut off in Hell's Kitchen?"
I cringed. "Nope," I said, and the others agreed. "That's disgusting." Where did he hear that? I wonder if the Mask knows. Or if he did it. I doubt he did it. Pushing a man off a roof is one thing, cutting his head off…that's a whole new ball game. I know the Russians have been trying to take over, but who'd they anger so much they chopped their head off? Oh, well. I just hope it was one of the ones who took Alison.
"-now they chop you're melon off," I only heard the last part of what Foggy was saying. "What's next? Groping corpses?"
"Nelson." He looked at me. "You called…?"
"Right." he sprang into action as the others laughed. I don't know where he was going with that but I'm glad I changed the subject. "The printers not working, I was hoping you could take a look at it. And, we got a new phone line, only problem is that the jack is in the ceiling." His face slightly cringed at the end, knowing he was asking too much.
I looked up, then back at Foggy. "Why's it-who stuck it up there?"
"I don't know," he chuckled. "But, you're the only one brave and small enough to go up there. All you gotta do is plug it in." He makes it sound easy. I rolled my eyes, smiling. "Do you have a new cord?" I pretended like it was such a bother to be helping him. He grinned all cheesy and stupid like. He then darted out of the room. I'm assuming he's getting the cord.
"The printer's over here," Karen said, pointing. I followed her finger and grimaced. That thing is a dinosaur. I walked up to it and stared. I let out a low whistle as I searched for the spot to open it. I found a notch in the side. I put my fingers in it and then popped the lid up, revealing the inner parts of the printer. "It just simply won't print."
"But it has ink?" I asked, eyeing all it's parts. "Uh, yes," she replied. I sighed slipping off my jacket. I put it on the floor next to me and then rolled up my sleeve. I stuck my hand inside of it and dug around. Nothing felt broken. I told it to print something, leaving the lid up so I could watch. Foggy came back a second later holding the cord.
"Got it," he said. I watched the pack of ink sliding across the page intensely. Just when I thought the problem was that it was too old, something caught my eye. I reached back into the printer, staining my hand with ink, then pulled out my findings. "Guys," I said, "this wasn't working because it's full of popcorn."
"What?!" Karen gawked.
"Yeah." I sighed as the others chuckled at my findings. After pulling five pieces of popcorn out of the printer, it finally started printing like it's supposed to. I moved on from that and to plugging in the stupid phone line. It does from the phone on the desk to the printer and then up the wall to the phone jack in the ceiling. Like, really? Who put's it up there?
Karen brought me a two rung step stool, which I was thankfully for. The others went into Foggy's 'office' to speak to a new client while I headed up the ladder. I popped the square panel out of it's socket and then slid it to the side. I was standing on the top rung, then finally found the jack. About ten minutes later Foggy and Matt exited the room.
"Tully's lawyer? Do you know who reps him?" Foggy didn't sound too happy with the plan.
Matt chuckled, collecting his walking stick from the wall. "Yeah, I know."
"Landman and Zack!" I froze when I heard those words. Clint said our elusive Wilson Fisk was connected to them. That they're like the only way we know this guy exists. Karen came out of the room and their discussion continued. Unfortunately, no one said anything of any use to me. I was up as high as I could go, both hands in the ceiling trying to reach the jack, when my phone started ringing.
I sighed and could hear Foggy chuckle. My phone was on the floor in my coat. I heard Karen's heals approach the step stool. "Would you like me to get that for you?" I could hear her smile in her words.
"Yes, please." I was almost to the jack. I heard her wrestle around for the phone. "It says 'Mary'," she said. Great. She shouldn't be calling me. Clint was supposed to stay at my place until she showed up. I sighed, then thrust the cord forward, hearing it finally click into place. I came down the step ladder, my hands covered in dirt.
"Could you please answer it and put it on speaker?" she nodded and did as asked. Mary's voice came from the other end. I don't think she'll say anything too compromising. If we ever talk about my other half it's usually in person. "Hey, what's up?"
"No one's here and I'm locked out," she said. I glanced up and Foggy was passing me a wet rag. I silently thanked him and took it, wiping off my hands. Or at least, trying too.
"What do you mean? I told Clint to wait to leave until you got there." I finished with my hands, then took the phone from Karen. "Thanks," I said as I switched off the speaker. I put the phone to my ear and caught the tail end of what she was saying. "-no one's here."
