Disclaimer: I claim only my plot, Leigh and her friends. Everything else goes to Marvel. Happy now?
A/N: Hee-hee. Thank you very much to everyone that reviewed. And to everyone that didn't ::scowls scarily:: Just kidding, but really, please, I love reviews! :o) This chapter took forever to write. And I apologize very muchly, I've been insanely busy though with school and all. ::grovels:: Hopefully this will tide you guys over for a bit, as I have no idea when the next chapter will be out.
On a personal note, I should just say that I hate this chapter. But then again, I hate most things that I do, and other people seem to like them just fine. Hopefully that will be the case here . :) And also, getting nice reviews from all you cool cool people (Villainbabe, Lady Discord, Ravenclaw2) you guys are the ones that made me want to write ficcies about our fav. Irish Fella..so thanks a lot :) it means a whole bunch.
Villainbabe: Sorry if the language bothers you, Leigh is a bit of a potty mouth, and so is Bullseye. :o) If it really bothers you, I can always make an attempt to tone it down. Thanks a bunch for your review! ::grin::
Ravenclaw2: Thanks for the review/support!
Lady Discord: Wow! Thanks so much for your sweet review. I hope I'm doing our favorite Bad-Ass justice..I am trying, but please let me know if I'm doing ok! :o)
Genny and Angelgurl545: Thank you both for your reviews :) I appreciate the support a whole bunch!
Your Winter
Chapter Four: Come out at night
*
"You come out at night
Thats when the energy calls
And the dark sides light
And the vampires roam
You strut your rasta wear
And your suicide poem
And a cross from a faith that died
before Jesus came.."-Sarah McLachlan
*
Okay, now because I'm not blind, I could not help but notice that this Bullseye character did not exactly have the typical "villain" look about him.
I mean, yes, he was intimidating and scary and all that. But, well, what I'm trying to say is that..you see..
Aw, hell.
He was cute.
So for a couple of minutes, I indulged my hormones and checked him out. He was fairly tall, 5'9 or 10 I guessed, wearing a black T-shirt, leather pants (Angelica probably would have ripped them off of him if she'd seen him. She has quite a fondness for leather) and big black combat boots. He wasn't facing me, but I could see that he had a light brown goatee, and wore a black skullcap, presumably to hide the brand on his forehead.
I should mention that at this point I had progressed from politely staring to flat out gawking like a simpleton. This was probably the reason he sensed me, and when he turned to collect the bet he'd just won, locked eyes with me and glared, giving me the oppourtunity to note that he had huge, slightly maniacal brown eyes.
But back to the glare I was on the recieving end of. I've been glared at, scowled at, squinted at, glowered at, you name it, I've probably experienced it. One of the many benefits of living in New York and having a hyper active drag queen as a best friend. But I have never *quite* recieved a look that lasted less than ten seconds and scared me the way that look did.
So I did what any tough, on-the-job investigative reporter would do.
Thats right.
I ran.
*
I know. I *know*!
Yes, I am a complete and utter wimp. I am well aware of that fact. That was why I was cowering in the ladies (debateable..) room of the Black Widow Bar and not out there..ahm..doing..whatever it is investigative reporters do.
Cut me a *little* slack here people, after all, my goal had been to *find* Bullseye, I had no idea what to do now that I had actually found him. And Ben, that big idiot, had told me to "find out everything" about him, which is a pretty vague instruction, don't you think? Did that mean I had to actually *talk* to him? Did that mean I had to stalk him around the dark alleys of New York City with a notepad and a tape recorder, asking him what his favorite color was while he killed innocent bystanders? What did Ben want me to do? Play a nice friendly game of *darts* with the fucker?
Sorry. Getting a little carried away.
Anyway, despite my yucky surroundings, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and decided to have a little pep-talk with myself. Unfourtunately, as usual, I didn't have much to say to myself, so I imagined Angelica's voice doing the talking instead.
