The 'Ultimate Marvel' RPG Season IV

[Matt Murdock]

Daredevil - The Man Without Fear

Matt Murdock stared at his reflection in the mirror in his bathroom. He couldn't see the colors, or his facial expression, but he knew he wasn't pleased.

It was a trick. Daredevil thought. A stupid trick and you fell for it. You made a deal with the Devil and you hoped you wouldn't get burned. Pathetic.

It was for Foggy.

Somehow, that argument, that simple statement from Matthew Michael Murdock inside of his own thoughts, negated whatever the Daredevil inside of him would charge.

It was for Foggy.

Murdock meandered out of his bathroom and into the kitchen. He turned on the stove, hoping to make himself a bowl of soup. Running his hand over the burning coil, he felt the hot air running along his fingertips.

"Way to go, Murdock." He muttered to himself.

The lawyer in him couldn't see a way out, he had made a deal with Mephisto, and the only way out of his binding with Set was death.

Murdock didn't see any way out.

Daredevil did.

He carefully ran his hand along the outside of the coils on the stove, feeling each of the housings that held the coils.

Seemingly for no reason, he pressed the whole of his hand onto the stove and felt his flesh begin to melt. It burned, and it was all Daredevil could do not to scream, but he kept his hand pressed firmly on the grill. He felt the agony, and he felt his skin seeping into the coil, but he held his hand fast. He did the same to his other hand, ignoring the blood dripping from his hands.

Daredevil quietly held his hands to chest as he turned oun the shower. Within a few moments, the bleeding on his hands had stopped, though they were still incredibly tender. As he found his favorite suit in his closet, Daredevil felt a nagging doubt about what he was doing.

He brushed it off as the fear and anger of Set, vocalizing itself as his own emotions.

This comforted him.

Daredevil stepped out of his apartment, without even bothering to lock the door, and headed down the stairs.

After walking a few blocks, Daredevil came to the massive, oak doors of his church. The priest was used to Daredevil's, or Murdock's, late-night stops at confessional, tonight was no different, and the priest was dusting the altar when Daredevil entered.

"Ah, Mattchew, what can I do for you?" The priest said happily.

Murdock didn't share his demeanor.

"Forgive me father, for I shall sin."

Those were the only words he dared to speak in a house of God, and, with that, pivoted on his dress shoes and left, leaving the priest to stare on in confusion and worry. The priest's grip loosed on the duster, and it fell to the floor with a clang. When the sound reached his sensitive ears, Murdock was already half a block away, heading for the Hospital.

As he entered the automatic doors, Murdock passed by a nurse's station without even stopping to check-in. Through the uproar of a few angered, by-the-book women, Murdock pressed on.

With a graceful push, he entered the dim room of his legal partner, and his best friend.

Daredevil couldn't tell how long he stood at the end of Foggy's bed, letting the beeps from Nelson's heart monitor wash over him and illuminate the room like waves on a beach.

He felt himself smirk, remembering when the pair had opened their practice.

Nelson and Murdock
Attorneys At Law

For a moment, Daredevil was gone, and Matt Murdock himself was staring at his best friend, lying asleep.
"I'll be back soon, I promise." Murdock said, patting his friend's hand.

With that, he was gone, out of the hospital and back on the streets.

As he paced along the empty roads and sidewalks, headed straight for his apartment, Murdock heard the clattering sound of a knife fight.

No...

A mugging.

"One more time?" He asked Hell's Kitchen.

"One more time." Daredevil said, smirking.

Now his footsteps grew faster, and he headed straight for the mugging.

A young man, probably walking home from work, was being robbed at knife point by another man in an alleyway.

Murdock's frame soon made it's way next to the two men.

"Let him go." Daredevil growled.

"'ey, man. This ain't your concern." The robber said, brandishing the knife in the blind man's face. "Take a hike, blindy."

Daredevil nodded to himself quietly, and snapped his cane into the man's kneecap.

"Now."

The robber grew infuriated and lunged at Daredevil. Instead of fighting back, he let the mugger land on him, giving the victim time to escape.

The knife slashed Daredevil's face several times, and he felt blood pour of his cheeks.

With a well-placed jab of his billy club, the knife was gone, leaving the beating to commence with fists.

