pridegoeth | For Daredevilawyer

For Daredevilawyer

((Continued from here...))

As much as Dr. Octavius would prefer a stealthy approach, there's only one way he has to move quickly across the city, and it's not the most subtle. On the plus side, while he did stop not far from the hideout to place a call that will likely draw the police, the rooftops aren't the first place they're going to look. His captive, who has turned out to be something of an unexpected ally, has been rebound at wrists and ankles with a length of cord that hobbles his steps. It's more for show than security, since he's already let the man arm himself with a small piece of metal tucked in reach up his sleeve. The nightsticks have been returned, if only because he's being restrained and kept out of reach of the flesh-and-blood man. The metal arms, after all, don't find those a threat.

Thus bound, Daredevil has been wrapped in a curled actuator- tight enough he couldn't get free if he tried, but gentle enough not to hurt, and all that says just how precise and controlled those metal arms truly are. He should be used to being lifted up already, and this time it's more comfortably so, around the waist, but then when they leave the building, he can hear the crunching grip of actuator claws on concrete, as the arms scale the wall, and then they're off and moving at speed across the rooftops, swinging easily over alleys, and it's a kind of locomotion like nothing else. Sight isn't needed to enjoy this, and in fact he's better off keeping his eyes closed thanks to the rush of the wind. It's almost like flying, and if he could see, his captor enjoys this method of travel. It's almost over too soon, as they sink and land in an alley, Octavius giving a quiet grunt as weight is dropped back onto his own feet. "All right, we've got a fire escape to go up, and no tricks." He doesn't quite trust him, really. The actuator holding Daredevil brings him close enough for Octavius to clamp a solid hand on his shoulder. Then all four arms are in retreat, rearranging and drawing themselves up, and there's pressure as the bigger man leans on him just a little. Arms hidden under the long coat, he's carrying a lot of weight on his own two legs, now, but it does make him less recognizeable as the infamous Doc Ock.

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"Thanks for that..." He's light-headed, but his wit is intact.

With the arms under his coat, what Daredevil is patting is at his back, but there's a little rattle and click from ankle level, as one peers up at him from under the ragged hem. It's as much an answer as he's likely to get directly.

"...Moe." Dr. Octavius mutters, staggers slightly, and refocuses. They can understand... you fine."

Daredevil ties off the wound with what's at hand at the moment, which would be the line from one of his batons. It makes a good tourniquet in a pinch, he's often used them that way before.

Moe. Okay, now's not the time to ask.

"If they can carry you, they can follow me once we reach the alley." He knew all the back alleys of Hell's Kitchen and knew how to avoid being seen. Even in the company of a mechanical octopus.

Dr. Octavius staggers to a halt and grunts in pain as the line is wrapped tight around his arm. For a moment he starts to sag, then there's the thud of one planting on the ground to support him before he collapses.

"Fo... follow him. Even if I pass out." Any instruction he gives carries a lot more weight than Daredevil's ever could. That they can apparently keep going without his being conscious is significant, and bad news for anyone who might try to sneak up on him while he's asleep.

"They don't... I don't... like doctors." He adds, letting his weight rest on the harness. "The last time..." Dr. Octavius pauses there, and finishes very carefully, "...didn't end well for them."

"Noted," Daredevil says, slowly letting the mechanical arms take Octavius' weight. Then he takes a step and stops to catch himself, now realizing how much the fight took out of him. Com'n, Murdock, move it, he pep talks himself before moving forward. He forgoes his usual swinging and jumping, just leading as straight a line as he can towards the back end of the clinic.

The lights are off inside, fortunate for them. Matt knows where the extra key is, part of a favor for saving the owner's life once. He unlocks the door and makes sure the doctor isn't far behind. So far, nobody's noticed their trek there and the sirens had died out since they left the park.

Still mostly hidden by the coat, the actuators thud along as quietly as they can, a set of metallic footsteps. Before they've reached the clinic, his feet are scraping the ground, and the arms walking for him have to lift him a few inches higher. He's still conscious, but silent except for his heavy breathing.

At the door, the actuators pause, waiting for Daredevil to unlock the door, but once they've followed him inside they see less reason for caution, the upper two lifting to look around. "I've never... stitched myself up... hope there's a lot of lidocaine..." He's got only a vague idea how to go about it, but obviously he needs to do something to stop the bleeding.

It's an afterthought to turn on the lights. Matt's already rummaged through a few boxes to find what they might need. The back of the clinic was mostly storage next to an examination room with a table.

It seems that he's abandoning Doc Ock as he lights for the stairs to the upper apartment. There's the faint sound of him knocking on a door. And the sleepy answer back.

A moment later, Matt is coming down the stairs followed by a older thinner man who's putting on his glasses and rolling up his sleeves. "Gunshot wound, I think," Matt was saying to him. "Good heavens," the older man murmured at the yards of metal arms sprawling out of the man in front of him.