"Leigh Marie, you've been wanting a break like this for a long time. If you miss out on it because of a silly little thing like fear you could be missing out on a bigger oppourtunity than you know."
Aw, mushy. But it was probably just the sort of thing she would say, minus a few swear words and encouragement to buy twelve inch platforms and a hat with plumage.
I glanced at the beer still clutched in my hand and chugged it with a grimace. Disgusting. But I had a feeling I was going to need it.
*
So out I strode, ignoring the long line that had formed outside the bathrooms while I was getting my courage up. I ditched the empty beer can and made my way back through the crowd to the dart board.
And---oh no.
Oh please no...
My eyes scanned the bar desperately, my stomach sinking.
Shit.
He was gone.
*
Now, as tempting as it was to stay in the Black Widow and drown my sorrows, the only thing that I wanted to was return to my apartment, watch "Conan O'Brien" and eat Ben & Jerry's untill I barfed.
What was I supposed to tell Ben? "Hi Ben, remember that article you wanted me to write? That amazing oppourtunity you handed me on a silver platter?Yeah, well, I *did* find Bullseye, but unfourtunately I ran away from him. Sorry! No hard feelings, here's your coffee!"
God, was I ever stupid.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the hot tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Bad stuff always seemed to have a way of happening to me.
"God *damn*!" I shouted in frustration, leaning up against the brick wall of a building and trying not to burst into tears.
That would be the time Bullseye appeared from the alley behind me and grabbed me.
*
"Question one,"
Growled the Irishman, his hand pinning my by the throat against the wall, "Who are you?" Still reeling from shock, the only sound I could make was a terrified little whimper. "Wrong answer," He informed me, grip tightening. He lifted me up so that my feet were no longer touching the ground.
"One more chance, lass. Who are you?"
I've never been famous for rational thinking at the best of the times, and being strangled by an assasin was most definitley not the best of times by any streach of imagination, which was why I was finding it hard to come up with a decent response. That and the fact that I couldn't breathe.
"Leigh-"
I choked finally, "--Leigh McBride--I work--at--at the Daily Bugle." His grip loosened and I slid back down to earth. His hand still remained firmly on my throat, his other hand pressed against my shoulder, so it wasn't looking like I was going anywhere anytime soon. But no way was I telling him *anything*. No way. I would not squeal--no sir,
"What the fuck are you hanging about for?"
"I'm--I'm writing an article about you. For the Bugle."
Whoops. That kind of popped out. His eyes narrowed dangerously, he was inches away from my face. "I don't like being followed, Leigh McBride, you hear me?"
I swallowed nervously, my heart thumping unreasonably fast. "Point taken." His fingers drummed at the base of my neck, as if he was itching to snap it. "You really work for the Bugle? Or are you one of the Devils?" OK---yeah. He was officially nuts.
"N-nooo..."
I answered uncertainly, and his grip tightened again. "Don't fucking lie to me, girl. I'm not stupid." I yelped and tried to twist out of his grasp. "For God's sake, I'm not lying, I don't even know what your talking about---"
Suddenly, so quietly I didn't notice untill he was directly upon us, a man--(?) dropped from the fire escape and grabbed hold of Bullseye, tossing him sideways. This would elevate the situation from freaky to a full blown nightmare. I stared at the two of them, and I finally realized who he was, as he looked at me with sightless red eyes.
Daredevil?
*
Was it ridiculous of me to think that I was dreaming? As the two of them duked it out I pinched my arm, hard.
Nothing changed. Except now my arm hurt. Part of me wanted to run, fast. This was a good enough story, right? Bullseye attacked me and Daredevil saved me? Ben would like that, right? Ben would accept that. He would understand that. It was a helluva lot more then what I had originally been going home with.
Even as I thought this, though, my feet stayed rooted to the ground. I was frozen on the spot. Daredevil caught hold of Bullseye's arm and slammed him against the wall, hard. I cringed. But the blow hardly seemed to faze my subject at all. That was when he caught sight of me, still standing and gawping stupidly, and I saw the idea light up his eyes.
