Log: Richard, Jack, and Phil Who; Richard Fisk, Jack Murdock, and Phil McCoy When; June 4th, evening Where; Richard's room What; Jack's pissed about what Richard says, so he makes Richard say it to his face. And then they have a smackdown that Phil has to save Jack from. If any of your characters share a wall with Richard, they probably heard something. WARNING; Violence and crazy. Richard fucking snaps, people.
Jack takes what he read over the network and he's up out of his chair faster than you cay say Geoffrey Chaucer. Throws on a pair of jeans (having been midway through changing, in a t-shirt and boxers) and shoves his feet into sandals, and then he's storming out of his room and to Richard's. They don't live far from one another. It doesn't take long for Jack to bang on Richard's door.
"Fisk! Open up."
...Oh, for the love of God.
Richard has a pretty decent idea who that is. Just in case, he reaches into his desk drawer to pull out a deck of cards, which is then tucked into his pocket. He thinks Jack's kind of a pussy, but hey. He could be surprised.
When he goes to open the door, he stands slightly back and to the side. "What, Murdock?"
Jack's chest is heaving with angry breaths. "I want you to say that to my face." He points back at his room. Remember? The computer? What you said, Richard? "I want you to look me in the eye and say all that to my face." Because he's a human lie detector. And you're in for a world of pain if your heart skips a beat.
Richard's heart is eerily steady when he looks Jack right in the eyes and says, "You're a fucking moron. Your father was a sick, sadistic bastard, but I never touched him. I didn't kill him in any sense of the phrase. Quit being a pussy and get out."
It's steady. It's too steady. And you know what? Jack doesn't believe him. His senses are telling him this is the God's honest truth. But even if it's true? He doesn't care. "Say that again," he whispers, his fist clenching at his side. That part about his father. He dares you, Richard. Fucking say that again about his dad. He's tired of everyone coming down on his father. It's really starting to piss him off.
Richard shakes his head, stiff jawed but calm. "I'm not indulging this. I don't repeat myself more than once. Get lost."
Jack snarls. "I said, say that again. Just try it, Fisk."
He stares at him at first, and then he sighs, exhaling like it's an effort. "Your father was a sick, twisted fuck. It's fitting that after fucking up my mother, his wife is in the nut house." He knows what will happen, but Richard? He can take care of himself.
Oh, no, you did not.
Jack doesn't care if Richard killed his father right now. He doesn't give a shit. All he cares about is what Richard just said. All of this stuff about his dad being a horrible person has really gotten to Jack lately and he's sick and tired of people thinking that. He's tired of his dad being insulted; he's... really motherfucking angry.
"God damn son of a bitch!" Jack brings his arm back and clocks Richard across the jaw with all the strength he has. He'd been planning on hitting him before, but this just seems to come out of nowhere. Mentioning his mom really did it. Tipped the scales.
Richard's expecting it, to be honest. Insulting both parents at once is asking for it. But Richard still takes it hard on the jaw, and his head snaps to the side. He stumbles, hitting the desk. Jack really got him.
Didn't he?
Richard touches his face, and it looks like he's stunned, but the hand not in Jack's vision is grabbing a letter opener -- and in the next second, it's being hurled at Jack, pinning his sleeve to the doorframe.
"You want to know about your father!" Richard spits, shoving Jack out into the hallway, ripping his sleeve. "You have no idea who he was, what he's done. You think Milla fucking Donovan's the only woman he's driven to insanity!?"
Jack stumbles, but his x-gene kicks in and he catches himself on the air, bringing himself back to stand. Hands at the ready. He's trained. His father trained him. He knows how to fucking fight, for God's sake. Against dinosaurs? No. Against lasers and a bunch of people with guns? No. Against all kinds of crazy mutants with long-range attacks? No. But person-to-person? Bring it. Richard is Bullseye's biological son and that's... that's pretty obvious now. "Like you know my father. You don't know anything." Why does everyone insist they know Matt Murdock better than he does? Seriously. But he doesn't spend a lot of time talking. Instead, he's swinging with an uppercut to Richard's jaw and then tackling him down onto the floor.