As his teeth cracked, and his bones broke, Daredevil didn't fight back.

He was the Man Without Fear... with or without a horned mask.

The punches stopped, eventually, as the assailant lay panting over Daredevil.

Every muscle in his face grew taught and contorted as he realized what he'd done. Puddles splashed and the alleyway grew quiet as the man sprinted away, hoping to elude capture.

Daredevil heaved himself along the streets, barely able to stand.

As the door to his apartment swung open, Daredevil collapsed onto his wooden floor, disregarding the trail of blood behind him. Barely breathing, barely alive, he made his way to the bedroom, where he pulled himself onto his bed. Rolling painfully over onto his side, he slid open his nightstand and pulled out a small object, clutching it tightly to his chest.

Mephisto thought he'd won.

He'd made a deal with the Devil.

He should've know that he made a deal with a Man Without Fear, as well.

Drawing the object up next to his head on his pillow, Daredevil panted silently.

If Mephisto wanted to use him in whatever catastrophic event was on its way, he would be sorely disappointed.

"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death... I shall fear no evil." Daredevil growled, sniffing globs of blood up his nose.

"For thou art with me." Murdock finished, with a resolve he'd never felt before.

If Mephisto wanted to use Daredevil, he'd have to get through Matthew Michael Murdock first.

He smiled quietly to himself, despite Set's silent and determined protests.

The object pressed against his temple glistened in the moonlight, as clouds and a thunderstorm swept over the city.

He just pulled the trigger.

BLAM!
​

 

[Venom160]

"Be wary, young ones... something wicked this way comes..."

Xavier turns and heads toward the med lab leaving us in silence.

"Um creepy much?"

I smile down at Ali and she looks at the rest of the team.

"I don't know about anyone else but I could use a ****ing drink. Anybody care to join me?"

Pyro nodes his head.

"Hell yeah! Thats what im talkin about."

A few minutes later and Ali has broken the safety lock keeping Logan's beer out of reach from "innocent" hands. She brings acouple six packs to the table and starts passing em out. Kurt stares at his beer obviously reliving the last time Logan got him drunk.

"I don't think I should......"

Ali shrugs as she passes a beer to Ororo and John.

"Ah come on brother blue, live alittle."

Kurts' quite for alittle than finally shrugs and pops the top. Ali throws one my way and lifts her bottle.

"Cheers."

An hour and a half and eight beers later.......

I leave the gang and grab my bag as I head up to my room. I throw the bag on my bed and walk out onto the balcony overlooking the backyard. I take a deep breath and start replaying everything thats happened. I really don't know how long I spent out there but the sound of laughter is heard coming down the hall and my door opens.

"Oh **** War you missed some funny ****. Kurt got shnockered again and started dancing around the kitchen singing some german folk song. He passed out soon after so John and I dragged him into his room and threw him on his bed."

She falls back onto my bed and stretches. She looks back up to me and see that I havent moved.

"Whats wrong?"

I shake my head and turn around.

"It's Piotr, iv been trying to figure out why he would just up and leave us right in the middle of a fight. And lets not mention Jean...."

"Eh Jean always shows up naked and confused, thats her thing I guess. And don't worry about the Tin Man, im sure he'll be back."

"Its not just that. I just can't shake the feeling something bad is about to happen. This was the feeling I had before Apocalypse reared his ugly mug."

Silence settles on the room. Just mentioning Apocalypse's name is enough to bring those memories surging back in vivid detail. Ali gets up and walks over to me. She wraps her arms around my waist and looks up into my eyes.

"Well let it happen. We've gotten through it before we can sure as hell do it again."

"I know but......"

She places a finger on my lips silencing me.

"No buts...."

She kisses me so hard that it hurts. She finally breaks the kiss and smiles.

"Lets go to bed. We'll deal with everything else tomorrow."

Before I can say anything she takes my hand and drags me back into my room. As we fall into bed I hear the low rumble of aproaching storm clouds.


To be continued.....

 

[Venom160]

Woo stands rooted to the spot as Kitty leaves and Janet and Hank Pym arrive with Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. They pay their respects and share a brief moment of silence before leaving Woo and Fury standing infront of the grave stone. Fury nodes and one of the gravediggers flips a little switch causing the casket to start lowering. A loud beep breaks the silence as Fury presses a button on his watch and turns to Woo.