I should have run then, but my feet still were refusing to move. He lashed out and grabbed my upper arm, wrenching me around and pinning me in front of him in one fluid move.
I tried to scream, all of the sudden regaining movement in my legs. "Stupid, stupid, stupid.." I thought viciously, writhing furiously, untill I felt something sharp and metalic press against my throat. Daredevil paused, his body tense and frozen, he was waiting for him to make a move.
"Let her go." He said softly, the hand holding that fabeled billyclub clenching and unclenching tensely. Bullseye laughed, his breath sending a shiver down my spine, I tried not to breathe, as to not apply too much pressure to the pointy object threatening to obliberate several main arteries of mine.
"Yeah, you don't want the death of another pretty little lass on your conscience. Do you, devil?" I had no idea what he was talking about. Daredevil, however, did. His face contorted with hatred. "This is between me and you. She has nothing to do with this. Let. Her. Go."
The assasin laughed again, practically giddy at making Daredevil this angry. "You know, I don't think I will." His grip tightened, and I yelped in pain. Daredevil flinched as if I'd kicked him, but he still didn't move, I could tell he was deliberating wether or not to take out Bullseye and risk killing me.
"Please," I whispered, "just do what he says." Tears of pain were starting to cloud my vision. He stared at me for a second, then he spoke, those freaky red eyes still fixed on me. "If I leave, let her go. If you kill her, I will find out, and I will kill you." Bullseye grinned and yanked hard on my hair, snapping my head back and baring my throat even more. No offense, Daredevil, I'm sure is a fabulous guy, but his negotiation skills left quite a bit to be desired, I mean was I the only one who saw that as kind of a pointless threat? "Or you could not leave, and I could kill her right now. With you watching."
My head tilted back at a degree that would have made the little puking chick from 'The Exorcist' jealous, I tried to think of a way to turn this situation around. I could no longer see Daredevil, but on the upshot I was getting an up close and personal look at Bullseye's chin. What more could a girl ask for?
I heard the soft sound of footsteps receding, and took that as a clue that Daredevil had left. Bullseye's grip loosened, and I straightened up, rubbing my neck and wincing. I wondered if I should try and run, then realized I wouldn't even make it out of the alley.
He watched me closely. "You said your a reporter?" I touched my throat, drew back my hand and stared at the spot of blood on my fingertips. "Yeah. At the Daily Bugle." Was I actually having a relatively normal conversation with a mass murderer? I was? Way to go, Leigh, my mother would be so proud. This ranks right up there with living in New York and being best friends with a drag queen. The family Christmas letter would be a doozy this year.
"And your writing a column on me?"
"Yes."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So...what, you follow me around and write your little shite column that no one will read anyway, why should I bother? Why shouldn't I just kill you right now and save myself the aggrivation?"
That loveless analysis of my column, my little jewel, pissed me off. The blow wasn't even remotely softened by the rapid, thickly accented way that he talked that, under different circumstances I would have found quite sexy. "It's not a little shit column." I said, hand still at my throat. It smarted like a bitch.
He smirked, grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me, hard, against the brick wall. Hadn't we done this already? Forget being scared, right now I was just pissed. My neck felt broken, my new jeans we're ripped, my column was going straight to hell, and to top it all off, I was being physically assaulted by a big shot Irish assasin.
"For Christ's sake, get OFF of me." I snapped, the words out of my mouth before I had time to check them with my brain. Bullseye blinked in surprise, then laughed. Not a funny "ha-ha, well aren't you just too cute," kind of laugh, more of a "watch it, shortie, or I'll bludgeon you to death with your boots" kind of laugh.
"You know, lass, you talk too much."
"Thank you."
He narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't a compliment."
And then he let go of me. And backed up. I stared at him in shock. I had been expecting the worse, thinking my stupidity and huge mouth had finally caught up with me, and mentally saying my farewells to Angelica and my dad. And now he was just letting me walk?