"Okay, just calm down and I'll be there in a second." She thanked me and then I hung up. I sighed. "Thanks, Karen."
"Sure. Everything okay?"
"No. When I left this morning, I told Clint, my cousin," I glanced at Matt, "to let her in when she came, and to not lock the place and leave before hand."
Foggy nodded. "And he locked the place and left before hand." I nodded.
"Who is she?" Matt asked.
"My sister-in-law. She got kicked out of her apartment, so I said she could live with me," I said. I glanced at my watch. "I better go." I said goodbye to everyone and then practically ran out of the building.
Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)
I sipped my coffee gingerly with shaky hands. "You look horrible, Fletcher." A dull ebb in my head continued even though I'd taken a Vicodin a little over a half an hour ago. I sighed and looked up. "Gee, thanks, Parker," I knitted my eyebrows together and Peter adjusted his position in the booth seat across from me. "I said a phone call was fine, I didn't mean for you to drive from Queens."
"Hey, it's not my fault you only decided to tell me about this last night," he held up his hands, and then tucked them under his arms to lean into the table top. "So tell me about your first front page. Why the vigilante theme all of the sudden? Wouldn't you get front page sooner with, like, kittens stuck in trees? Worked for the Bugle."
"I went with vigilantes because that's what's important. There are people out there saving lives, Peter, and no one ever recognizes them. They don't even get so much as a thank you," I explained, slightly perturbed at the last bit. His lips screwed up to one side as he looked at me, his expression reminiscent of sarcastic confusion. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Maybe they aren't in the spotlight because they don't want to be?" he suggested, timidly.
"I know this is a sensitive topic for you, Peter. But these guys? They're good people trying to make the world a better place, and they deserve to be noticed," I argued, lightly. "They've done so much to help people already. All everyone seems to think about are the Avengers, no one sees the little guys." He nodded in a knowing way, thinking as he looked down at the newspaper on the table in front of him.
My article was front page. 'The Angel of Hell's Kitchen' was now all over the city. "My boss said to write about things that inspire people," I continued. "So that's what I did." I sipped on my coffee in the brief pause of quiet, looking right out the window at the streets. Watching the cars slowly pass by. Every yellow taxi cab that floated past only reminded me of my almost bitter end. I pulled my eyes from the window and instead decided to look down at my mug.
Peter sighed as his eyes scanned the article. He glanced up at me. "If this kidnapping victim is you, then you saw the Angel you wrote about, right?" I nodded, and he continued. "Do you know who she is, what she looked like?"
"No," I shook my head. "I mean, not really. I couldn't see past the glasses. And the Mask wasn't any less covered identity-wise." As soon as the words left my mouth my eyes were rounded, as were Peter's. His full of excitement and mine full of dread. He turned giddy as he sat up a bit in his seat, leaning closer toward me a little. "You saw the man in the mask? But you only wrote about the one vigilante," he pointed out, excitedly.
"I know. And there's a reason for tha-"
"What was he like? Was he a part of the rescue efforts?"
I sighed. I had to bite my tongue as I reminded myself exactly whose secret I was protecting. I glanced around, keeping my voice down. "Yeah, he helped. But you can't tell anyone I told you this, got it? Protection of sources and all that?" He raised an eyebrow, not understanding why I wouldn't come out with it. But he exhaled, nodding.
"Fine. I won't say anything," he agreed. "Just tell me, why didn't you write about him in your article if he was there? Why give all the credit to that Angel chick?"
"He requested that I didn't mention him," I answered, simply.
"You say it like you held a conversation with the guy."
"Because I did, and it lasted all of three seconds before he disappeared, and that's it, okay?" I sounded harsher than I'd planned, but it got him to stop asking questions. "Sorry. I'm just a little...on edge, since that night."
"Don't apologize, Alison. How have you been doing with the injuries?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject. I've always been thankful for his ability to just forget and act like we didn't just have a certain conversation or say things we didn't mean. It's like a super power, if mild-mannered teenagers could have super powers. "Fine, I guess," I nodded a little, softening myself. "It still hurts when I breathe."
"Geez...do you need help watching the little guy?" He jutted a thumb to his right, and I looked at Chase, drawing in the booth directly on the other side of the aisle. I turned back to Peter and shook my head. "No, thank you. We're gonna head out and look at some buildings after this."
"Buildings?" he chuckled. "For what?"
