a lil prompt for the few dp x marvel gremlins around. i see you and ily.
Be Like Danny:
-> get contacted by the X-freaking-Men to try to get you to join their school for mutants
-> say no because you can’t explain that you’re technically not a mutant, just half-dead
-> live a normal (Fenton standard normal) few months afterwards
-> get kidnapped from your own school by evil scientists (that surprisingly are NOT the GIW)
-> escape facility using your sheer wits (being annoying) and ingenious fighting strategies (screaming and blasting)
-> run away across rooftops from the guards hunting you down while being injured (and holy shit are we in new york??)
-> get distracted by trying to spot the empire state building
-> get shot with a tranquilizer by aforementioned guards
-> painfully fall down into an alleyway, without seeing the empire state building (boo)
-> begin passing out but not before you see some red guy with literal horns (satan??) fight off the baddies after you
-> wake up hours later in satan’s lawyer’s (???) office, confused, dazed, and a little scared
-> pretend to still be passed out while desperately thinking up how to explain why guys with guns were chasing you down in the middle of new york without getting dragged off to the police
-> hope for the best
Random Excerpt-
Matt didn’t feel comfortable leaving the tranq’d (and fully knocked out) teen out in an abandoned alley. Very few people would, out here in Hell’s Kitchen. He also didn’t feel like bringing in a potential new problem into his home, so he decided on the next best place: the office.
Needless to say, Foggy was scared near shitless when Matt burst into their office in full Daredevil regalia with an unconscious boy in his arms. In Matt’s defense, Foggy wasn’t supposed to be here. He sent out a small thanks to God that at least Karen was nowhere to be seen. Heard. Semantics.
“Is that a kid? Oh my god, Matty, are you carrying a dead kid around? Is there a dead kid in our office?”
Language, Matt bit back.
Foggy’s heart beat a violent staccato as he followed Matt into their conference room, breathing stuttering when Matt laid the kid down on the table and his head turned limply to the side, his hair softly shuffling against the metal.
“Matt!”
Foggy waved his hands around wildly, the sound fluttering in Matt’s ears. Without a word, he grabbed Foggy’s arm and dragged him out of the room.
“Please keep calling me by my name in front of a stranger,” he hissed out, annoyed.
“In case it may have passed your attention, that stranger is unconscious. Or dead, for all I know! Because you haven’t said a damn word since you slammed your way in here by the way!” Foggy was whisper shouting, staying close to Matt’s side. He could almost see how Foggy’s eyes were wide, if he tried hard enough. Listened closely enough.
“He’s not dead,” he let out before walking to the front door to lock it and make sure no one was around.
There was a light slap sound as Foggy raised his hands in a pointless gesture and brought them against his legs.
“Oh, yeah, that’s reassuring,” he said to himself, but not bothering to hide it. Matt heard him walk back to the conference room. He held back a sigh, ignoring it for the time being. There hadn’t been anyone following them, but he’s been doing this long enough to know that some people knew how to keep their distance well, or even knew how to disguise their heart beats (God forbid the Hand had any involvement in this). They could even have a tracker on the kid.
Taking all of this into consideration, he would rather be safe than sorry. He was standing by the locked door, listening intently for any odd sounds outside the building or on any surrounding roofs. Like the same footsteps going by, feet shuffling as though someone was waiting, heavy breathing, the smell of gunpowder, or the sound of a bullet moving into its chamber.
He waited, hearing no signs. It was one minute before he heard the exact moment Foggy found the kid’s pulse.
“Matt,” he heard Foggy’s voice, a whisper. “He-he’s dead. He- oh my god, I’m going to be sick.
The kid’s pulse, or to anyone checking by regular means, lack thereof.
Matt waited one more second before moving away from the door to save himself from the stench of throw-up.
“I said he’s not dead.”
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