daredevilawyer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
daredevilawyer) wrote2015-04-13 11:04 pm
daredevilawyer) wrote2015-04-13 11:04 pm
Octavius Attacks p2
[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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While Matt would have liked to travel on his own power, he knew that wasn't possible for their facade to work. So he put up with being carried, steeling himself for the fight to come. He didn't say a word the whole trip, focusing on his senses around him. Working out where in the city they were and what direction they were going.
He fingers the piece of metal up his sleeve, the batons firmly in their holders in his boots. This seemed like a pretty open area for an exchange. He wasn't sure what yet, but something was bothering him about it. Nerves, he told himself and tried to shake the feeling as he's set back on his feet. With a nod, he starts to ascend the ladder, slowly and feigning exhaustion when he reaches the top.
It didn't seem like anyone was here yet. But Matt knew they weren't alone. Two heartbeats stepped out from around a rooftop pigeon coop, their semi-automatic weapons in hand. In the distance, a helicopter was circling, waiting for the all clear signal from his henchmen. While the Kingpin was interested in capturing Daredevil, he was also making sure there weren't any tricks.
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Daredevil might feign exhaustion, but on the climb up he could hear the occasional pop of the knees of the man close behind him. The fire escape creaked badly under the extra weight of metal at his back. At the edge of the roof, his captor hesitated, and nudged Daredevil toward the shelter of a rooftop utility box. It wasn't ideal cover, but it protected them from view from at least a few angles and might make the guards less willing to open fire. The distant sounds of the city echoed off the small structure, and filtered up from the streets to tell Daredevil they were nowhere near high enough to be on top of Fisk's tower, although they were likely to be on a building not very far off, possibly in view from its windows.
"I'm here. He's here. Let's get this over with quickly." Dr. Octavius addressed the men, coming off as surly and impatient, which might not be inaccurate at all.
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"Lets see 'im then, if it's really 'im," one of the baddies grumbles, radio on his hip. Obviously the man to give the signal to the chopper whenever it's to come down. But that did mean shoving Daredevil out in front, unprotected. He was fully prepared for that scenario however, looking beaten and tired but every muscle tensed and ready for action.
The two henchmen seem to have no sign of money or briefcase on their person.
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"Let's see the money. I didn't trudge all the way up here for the exercise." Hat pulled low, sunglasses on despite the late hour, and the long ratty coat over the arms, he looks more like a very bulky but shabby bum than a master criminal. He looks, in fact, like an unlikely person to have caught Daredevil in the first place.
"He's here. Not my damn fault he dresses in black." Dr. Octavius shoves Daredevil into slightly better view in front of him, but also clamps a hand on his shoulder again to do it, and doesn't let go. Against the black costume, the rope hobbling his ankles and binding his wrists together stands out pale.
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As Daredevil comes into view, the henchmen grip their guns a little tighter, their heartbeats speeding up slightly. Daredevil smiles quietly to himself. They'd heard stories, of course. None of them good.
The main henchman swallows before reaching for his radio, "Looks like it's really 'im, sir." He listens with it up to his ear so none of the others could hear. Save for Daredevil. Good. Give the man his reward. Fisk's voice. A briefcase is produce from the side as the guns are trained on the man in black. The henchmen advancing slowly to make the exchange.
Something else catches Matt's ear, something faint as he's being pushed forward slightly. Way off to the right on a nearby rooftop another radio squawked. The Kingpin's voice coming through. "You may fire when ready." The sniper set his weapon, a large bazooka, aiming at the party gathered on the next roof. He was going to take them all out at once. Matt didn't know what kind of weapon was trained at them, but he had to get out of there.
"...snipers," he says quickly in a whisper, hoping if the Doc hadn't heard it, his metal friends would. He's only just able to get his wrist bonds cut as the sniper fires. Two more on the remaining rooftops firing at almost the same time. The Kingpin would have the best seat in the house to watch them go up in a firey explosion.
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To say Dr. Octavius is greedy would not be accurate, but he is a little anxious to get his money and go, preferring to be as far away as possible before Daredevil makes his move, and/or his backup arrives. With the actuators blinded under his coat, he's left with only his own senses for self-defense, and they're nowhere near as sharp as Daredevil's are. His gaze has, inevitable, focused on the money, while he considers how to grab the suitcase and be away safely without looking too hasty about it. In some ways, it might have been safer to let them know just who they're dealing with. His response to the warning, then, is a distracted murmur of "Wha-?"
