Why you gotta be so rude?

[guardiandevil]

Who| Matt & Steve | Matt, Jet, & Albert
What| Exploring post-power outage | Matt's death thread
Where| Just off town square | The Lake
When| During the Hell Arena power outage | Week Four
Warnings/Notes| Character death & violence during the thread w/ Jet & Albert

I. Steve Rogers, Non-Hell Arena

Matt couldn't see the dark, but he could feel the crackle of electricity in the air and sense the tension building up all around him. The air felt so thick, he was sure he was going to be smothered by it. The whole world seemed to catch fire for the briefest of moments before the cresciendo of sound and senses swelled around him and then released. He felt like he should get inside, take cover before lightning struck him dead on the spot. Instead, however, he found himself in an eery place of calm and comfort. The world seemed peaceful, almost serene. He even heard what sounded like crickets chirping. The mist was gone from his lungs and he could almost breathe easy again. But something told him not to relax just yet. They were still deep in the heart of the war zone.

II. Jet & Albert, The Lake

He'd been right about that calm. It was beautiful and righteous, but it was over quickly and it left a strange sense of loss in its wake. Matt was mournful of that fleeting peace. Gone was the chance to start anew. It was back to the murder business now that the fog had rolled back in.

Somehow, he'd found the lake. He didn't dare drink the water, though he'd knelt before it just long enough to splash his face and clean himself up. Four weeks in a dead town and a man started to smell ripe. It got especially bad for him with his enhanced senses and all. His own smell was strong enough that he wasn't paying full attention to his own surroundings. He was a prime target for anyone who might happen along.

Comments

[silberfuchs]

Despite the gnawing in the pit of his stomach, Albert similarly feels the need for some kind of ablution. He's caked with the dried blood of those dogs, dirt, mud, sweat, and his own blood too. The lake is a new destination though, and so caution is paramount. He sticks to what little tree-line there is before approaching, communicating to his partner in practiced hand gestures to circle around to the right, to flank.

They spotted the figure at the lake readily, as it turns out. What little light filters in is reflected back by the dark water, creating an eerie glow in the fog and a clear silhouette of the man kneeling by the shore.

If this were some other place or time, or even simply some other arena, the two former cyborgs may have been content to leave the man alone, but right then and there, with their brains buzzing with aggression from eating far too much of the native cuisine, the man is only a potential threat. A target.

Albert waits for Jet to get into position, hands clenched around his shovel with the sharpened edge.

[metalicarus]

The only sign Jet saw the direction Albert gave was to follow it and move in from the right, metal pipe raised and ready to fly. His knife was tucked into his sleeve, available if he needed, but out of sight so it couldn't be snatched from him.

They had to eliminate this threat if they were going to protect each other. He was probably waiting there for them, planning on gutting one or the other of them as soon as they got close. Jet wouldn't let him. One guy had been the cause of both of their deaths before and he wasn't going to let that happen again.

He crept closer, keeping pace and silence with his partner.

[guardiandevil]

Matt didn't hear them at first, distracted by the sound of the water splashing over his face. He was just beginning to calm down, just thinking that he might be safe when he caught a scent on the wind. Mud. Blood. Sweat. More blood. Startled, he rose to his feet, but by then it was too late. He couldn't quite pinpoint their locations, and with the fog moving around him, he couldn't tell which direction to listen to. In other words, Matt Murdock was about to get ambushed.

[silberfuchs]

Their target stands suddenly, alert to their presence, but they're already too close.

Albert darts forward, swinging his shovel like an axe with the sharpened edge toward the man's shoulder. It's not sharp enough to sever but if the blow lands, given Albert's strength and the angle, it will leave a nasty, jagged gash.