"I don't plan on working two jobs forever. I've been trying to find a lucrative job that doesn't mean spending all day and night away from the apartment. It's not a perfect plan, but I have some ideas. Right now we're just looking," I explained.
"And how do you have the money for real estate?" His eyebrows rose up simultaneously as he looked at me from my article. He asked it as if he couldn't imagine me having money. Truth is, I can't either. "My aunt passed away. Apparently she left a little more than half of all her money to me, along with the earnings from her art collection," I answered. I shoved my hand into my coat pocket and dug around. My fingers gripped the folded check buried deep inside.
I pulled it out and unfolded the paper on the table in front of Peter. His eyes widened and his lips shriveled into a surprised 'O' shape. "Wow. That is a lot of zeros," he commented, sitting back in his side of the booth. I nodded, still a little surprised myself. It didn't make sense to me why she gave me so much money. We were close, but not the give-all-your-fortunes-away-in-the-will close. And yet, here I was with a check filled with digits. A thought came to mind and I quickly checked my watch.
It was eleven. Great. "Oh no. We have to go," I put my coffee down and started sliding out of the booth. "Chase, start getting your pencils rounded up, okay?" Chase nodded quickly and his hands flew across his drawings, grabbing fistfuls of pencils and shoving them into his backpack. I turned back toward Peter and smiled without teeth. "Sorry I have to cut this short," I apologized.
Peter slid out of the booth and stood, waving it off. "That's okay. I should probably get back home anyways—Aunt May is going to have my head. It was good seeing you, Aly. We have to get together again sometime."
"Yeah, definitely. Check our schedules, I guess?" I shrugged one-shouldered and he smiled, then opened his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug and I made myself exhale. "Try not to get kidnapped again, okay?" he teased.
I chuckled a little, stepping back. "And you try not to get expelled."
"It was one time, okay? And it wasn't even my fault, it was-"
"Bugman?" I finished, with a knowing smile. Peter gave me a look, his shoulders dropping, and I laughed. He tried to correct me, "It's Spi-"
"I'm ready to go!" Chase interrupted, bolting out of his booth. He adjusted his back pack on his shoulders and I took his hand. I looked up at Peter. "Good luck," I smiled, ushering Chase toward the door. Half way to the door, Peter waved back calling, "Stay safe out there!" I pulled the door open and held it as Chase stepped out, waving to Peter with my free hand. Chase tugged me out onto the sidewalk with him and we were off. I'd spent longer talking to Peter than I'd wanted.
But at least now we were on our way to the first potential buy. I was in no shape to walk the whole way there and it definitely wasn't safe for neither me nor Chase, so we took my car. It wasn't long to the first address. The building looked weathered as I parked along the sidewalk. "Is this it?" Chase asked, from the backseat. "It's a dump!"
"It's in our price range. Keep an open mind, okay? And no comments like that in front of the real estate agent," I twisted a little to see him between the seats. He nodded, but still looked uncertain of the building as he unclipped his seatbelt. I turned forward and dropped down my overhead mirror. I'd covered up what bruises I could with makeup this morning. Though there was still plenty visible, I would just have to think of an excuse. Maybe the realtor wouldn't even notice?
Oh well, I guess. Nothing I can do about it now. I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid out of the car. Chase quickly followed behind and I locked the car before turning to face the building behind me. Chase was right. It was kind of a dump. The front wall of the place was practically all window, which gave it a good view. The front door looked like rot iron. But the whole place from the outside just looked dirty. "Hand," I said, looking down at Chase.
He slid his hand in mine, still staring at the building, and I tugged him along to walk to the realtor. She stood by her car a few yards down the sidewalk from mine. "Hi there!" she said, finally noticing I'd even pulled up. Her blonde bob looked overly sprayed and she wore dangerous looking heels with a pencil skirt. Why was she in real estate? I shook the thought from my mind and smiled as brightly as I could. "I'm Louise," she smiled back, holding out her hand.
I shook her hand politely, noticing her incredibly bright nails. "Alison. We spoke on the phone?"
"Yes we did! Now, I know this place looks bad right now, but it's in your price range and it would make a great project build for someone willing," she gushed, gesturing for the door. "Shall we?" I nodded and she led the way to the door. She fumbled with her keys a moment, but managed to open it. Inside looked worse than the outside. It was a large, wide open room with windows lining the right wall. Cement floors, wood panel walls.
