"The Devil is mine."
He replayed that sentence over and over in his head as he recovered in his hospital bed. He hadn't slept since the incident, as falling several stories from a cathedral window and crashing into the hood of a car does not tend to lend itself to the betterment of one's natural sleep cycle. Then again, nothing about him was natural. His eyes were constantly alert, particularly when he was confined in one space for too long. The Full body cast had come off a week ago, but his back prevented him from walking or any sudden movements. Considering that the guards just outside the door would shoot him on sight for making a sudden movement though, this was not a bad thing. Of course it also meant that once the assassin was placed in prison, his current state would do nothing more than add blood to the water, particularly when Fisk got word of his location.
Then there was the matter of The Devil. The man who not only made him miss, but who had taken his hands as well. Sure, his aim was still as true as ever, but the bloody son of a bitch had caused a bullet to pass through HIS hands!!! On top of all of that, he threw him out the window! That dirty bastard threw him out the window! Oh he was going to get that damn Devil. The Man Without Fear...
There was a scuffle just outside his room as he lay there contemplating his future, or lack there of. Suddenly his room was filling with a thick gas, then with three large armored troops, being led in by a smaller form. The smallest member of the team stepped up to his bed and slid a mask over him.
"This will filter the gas out of the air you breath. I trust you can hear me?" came a voice in his ears, feminine by the sounds of it.
"Loud and Clear." He said, struggling to maintain his focus. Some of the gas had gotten into his system and was making him lightheaded before causing him to pass out.
"Get him back to HQ boys." Was the only thing said before two of the larger men rushed over and placed their cargo into body bag while the third braced the door, preventing more security from invading the room. Agent Wilson looked through the hospital room before dropping a small cylinder in the bed where he had been laying. She readied her rifle as her cargo was placed on a stretcher to be carried between two of her men. She took point while the third man took the rear. Time to get Bullseye out of here.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bullseye awoke in yet another hospital room, but this one was different. There were no windows and only one door. The floors, walls, and ceiling were all the same; made of some damn metal that did nothing more than reflect light into his eyes. He jerked away, finally covering his head with his pillow until the damnable light had been all but extinguished from his view when he noticed something.
There was no pain.
Bullseye rolled back over and got into a sitting position. Again no pain. The assassin rolled back onto his shoulders and neck, extending his feet directly above him before coming back down onto his feet. Again, no pain. This time however, he was grinning. He was able to move like he had before that costumed cretin sent him on a diving team tryout. He began scouring the room for anything that could have been a closet. He would after all like to wear his own clothing before killing his way out of this place.
"I believe you have me to thank for your back." He heard coming from behind him.
Bullseye spun, seeing an older gentleman stepping out through a sliding panel of the wall. "Thank you." Bullseye said in a quiet, yet bitter tone. "I'll be on my way now, if you could see your way to return my clothing to me, I would like to take care of some unfinished business."
"Oh you will be leaving, but first you owe us."
Bullseye's face twitched as he searched for something on his person to throw at the man.
"You see, I repaired that damaged back and your ribs, and I plan to be fully compensated."
"So put it on my tab."
"I am afraid not. You are going to work your debt off to my organization."
"And who is that?"
"None of your concern at this time! Make yourself comfortable. Someone will be by with clothing and a list of assignments for you." And with that the older man stepped into the gaping hole in the wall, which immediately sealed itself shut. Bullseye seethed as he glared at the now seamless section of wall. He did not like being told what to do, especially after waking up in a strange environment, naked.
He had no way of telling just how much time had passed, but it seemed an eternity to him when finally, another door opened, this time with a larger man coming through, this time with his clothing as well as a folder. "Here are your clothes and your assignments. Get dressed and get to work." Was all the brutish man said before leaving the room. Bullseye grunted as he quickly went for his pants, then his boots and shirt. He examined his belt, making sure that the throwing stars he hid in his buckle were still there, and grinned as he found they were. His eyes darted over to the file folder before his hand flipped it open. His assignments were as he expected, hits. Most of them were on costumed freaks, although there was a few political targets as well. A grand total of 50 targets in all. A wolfish smile spread across his face as he saw one of the said targets.
"Oh yes, The Devil Is Mine."