I swallowed hard. "What do you want?" I mean, come on, naturally there was a catch. Or maybe there wasn't, and I was just too stupid to take my chance and run with it. He pulled off his skull cap, ran his fingers over the scar branded onto his forehead. He seemed to be thinking. "I want publicity, sweetheart. What is it you American's say? 'No such thing as bad publicity'?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Excuse me? Do all super-assasins come around this easily? "You want me to write the column?" I clarified. He grinned..or sort of grinned. More of a sneer really. Whatever. I took that as a yes.
"On one condition, Leigh McBride, stay the fuck out of my way. I don't want to see you, hear you, nothing. I don't want some stupid cow messing up my job. Got it?"
I bit my tounge, hard. No, I didn't "get it". How in the name of God was I supposed to get a story and provide Mr. Ego-Tripping-Target-Happy-Irish fellow with a suitable bit of "publicity" if I wasn't even allowed to be seen by him?
"Now get out of here,"
He growled, jerking his thumb in the direction I was supposed to go. "I have business to do." I resisted the urge to tell him to shove his business and his fucking publicity, but decided against it. I was the one writing the column, after all, and it was going to be on *my* terms.
I just didn't think right now was the best time to point this out.
But I would.
Eventually.
Right now I would settle for getting home with all my body parts in their respective places, thank you.
*
"Oh my *god*!"
That would be the sound that greeted me when I opened the door to my apartment. Melissa and Angelica, under the guise of being concerned about me, but really just an excuse to eat my pop-tarts and watch my cable, had camped out at my place.
But as soon as they caught sight of me, all hell broke loose. Melissa was halfway to the phone, presumably to call for an ambulance, and Angelica, always prepared, chucked a bag of frozen peas at my head. As to why, I'm not exactly sure.
"Oh my poor BABY!" She wailed dramatically, throwing her arms around me and dragging me over to the couch, nearly dislocating my arm in the process. "Angelica--" I said, trying to remain calm and extricating the peas from where they'd been imprinted in my neck.
"I KNEW this would happen, I TOLD Melissa we should have stayed, and now some Hell's Angel named T. Bone has violated my little Leigh Marie--"
I untangled myself from her and stood up. "Angelica, calm down. I'm fine. Melissa, get off the phone, will you?" Melissa, eyes practically bugged out of her head, solemnly put the phone back down and came over to sit next to Angelica, who was weeping theatrically.
"Ang, I'm fine, look, but what the hell was the peas for?" I asked, holding up the package of frozen goods, now melting and gushy, dripping all over my floor.
"It was to take down the *swelling* on that shiner you've got, Leigh Sugar, have you looked at yourself lately?" Angelica sniffed indignantly, obviously insulted I had questioned her nursing abilities. Melissa gave me the once over and wrinkled her nose.
"Yeah. You look like shit, babe." She confirmed
"Thank you."
"But your sure your OK?"
Yeah, sure, why not. I felt like a pack of elephants had played Twister on me, but nothing seemed serious. I had more pressing concerns then my health at the moment. "I'm fine, I just really want to get some sleep. I had a tough night."
*And the winner of the understatement of the year award goes toooo.. Leigh McBride! Yay!*
Anyway. Because Melissa and Angelica are Best Friends Supreme, they picked up on the fact that I didn't want to talk about what had happened. They gave me the usual, 'call us if you need anything', bit and left me in silence.
Left me with nothing but my own very confused, very scared, thoughts.
I sighed, went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Nearly passed out when I saw my reflection. Melissa had'nt been exaggerating, I did look like shit. "Leigh Marie," I said to that girl looking back at me, "you have a talent for screwing things up."
And I did. But you know what, screw it. I was going to do the story, even if it was just to prove that I *could* do it. I was still going to do it. And it was going to be the best column that the Daily Bugle had seen in a long time. Watch out Bullseye, Leigh McBride, Reporter Extroidinary, is on the job.
