[center][h3]Mr. & Mrs. Murdock[/h3][/center] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/e6/8e/96/e68e96939c37cf7e406490f7d012d1c2.jpg[/img][/center] Location: 42nd St. Subway Platform, Times Square Meanwhile, on the other side of Times Square. The lower region of the subway, to be precise. Another story is about to unfold. Beneath the dazzling spectacle of superpowered teens battling the gigantic beast, the beautiful destruction of those obnoxious product placement billboards everywhere, and the destroyed pavements caused by their blows. A twisted, inhuman artist prowls through the underground scene, his face alight with glee as he hunts and slays unsuspecting commuters of New York, lost in the frenzy of this sudden chaotic event. Life as a regular person in Fisk’s city is already a nightmare. And now it's gonna get a lot worse for those who get caught in the crossfire. Times Square’s crowds scatter in panic, weaving through the havoc wrought by a supernatural Arthurian beast, a four-armed alien, a sword-wielding stranger, a girl wielding a scythe who materialized from nowhere, and—was that really Omniman’s kid? He seems rather green on his hero-ing. Elektra’s eyes scan the chaos, leaving the rampaging monster to the heavy hitters while she focuses on the people caught in the storm. She swings from rooftop to rooftop, tending to the wounded and pulling civilians from danger. She calls Misty and her husband for backup. [center]-[/center] On patrol, she notices smoke curling from the subway passage below. She almost dismisses it until a small explosion erupts from underground. The assassin arrives at an empty platform. Darkness presses in, silence thick as fog. Shards of glass glitter underfoot. The tunnels have been abandoned in the monster’s wake. Distant thuds from the battle above rumble through the station, making the walls tremble. Elektra turns to leave, but a flicker of movement catches her eye through the haze and debris. At its center stands a man in an NYPD uniform. BAP! BAP! BAP! Gunshots echo as spent shells clatter to the floor. “Tragic, the mythical beast has taken another life, such savagery unleashed upon this world.” The mysterious man talks and is visibly offended by what happened, as if the Questing Beast had fired the shots, and blames the creature for it. “I weep for its cause. Only to be slain by the knight draped in black. Such poetry,” The police officer stood still with a smoking gun at hand after executing a civilian. Ironically, the inhuman artist guised as a policeman has claimed more innocent lives here in the subway than the rampaging beast tearing up the streets above. The murals and subway walls are now misted with the fresh blood of his victims. He turns, eyes streaked with dried blood, his face eerily blank, as if someone had erased every feature. “Ah, an audience, welcome to my underground show,” said the faceless artist. [color=ed145b]“You’re insane,”[/color] Elektra says, awe and disgust mingling in her voice as she surveys the blood-soaked platform and the bodies strewn across it. “Do you like it? I call it Red Velvet River under the City. The tricky part is draining the blood of each piece; it can be messy sometimes,” Muse said, explaining his sickening art process. [color=ed145b]“I’ll put you out of your misery!”[/color] Elektra lunges, swift as a shadow, her sai flashing into her hands. “Everyone is a critic.” Muse lunges in too, drawing his knife, matching the assassin’s speed. Both proceed in tearing one another with their sharp steel, both at each other’s throats. “Oh, it’s you—the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You’re more feminine than I pictured.” Muse taunts, dodging Lady Daredevil’s strikes with mocking ease. Something is not right. Why am I having difficulty hitting this bastard! Elektra thought to herself. She steadies herself, analyzing her elusive foe. His power, that’s it! It’s warping my senses, twisting my perception. He’s everywhere and nowhere at once. The harder I focus, the less real he becomes. SWISSSH!! SLASH!! SLASH!! Amid the whirlwind of blades, danger crackles in the air between assassin and killer. Suddenly, a grappling hook whips through the air. Matt bursts onto the scene, crashing into Muse with a double drop kick as he swings through the metal railings of the station. THUDDDD!!! The inhuman killer is sent flying, his body slamming into concrete pillars of the subway, spine snapping with a sickening crack. “That wasn’t very nice. That’s rather tedious.” Despite his injuries, Muse manages to stand up limply. ZIPPPPP!! Daredevil stays silent, retracting his grappling hook. [color=ed145b]“You’re late,”[/color] Elektra mutters, exasperation flickering in her eyes as she glances at her husband. [color=ed1c24]“Sorry, I had to run in by Melvin’s, pick up my gear,”[/color] Matt said to Elektra. [color=ed1c24]“I hear ten—no, twelve—people still alive on this platform. Possibly, his hostages, their heartbeats are faint but still breathing.”[/color] Matt’s head jerks as he listens. Elektra nods. Both horn-heads grip their signature weapons—sai and billy clubs—ready for battle. [color=ed1c24]“Move!!”[/color] The couple growls in unison, eyes locked on their target, teeth clenched in determination. “Ah, Red… My favorite color,” purrs the elusive killer, clutching his mask in excitement. It is the Devils of Hell’s Kitchen against Hell’s Sadistic Artist.