He replayed that sentence over and over in his head as he recovered in his hospital bed. He hadn't slept since the incident, as falling several stories from a cathedral window and crashing into the hood of a car does not tend to lend itself to the betterment of one's natural sleep cycle. Then again, nothing about him was natural. His eyes were constantly alert, particularly when he was confined in one space for too long. The Full body cast had come off a week ago, but his back prevented him from walking or any sudden movements. Considering that the guards just outside the door would shoot him on sight for making a sudden movement though, this was not a bad thing. Of course it also meant that once the assassin was placed in prison, his current state would do nothing more than add blood to the water, particularly when Fisk got word of his location.
Then there was the matter of The Devil. The man who not only made him miss, but who had taken his hands as well. Sure, his aim was still as true as ever, but the bloody son of a bitch had caused a bullet to pass through HIS hands!!! On top of all of that, he threw him out the window! That dirty bastard threw him out the window! Oh he was going to get that damn Devil. The Man Without Fear...
There was a scuffle just outside his room as he lay there contemplating his future, or lack there of. Suddenly his room was filling with a thick gas, then with three large armored troops, being led in by a smaller form. The smallest member of the team stepped up to his bed and slid a mask over him.
"This will filter the gas out of the air you breath. I trust you can hear me?" came a voice in his ears, feminine by the sounds of it.
"Loud and Clear." He said, struggling to maintain his focus. Some of the gas had gotten into his system and was making him lightheaded before causing him to pass out.
"Get him back to HQ boys." Was the only thing said before two of the larger men rushed over and placed their cargo into body bag while the third braced the door, preventing more security from invading the room. Agent Wilson looked through the hospital room before dropping a small cylinder in the bed where he had been laying. She readied her rifle as her cargo was placed on a stretcher to be carried between two of her men. She took point while the third man took the rear. Time to get Bullseye out of here.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bullseye awoke in yet another hospital room, but this one was different. There were no windows and only one door. The floors, walls, and ceiling were all the same; made of some damn metal that did nothing more than reflect light into his eyes. He jerked away, finally covering his head with his pillow until the damnable light had been all but extinguished from his view when he noticed something.
There was no pain.
Bullseye rolled back over and got into a sitting position. Again no pain. The assassin rolled back onto his shoulders and neck, extending his feet directly above him before coming back down onto his feet. Again, no pain. This time however, he was grinning. He was able to move like he had before that costumed cretin sent him on a diving team tryout. He began scouring the room for anything that could have been a closet. He would after all like to wear his own clothing before killing his way out of this place.
"I believe you have me to thank for your back." He heard coming from behind him.
Bullseye spun, seeing an older gentleman stepping out through a sliding panel of the wall. "Thank you." Bullseye said in a quiet, yet bitter tone. "I'll be on my way now, if you could see your way to return my clothing to me, I would like to take care of some unfinished business."
"Oh you will be leaving, but first you owe us."
Bullseye's face twitched as he searched for something on his person to throw at the man.
"You see, I repaired that damaged back and your ribs, and I plan to be fully compensated."
"So put it on my tab."
"I am afraid not. You are going to work your debt off to my organization."
"And who is that?"
"None of your concern at this time! Make yourself comfortable. Someone will be by with clothing and a list of assignments for you." And with that the older man stepped into the gaping hole in the wall, which immediately sealed itself shut. Bullseye seethed as he glared at the now seamless section of wall. He did not like being told what to do, especially after waking up in a strange environment, naked.
He had no way of telling just how much time had passed, but it seemed an eternity to him when finally, another door opened, this time with a larger man coming through, this time with his clothing as well as a folder. "Here are your clothes and your assignments. Get dressed and get to work." Was all the brutish man said before leaving the room. Bullseye grunted as he quickly went for his pants, then his boots and shirt. He examined his belt, making sure that the throwing stars he hid in his buckle were still there, and grinned as he found they were. His eyes darted over to the file folder before his hand flipped it open. His assignments were as he expected, hits. Most of them were on costumed freaks, although there was a few political targets as well. A grand total of 50 targets in all. A wolfish smile spread across his face as he saw one of the said targets.
"Oh yes, The Devil Is Mine."