Take that, Geraldo Rivera.
A/N: Hee-hee. Thank you very much to everyone that reviewed. And to everyone that didn't ::scowls scarily:: Just kidding, but really, please, I love reviews! :o) This chapter took forever to write. And I apologize very muchly, I've been insanely busy though with school and all. ::grovels:: Hopefully this will tide you guys over for a bit, as I have no idea when the next chapter will be out.
On a personal note, I should just say that I hate this chapter. But then again, I hate most things that I do, and other people seem to like them just fine. Hopefully that will be the case here . :) And also, getting nice reviews from all you cool cool people (Villainbabe, Lady Discord, Ravenclaw2) you guys are the ones that made me want to write ficcies about our fav. Irish Fella..so thanks a lot :) it means a whole bunch.
Villainbabe: Sorry if the language bothers you, Leigh is a bit of a potty mouth, and so is Bullseye. :o) If it really bothers you, I can always make an attempt to tone it down. Thanks a bunch for your review! ::grin::
Ravenclaw2: Thanks for the review/support!
Lady Discord: Wow! Thanks so much for your sweet review. I hope I'm doing our favorite Bad-Ass justice..I am trying, but please let me know if I'm doing ok! :o)
Genny and Angelgurl545: Thank you both for your reviews :) I appreciate the support a whole bunch!
Your Winter
Chapter Four: Come out at night
*
"You come out at night
Thats when the energy calls
And the dark sides light
And the vampires roam
You strut your rasta wear
And your suicide poem
And a cross from a faith that died
before Jesus came.."-Sarah McLachlan
*
Okay, now because I'm not blind, I could not help but notice that this Bullseye character did not exactly have the typical "villain" look about him.
I mean, yes, he was intimidating and scary and all that. But, well, what I'm trying to say is that..you see..
Aw, hell.
He was cute.
So for a couple of minutes, I indulged my hormones and checked him out. He was fairly tall, 5'9 or 10 I guessed, wearing a black T-shirt, leather pants (Angelica probably would have ripped them off of him if she'd seen him. She has quite a fondness for leather) and big black combat boots. He wasn't facing me, but I could see that he had a light brown goatee, and wore a black skullcap, presumably to hide the brand on his forehead.
I should mention that at this point I had progressed from politely staring to flat out gawking like a simpleton. This was probably the reason he sensed me, and when he turned to collect the bet he'd just won, locked eyes with me and glared, giving me the oppourtunity to note that he had huge, slightly maniacal brown eyes.
But back to the glare I was on the recieving end of. I've been glared at, scowled at, squinted at, glowered at, you name it, I've probably experienced it. One of the many benefits of living in New York and having a hyper active drag queen as a best friend. But I have never *quite* recieved a look that lasted less than ten seconds and scared me the way that look did.
So I did what any tough, on-the-job investigative reporter would do.
Thats right.
I ran.
*
I know. I *know*!
Yes, I am a complete and utter wimp. I am well aware of that fact. That was why I was cowering in the ladies (debateable..) room of the Black Widow Bar and not out there..ahm..doing..whatever it is investigative reporters do.
Cut me a *little* slack here people, after all, my goal had been to *find* Bullseye, I had no idea what to do now that I had actually found him. And Ben, that big idiot, had told me to "find out everything" about him, which is a pretty vague instruction, don't you think? Did that mean I had to actually *talk* to him? Did that mean I had to stalk him around the dark alleys of New York City with a notepad and a tape recorder, asking him what his favorite color was while he killed innocent bystanders? What did Ben want me to do? Play a nice friendly game of *darts* with the fucker?
Sorry. Getting a little carried away.
Anyway, despite my yucky surroundings, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and decided to have a little pep-talk with myself. Unfourtunately, as usual, I didn't have much to say to myself, so I imagined Angelica's voice doing the talking instead.
"Leigh Marie, you've been wanting a break like this for a long time. If you miss out on it because of a silly little thing like fear you could be missing out on a bigger oppourtunity than you know."