The actuators are blind under his coat, but not deaf. One of the lower claws plants on the roof with a solid thud, claws digging in a little, an instant before it lifts their host off his feet and pulls him to one side, the other three rising to form a protective cage around him. It's a cage with gaps, and they don't move as fast as a bullet, but Daredevil does hear a few ping off the metal plates, saving Dr. Octavius from multiple shots.
The guards on the roof, of course, are more than a little surprised by this display, and possibly surprised enough not to immediately realize the more serious threat is the now-free Daredevil.
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"Look out!"
"What is that?!"
Chaos immediately broke out on the rooftop. Starting with the large explosion from the missile that misses hitting its mark and hits the roof next door instead.
The henchmen forgetting to keep Daredevil covered as they open fire on the crazy man with the metallic arms. Daredevil springs into action, slicing his ankle ropes as he flips forward and hurls the bit of metal at the main henchman's hand. The large man yells in pain as Daredevil, batons now in hand, takes him out with two blows to the head. He drops like a sack of potatoes, his radio skidding across the cement. The second henchman realizing his mistake, turns his gun on the man in black, but too late. On orders from the Kingpin, his snipers were firing on anything that moved, including their own men. Matt has just the presence of mind to grab the dying henchman and use him for a shield as he back up, trying to find some sort of cover. He was out in the open though, this was not an ideal situation. And Fisk might as well be in his tower for all the farther away he was in the chopper.
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The doctor may not have reflexes as quick as Daredevil's, but by the time both henchmen are done for he's in motion, the upper two actuators still curled around him, lower pair propelling him toward the edge of the roof. One of these makes a grab for the abandoned briefcase, just on the off chance there actually is money in there, and neatly slips it between the protective cage into Octavius' waiting hand. He's still being shot at, the bulk of the arms making him a large and easy target, but the lower pair all but flings him over the edge of the roof opposite the direction the gunfire is coming from. The bulk of the building itself is the best and quickest shield available, so it's a path Daredevil might be wise to follow. Certainly the pinging ricochet of bullets off the arms gives him a clear idea of where Dr. Octavius is, up until the moment it's only the edge of the roof the bullets find.
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The helicopter hovers for a moment, a man firing another missile at the rooftop to take care of Daredevil, before barreling down on the 8 armed doctor. The Kingpin not happy about someone making away with his money, he's going to get it back. More missiles firing in Doc Ock's direction...
...while unnoticed, Daredevil hangs on a line attached to the feet of the copter. He is NOT letting Fisk get away this time.
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He was hoping, really hoping, that the Daredevil would make a more interesting target. He's got no history with this man, after all, but it looks like his getaway won't be that easy. Escaping by actuator requires traveling over the rooftops or along walls, where he'll be highly visible for an aerial attack. Even escaping on foot demands a crowd on the ground to blend in with, and any late night stragglers that dared hang around this late fled the moment he gunfire started. The only recourse, then, is to fight back.
Doc Ock is, however briefly, out of sight on the side of the building. The lights of the copter tell him it'll be over the alley soon enough, and then he'll be in plain view directly below them and trapped between narrow alley walls. The arms stretch and flex, their thoughts synchronous enough with his own he's not sure where the line between them is. Dangling sideways, he moves around the right angle corner of the building, so that by the time the copter is coming lower over the alley, he's not there. Instead he is abruptly leaping up over the edge of the roof, briefly airborne with the force of the actuator's thrust, landing on the copter with all four metal arms finding places to grab and hold wherever seems convenient. Nearly four hundred pounds of man and metal is enough to make it wobble alarmingly, and then while three arms are well anchored, the fourth claw rips at metal, shredding whatever part of the vehicle happens to be under its grip. It finds another place to grab, and a different arms takes up the violent dismantling of the copter, then another. He seems to have no problem ripping the thing apart even as he's clinging to it and swaying through the air.
