Daredevil 2099UG #2

The corporate mentality would say that everything has a price.

Everything.

Sex. Drugs. Possessions. Life. Death. Popularity. People. Power. Justice.

Everything.

But that's not true.

The law can be bought and paid for. It is everyday, be it in the form of SHIELD or the various varieties of pay cops. Justice though, justice can't be bought. Not ever.

Justice is more then a page and an oath to do good.

Justice is an idea. Not an idea of a single entity, but the basic belief that exists in the hearts and minds of all that evil deserves to be punished. The idea that people are accountable for their actions.

Justice cannot be bought. It can be ignored, defied, discarded and avoided, but never bought.

The greater the evil perpetuated the greater the need for justice. A need for justice is a void. A vacuum. A vacuum that eventually becomes a strain on society. That vacuum, the need for justice, will eventually create agents of justice out of everyday men and women to see that justice is done.

In the end, it is crime that demands justice. The harshness of the crime dictates the severity of the punishment.

The law is a pale and pathetic thing when compared to true justice.

In Manhattan, down from the Thirteenth Street line, there has been a sudden increase in justice over the past few months. It has the law scared.

* * * * *

Rena Ross is pretty to look at with obvious equal parts chinese and european mingling in her bloodline with perhaps a touch of egyptian and a smattering of other things. Her head is shaved bald except for the seven centimetre long thick lock of blue bangs at the top of her brow which she's constantly brushing out of the way of her face. A silver stud protrudes from just below her full red lips that seem permanently twisted into a smirk of contempt. The left side of her neck sports a small black tattoo of a spider. A pair of purple tinted lenses sit precariously perched just at the tip of her nose revelling startlingly blue eyes above the circular frames.

Her features are well known in Manhattan. Though she spends a goodly amount of her time mingling in neo-victorian cafes and writing poetry, she is more easily recognisable for her habit of making independent broadcasts, reporting the facts about major events without any corporate spin or propaganda. Rena Ross considers herself something of an underground journalist.

Her activates are not appreciated by the black card carrying elite, but thus far she has been little more then a nuisance. She's just a little girl with an information feed and broadcast capabilities. In reality, what she's said or done has had little effect, if any at all, on the way people live.

Recently, that has begun to change.

Recently, Rena's pirate broadcasts are more like the one she's doing now. "...tell us in your own words what happened here tonight?"

The woman whose shoulder Rena is resting her hand upon is the journalist's polar opposite. Hunched. Pale. Dirty. Twitchy. She had a purple welt rising on her cheek. She's from below the Fault Line. That's where Rena's broadcasting from. Down from Thirteenth. The woman looks around a bit before answering into Rena's microphone, "The two Shields, er, SHIELD Agents, the two of them were demanding that we pay them so they protect us. Keep us safe they said."

"Some of us don't have that much though, and we weren't willing to give it up to those scabs. They didn't like that much. The short one--"

"Captain McPhilps?" Rena interrupts to ask for clarification.

"Yeah," the Downtown woman replies, "McPhilips. He hit me when I told him I couldn't pay him. And his partner just stood there too. Hit me again while I was on the ground. Would have probably kept hitting me if he didn't show up."

"I know these two look pretty bad right now, but I'd have looked just as bad if he'd not shown up and beat the shock out of these two Shields." With that the woman gestured into the back ground where two severely injured men were being loaded into a med transport. One of them was screaming.

"He?" asks the journalist.

"The Daredevil."

Rena nods. She's known all along whom the woman was talking about. That much was obvious. "You're certain it was the Daredevil that helped you tonight?"

The Downtown woman's head jerked spastically in the affirmative. "Unless there's someone else running around all in black with horns and glowing red eyes beating up people who do bad things. I don't mind telling you he scared me. Kept asking the Shields, er, SHIELD Agents if they knew the difference between use of authority and abuse of authority. Seemed like he was just as interested in punishing them as he was helping anyone."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Rena Ross turns from the Downtown woman to look directly at the camera. It zoomed in on her pretty features. "There you have it. SHIELD's Captains Reiko McPhilips and Julius Toranaga both in critical condition after an encounter with the vigilante known as the Daredevil for attempting to extort the innocen--"

Rena Ross's triad was cut short and frozen in place as Ilid Payne paused the vidfeed. He settles back in his chair with a sigh of disgust and turns to face the other man in his office.

Ilid Payne is the Kronos Corporations Law Enforcement Liaison. Among other things, he's a go between representing the needs of the corporation and ensuring that Neuva York's SHIELD detachment are actually earning their keep. Right now they are not earning their keep.

"I am," Payne paused a moment, letting the two words hang in the air as prelude to what he was going to say next. "Disappointed."

Derek Cambell was not a man easily intimidated. SHIELD's director in the city is far more used to being intimidating. He' a large man, tall and broad shouldered. He could probably kill Ilid Payne empty handed without breaking a sweat.

