Jacqueline Margaret Murdock | Daredevil (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
guardian_devil) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nextgenerationmarvel2014-10-14 12:17 pm
guardian_devil) wrote in nextgenerationmarvel2014-10-14 12:17 pm
Devil's in the Details
Matt Murdock had explicitly told his daughter that as Daredevil’s sidekick, Acrobat could do no adventuring or detective work on her own. Acrobat couldn’t engage directly with the big bads or anything.
Good thing I’m not Acrobat anymore.
She’d had the costume tucked away in the back of her closet. A black and yellow costume, with familiar yellow initials emblazoned across the chest and a horned cowl. It hadn’t been easy, getting that costume together without her father’s knowledge, but Mags had managed. She hadn’t really considered wearing the costume for a long while yet, but with her father incapacitated thanks to whoever had tried to kill him…
And the list of suspects for that dubious honor is longer than Rapunzel’s braid.
Well, Acrobat had to be retired. After all, Matt had never said that Daredevil couldn’t go out and bust some heads on her own, right?
Mags smiled thinly to herself as she fought a nameless hoodlum on top of the Church of St. Malachy. Famously, it was a church for the theatre community, which felt fitting to Mags tonight. After all, it was her first night out as Daredevil, and she felt oddly as though she was playing dress up in daddy’s clothes. Though to be fair, I felt the same way with my Acrobat look, though it was decidedly less costumey than this. She’d grow into this look, this identity, as well. You know. As long as Dad allows me to. Or, you know, if this guy lets me.
She blocked another incoming punch and fired a bolt of pyrokinetic energy at the hoodlum’s knife, heating it enough for him to drop it and for her to kick it away.
“Fighting on top of a church,” Daredevil said, “the Catholic schoolgirl in me is mortified.” She whirled around and attacked with a hook kick, knocking him out. “Alright, and a little thrilled.” She kneeled down next to the hoodlum and did a quick search of his pockets, looking for any identifying information. Nothing. She wasn’t certain if he’d just been there or someone had sent him after her.
Though why would anyone? It’s my first night out as Daredevil. They couldn’t possibly have been looking for me. Granted, Hell’s Kitchen - or Midtown West, as I insist on calling it - did have it’s fair share of crime. This could be entirely unconnected. On top of a church, though? Doubtful.
She stood up and surveyed the area around her before putting in an anonymous call to the police. No other hoodlums. Her eyes narrowed behind her cowl. It’s been a week and I still have no answers about who tried to kill Dad. That’s not choice. She’d chased down some leads, some obvious suspects, but none of it had led to anything.
Two mysteries to solve. One, figure out who my mom is and find out why Dad wants so desperately to keep her a secret. Two, find out who tried to kill Dad. Let’s hope I don’t need to take on a third.
Good thing I’m not Acrobat anymore.
She’d had the costume tucked away in the back of her closet. A black and yellow costume, with familiar yellow initials emblazoned across the chest and a horned cowl. It hadn’t been easy, getting that costume together without her father’s knowledge, but Mags had managed. She hadn’t really considered wearing the costume for a long while yet, but with her father incapacitated thanks to whoever had tried to kill him…
And the list of suspects for that dubious honor is longer than Rapunzel’s braid.
Well, Acrobat had to be retired. After all, Matt had never said that Daredevil couldn’t go out and bust some heads on her own, right?
Mags smiled thinly to herself as she fought a nameless hoodlum on top of the Church of St. Malachy. Famously, it was a church for the theatre community, which felt fitting to Mags tonight. After all, it was her first night out as Daredevil, and she felt oddly as though she was playing dress up in daddy’s clothes. Though to be fair, I felt the same way with my Acrobat look, though it was decidedly less costumey than this. She’d grow into this look, this identity, as well. You know. As long as Dad allows me to. Or, you know, if this guy lets me.
She blocked another incoming punch and fired a bolt of pyrokinetic energy at the hoodlum’s knife, heating it enough for him to drop it and for her to kick it away.
“Fighting on top of a church,” Daredevil said, “the Catholic schoolgirl in me is mortified.” She whirled around and attacked with a hook kick, knocking him out. “Alright, and a little thrilled.” She kneeled down next to the hoodlum and did a quick search of his pockets, looking for any identifying information. Nothing. She wasn’t certain if he’d just been there or someone had sent him after her.
Though why would anyone? It’s my first night out as Daredevil. They couldn’t possibly have been looking for me. Granted, Hell’s Kitchen - or Midtown West, as I insist on calling it - did have it’s fair share of crime. This could be entirely unconnected. On top of a church, though? Doubtful.
She stood up and surveyed the area around her before putting in an anonymous call to the police. No other hoodlums. Her eyes narrowed behind her cowl. It’s been a week and I still have no answers about who tried to kill Dad. That’s not choice. She’d chased down some leads, some obvious suspects, but none of it had led to anything.
Two mysteries to solve. One, figure out who my mom is and find out why Dad wants so desperately to keep her a secret. Two, find out who tried to kill Dad. Let’s hope I don’t need to take on a third.
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Something, just out of her periphery stopped her. She narrowed her eyes and froze, reaching out with her telekinesis. All of her father's careful training came to mind, as did the skills she'd picked up at the Xavier Institute, thanks to Rachel Grey-Ramsey and Betsy Braddock.
There was something there.
Someone.
She could feel it with her telekinesis, no matter how still they were.
Narrowing her eyes, she reached out and sent a bolt of fire hurtling towards Recluse, but not directly at her.
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"You really think you can run around in a crazy costume and not attract curious kids?"
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She frowned. She was pretty sure the push came from the costumed idiot. Just like the fireball. She grabbed a piece of gravel and tossed it back. "Maybe because you threw a fireball at me!"
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If anything, it was clear that Daredevil was losing her patience with this girl, whoever she was. It was funny, really. The girl behind the cowl tended to be a warm, upbeat, friendly person. She worked hard to maintain that attitude even though some nights she felt an encroaching darkness fighting for dominance in her personality. Tonight, though, she just wasn't having it, and the darkness that Daredevil had always tried to bury underneath a facade of warmth and merriment was threatening to take over.
"As far as playing dress-up goes, if you knew anything - and it's becoming increasingly clear that you don't - you'd realize that heroes who aren't Avengers - heroes like Daredevil and Spider-Man and Valkyrie - have been around for a long, long while, and they've run around in costume fighting crime and saving the day as well. That goes all the way back to the first heroines like Blonde Phantom and Sun Girl as well." Daredevil was nothing if not well-read on the heroes - and the women - who had come before her. "Honestly, little girl," that, coming from a sixteen year old, "maybe it's time for you to go home. Clearly you don't know enough to be roaming the streets this late at night. Especially if you think that flinging a piece of gravel at someone is a good self-defense technique. Newsflash? It's not."
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Really, what was wrong with this girl? Was her ego really just that big? "Everyone knows who the CIA and FBI are. The KGB doesn't exist anymore. Everyone also knows who the CDC and the FAA are."
She shrugged at the rest of it. That really was not the point. The point was this Daredevil girl could have killed her by accident. "So what? I bet they didn't throw fireballs before they knew who was there. And you think pushing someone around like you're trying to shove them in a locker is acting like good little superhero?"
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Oops, pretend she said Detroit in the last tag......
She raised her eyebrows. How old is this person, five? "So you're parents were okay with you throwing fireballs whenever you didn't like something? They never told you to knock that shit off?"
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