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The copter swings wide, careening out of control above the streets of New York. Daredevil hangs on as he's whipped back and forth, the telltale sounds of the metallic acuators telling the story of what hitchhiker they had picked up now.
"Get him off!!" the Kingpin shouts, pointing at the bug on the windshield while his men swing their guns around to point at him. The poor pilot trying to get control of a very heavy helicopter at the moment. Daredevil climbs up quickly, both feet finding the henchman's face before he can pull the trigger on the doctor. Unfortunately, he does pull it while his aim is off and the missile explodes in the cabin. BOOM!!
Everyone thrown back and out of the exploding helicopter as a white parachute opens slightly away from it, the Kingpin having bailed out rather than stay and fight.
The man without fear is left hanging off his rope again, ears ringing and still attached to the flaming helicopter that was plunging towards the nearest city park. Crashing was imminent.
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He may be the man without fear, but just a little concern might be prudent here.
"Grab on to me!" In the panic of impending doom, Dr. Octavius at least has enough heart to make some attempt to rescue his ally. One actuator claw reaches out toward him, not close enough to wrap around the vigilante, but close enough to give him something to grab onto. They're long, extended out fully, but can only reach so far. Meanwhile the other arms are re-positioning their grip carefully, while he watches the fast-approaching ground, gauging when the arms will need to fling him clear and hopefully to safety.
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Matt is not focused on the impending doom, he doesn't want to lose his one chance...
But as he uses the arm for leverage back up into the firey cockpit, he realizes Fisk is not there. "NO!" he pounds on the seat with a fist as the helicoptor lurches wildly on its side mid-air. Below, people are scattering in fear, trying to get out of the way as the coper slams and tumbles along the ground before coming to rest against a very large tree.
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That was not what he reached out for, and both the actuator and its host are annoyed at being used for a stepladder. At least in the cockpit he's in closer reach, and the actuator follows him up and makes a grab for him, not quite as gentle in the moment of an emergency. As soon as he's in the actuator's grip, he's pulled away, fist sliding off the seat as he's yanked backwards into open air. There's a lot of smoke, by now, and plenty of noise from a badly damaged engine. The metal arm curls, pulling Daredevil up close beside Dr. Octavius, while the other three arms compact shorter and then push, reorienting in midair as they're flung away from the copter. It impacts the ground roughly the same time they do, but the arms, now extended out to their fullest, meet the ground and contract to absorb the impact that would do serious damage to the two men.
As soon as they're stable on the ground, the legs are on the move again, carrying them at a gallop away from the sliding copter and towards the nearest alley. It's time to flee the neighborhood, and fast. The police were on their way here, already, and now they've got a giant signal flare to follow. Keeping to walls and trying to travel below the roofline, the actuators move their host and ally away with no specific destination in mind.
One arms stays coiled around Daredevil, a metal python around his waist. Beside him Dr. Octavius is breathing heavily in the aftermath of adrenaline-fueled panic and anger. The briefcase of money is clutched to his chest, and he smells of blood and gunpowder.
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Ripped from the helicopter in the nick of time, it might be concerning that Daredevil doesn't move for a long moment after they've made their escape. But finally, he coughs and moves slightly, coming around from the smoke inhalation and the noise he'd just been subjected to. His senses in disarray from all the spinning and explosions, its going to take a few moments to right himself. There's an ache around his middle from being held by the metal tentacle. His hands reach weakly up to make sure that's what was holding him.
"*cough* ....got...away. *cough cough*" What he meant to say was the Kingpin got away. Matt couldn't have felt worse if he tried. That plan was a complete failure.
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At his touch, the metal arm loosens just slightly, easing from bruising force to a still-firm grip. He may find breathing just a little easier, now, but the smoke didn't do either of them any favors.
Dr. Octavius has been silent while he recovers, apart from his own panting, wheezing and cough. First he's nearly strangled, then he's shot at, then in an explosion... this has not been a good night. At least he didn't get quite the dose of smoke Daredevil did, from climbing right into the cockpit. He nods in response, thinking only of their own getaway, but of course that goes unseen. "Need... somewhere to patch up..." His voice is rougher again, as it was after the stranglehold. "Must be a medical clinic I could break into..."
That may sound like a horrible thing to do, but he figures his options are limited, and he's bleeding.
