Post by BijuuGuy on Jan 20, 2024 0:42:49 GMT
Hell's Kitchen. The Big Apple's unwashed armpit. Both to those who lived in the neighbourhood and those who didn't. A veritable district with a specific "gritty" reputation, despite its numerous improvements and general evolution over the years. Still, it has remained a hub of criminal activity, threatening the safety and livelihood of those seeking affordable housing and abundant employment opportunities. But what are you to do when the rest of the city is populated by people with money beyond reason. Not to mention a sea of people who claim to be superheroes, because of who other areas in New York became increasingly more desirable and expensive. Who wouldn't want to see Spider-Man swinging past their apartment or witness a battle between the Champions and their villain of the week, in the hopes that their home would remain unscathed. Which also meant that neighbourhoods like Hell's Kitchen became hotbeds for those fleeing the increasingly more dangerous environs in Manhattan.
But nowhere seemed truly safe for the regular joes. With gangs and other "undesirables" roaming the streets of Hell's Kitchen, it forced most to work in establishments owned by criminal enterprises. In constant fear of not perhaps being able to meet the monthly, weekly, daily quotas set by those who preyed upon the true hard workers. New York had never had it easy. Even more so with the increasing emergence of capes. It made it easy for citizens to voice strife towards both the heroes and the criminals. Who really looked out for them in their time of need? Their answer was, more often than not, nobody. They were on their own, left to pick up the scraps.
That was more or less the thought process of Melvin Potter. An unfortunate New Yorker who had had his own share of troubles, but who nonetheless felt himself being between cogs turned by those with more influence. Hell's Kitchen offered him a beacon of possible hope, only to be forced into the employment of the Maggia. His task was a straightforward one, taking into account his skills: making effective armor and clothing for the Maggia operatives. On top of that, he was to act as an informant, bringing any and all pertinent intel to the crime family. One of many civilian informants scattered around the neighbourhood and the greater New York. But Melvin's not so secure safety net was about to break under the pressure. The man had developed a conscience at some point. Or rather, reminded himself of one. And he wanted out. It's a tried and true story of people like him believeing that after a time of dutiful service, that they would simply be released. That was almost never the case.
Melvin's involvement with the Maggia was significant enough to consider his possible harm to the crime family's reputation. And they knew that he would talk if coerced by the right people. The man wasn't a difficult one fo convince, in that regard. But he was headstrong. Determined in his beliefs. Making him a loose end.
But nowhere seemed truly safe for the regular joes. With gangs and other "undesirables" roaming the streets of Hell's Kitchen, it forced most to work in establishments owned by criminal enterprises. In constant fear of not perhaps being able to meet the monthly, weekly, daily quotas set by those who preyed upon the true hard workers. New York had never had it easy. Even more so with the increasing emergence of capes. It made it easy for citizens to voice strife towards both the heroes and the criminals. Who really looked out for them in their time of need? Their answer was, more often than not, nobody. They were on their own, left to pick up the scraps.
That was more or less the thought process of Melvin Potter. An unfortunate New Yorker who had had his own share of troubles, but who nonetheless felt himself being between cogs turned by those with more influence. Hell's Kitchen offered him a beacon of possible hope, only to be forced into the employment of the Maggia. His task was a straightforward one, taking into account his skills: making effective armor and clothing for the Maggia operatives. On top of that, he was to act as an informant, bringing any and all pertinent intel to the crime family. One of many civilian informants scattered around the neighbourhood and the greater New York. But Melvin's not so secure safety net was about to break under the pressure. The man had developed a conscience at some point. Or rather, reminded himself of one. And he wanted out. It's a tried and true story of people like him believeing that after a time of dutiful service, that they would simply be released. That was almost never the case.
Melvin's involvement with the Maggia was significant enough to consider his possible harm to the crime family's reputation. And they knew that he would talk if coerced by the right people. The man wasn't a difficult one fo convince, in that regard. But he was headstrong. Determined in his beliefs. Making him a loose end.
Mindy's night was supposed to be a quiet one. A night, among those very few, where she could've been able to do whatever a teenager would've. Which, in her case, mostly meant target practice or sharpening her blades for too long. Or cleaning her guns until they looked brand new. Or watch a movie. But at least none of that wouldn't have involved doing her employer's dirty work. Needless to say, however, Mindy knew better. There was always something. And the Maggia were determined to use her to her fullest potential. A reminder of her predicament. This night was no different.