Aw, mushy. But it was probably just the sort of thing she would say, minus a few swear words and encouragement to buy twelve inch platforms and a hat with plumage.
I glanced at the beer still clutched in my hand and chugged it with a grimace. Disgusting. But I had a feeling I was going to need it.
*
So out I strode, ignoring the long line that had formed outside the bathrooms while I was getting my courage up. I ditched the empty beer can and made my way back through the crowd to the dart board.
And---oh no.
Oh please no...
My eyes scanned the bar desperately, my stomach sinking.
Shit.
He was gone.
*
Now, as tempting as it was to stay in the Black Widow and drown my sorrows, the only thing that I wanted to was return to my apartment, watch "Conan O'Brien" and eat Ben & Jerry's untill I barfed.
What was I supposed to tell Ben? "Hi Ben, remember that article you wanted me to write? That amazing oppourtunity you handed me on a silver platter?Yeah, well, I *did* find Bullseye, but unfourtunately I ran away from him. Sorry! No hard feelings, here's your coffee!"
God, was I ever stupid.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the hot tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Bad stuff always seemed to have a way of happening to me.
"God *damn*!" I shouted in frustration, leaning up against the brick wall of a building and trying not to burst into tears.
That would be the time Bullseye appeared from the alley behind me and grabbed me.
*
"Question one,"
Growled the Irishman, his hand pinning my by the throat against the wall, "Who are you?" Still reeling from shock, the only sound I could make was a terrified little whimper. "Wrong answer," He informed me, grip tightening. He lifted me up so that my feet were no longer touching the ground.
"One more chance, lass. Who are you?"
I've never been famous for rational thinking at the best of the times, and being strangled by an assasin was most definitley not the best of times by any streach of imagination, which was why I was finding it hard to come up with a decent response. That and the fact that I couldn't breathe.
"Leigh-"
I choked finally, "--Leigh McBride--I work--at--at the Daily Bugle." His grip loosened and I slid back down to earth. His hand still remained firmly on my throat, his other hand pressed against my shoulder, so it wasn't looking like I was going anywhere anytime soon. But no way was I telling him *anything*. No way. I would not squeal--no sir,
"What the fuck are you hanging about for?"
"I'm--I'm writing an article about you. For the Bugle."
Whoops. That kind of popped out. His eyes narrowed dangerously, he was inches away from my face. "I don't like being followed, Leigh McBride, you hear me?"
I swallowed nervously, my heart thumping unreasonably fast. "Point taken." His fingers drummed at the base of my neck, as if he was itching to snap it. "You really work for the Bugle? Or are you one of the Devils?" OK---yeah. He was officially nuts.
"N-nooo..."
I answered uncertainly, and his grip tightened again. "Don't fucking lie to me, girl. I'm not stupid." I yelped and tried to twist out of his grasp. "For God's sake, I'm not lying, I don't even know what your talking about---"
Suddenly, so quietly I didn't notice untill he was directly upon us, a man--(?) dropped from the fire escape and grabbed hold of Bullseye, tossing him sideways. This would elevate the situation from freaky to a full blown nightmare. I stared at the two of them, and I finally realized who he was, as he looked at me with sightless red eyes.
Daredevil?
*
Was it ridiculous of me to think that I was dreaming? As the two of them duked it out I pinched my arm, hard.
Nothing changed. Except now my arm hurt. Part of me wanted to run, fast. This was a good enough story, right? Bullseye attacked me and Daredevil saved me? Ben would like that, right? Ben would accept that. He would understand that. It was a helluva lot more then what I had originally been going home with.
Even as I thought this, though, my feet stayed rooted to the ground. I was frozen on the spot. Daredevil caught hold of Bullseye's arm and slammed him against the wall, hard. I cringed. But the blow hardly seemed to faze my subject at all. That was when he caught sight of me, still standing and gawping stupidly, and I saw the idea light up his eyes.