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He runs a hand down the metal links, coming to something wet....and he can smell blood. Question was, was it his? Or the other man's? Matt coughed again, trying to get some of his wind back. "Street...what street?" he asks, needing a reference for where they were. He doesn't mean to sound so panicky about it, it just came out that way.
Sirens were coming nearer, heading towards the park.
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"...Too bright..." Matt's not the only one who's been rattled by that fight. What he means is the light from the explosion, which still has his already-photo-sensitive eyes seeing spots. Their progress comes to a lurching pause, one open talon taking a glance around at the corner. Their cameras are better than his own eyes even on the best of days, which this is not. "Werth and Randolph?" He's stopped paying attention to street names since he started traveling above them. There's another cough, and he's still breathing like he's just run a race.
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Matt squirms slightly as if wanting to be put down. But when his feet are under him, they nearly give way. "Come on," he said, hand to his side as he tried to stand. Trying to help pull Doc Ock to his feet too. Finding out that it's hard to figure out which arm to support to do so. "We can't stay here. If we can get two blocks down..." There's an empty storefront that he knew of they could hide till the commotion died down. Matt finally finds a way to get his shoulder under the doctor's and tries to help him get to his feet.
His real feet that is.
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In the absence of any clear commands from Dr. Octavius, and with no clear threat present (he told them to rescue this man, so maybe he's not dangerous?), the arms are more open to instruction from someone else, and clever enough to understand more subtle suggestions. The ground isn't far off, so they lower both men, but Dr. Octavius is clearly sagging. They're not about to let him collapse, so he hangs from the harness around his torso, feet on the ground but not really supporting him. Daredevil, released, will have to support himself. The arms aren't that generous, they only care about the well being of one person in the world.
He's definitely a solid man, and he gives a hiss of pain the first time Daredevil starts trying to prop him up. An actuator echoes the hiss, claw whipping closer. "...No. No, it's... leave it." His voice is rough, but his tone is firm. "He's trying to help." It's not Matt he's talking to. The claw lowers, subdued.
This time he hands off the briefcase to a claw, and makes some effort to carry his own weight. He's not only solid, but tall, and when the arm that was supporting him contracts to hide under the long coat, he sags heavily against Daredevil and may send them both staggering. "They're... heavy." He wheezes in explanation. That's an understatement.
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He's got the bad feeling that if one goes down, they both aren't getting back up any time soon.
Daredevil has a baton up to block the moment the actuator is coming at him but the metal snake stops at a command. Now he knew for certain these "creatures" were alive and not just robotics grafted to their creator. "We may...have to get a small truck," he tries to make a joke and stay focused at the same time. He was not one to give up so easily.
As far as he could discern, Matt himself was beaten and bruised, but nothing broken. However, he couldn't tell as much from the other man. "Are you injured?" Hopefully it wasn't something glaringly obvious like a missing arm or something.
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They might not get back up, but they could certainly both be carried by the arms, so they're not completely out of luck.
"Just winged, I think... I hope..." He's caught his breath just a little, but walking on his own two feet has him panting again. "Arm's bleeding... quite... quite a lot, actually." He sounds mildly surprised, in a light-headed kind of way. "I've survived worse." He gives a weak chuckle, trying to keep his feet moving, one and then the other, just two of them.
"The last time I tried to drive a truck... had to push the seat all... the way back, and have the actuators wrap around the back of it." They add mass at his back, and uncomfortably so, a fact Daredevil has some perspective on already, from the other side. "They... can carry me. But not on the street, I'll draw attention..."
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Matt finds the wound on the man's arm and clamps down on the spot so he won't lose any more blood. "Just think how embarrassing it would be to bleed out right here," he says, trying to keep the man walking. He is leading them somewhere thought. "The back alley on the right, there's a clinic." He knew the owner, they usually helped and didn't ask too many questions. Even better if they were out, they could help themselves to any medical supplies needed.
"Hey....look you--four," Matt says, trying to gain some control over this situation. Would someone say 'hey you' to an actuator? If he can get them to understand and follow him, they'd make it. He taps on one of the arms to try and get their attention, since the Doc seemed like he was getting a little punchy from loss of blood. "You understand me?"
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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."
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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.
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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."
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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"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.