The delayed turning on the lights just helps confirm some private suspicions, but he grunts in complaint when they're turned on himself. At least he's not seeing spots anymore, but he's squinting in the light. Still, he grabs a small handful of gauze and clamps it over the wound in his arm, and lets the actuators lower him onto a chair. Sitting down, he only needs one for support, while the other three arms explore everything in reach, uncertain but eager to be helpful.

As Daredevil heads for the stairs, he squints after him suspiciously, but his new ally hasn't betrayed him yet.

The doctor returns to a stocky middle-aged man in ragged clothes, straddling a chair backwards and scowling at them warily, squinting a little. All four arms emerging from under his coat pause, swiveling three-pronged talons at him, then largely dismiss him as a threat and return to rummaging, bringing a few bottles to their host's face for him to read the labels. He was hoping for aspirin, but some of these painkillers are probably better, if unfamiliar.

The mousey man goes off to fetch what he needs to sew up his new patient, bringing over a metal tray when he's ready. Matt knew he would do a good job, any friend of Daredevil was a friend of Dr. Linus.

Daredevil hovers nearby, trying to look like he wasn't holding a bruised rib and being ready to help should anything go wrong. If those mechanical arms got any bad ideas, he was going to get Linus out of here in a hurry.

The doctor asks to see the arm in question, a towel in hand to wash off the wound so he can see it better.

Unfortunately for Octavius, all the good stuff was locked up for the night to prevent thieves from stealing it for the black market. However a bottle of whiskey might turn up from a cupboard if the arms keep looking around.

Bottles of pills are beyond the understanding of the arms, so what they've brought him seems to be some antibiotics and benadryl- useful stuff, but not in this instance. He shakes his head slightly, and the arms sheepishly return the bottles to the shelf. "...This'd better not end up being some kind of trap..." He growls in Matt's direction, but he's too exhausted to put much threat behind it.

Unfortunately exposing his arm requires removing coat and shirt, and he tries to stifle the small noises of pain when he has to move that arm, using the other one to cradle it. The tourniquet has to come off, since it's over his sleeve, and the arms do most of the work getting the layers off. Underneath the shirt the metal band covers half his torso, scar tissue all around the upper edge, and another starburst burn scar over his heart with a suspiciously tri-pronged shape. He leans forward on the back of the chair, letting the doctor do what he needs to on his arm. He's been winged once, which is more or less a shallow cut, but a second bullet hit his arm dead on. If the actuators hadn't moved him, it probably would have hit him in the chest instead.

The arms gather around and hover, claws open and fixing the surgeon with LEDs and cameras from close range.

The doctor is a bit flustered at the close scrutiny, "Er, pardon me, but your arms are in my light," he says apologetically.

Matt brings over one of the lights from the side, one of those for surgery that are on a long metal neck, aiming it at Doc Ock's arm. Maybe he should play distraction while Linus was occupied. "There's lollypops for the good patients," he says, leaning in a wooden bracing beam next to the chair Doc Ock was sitting in. Fully inside the reach of the metal arms and hopefully a more tantalizing target.

When Matt brings the light closer, Dr. Octavius winces and turns his head away. His sunglasses were lost somewhere in the attack and explosion, so he's forced to do without until he gets his hands on another pair.

The arms, rather than retreat, simply try to shift their positions, wanting to watch without stopping anything that actually helps. Face turned away from the light, Octavius slumps a little lower in the chair. "I'd settle for vodka." He shivers once, feeling terrifyingly exposed. His breathing is definitely improving, but his heartbeat is uneven, picking up every time he feels a stitch or the doctor reaches for some instrument he can't easily see, the subtle arrhythmia more noticeable now. "I see you managed not to get shot full of holes, at least... anything broken?"

"Just my pride," Daredevil answers with a hint of bitterness. His goals within his reach and slipped through his grasp once again. He does look a beaten up sight, smudges of smoke and blood all over. Likely the blood being from both of them. When he gets home and has a shower, he'll find whatever cuts he does have on his person much easier. Right now, there's no way of telling right where they were.

He goes over to a cupboard and opens it up, pulling out a small flask of alcohol and giving it to the man in the chair. "Should be brandy." Dr. Linus about to work on pulling out the bullet from the second wound.

"...Right." The way Daredevil is moving speaks of more than just a bruise, but he's not about to push the matter. They're both allowed to be defensive, here.

The brandy is a definite surprise, though. He reaches for it with a flesh and blood hand, but since the other one is currently being picked apart by Dr. Linus, he has to have an actuator help to get the top off. "...Thanks." He takes a healthy swig, from the sound of liquid sloshing in the bottle, and offers it back to Daredevil with a helpful little nudge of the other man's hand.

He knows.

"What... kind of a place is this, anyways? You patch up just anyone?" He squints sidelong at the doctor.