I should have run then, but my feet still were refusing to move. He lashed out and grabbed my upper arm, wrenching me around and pinning me in front of him in one fluid move.
I tried to scream, all of the sudden regaining movement in my legs. "Stupid, stupid, stupid.." I thought viciously, writhing furiously, untill I felt something sharp and metalic press against my throat. Daredevil paused, his body tense and frozen, he was waiting for him to make a move.
"Let her go." He said softly, the hand holding that fabeled billyclub clenching and unclenching tensely. Bullseye laughed, his breath sending a shiver down my spine, I tried not to breathe, as to not apply too much pressure to the pointy object threatening to obliberate several main arteries of mine.
"Yeah, you don't want the death of another pretty little lass on your conscience. Do you, devil?" I had no idea what he was talking about. Daredevil, however, did. His face contorted with hatred. "This is between me and you. She has nothing to do with this. Let. Her. Go."
The assasin laughed again, practically giddy at making Daredevil this angry. "You know, I don't think I will." His grip tightened, and I yelped in pain. Daredevil flinched as if I'd kicked him, but he still didn't move, I could tell he was deliberating wether or not to take out Bullseye and risk killing me.
"Please," I whispered, "just do what he says." Tears of pain were starting to cloud my vision. He stared at me for a second, then he spoke, those freaky red eyes still fixed on me. "If I leave, let her go. If you kill her, I will find out, and I will kill you." Bullseye grinned and yanked hard on my hair, snapping my head back and baring my throat even more. No offense, Daredevil, I'm sure is a fabulous guy, but his negotiation skills left quite a bit to be desired, I mean was I the only one who saw that as kind of a pointless threat? "Or you could not leave, and I could kill her right now. With you watching."
My head tilted back at a degree that would have made the little puking chick from 'The Exorcist' jealous, I tried to think of a way to turn this situation around. I could no longer see Daredevil, but on the upshot I was getting an up close and personal look at Bullseye's chin. What more could a girl ask for?
I heard the soft sound of footsteps receding, and took that as a clue that Daredevil had left. Bullseye's grip loosened, and I straightened up, rubbing my neck and wincing. I wondered if I should try and run, then realized I wouldn't even make it out of the alley.
He watched me closely. "You said your a reporter?" I touched my throat, drew back my hand and stared at the spot of blood on my fingertips. "Yeah. At the Daily Bugle." Was I actually having a relatively normal conversation with a mass murderer? I was? Way to go, Leigh, my mother would be so proud. This ranks right up there with living in New York and being best friends with a drag queen. The family Christmas letter would be a doozy this year.
"And your writing a column on me?"
"Yes."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So...what, you follow me around and write your little shite column that no one will read anyway, why should I bother? Why shouldn't I just kill you right now and save myself the aggrivation?"
That loveless analysis of my column, my little jewel, pissed me off. The blow wasn't even remotely softened by the rapid, thickly accented way that he talked that, under different circumstances I would have found quite sexy. "It's not a little shit column." I said, hand still at my throat. It smarted like a bitch.
He smirked, grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me, hard, against the brick wall. Hadn't we done this already? Forget being scared, right now I was just pissed. My neck felt broken, my new jeans we're ripped, my column was going straight to hell, and to top it all off, I was being physically assaulted by a big shot Irish assasin.
"For Christ's sake, get OFF of me." I snapped, the words out of my mouth before I had time to check them with my brain. Bullseye blinked in surprise, then laughed. Not a funny "ha-ha, well aren't you just too cute," kind of laugh, more of a "watch it, shortie, or I'll bludgeon you to death with your boots" kind of laugh.
"You know, lass, you talk too much."
"Thank you."
He narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't a compliment."
And then he let go of me. And backed up. I stared at him in shock. I had been expecting the worse, thinking my stupidity and huge mouth had finally caught up with me, and mentally saying my farewells to Angelica and my dad. And now he was just letting me walk?