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"...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.
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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.
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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."
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"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.
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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."
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"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.
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"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.
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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While Matt would have liked to travel on his own power, he knew that wasn't possible for their facade to work. So he put up with being carried, steeling himself for the fight to come. He didn't say a word the whole trip, focusing on his senses around him. Working out where in the city they were and what direction they were going.
He fingers the piece of metal up his sleeve, the batons firmly in their holders in his boots. This seemed like a pretty open area for an exchange. He wasn't sure what yet, but something was bothering him about it. Nerves, he told himself and tried to shake the feeling as he's set back on his feet. With a nod, he starts to ascend the ladder, slowly and feigning exhaustion when he reaches the top.
It didn't seem like anyone was here yet. But Matt knew they weren't alone. Two heartbeats stepped out from around a rooftop pigeon coop, their semi-automatic weapons in hand. In the distance, a helicopter was circling, waiting for the all clear signal from his henchmen. While the Kingpin was interested in capturing Daredevil, he was also making sure there weren't any tricks.
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Daredevil might feign exhaustion, but on the climb up he could hear the occasional pop of the knees of the man close behind him. The fire escape creaked badly under the extra weight of metal at his back. At the edge of the roof, his captor hesitated, and nudged Daredevil toward the shelter of a rooftop utility box. It wasn't ideal cover, but it protected them from view from at least a few angles and might make the guards less willing to open fire. The distant sounds of the city echoed off the small structure, and filtered up from the streets to tell Daredevil they were nowhere near high enough to be on top of Fisk's tower, although they were likely to be on a building not very far off, possibly in view from its windows.
"I'm here. He's here. Let's get this over with quickly." Dr. Octavius addressed the men, coming off as surly and impatient, which might not be inaccurate at all.
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"Lets see 'im then, if it's really 'im," one of the baddies grumbles, radio on his hip. Obviously the man to give the signal to the chopper whenever it's to come down. But that did mean shoving Daredevil out in front, unprotected. He was fully prepared for that scenario however, looking beaten and tired but every muscle tensed and ready for action.
The two henchmen seem to have no sign of money or briefcase on their person.
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"Let's see the money. I didn't trudge all the way up here for the exercise." Hat pulled low, sunglasses on despite the late hour, and the long ratty coat over the arms, he looks more like a very bulky but shabby bum than a master criminal. He looks, in fact, like an unlikely person to have caught Daredevil in the first place.
"He's here. Not my damn fault he dresses in black." Dr. Octavius shoves Daredevil into slightly better view in front of him, but also clamps a hand on his shoulder again to do it, and doesn't let go. Against the black costume, the rope hobbling his ankles and binding his wrists together stands out pale.
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As Daredevil comes into view, the henchmen grip their guns a little tighter, their heartbeats speeding up slightly. Daredevil smiles quietly to himself. They'd heard stories, of course. None of them good.
The main henchman swallows before reaching for his radio, "Looks like it's really 'im, sir." He listens with it up to his ear so none of the others could hear. Save for Daredevil. Good. Give the man his reward. Fisk's voice. A briefcase is produce from the side as the guns are trained on the man in black. The henchmen advancing slowly to make the exchange.
Something else catches Matt's ear, something faint as he's being pushed forward slightly. Way off to the right on a nearby rooftop another radio squawked. The Kingpin's voice coming through. "You may fire when ready." The sniper set his weapon, a large bazooka, aiming at the party gathered on the next roof. He was going to take them all out at once. Matt didn't know what kind of weapon was trained at them, but he had to get out of there.
"...snipers," he says quickly in a whisper, hoping if the Doc hadn't heard it, his metal friends would. He's only just able to get his wrist bonds cut as the sniper fires. Two more on the remaining rooftops firing at almost the same time. The Kingpin would have the best seat in the house to watch them go up in a firey explosion.
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To say Dr. Octavius is greedy would not be accurate, but he is a little anxious to get his money and go, preferring to be as far away as possible before Daredevil makes his move, and/or his backup arrives. With the actuators blinded under his coat, he's left with only his own senses for self-defense, and they're nowhere near as sharp as Daredevil's are. His gaze has, inevitable, focused on the money, while he considers how to grab the suitcase and be away safely without looking too hasty about it. In some ways, it might have been safer to let them know just who they're dealing with. His response to the warning, then, is a distracted murmur of "Wha-?"