She got the call, the details, the works. And not even an hour later, Hit-Girl was in the streets of Hell's Kitchen, scouting the apartment of Melvin Potter from a neighbouring building. She knew him. Not well, but they had crossed paths. A kind man, despite his massive frame and expert martial arts skills. What he was most proficient in, however, was his skill in clothing and armor. He offered to make something for her, which she quickly refused. Nobody was to meddle with her equipment. It seemed like a simple trap. The Maggia working their own little quirks and faults into her suit. Mindy was paranoid like that. She had every right to be. But enough musings, a job needed completing.
It was honestly a no-brainer that she was the one sent to do this. It was a show of force. A tool that got the job done. Especially when it came in the package of a young woman.
Walking to his building, Hit-Girl's outfit blended in seamlessly with the grimy surroundings of Hell's Kitchen. The place transformed after sundown, becoming its true self. Nobody was out of place there, particularly those in funny looking suits. Something that would've looked out of place in the daylight, despite the reputation the area held.
The streets were quiet, a sign of the fear that the Maggia induced at every corner. Only the rumblings and musings of others like her and those more ordinary, yet still involved in criminal activities, sowing the natural tapestry of Hell's Kitchen. Mindy made her way into Melvin's apartment building. She knew the right door and what to do.
*knock, knock, knock*
Her knocks were clear and evident. Melvin had been suspecting something for a time, but was still taken by surprise by her sudden arrival. She could hear him scrambling, before silence followed. He hadn't left the apartment yet. Instead, he had grabbed his closest weapon: a sturdy metal pipe. It wasn't going to do much, most likely, but he had to be prepared. The man wasn't going down without a fight.
Mindy sighed, opting to not say anything yet. Instead, she kicked down the door,. An impressive feat for someone of her stature. And "kicking down" wasn't exactly the right way of putting it either. More that she damaged it enough to freely enter. The door held onto dear life as it was hanging from its last hinge, Hit-Girl stepping into the apartment in the meantime. Her determined gaze met that of the frightened one of Melvin's. Except, it was more fear mixed with belief. Belief, that he was going to make it out of this.
"I don't wanna to hurt you, girl."
Hit-Girl let out a chuckle that could've almost been taken as a show of warmth and sympathy. Hints of that were definitely there, but not enough to have her back down. Her staff was at the ready, taking steps toward Melvin when he launched himself at her. She quickly deflected his makeshift weapon, going straight for his neck with one of the staff's blades. She swung at him several times, him evading them expertly. A sign of the trained fighter she knew he was. Mindy tried to kick his feet from under him, only to be stopped by him grabbing her left hand, which she had stupidly left unguarded.
Overconfidence.
He swung her across the room, Mindy meeting his coffee table in a painful slam. She managed to recover quicker than he had expected, though he was already heading towards her to lay a barrage upon her. She met his strikes with her own, deflecting some, hitting him with others. The apartment brawl lasted for a few minutes, Melvin's place becoming thoroughly thrashed. Mindy had managed to grab her weapon again during this, after being released from it with her unfortunate meeting with the coffee table. She swung it at him again, managing to graze his neck, but not deep enough to cause any lasting damage. During one of her swings, Melvin grabbed the hand closest to him, stopping her bladed flurry dead.
With his free hand, Potter grabbed the leg she tried to hit him with before, flinging her against the nearest wall. The thud was loud, as was the groan of pain coming from Mindy. With that decisive move, Melvin began his escape effort. He bolted out of the door, heading to the roof, instead of down. His fear had taken over, reasonable thought was out of the window. His instincts were doing the work now.
Mindy recovered quickly, following suit. In a minute, the two were on the roof of the building. Hit-Girl unsheathed three of her throwing knives immediately after she had a clear visual of her target. One of them hit Melvin in the back. The man stumbled, yelling out in pain, and turned to face his assailant. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, but he first removed the knife from his back, tossing it far enough for Mindy to not get to it for the time being. Her composure was as professional, as always. She stepped towards him, Melvin backing up. He wasn't sure if he could make it to the next rooftop without her striking him down.
"I kinda liked you, you know? Come on, man. Make it easy for me and I'll make it quick."
Her target shook his head in almost childlike denial. Melvin refused to go down like that. But he may not have had a choice for much longer. Hit-Girl took determined steps towards him, her bladed staff at the ready once again. It wasn't personal, not in that context anyway. But it was deeply personal to her. Another box to tick in her quest. She wasn't going to lose. She couldn't afford to.