The idea of what Payne could do to him though did make him break into a cold sweat.

Ilid Payne is not a man to be trifled with.

"I assure you sir, McPhilips and Toranaga will be punished...." The look in Payne's eyes made him trail off uncertainly.

He is a smallish man. Severe in both features and dress. His hair is just beginning to show signs of white. Ilid Payne's eyes are ice. Cold and calculating. And filled with disgust right now. "Mr. Cambell. I am not concerned as to what you want you do or do not do to punish your men."

"I am not concerned if your men choose to extort Downtown scum or not."

"I am concerned as to what is happening with the Daredevil situation. This black-pajama wearing scab has destroyed several Kronos projects being conducted down from thirteenth street. He is making the Kronos Corporation and other Alliance Mega Corps look bad. He is disrupting progress. And your men seem completely incompetent to deal with him."

The SHIELD agent stutters a moment. "We're taking every possible step to locate this Daredevil and put an end to him. We've tripled the size of patrols going Downtown. We've interrogated everyone who's seen him. We've got an entire task force devoted to locating--"

Payne's severe voice cuts him off. "You are not doing enough. Do more. Do it better. Do it quickly."

At a loss for words, the larger man sits with an open mouth a moment before beginning, "Mr. Payne, I--"

"You are dismissed, Cambell." Kronos's Law Enforcement Liaison watches the SHIELD director leave before toggling a switch on his desk. "Karie," he address his secretary. "Please get Ramses Moore in my office at his earliest possible convenience." He toggles off the intercom without waiting for a reply. Karie is a very capable woman and Moore is well aware that his earliest possible convenience is as quickly as humanly possible when dealing with Ilid Payne.

Alone, Payne sneers at the contemptuous smirk on Rena Ross's paused features. She was becoming almost as annoying as the Daredevil. She would have to be dealt with as well.

* * * * *

The Moon Shine is one of the more popular Downtown bars. It's dank, dimly lit and there's always an air of impending violence about the place. The quality of drink is low, and the service isn't exactly polished either. However the house brew won't make you blind and so long as you can pay for what you want no one ask questions.

In the dim light of the bar, the black clad figure enters unnoticed. The smells and sounds of the place assault his senses like a slap in the face. Thankfully the light is low enough that he can't see what's generating some of those smells without concentrating.

The bartender this evening, one Hoss, is a large man. Round and broad shouldered though of average hight. His nose has been broken more then once, his hands are huge and he has the eyes and look of a man who's seen it all and is bored with it all.

Currently Hoss is looking through an actual glass stein, judging if it's clean enough to put on the filthy shelves with the others.

The black clad figure approaches bar and Hoss. His eyes begin to glow a deep crimson and a pair of interlocked "D"s flash on his chest for a moment.

Not taking his attention from the stein, Hoss executes a practised motion pulling a gun from under the bar and levelling at the Daredevil's face. "You'll have to excuse me for not taking you're order, but seeing as you'd have to take off that mask to drink anything anyways, you don't seem like a paying customer to me, Devil."

The various conversations about the bar have ended. Everyone's attention is now focused on the altercation at the bar.

Hoss continues, "Now maybe you'd best just turn around and go out the way you came in."

The crimson glow of the Daredevil's eyes fade away. The dim light of the bar reveal the two small horns protruding from his forehead yet little else about the man's features.

For a moment no one moves. The Daredevil's attention focused on the muscles in Hoss's hand. They beefy appendage is tense, and the bartender is obviously ready to use his weapon. His index finger is trembling slightly revealing just how taunt the trigger's springs are.

His right hand comes about in an open handed slap that knocks the barrel out of line. It's blast burns a finger sized hole in the far wall. The Daredevil's left hand snatches the gun from the surprised Hoss's grip and tosses it to the ground behind the bar. Both the Daredevil's arms snap forward to grab Hoss's head and slam it down into the synthetic wood bar top. The big man's forehead bounces and as he's coming back up the black clad figure grabs him again. With a not unimpressive display of strength, the Daredevil tosses Hoss into the liquor shelf behind him. The shelves buckle under the impact. Bottles fall. Mugs fall. Hoss falls. Bottles break. Mugs break. Glass showers about. The stench of cheap alcohol is almost overpowering. The scent of blood pales in comparison.

No one else has moved. They sit or stand transfixed.

The Daredevil turns to survey the bar's patrons. He his a solid black entity in the Moon Shine's dim florescent light.

"I am looking for Jullian Vash." The simple statement is uttered by a low harsh voice. Some of the men here will have nightmares about that voice.

Most people, when confronted by a man such as the Daredevil would not voluntarily bring attention to themselves. Jullian Vash is not such a person. As he stands, his chair scrapes against the ground. "I'm flattered. Looks like you found me, Daredevil. Call me 'Vash,' no one uses my first name."