The actuators are blind under his coat, but not deaf. One of the lower claws plants on the roof with a solid thud, claws digging in a little, an instant before it lifts their host off his feet and pulls him to one side, the other three rising to form a protective cage around him. It's a cage with gaps, and they don't move as fast as a bullet, but Daredevil does hear a few ping off the metal plates, saving Dr. Octavius from multiple shots.
The guards on the roof, of course, are more than a little surprised by this display, and possibly surprised enough not to immediately realize the more serious threat is the now-free Daredevil.
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"Look out!"
"What is that?!"
Chaos immediately broke out on the rooftop. Starting with the large explosion from the missile that misses hitting its mark and hits the roof next door instead.
The henchmen forgetting to keep Daredevil covered as they open fire on the crazy man with the metallic arms. Daredevil springs into action, slicing his ankle ropes as he flips forward and hurls the bit of metal at the main henchman's hand. The large man yells in pain as Daredevil, batons now in hand, takes him out with two blows to the head. He drops like a sack of potatoes, his radio skidding across the cement. The second henchman realizing his mistake, turns his gun on the man in black, but too late. On orders from the Kingpin, his snipers were firing on anything that moved, including their own men. Matt has just the presence of mind to grab the dying henchman and use him for a shield as he back up, trying to find some sort of cover. He was out in the open though, this was not an ideal situation. And Fisk might as well be in his tower for all the farther away he was in the chopper.
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The doctor may not have reflexes as quick as Daredevil's, but by the time both henchmen are done for he's in motion, the upper two actuators still curled around him, lower pair propelling him toward the edge of the roof. One of these makes a grab for the abandoned briefcase, just on the off chance there actually is money in there, and neatly slips it between the protective cage into Octavius' waiting hand. He's still being shot at, the bulk of the arms making him a large and easy target, but the lower pair all but flings him over the edge of the roof opposite the direction the gunfire is coming from. The bulk of the building itself is the best and quickest shield available, so it's a path Daredevil might be wise to follow. Certainly the pinging ricochet of bullets off the arms gives him a clear idea of where Dr. Octavius is, up until the moment it's only the edge of the roof the bullets find.
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The helicopter hovers for a moment, a man firing another missile at the rooftop to take care of Daredevil, before barreling down on the 8 armed doctor. The Kingpin not happy about someone making away with his money, he's going to get it back. More missiles firing in Doc Ock's direction...
...while unnoticed, Daredevil hangs on a line attached to the feet of the copter. He is NOT letting Fisk get away this time.
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He was hoping, really hoping, that the Daredevil would make a more interesting target. He's got no history with this man, after all, but it looks like his getaway won't be that easy. Escaping by actuator requires traveling over the rooftops or along walls, where he'll be highly visible for an aerial attack. Even escaping on foot demands a crowd on the ground to blend in with, and any late night stragglers that dared hang around this late fled the moment he gunfire started. The only recourse, then, is to fight back.
Doc Ock is, however briefly, out of sight on the side of the building. The lights of the copter tell him it'll be over the alley soon enough, and then he'll be in plain view directly below them and trapped between narrow alley walls. The arms stretch and flex, their thoughts synchronous enough with his own he's not sure where the line between them is. Dangling sideways, he moves around the right angle corner of the building, so that by the time the copter is coming lower over the alley, he's not there. Instead he is abruptly leaping up over the edge of the roof, briefly airborne with the force of the actuator's thrust, landing on the copter with all four metal arms finding places to grab and hold wherever seems convenient. Nearly four hundred pounds of man and metal is enough to make it wobble alarmingly, and then while three arms are well anchored, the fourth claw rips at metal, shredding whatever part of the vehicle happens to be under its grip. It finds another place to grab, and a different arms takes up the violent dismantling of the copter, then another. He seems to have no problem ripping the thing apart even as he's clinging to it and swaying through the air.
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The copter swings wide, careening out of control above the streets of New York. Daredevil hangs on as he's whipped back and forth, the telltale sounds of the metallic acuators telling the story of what hitchhiker they had picked up now.