I swallowed hard. "What do you want?" I mean, come on, naturally there was a catch. Or maybe there wasn't, and I was just too stupid to take my chance and run with it. He pulled off his skull cap, ran his fingers over the scar branded onto his forehead. He seemed to be thinking. "I want publicity, sweetheart. What is it you American's say? 'No such thing as bad publicity'?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Excuse me? Do all super-assasins come around this easily? "You want me to write the column?" I clarified. He grinned..or sort of grinned. More of a sneer really. Whatever. I took that as a yes.
"On one condition, Leigh McBride, stay the fuck out of my way. I don't want to see you, hear you, nothing. I don't want some stupid cow messing up my job. Got it?"
I bit my tounge, hard. No, I didn't "get it". How in the name of God was I supposed to get a story and provide Mr. Ego-Tripping-Target-Happy-Irish fellow with a suitable bit of "publicity" if I wasn't even allowed to be seen by him?
"Now get out of here,"
He growled, jerking his thumb in the direction I was supposed to go. "I have business to do." I resisted the urge to tell him to shove his business and his fucking publicity, but decided against it. I was the one writing the column, after all, and it was going to be on *my* terms.
I just didn't think right now was the best time to point this out.
But I would.
Eventually.
Right now I would settle for getting home with all my body parts in their respective places, thank you.
*
"Oh my *god*!"
That would be the sound that greeted me when I opened the door to my apartment. Melissa and Angelica, under the guise of being concerned about me, but really just an excuse to eat my pop-tarts and watch my cable, had camped out at my place.
But as soon as they caught sight of me, all hell broke loose. Melissa was halfway to the phone, presumably to call for an ambulance, and Angelica, always prepared, chucked a bag of frozen peas at my head. As to why, I'm not exactly sure.
"Oh my poor BABY!" She wailed dramatically, throwing her arms around me and dragging me over to the couch, nearly dislocating my arm in the process. "Angelica--" I said, trying to remain calm and extricating the peas from where they'd been imprinted in my neck.
"I KNEW this would happen, I TOLD Melissa we should have stayed, and now some Hell's Angel named T. Bone has violated my little Leigh Marie--"
I untangled myself from her and stood up. "Angelica, calm down. I'm fine. Melissa, get off the phone, will you?" Melissa, eyes practically bugged out of her head, solemnly put the phone back down and came over to sit next to Angelica, who was weeping theatrically.
"Ang, I'm fine, look, but what the hell was the peas for?" I asked, holding up the package of frozen goods, now melting and gushy, dripping all over my floor.
"It was to take down the *swelling* on that shiner you've got, Leigh Sugar, have you looked at yourself lately?" Angelica sniffed indignantly, obviously insulted I had questioned her nursing abilities. Melissa gave me the once over and wrinkled her nose.
"Yeah. You look like shit, babe." She confirmed
"Thank you."
"But your sure your OK?"
Yeah, sure, why not. I felt like a pack of elephants had played Twister on me, but nothing seemed serious. I had more pressing concerns then my health at the moment. "I'm fine, I just really want to get some sleep. I had a tough night."
*And the winner of the understatement of the year award goes toooo.. Leigh McBride! Yay!*
Anyway. Because Melissa and Angelica are Best Friends Supreme, they picked up on the fact that I didn't want to talk about what had happened. They gave me the usual, 'call us if you need anything', bit and left me in silence.
Left me with nothing but my own very confused, very scared, thoughts.
I sighed, went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Nearly passed out when I saw my reflection. Melissa had'nt been exaggerating, I did look like shit. "Leigh Marie," I said to that girl looking back at me, "you have a talent for screwing things up."
And I did. But you know what, screw it. I was going to do the story, even if it was just to prove that I *could* do it. I was still going to do it. And it was going to be the best column that the Daily Bugle had seen in a long time. Watch out Bullseye, Leigh McBride, Reporter Extroidinary, is on the job.
Take that, Geraldo Rivera.