I noticed a counter of some sort in the far left corner. It was rounded with an opened walk through spot near the left wall. I'd missed most of what Louise had said, but I caught the tail end. "...I think it was a fire or something. But that wouldn't be hard to fix," she said.
"Sorry, how much footage is it?" I inquired.
"Two-thousand square feet, including the second level," she answered. I nodded, thinking. The walls were all damp-looking and dirty, with missing pieces here and there, and the floor looked uneven. It would take a lot of repairing if I chose this, and this is just the first level. Louise continued on her spiel about the building. "The electricity doesn't work quite right yet—there are a few bugs. But the water is all established and the pipes work great. Would you like to see the upstairs?"
"Sure," I nodded, smiling without teeth. Louise instantly started for a hallway to the left of the door, leading toward the back wall of the building. Chase followed first, pulling away from me, and I sighed, following behind. The hallway hid a staircase going to the upstairs. I took the steps two at a time to keep up with Chase. I wanted to keep my eye on him at all times. The thought of possibilities if I lost him made my head hurt.
Right from the stairs is a small living/kitchen area. Turn right and there's an open door to what looks like a bedroom. Another two closed doors are along the same wall to the left of bedroom one. It was small, but seemed homier than my apartment. The gray carpeting looked eaten by mice or some kind of rodent and the kitchen appliances looked shot. I peered in the fridge and then looked at the stove. "How many bedrooms?" I asked, drawing a blank in my mind.
Chase poked his head into each room as Louise responded. "Two bedroom, one bath," she answered, standing by the stairs. "There's an attic with a lot of storage space, as well." I took my time examining the first bedroom. It looked like the master bedroom, closest to the stairs. There was a closest with ample space to the left and a window straight forward from the door. I didn't even know what to think about the bathroom. It was pitiful to say the least.
The toilet was rusted and would definitely need replacing. The sink and counters looked usable, but the shower would need an overhaul. I inhaled, counting up all the repair costs in my head. It was painful to think about. But there was a lot of money from my aunt. It would cover it, right? And I'm still working. So I have three sources of income at the moment. Maybe this was doable. Just maybe. "MOM," Chase suddenly appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, cutting off my thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"I like this place," he announced.
I raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was a dump?"
"It is. But this place is perfect. There so much space! AND NO SHARED WALLS, MOM," he grabbed my arm and shook it a little to emphasize. I grabbed his hand and he stopped. The action had jarred my head a bit, causing a mild head ache to ensue, but I swallowed it down. "Okay, I hear you," I assured him. "It's a lot to think about."
"The realtor said there was already an offer! If we want it, we have to make our move!"
I sighed. The idea gnawed at me as I bit my lower lip lightly, thinking hard. This was a lot more space than we usually got. And we would own it outright. No more rent bills, no leases, no super intendants that charge you extra for stupid stuff. I could fix the problems with time, I know that. I inhaled and walked out to the real estate agent, still standing by the stairs. She smiled. "So, what do you think?" she asked, brightly.
Forcing the words past my lips, I answered, "I'll take it."
My moment of insanity was not short lived. The owner of the building accepted my offer. But the next problem was sorting through all the papers for the utilities, repairs, and all the paperwork involved in the sale. It kept me busy late at my apartment. Chase had gone to bed seconds before I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Alison."
A small gasp escaped me as I startled to the side, my eyes snapping up and to the left. I sighed in slight annoyance when I saw Matt, dressed in his Mask attire, sitting outside my now opened window. I quickly looked down the hallway. Nothing. "Come in," I said, turning back to see Matt. He climbed in the window and walked over to me, stopping just before the coffee table. He held out a cell phone in my general direction. "Can you look at this for me?" he asked.
"Um...sure," I raised an eyebrow, hesitantly taking the phone. I instantly noticed it wasn't the phone I put Angel's number into. It was different. I glanced up. "Who's is this?"
"It was a cop's," he replied, casually, like it was nothing.
My eyes widened. "You stole a cop's cell phone? Why?"
"He was dirty. It was buzzing. Are there any messages?" He changed the subject with ease and I sighed, looking back down at the phone. I scrolled through to the message section and shook my head. "No...but there's a text message," I said, squinting to read. "47th and 12th, 48th and 9th, 42nd and 10th, 44th and 11th." I read the locations aloud, feeling a bit odd. Who would send these? Maybe it was a code? Matt seemed intrigued by the last address. "Forty-fourth and eleventh?" he paused. "Troika Restaurant. The addresses—they're listing where the Russians are."
