holmes7-Thank you.
"Solo? Seriously?"
"Uh-huh."
"And he was telling the truth?"
"Uh-huh."
"These assholes are defiling Star Wars on top of everything else. Matt, I don't...like it...when you put people in comas, but if you were to have a meltdown and accidentally drop this guy off a five-story building..."
Truth be told, he's not sure what he's going to do with 'Solo' when he catches him. On one hand, he really, really doesn't want to give the guy to du Maurier, because that's murder-by-proxy, but the system has a terrible track record with 'never, ever, ever letting these creeps out again'.*
He has to think about it.
"We'll see."
"See what?" Karen arrives bearing donuts-two glazed, two chocolate filled, and two of those horrible strawberry frosted ones with sprinkles. "Breakfast-one of the pink ones is mine, Foggy, FYI."
"I know, I know."
"So? See what?"
"Matt putting a child trafficker in a coma."
"I don't..." Oh, what's the point? They'll latch onto that and hold on until the world ends. "Ignore him, Karen."
"If anyone deserves it, though..."
He groans and plunks his head down on the desk-but not before swiping a glazed donut from the box.
"He will screw you over, Mademoiselle." Daphne frets. "He will-what is the phrase? 'Fuck you with a chainsaw'."
Angelique laughs and reaches up to tousle the girl's hair.
"Honey, honey...relax. He's a madman in a mask. Also, there are more interesting things than me at the moment."
She tests the bath water, nods, and slides the robe off her shoulders before stepping in.
"Lovely...Daphne, dear, would you fetch me my lavender bath oil? Thank you."
"Mademoi-selle!" Oh, for heaven's sake, why the sudden nerves? "James cannot walk without a cane, what if he does that to you?"
"I have no qualms about dragging his lawyer friends into this if I need to." Ahh...at last. Warm water, lavender oil, no phone in sight... "Don't worry so much."
"But that will make it worse!"
"I never said I'd kill them. Relax." She scoops up a handful of bubbles. "Do me a favour and get my back, would you?"
"I only worry because of you." she grumbles, but she does come over and pick up the scrubbie. "You know that."
"You know better than to worry about me." she says, closing her eyes. "I always have a backup plan."
In this case, backup plan, thy name is 'fuck if I know'. But she's not overly concerned. Really, if he lays a finger on her, she can arrange for there to be such a public outcry...
She probably should think about doing that now, actually. He's all but destroyed the criminal economy, and it's impossible to find good help anymore, what with half in the hospital or prison and the other half scared shitless.
Really, the man's an asshole. But a well-built one, she'll grant him that. No fashion taste, though...those horns. God, no. Somewhere, her mother is weeping at the tackiness. What is he, blind? Tsk, tsk...she ought to bring it up next time. He's probably single, with no one to tell him, 'sweetie, NO'.
Men.
She goes straight from the bath to bed, her hair still a little bit damp, and is actually half-asleep when there's a nasty CRASH! from downstairs, followed by shouting.
If Daredevil has decided to try and screw her over, he's in for a nasty surprise. Her boys by the docks are lousy shots and usually drunk anyway. Her personal guards, on the other hand, are trained, sober, and work with dogs. He won't get further than the hallway.
She gets up, feeling resentful towards whomever it is downstairs, and pulls on a robe. What is going on down there...
It isn't Daredevil. It's not anybody, actually-or at least, not anybody breathing. It's a corpse, one of her outside guards, with half his face ripped off and the rest of him cut apart by glass after a trip through a window.
Well, well. Seems that somebody wants to play a game.
"Daphne?"
"Oui?"
She's got to give it to the girl. Six months ago she would have a weeping spectacle. She's learned much.
"Call the police. The rest of you, get away before you contaminate anything."
"It is the Devil." Daphne murmured. Angelique scoffed.
"Don't be a fool, this isn't his work. He doesn't leave messages. This is something else."
A madman, by the looks of it.
Fantastic.
*They really do. I live within walking distance of an elementary school and there's: one rapist next door to me, one pedo a block over or so, and I think another rapist nearby, but that one might have moved. The next-door one? He's labeled as 'extremely likely to reoffend' and is still out in public. The system sucks regarding these creatures.