"I gotta go theres a situation."

Woo simply nodes. Fury bends down and grabs a handful of dirt and sprinkles it into the grave.

"Rest in piece kid."

Fury turns and heads for the chopper.

"Alright troops move out!"

Woo looks down at the coffin as the diggers start filling in the hole. He stays until they're finished. He places his on hand on the head stone and sighs.

"Good bye Anton."

James Woo slowly lowers his head and leave as rain starts to fall.



The End.

 

[Matt Murdock]

​

5,192.

High above the earth, a silver creature stands on the bridge of an alien space craft, glaring down at the tiny, blue and green planet. Three other beings, exactly like him in appearance, stand solemnly behind him. The only sound in the whole of the room is the engine core, powering the ship as it hovers in orbit.

5,192.

He blinks once, and turns to the creatures behind him.

"Do it." He says, quietly.

5,192.

The ship shakes and stirs as the weapons bay warms up. As the entire ship begins to rock to and fro, a massive beam erupts from the front phase cannons mounted on the ship.

​

5, 192.

Nobody saw it coming, to someone looking into the sky, it might just look like a stray beam of light from a car's headlight, or even a star that was especially bright on this particular evening.

5, 192.

"Bobby, hold mommy's hand."

5, 192.

"What? No, I'm on a cell walking on Libert--Bobby! Hold my hand, sweetie."

5,192.

"Yeah, I'm thinking of getting in a cab when I get back to Manhattan. Might be faster than walking."

5,192.

"I dunno, really."

5, 192.

"Yeah, he's a really good b--"

​

5, 192.

"Oh my God."

A woman walking around Liberty Island with her seven year-old son on a night much like any other stands in awe, as just a few dozen blocks down the road, she sees a massive column of light rocketing into the center of her home city. She exclaims to God, staring at the cloud of an explosion as the city itself almost screams in agony and fear.

God wasn't there that night.

5, 192.

Only a few miles away from her, Tony Stark is heaving himself into his repaired suit of Iron Man armor, preparing to meet the destruction head-on.

The Scarlet Spider, in the Triskellion with Stark, is in one of the sub-levels of the building, staring at a vial of his brother, Tarantula's blood. Beneath sea-level, the Spider doesn't even notice the ground beneath his feet quake slightly.

5, 192.

A phone in Stark tower rings, and an African American man answers it in his penthouse, a mailing envelope in his hand.

"Rhodes." He says, answering the phone. "Yeah, I just saw. I'm watching emergency response crews panic right now."

He runs the envelope through his hand.

"They can't tell yet," He tells the man on the other end of the line. "Call the Bugle? Alright, Tony, whatever you say."

Rhodes hangs up, tearing the envelope open, finding a tiny microchip inside.

Tossing the envelope labeled as War Machine, Rhodes begins to dial the Daily Bugle.

As he stares at the chip, holding it in front of his eyes to distract from the smoking view of the city, a phone on a desk in the Bugle offices rings.

People line the offices, staring outwards. Nobody is scrambling, nobody is panicking.

5, 192.

"Ben Urich." A man says, answering the phone, snapping Rhodes out of his daze.

"This is James Rhodes. I'm calling on behalf of Tony Stark."

"Go on." The reporter mumbles as he clicks a pen on his desk and fumbles with a notepad.

"Mr. Stark wants the people of the city to know that The Ultimates are doing everything they can and are inbound to help with casualties."

"Iron Man, Ultimates, coming...to... help." Urich mutters, scratching notes onto his pad. "What was your name, sir?"

No response. Instead, Rhodes simply hangs up, clutching the chip.

5, 192.

Feeling the back of his neck, Rhodes feels a small slot, and slides the chip inside of it.

Nothing happens.

With a twinge of disappointment, he sits back down, staring at the cloud of smoke and lightning on the horizon.

Meanwhile, the Bugle newsroom begins to stir once more as people start to "get the scoop."

Ben Urich is on the phone again, dialing the head precinct of the NYPD.

"Hi, I'm Benjamin Urich of the Daily Bugle." He mutters.