"Get him off!!" the Kingpin shouts, pointing at the bug on the windshield while his men swing their guns around to point at him. The poor pilot trying to get control of a very heavy helicopter at the moment. Daredevil climbs up quickly, both feet finding the henchman's face before he can pull the trigger on the doctor. Unfortunately, he does pull it while his aim is off and the missile explodes in the cabin. BOOM!!
Everyone thrown back and out of the exploding helicopter as a white parachute opens slightly away from it, the Kingpin having bailed out rather than stay and fight.
The man without fear is left hanging off his rope again, ears ringing and still attached to the flaming helicopter that was plunging towards the nearest city park. Crashing was imminent.
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He may be the man without fear, but just a little concern might be prudent here.
"Grab on to me!" In the panic of impending doom, Dr. Octavius at least has enough heart to make some attempt to rescue his ally. One actuator claw reaches out toward him, not close enough to wrap around the vigilante, but close enough to give him something to grab onto. They're long, extended out fully, but can only reach so far. Meanwhile the other arms are re-positioning their grip carefully, while he watches the fast-approaching ground, gauging when the arms will need to fling him clear and hopefully to safety.
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Matt is not focused on the impending doom, he doesn't want to lose his one chance...
But as he uses the arm for leverage back up into the firey cockpit, he realizes Fisk is not there. "NO!" he pounds on the seat with a fist as the helicoptor lurches wildly on its side mid-air. Below, people are scattering in fear, trying to get out of the way as the coper slams and tumbles along the ground before coming to rest against a very large tree.
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That was not what he reached out for, and both the actuator and its host are annoyed at being used for a stepladder. At least in the cockpit he's in closer reach, and the actuator follows him up and makes a grab for him, not quite as gentle in the moment of an emergency. As soon as he's in the actuator's grip, he's pulled away, fist sliding off the seat as he's yanked backwards into open air. There's a lot of smoke, by now, and plenty of noise from a badly damaged engine. The metal arm curls, pulling Daredevil up close beside Dr. Octavius, while the other three arms compact shorter and then push, reorienting in midair as they're flung away from the copter. It impacts the ground roughly the same time they do, but the arms, now extended out to their fullest, meet the ground and contract to absorb the impact that would do serious damage to the two men.
As soon as they're stable on the ground, the legs are on the move again, carrying them at a gallop away from the sliding copter and towards the nearest alley. It's time to flee the neighborhood, and fast. The police were on their way here, already, and now they've got a giant signal flare to follow. Keeping to walls and trying to travel below the roofline, the actuators move their host and ally away with no specific destination in mind.
One arms stays coiled around Daredevil, a metal python around his waist. Beside him Dr. Octavius is breathing heavily in the aftermath of adrenaline-fueled panic and anger. The briefcase of money is clutched to his chest, and he smells of blood and gunpowder.
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Ripped from the helicopter in the nick of time, it might be concerning that Daredevil doesn't move for a long moment after they've made their escape. But finally, he coughs and moves slightly, coming around from the smoke inhalation and the noise he'd just been subjected to. His senses in disarray from all the spinning and explosions, its going to take a few moments to right himself. There's an ache around his middle from being held by the metal tentacle. His hands reach weakly up to make sure that's what was holding him.
"*cough* ....got...away. *cough cough*" What he meant to say was the Kingpin got away. Matt couldn't have felt worse if he tried. That plan was a complete failure.
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At his touch, the metal arm loosens just slightly, easing from bruising force to a still-firm grip. He may find breathing just a little easier, now, but the smoke didn't do either of them any favors.
Dr. Octavius has been silent while he recovers, apart from his own panting, wheezing and cough. First he's nearly strangled, then he's shot at, then in an explosion... this has not been a good night. At least he didn't get quite the dose of smoke Daredevil did, from climbing right into the cockpit. He nods in response, thinking only of their own getaway, but of course that goes unseen. "Need... somewhere to patch up..." His voice is rougher again, as it was after the stranglehold. "Must be a medical clinic I could break into..."
That may sound like a horrible thing to do, but he figures his options are limited, and he's bleeding.