The doctor seems engrossed in his work, answering without looking up. "Anyone who needs it," he says, carefully going in with the tweezers. It's a policy that's nearly gotten him killed on more than one occasion, but Dr. Linus figured when his time came, he would like to say he did all that he could for other people.

Daredevil takes the flask and sets it on the nearby table. Alcohol dulled the senses, not something he wants to use right now. However, his adrenaline levels were coming down now that the fight was over and exhaustion clamping down on him. It was a good thing he didn't have to go to court tomorrow. He leans against a nearby wall, arms crossed to keep his aching rib in and listened to the doctor's efforts as best as he could. There's a satisfied sound from Linus as he extracts the bullet and lets it clink into a metal basin before working on dressing the wound.

Dr. Octavius gives a quiet grunt at the last, but once the bullet's out at least the worst of it should be over. A talon moves closer to eye the bullet, and draws away again.

"...I'll keep that in mind." He sighs, and folds his other arm across the chair back so he can rest his head on it. "If costumed so-called superheroes keep dogging me at every turn, I may need patching up again." He's been feeling rough, frankly, since he staggered out of the hospital the night after the arms were welded to him via electrocution. "You must get a lot of work, in this neighborhood."

"Some, yes," the doctor said, finishing up the bandage and going to wash his hands. "Daredevil doesn't usually bring in his enemies."

That earns a smirk from Matt, Linus had assumed it was his fault that the mechanical man was beaten up. "It keeps things simple," he says, going along with the misconception.

Dr. Octavius gives a quiet snort of amusement, but doesn't bother to correct the man, either. "You ever get Spiderman in here?" He sends an actuator after the bottle of brandy, to bring it to his hand for another swallow. He's not looking to get drunk, but he's not in a position to turn down a taste of better things when he can get his hands on it. He'd kill for a good cigar right now, but the surgeon probably wouldn't approve.

"I'd be content to avoid violence, in the future, but that doesn't seem likely."

"If I have, he never said a word," Dr. Linus says, coming out and drying his hands on a towel. If he's not needed, he'll be going back upstairs now. He knows Daredevil can lock up after himself.

"Impossible in this town," Daredevil says, straightening with a barely perceptible wince. He's going to make sure the 8 armed man leaves without incident.

"Scrawny kid, red and blue costume...? But I suppose he could have come out of the spandex..." He sighs, and lets the actuators help him get his shirt back on carefully, moving the injured arm as little as possible. The briefcase of money, bundled up in his coat, is held out of the way by an actuator while he gets that back on as well.

"I may be back. Thank you." It's a stiff and grudging thanks, but it's there. "And you... don't make me regret all this anymore than I already do." The last is directed at Daredevil.

Daredevil says nothing in reply at first. However badly the villain feels, he will regret missing his chance to get the Kingpin even worse.

"You have your money," he says, he would hold up his end of the bargain if he wasn't double crossed in return. And he knew Otto still had the briefcase.

"I do..." The actuators lift him up carefully, because he's still not sure he can trust his own feet to carry him.

"...And you didn't stab me in the back." He seems to find that a welcome surprise. "I'll remember that." The thudding footsteps that come closer are the actuator claws, Octavius' own feet drifting an inch or so off the floor again. Slightly reluctant, he offers out a hand to shake. It's not an offer of friendship or trust, exactly, but he's willing to not mark Daredevil as a full-on enemy, either.

Another pause, Daredevil doubting that the man was really holding out his hand. But when he reached and found it easily enough, that answered that question. "I didn't catch the name," he says, knowing full well the other man didn't have to give it.

He waits for Matt to take it, patiently. "Dr. Octavius." He saw the papers, last year. There's never been much chance for his identity to be kept secret, so he doesn't see the point in trying. The least he can do is try to discourage the goofy nickname.

"I'm sure we'll be... seeing each other, around."

A name he would be looking up later to find out more about this strange scientist.

"I would have thought you'd had enough of Hell's Kitchen's welcome by now," Matt says with a knowing smirk. Here's hoping their next meeting isn't as soon or as dangerous as this one has been. And here's hoping neither of them will double cross the other.

He might find more than he bargained for, all things considered.

Octavius gives a quiet snort, but shakes hands firmly before retreating a little. At times the arms seem to move as if they're simply a part of him, an extra set of limbs, while other times they're clearly their own sentient creatures. Not many people have had the chance to study them up close like this.

"I didn't say it would be soon. But good luck getting your man, I wouldn't mind seeing him end badly." An actuator collects some extra gauze and bandage tape, because he's going to need that for a few days at least. He'll leave the brandy, much as he'd love to take it along, and he won't be leaving any money, but he just may keep his eye on this place. If anybody messes with Dr. Linus and Daredevil doesn't get to them first, they're going to find a short end at Doc Ock's talons.

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For Daredevilawyer

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in case you wonder, this man is not canon

I figured NPC ;)

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couldn't help it, already drafting a post for bruce banner :3

XD I'm around!

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