"I know you've got a lot of work to do, sir. But I'm just looking for an initial casualty report."

J. Jonah Jameson walks behind Urich and, hearing the phone conversation, stops to await the response from whomever Urich is questioning.

"Thank you, I understand."

Jameson's eyebrow arcs as Urich simply hangs up the phone, and stares blankly at his computer screen, his jaw hanging down.

"Well?" The publisher asks.

"5,192 people presumed dead." Urich mutters. "That's the total number of employees that work in each of the buildings that were destroyed. People walking along the streets have yet to be counted."

"Jesus christ..."

The pair jump as an unexpected BOOM shakes the foundation of the building. As they glance outside, they see Iron Man flying down the street, headed straight for the center of the destruction.

The clouds overhead swirl as Iron Man makes his way for the charred heart of the city, dodging floating pieces of debris.

Expecting a fight as soon as he hurtles into the ground, he throws himself up, with his repulsors ready.

​

The area is dead. There's no fight to be had here. The streets are dark, and only the crippled remnants of the buildings remain. Smoke curls around his legs, and Iron Man begins the trek through the rubble and debris, looking for any survivors.

Tapping his communication signal, he hoped to speak to Jim Rhodes, but the line was dead.

Rhodes was on his hands and knees, watching as a variety of pistons and mechanisms he had never seen before tore through his synthetic flesh and wrapped themselves around his remaining appendages. Steam hissed as claws locked into his skin, and he felt wires and plugs tear into his frame, ripping and slicing into him. He gritted his teeth, but held fast, refusing to scream. Within seconds, his entire body was encased in armor, and he felt himself slowly regaining his ability to breath and think clearly.

Quietly, he rose to his feet, and glanced into the mirror.

"Whoa..." He muttered quietly to himself, a machine-like quality echoing through his voice.

Stories below Jim Rhodes, on the streets of the stunned city, a lone criminal paced along the streets, hoping to seize the panic of the city for his own criminal gain.

Ducking into an alleyway, he saw the back of a man leaning against a brick wall, staring out at the pillar of smoke. A trench coat covered his frame, and a fedora his his face, but, still, the thug took his chances.

"Give me your wallet." He whispered simply, into the man's ear, poking his back with a knife.

"No." The man responded simply.

The robber was surprised, and almost took off.

"Yes." He persisted, pushing the knife harder.

"This won't end well for you, I know so."

Taking his victim's words as nothing more than a reference to the chaos, the man opened his mouth to say something.

WHAM!

A fist slammed into the side of his head, sending him into the dust.

"I said 'No.'"

The felon looked up from the pavement, only to see a red-and-black clad man looming over him, with a knife in his hand.

"You never know who's got a knife of their own."

Before the thug could scream, and without a second's hesitation, the man sliced the robber's throat, spewing blood onto the bricks next to him.

Glancing around to make sure there weren't any witnesses, the killer chuckled to himself.

"Heh. Shoulda listened."

Hearing the sounds of sirens, Deadpool flees, running down a number of sidestreets until the police were out of his earshot.

On the other side of the city, a police captain is speaking into his radio, commanding squads of officers to patrol the city and keep the peace when a folder flops on his desk.

"The **** is this?" He asks angrily of the woman who put it there.

"John Doe. Put a bullet through his own head, it looks like. Got a face that's sliced up, hands with the prints singed off, and only a few teeth left in his face."

"And?"

"And, either it's a very elaborate suicide, or someone doesn't want us to know who he is."

"Oh, **** off. I've got bigger things to deal with than a suicide that might be a murder. Put him in the morgue for when this **** storm blows over."

The officer nods, and leaves the room. With a quick phone call to the medical examiner's office, the orders are relayed.

In the basement of a nearby hospital, a sheet lies over a corpse with a single, singed hand hanging off of the steel bed it's being carted around on. Droplets of blood roll along the cold metal, and the wheels squeek, these are the only sounds in the morgue on this night.

A suicidal John Doe is heaved into a freezer, to be examined at a later date.

The door closes with a simple and unceremonious SLAM on this hero's body.

Matthew Michael Murdock is dead, and, with him, Daredevil.

They are the first casualties of Project: Nexus.
​