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He runs a hand down the metal links, coming to something wet....and he can smell blood. Question was, was it his? Or the other man's? Matt coughed again, trying to get some of his wind back. "Street...what street?" he asks, needing a reference for where they were. He doesn't mean to sound so panicky about it, it just came out that way.
Sirens were coming nearer, heading towards the park.
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"...Too bright..." Matt's not the only one who's been rattled by that fight. What he means is the light from the explosion, which still has his already-photo-sensitive eyes seeing spots. Their progress comes to a lurching pause, one open talon taking a glance around at the corner. Their cameras are better than his own eyes even on the best of days, which this is not. "Werth and Randolph?" He's stopped paying attention to street names since he started traveling above them. There's another cough, and he's still breathing like he's just run a race.
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Matt squirms slightly as if wanting to be put down. But when his feet are under him, they nearly give way. "Come on," he said, hand to his side as he tried to stand. Trying to help pull Doc Ock to his feet too. Finding out that it's hard to figure out which arm to support to do so. "We can't stay here. If we can get two blocks down..." There's an empty storefront that he knew of they could hide till the commotion died down. Matt finally finds a way to get his shoulder under the doctor's and tries to help him get to his feet.
His real feet that is.
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In the absence of any clear commands from Dr. Octavius, and with no clear threat present (he told them to rescue this man, so maybe he's not dangerous?), the arms are more open to instruction from someone else, and clever enough to understand more subtle suggestions. The ground isn't far off, so they lower both men, but Dr. Octavius is clearly sagging. They're not about to let him collapse, so he hangs from the harness around his torso, feet on the ground but not really supporting him. Daredevil, released, will have to support himself. The arms aren't that generous, they only care about the well being of one person in the world.
He's definitely a solid man, and he gives a hiss of pain the first time Daredevil starts trying to prop him up. An actuator echoes the hiss, claw whipping closer. "...No. No, it's... leave it." His voice is rough, but his tone is firm. "He's trying to help." It's not Matt he's talking to. The claw lowers, subdued.
This time he hands off the briefcase to a claw, and makes some effort to carry his own weight. He's not only solid, but tall, and when the arm that was supporting him contracts to hide under the long coat, he sags heavily against Daredevil and may send them both staggering. "They're... heavy." He wheezes in explanation. That's an understatement.
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He's got the bad feeling that if one goes down, they both aren't getting back up any time soon.
Daredevil has a baton up to block the moment the actuator is coming at him but the metal snake stops at a command. Now he knew for certain these "creatures" were alive and not just robotics grafted to their creator. "We may...have to get a small truck," he tries to make a joke and stay focused at the same time. He was not one to give up so easily.
As far as he could discern, Matt himself was beaten and bruised, but nothing broken. However, he couldn't tell as much from the other man. "Are you injured?" Hopefully it wasn't something glaringly obvious like a missing arm or something.
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They might not get back up, but they could certainly both be carried by the arms, so they're not completely out of luck.
"Just winged, I think... I hope..." He's caught his breath just a little, but walking on his own two feet has him panting again. "Arm's bleeding... quite... quite a lot, actually." He sounds mildly surprised, in a light-headed kind of way. "I've survived worse." He gives a weak chuckle, trying to keep his feet moving, one and then the other, just two of them.
"The last time I tried to drive a truck... had to push the seat all... the way back, and have the actuators wrap around the back of it." They add mass at his back, and uncomfortably so, a fact Daredevil has some perspective on already, from the other side. "They... can carry me. But not on the street, I'll draw attention..."
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Matt finds the wound on the man's arm and clamps down on the spot so he won't lose any more blood. "Just think how embarrassing it would be to bleed out right here," he says, trying to keep the man walking. He is leading them somewhere thought. "The back alley on the right, there's a clinic." He knew the owner, they usually helped and didn't ask too many questions. Even better if they were out, they could help themselves to any medical supplies needed.
"Hey....look you--four," Matt says, trying to gain some control over this situation. Would someone say 'hey you' to an actuator? If he can get them to understand and follow him, they'd make it. He taps on one of the arms to try and get their attention, since the Doc seemed like he was getting a little punchy from loss of blood. "You understand me?"
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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."
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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.
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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."
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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"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.
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"...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.
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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.
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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."
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"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.
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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."
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"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.
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"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.
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.