Looking over his bold query for a moment, the Daredevil evaluates the man. Or monster if you prefer. The Daredevil is tall, but Vash stands at least a head taller. He's a huge mass of densely packed muscle. He his the eyes and grin of a sadist.

"Jullian Vash," the Daredevil's rough voice is calm. "You've a habit of rapping and beating Downtown women."

Vash laughs. "Yeah. So?"

"So, everything down from the fault line is under my protection. I want you to stop."

The look on Vash's face can only be described as incredulous. "You're going to stop me, little man?"

The Daredevil's shoulders shrug slightly. "If that's what it comes too."

A chair hurtles through the air at the vigilante in front of the bar. "You'll try!" Vash bellows as he charges. Other patrons of the bar dive to the floor to get out of the human monster's path.

Effortlessly the Daredevil avoids the flying chair. He saw it coming the moment Vash's body began to move. As he side steps the makeshift projectile, a baton of densely packed photons forms itself in his hand.

The Daredevil steps forward into Jullian Vash's charge and with a speed the larger man can't even comprehend brings the pink glowing baton across the rapist's broad chin with a loud crack.

Vash goes down but almost immediately begins to climb back to his feet. His jaw isn't even broken. "You'll pay for that one, Devil."

In the sidelines, most of the patrons stare at the battle in awe. Open mouthed. Bets are already being placed.

One man reaches into his jacket pocket and presses a button on his comm tranciever three times. He pauses and presses the same button three times again. Another pause and then he press the button yet another three times.

Drawing his hand out of his pocket he turns his attention fully on the battle. Vash has the Daredevil in a crushing hug. Blood streams from the rapist's nose as the vigilante has been head butting him to try and get him to let go.

The man with the comm unit smiles to himself. He might wind up with a promotion for this.

* * * * *

"Sir!" an agent who's name eludes Derek Cambell bursts into his offices, "We've a priority signal from one of our cover agents in Downtown."

A faint hope appears somewhere in Cambell's hardened heart. "What signal is that?"

"Triple six, sir. Sent three times."

Neuva York's top SHIELD agent practically knocks over his chair as he bolts up from the desk. "Excellent! We've got the scab now. Assemble three teams and lock in on that signal's origin."

"Yes, sir!" The underling hurries out of Cambell's office.

<I>I've got you now,</i> Derek Cambell gloats to himself. <I>I've got you Daredevil, and Ilid Payne can take a shocking leap.</i>

* * * * *

The Daredevil tenses slightly. There was something in the background, there, over the sound of his own continuing battle with Jullian Vash, and the cheers of encouragement from the gamblers. He can't quite tell what it is.

It's long since been decided that Vash is pumped up on one of the better super-solider serums on the black market. He's being pounded mercilessly yet is only now beginning to slow. Vash isn't fast though and the Daredevil hasn't been seriously hurt.

The Daredevil ducks under one of the rapist's slow left hooks and is gratified to hear a loud popping noise as his baton dislocates the Vash's knee cap.

The man with the comm tranciever frowns in his corner. Vash won't be able to last much longer, and SHIELD hasn't arrived yet. His visions of promotion are beginning to seem somewhat insubstantial.

* * * * *

Outside the Moon Shine, SHIELD has just finished setting up a permitter around the bar.

"We're set. You want to give the order to move in, sir?" an agent asks Cambell.

He's given a disdainful look for his trouble. "We're not moving in just yet. This vigilante scab would be warned the moment the door opened and find a way out."

The low ranking agent cocks his head to the side. Even though his face is obscured buy the red, white and blue face plate, you can tell he wears a look of confusion. "So we wait for him to come out?"

"No," Cambell says as he checks the charge on his gun. The dim light of Downtown reflects off the word "YIELD" engraved in the side. "We open fire."

"Sir! There's probably innocent people in there!" There is genuine shock in the man's voice.

Derek Cambell narrows his eyes at the naive young agent. "They're only Downtown scum." He aims his weapon. "And in a moment, they won't even be that."

SHIELD's top officer grabs a loud speaker.

"Fire."

* * * * *

The Daredevil is monetarily distracted by a single word from outside the Moon Shine. His harsh voice sounds odd as he yells a warning. "Everyone down!"

For his trouble, he receives a solid blow to the stomach by one of Vash's huge fists.

The crowd just looks about in confusion. The man with the comm tranciever suddenly feels a gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

The air erupts with SHIELD standard issue death. In the center of the room Jullian Vash is cut down by six beams from all angles as he unsteadily works his way up onto his good leg. The rapist goes down cooked meat.

One beam takes the man with the comm tranciever in the back of the throat.

Two thirds of the patrons are murdered in cold blood during the thirty second barrage. Most of the rest are in critical condition.