She got the call, the details, the works. And not even an hour later, Hit-Girl was in the streets of Hell's Kitchen, scouting the apartment of Melvin Potter from a neighbouring building. She knew him. Not well, but they had crossed paths. A kind man, despite his massive frame and expert martial arts skills. What he was most proficient in, however, was his skill in clothing and armor. He offered to make something for her, which she quickly refused. Nobody was to meddle with her equipment. It seemed like a simple trap. The Maggia working their own little quirks and faults into her suit. Mindy was paranoid like that. She had every right to be. But enough musings, a job needed completing.
It was honestly a no-brainer that she was the one sent to do this. It was a show of force. A tool that got the job done. Especially when it came in the package of a young woman.
Walking to his building, Hit-Girl's outfit blended in seamlessly with the grimy surroundings of Hell's Kitchen. The place transformed after sundown, becoming its true self. Nobody was out of place there, particularly those in funny looking suits. Something that would've looked out of place in the daylight, despite the reputation the area held.
The streets were quiet, a sign of the fear that the Maggia induced at every corner. Only the rumblings and musings of others like her and those more ordinary, yet still involved in criminal activities, sowing the natural tapestry of Hell's Kitchen. Mindy made her way into Melvin's apartment building. She knew the right door and what to do.
*knock, knock, knock*
Her knocks were clear and evident. Melvin had been suspecting something for a time, but was still taken by surprise by her sudden arrival. She could hear him scrambling, before silence followed. He hadn't left the apartment yet. Instead, he had grabbed his closest weapon: a sturdy metal pipe. It wasn't going to do much, most likely, but he had to be prepared. The man wasn't going down without a fight.
Mindy sighed, opting to not say anything yet. Instead, she kicked down the door,. An impressive feat for someone of her stature. And "kicking down" wasn't exactly the right way of putting it either. More that she damaged it enough to freely enter. The door held onto dear life as it was hanging from its last hinge, Hit-Girl stepping into the apartment in the meantime. Her determined gaze met that of the frightened one of Melvin's. Except, it was more fear mixed with belief. Belief, that he was going to make it out of this.
"I don't wanna to hurt you, girl."
Hit-Girl let out a chuckle that could've almost been taken as a show of warmth and sympathy. Hints of that were definitely there, but not enough to have her back down. Her staff was at the ready, taking steps toward Melvin when he launched himself at her. She quickly deflected his makeshift weapon, going straight for his neck with one of the staff's blades. She swung at him several times, him evading them expertly. A sign of the trained fighter she knew he was. Mindy tried to kick his feet from under him, only to be stopped by him grabbing her left hand, which she had stupidly left unguarded.
Overconfidence.
He swung her across the room, Mindy meeting his coffee table in a painful slam. She managed to recover quicker than he had expected, though he was already heading towards her to lay a barrage upon her. She met his strikes with her own, deflecting some, hitting him with others. The apartment brawl lasted for a few minutes, Melvin's place becoming thoroughly thrashed. Mindy had managed to grab her weapon again during this, after being released from it with her unfortunate meeting with the coffee table. She swung it at him again, managing to graze his neck, but not deep enough to cause any lasting damage. During one of her swings, Melvin grabbed the hand closest to him, stopping her bladed flurry dead.
With his free hand, Potter grabbed the leg she tried to hit him with before, flinging her against the nearest wall. The thud was loud, as was the groan of pain coming from Mindy. With that decisive move, Melvin began his escape effort. He bolted out of the door, heading to the roof, instead of down. His fear had taken over, reasonable thought was out of the window. His instincts were doing the work now.
Mindy recovered quickly, following suit. In a minute, the two were on the roof of the building. Hit-Girl unsheathed three of her throwing knives immediately after she had a clear visual of her target. One of them hit Melvin in the back. The man stumbled, yelling out in pain, and turned to face his assailant. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, but he first removed the knife from his back, tossing it far enough for Mindy to not get to it for the time being. Her composure was as professional, as always. She stepped towards him, Melvin backing up. He wasn't sure if he could make it to the next rooftop without her striking him down.
"I kinda liked you, you know? Come on, man. Make it easy for me and I'll make it quick."
Her target shook his head in almost childlike denial. Melvin refused to go down like that. But he may not have had a choice for much longer. Hit-Girl took determined steps towards him, her bladed staff at the ready once again. It wasn't personal, not in that context anyway. But it was deeply personal to her. Another box to tick in her quest. She wasn't going to lose. She couldn't afford to.