He turned and started for the window, and I stood as quickly as my body would allow me. "Matt, hold on," he stopped slowly at my words, turning half way toward me near the window. "What are you gonna do? Knock on each of these doors and ask for the Russian mob leader?"
"I'll do whatever is necessary," he corrected.
I crossed my arms. "You know what that sounds like? That sounds like you're going to get bloody and beaten again."
"What am I supposed to do, Alison?" he asked, sounding exasperated. He turned to face me fully, taking a step. "No one is going to stop them if I don't try. After what they did to you...they need to go down before anyone else gets hurt."
"What happened to me happened, Matt. I told you it wasn't your fault," I reminded.
"Yeah, well, that doesn't make it so, does it?" he snapped a bit. I took a deep breath to calm myself, to keep me from saying something both of us will regret later on. But worry gripped my throat and pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe correctly. "You could die going alone," I pointed out, gently.
"I won't go alone. I'm calling Angel for backup."
"What if she doesn't show?"
"She'll show."
"What if she doesn't?"
"I don't know! I'll do it alone. I'm not standing by while the Russians hurt more innocent people," he snapped, raising his voice. "I'm sorry, Alison, but I have to do this. I'm going with or without your approval." I knew he wasn't going to stand by. I didn't want that, per say. I just wanted him not dead. Preferably in one piece. I stepped around the table and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly.
"Just promise me you'll try not to die, please?" I pressed, momentarily closing my eyes. "That's all I want."
His arms slowly found their way around my middle to return the hug, being hesitant. "I promise," he agreed, quietly. I nodded and took a step back. His face looked softer than before, but he still looked ready for war. "Then go," gestured toward the window. "And I guess I'll be here when you need patched up."
"Thank you, Alison." He headed the rest of the way toward the open window and slid out, vanishing into the night air. I closed the window behind him with a sigh. That man had a death wish. It probably wasn't smart to care about him at all. But detaching myself now would be too little too late, and I have my money on the dark horse.
Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)
I carried the last box through the front door, dropping it with the others when I walked in. "This better be it, Mare!" I hollered. "My place can't hold anymore stuff." My sister-in-law, Mary, walked out of the guest room. She looked tired from a long day of moving her whole life out of her old apartment and into mine.
"I know," she sighed. "As soon as I can, I'll rent a storage unit." She glanced around, debating on whether or not to keep talking. She put her hand on her hip and then looked up at me. "Most of it's Andy's," she spoke lightly, almost whispering. "I just…can't bear to part with it, you know? At least, not now."
"I know," the words almost got stuck in my throat. I sniffled back the emotions I felt coming on, then closed the door with my foot. "You don't need a unit. Just stick it all in the room across the hall. It's not livable, right now, but it can hold stuff."
"Thanks," she nodded, smiling. Mary and I have always been close. But Andy's death brought us even closer together. She turned and walked back into the guest room, her room. The faint sound of a rattle filled my ears. I smiled, turning my attention to the cradle in the middle of the room. I walked up to it and then looked inside.
My six month old niece lay inside, dressed in the pink striped PJ jacket and pants that I got her when she was born. Took a while to fit, but it's the cutest outfit on her. "Hey, Lizzie," I whispered. She smiled, shaking her brown bear around. "Oh!" Mary pocked her head out of the room, as I glanced up. "Something in your desk has been buzzing."
"For how long?"
"Just since you went down last." She disappeared again. The only thing in that desk that could buzz would be Angel's phone. My heart rate quickened as I trotted over to the desk. I ripped the drawer open and pulled out the phone. I flipped it open and found one missed call. I swore under my breath as I put the phone to my ear to listen to the voicemail. "Angel, I need your help," I recognized the Mask's voice and stood up a little straighter, "47th and 12th." The message ended. That's it? Why does he need my help? What is going on?
The ground shook as an enormous sound filled my ears. I jumped and spun to look out the window. A second later, the same sound happened again. But this one was louder. I could just barely make out a fire ball filling the night sky, beyond the building across the street. Oh my goodness. So, that's what's going on.
I heard scuffling behind me as Mary's voice filled my ears. "What is going on?"
"Someone just started a war I won't let them finish."