The door is kicked off it's hinges, and six SHIELD agents stream into the room, weapons drawn.

They're greeted by the smell of burnt flesh and the pained moaning of the injured.

"We've met with minimum resistance," the lead agent radios back to Cambell. "Now searching for the target. Out."

Turning over bodies of the dead and the wounded alike with the toes of their boots, the SHIELD agents go about looking for body of the black clad vigilante amongst the downed Downtowners.

The already dim lights go dead.

"Shock! What happened to the lights."

"Never mind. Just switch to infrared, Danbert."

Agent Danbert's lenses make the transition to the infrared spectrum just in time for him to see the Daredevil horned visage before his faceplate is shattered by a photon baton. He goes down screaming.

The Daredevil's left hand snatches the fallen agent's gun from the air.

"Target is active." the lead Shield reports to Cambell. "Repeat; target is active. Requesting back-up."

Three beams lance out in quick succession. The SHIELD standard issue armour is completely unaffected by such an attack, but the agent inside instinctively shys back regardless. Discarding the weapon, the Daredevil grabs the agent and hurtles him at one of his companions. They both go down in a tangle of limbs.

A fourth agent tries to pistol whip the vigilante. He's not quick enough and the Daredevil grabs his wrist spinning the Shield around to block the fire from the two standing agents.

Protected from the other two Shields, the Daredevil relieves the one he's manhandling of his firearm and slips it under the Shield's face plate pressing the barrel against the man's chin. He pulls the trigger and the agent stops struggling.

The body is still falling as the Daredevil takes off at a run. There's some stiffness left from where Vash punched him, but he still manages to leap over the bar, avoiding fire from the two remaining SHIELD agents. Hoss's unconscious from cushions his landing.

A quick glance about is all it takes for him to find the gun Hoss pulled on him early.

He discards the SHIELD issue sidearm in his hand and picks up the rougher looking weapon.

.57 Magnum.

Illegal.

Loaded.

Loaded with bullets.

SHIELD armour is beamproof, but it might be paper for all it does to stop bullets.

Waiting for a lull in the beams being fired overhead, the Daredevil stands up from behind the bar and squeezes the trigger twice in quick succession. One takes an agent in the shoulder knocking him to the ground. The second opens up the other Shield's belly.

Throwing down the hand cannon, he runs into the Moon Shine's back room just as SHIELD reinforcements flood the bar. Looking into a closet, the Daredevil finds what he's looking for.

A ladder to access the roof.

He quickly begins the climb, listening to Shields stumble around in the dark finding their compatriots bodies. As he pulls himself onto the roof the Daredevil hears an agent announce he's found the open closet.

He takes off at a run, leaping across an alley and over a few remaining SHIELD agents outside.

The Moon Shine is a one story building. The rundown apartment complex across the alley is four stories. Glass falls, tinkling against the floor in an almost melodic fashion as the Daredevil crashes through a second story window.

* * * * *

"We had him."

"Sir?"

Cambell looks at the lieutenant with pure disgust. "We had the Daredevil in our hands and we lost him. We shocking lost him!"

The agent takes a step back. "There's still a chance he could turn up. He's probably wounded. We're scouring the area. There's a good chance."

It's an effort for Derek Cambell not to hit his underling. "No, we had him contained, and he got out. There's no way we'll be able to find him now. These pukes that live down here aren't going to be any help. We lost him. Get the shock out of my sight."

SHIELD's Neuva York director turns from the lieutenant and stalks to his transport.

* * * * *

"This is Rena Ross, reporting live from Downtown where less then an hour ago, SHIELD agents in pursuit of the vigilante known only as the Daredevil declared war on the Moon Shine, a popular Downtown bar."

The camera angle pulled back to reveal the wreckage of the bar in the background. "Currant reports claim casualties in the vicinity of one hundred and twenty. It has yet to be confirmed whether or not the Daredevil is among one of the bodies."

"Joining me now is the Moon Shine's bartender," A large man steps into the frame. His face is bandaged up and he's moving stiffly. "Mr. Hoss, could you tell me in your own words what happened here this evening?"

The big round man swallows deep. "Sure, I saw the whole thi--"

Ilid Payne turns off the vidfeed and tosses the remote control across the room in disgust.

* * * * *

The Daredevil stands atop a building across from the wreckage of the Moon Shine. His eyes and ears are focused on Rena Ross and her report.

He knows that regardless of the fact that he lived and evaded capture, he lost the battle tonight. SHIELD got to close. He wasn't careful enough.

He lost for the first time.

The Daredevil stalks to the opposite end of roof.

He has a lot of thinking to do. Things to consider. Reevaluate. Decide his next move.

The Daredevil dives off the edge of the building.

Next Issue: Returning Uptown the Daredevil takes off his costume. Meanwhile, Rena Ross encounters an agent of Kronos.



	Comments go here!!!