Richard dodges the uppercut, but Jack still tackles him. He's quick, accepting the tackle so he can prepare to hit the ground, switching their positions and pinning Jack down to the ground. --And then there's the distinct scent of burning wood as Richard's hand presses fire to the ground right by Jack's head, his other hand on Jack's throat. "I know he raped my mother! I know he drove her insane and nearly beat her to death. Your mother got off light."
For a second, all of the color drains from Jack's face. Not because of the fire, not because of the crushing weight on his throat. It's what Richard says. "That's not true!" It's a scream, adrenaline propelling him to kick Richard off of him and go tumbling across the floor. All he wants to do now is hold him down and beat the snot out of him. Punch him until he bleeds, until he hears Richard's nose break. He can't handle hearing this. He goes for him, pinning Richard on the floor now, one knee jammed against his stomach, one hand against his throat, and his right hand in a fist that manages to come down once on Richard's face. "Shut up!"
It goes fast, and when Jack's about to slam a fist into Richard's face, Richard catches the fist in both hands and turns his face. Still moving, their hands still collide with his jaw (the same side. ow), but Richard's hands are both on fire as he pushes Jack's fist back. And in a cold, steady voice: "I have never lied to you."
Jack's sensitive. There's the adrenaline rush that's keeping the pain from being too harsh but the burn? It sears through the skin of his knuckles and he howls with pain, trying to tug his hand back. His arm twists and his left elbow tries to come down onto Richard's face. He should have just kept strangling him. But his right hand is burning, he can smell the seared flesh, and eventually that's enough to overpower Jack's rage because pain is overtaking his anger.
Jack's elbow lands right in Richard's hands, burning that, too. Richard grits his teeth, brutally kicking Jack off of him, shoving him onto his back, straddling his hips. There's a part of Richard that's still thinking strategically. That knows that he can't burn Jack to death right here. But Jack's just created himself a nice vendetta, and while Richard doesn't know when, he does know that when he finds a good moment to kill Jack, it'll be a hellish baptism by fire.
But that's looking a little far in the future, so while he's shoving Jack's face into the floor with a hand in his hair, his other hand is the only one on fire, planted on the ground right next to his face. "You come from a bad breed, Jack Murdock," he hisses in his ear. "Your mother's family is crazy. Your father was a hero in name only. He was a violent bastard, and he's passed all that violence and all that insanity on to you. But you're not the only one with a crazy family, Jack." To punctuate that, Richard shoves his face harshly into the floor. "You're just like your fucking father. You won't be able to protect anyone. Not Peter, not Ben, not your fucking boyfriend, and not that stupid girl. They'll all die someday because you failed. Just. Like. Daddy."
Phil smells fire, Phil smells anger, Phil hears voices. He comes running up to the scene, "Whoa! Whoa! Stop!" But he doesn't wait for them abide by him. Calming pheromones hit their nostrils before he finishes his sentence. Phil doesn't dare physically get between them.
"Phil!" Jack can hear his voice, hear his heartbeat, and he's torn between asking for help and just telling Phil to get the hell out of here. He doesn't get the choice. He's been squirming in panic, Richard a lot stronger than Jack ever thought he was. Unable to get out from under Richard's grasp as his face is shoved into the floor, while he's threatened by more flames. Making frightened, animalistic noises as he struggles. ---But the air shifts, the air changes, and suddenly it becomes a hell of a lot easier for Richard to hold Jackie down. Jack's heartbeat slows, he suddenly isn't so afraid, and he acts like he's completely fine with Richard doing this to him.
Forcibly calmed, Richard sighs, brought down from a rather psychotic high. For the most part. His hand is still in Jack's hair, he's still sitting on him, but when he speaks, it's not a hiss. It's actually a rather intimate sounding whisper. "I'm not done with you, Murdock." It's not as aggressive, but it's almost scarier, when it's said so calmly. "I will have revenge for my mother. Sleep with your eyes open." That last part is affectionate, almost sweet, before he's pushed himself up off Jack to stand.
And then, he kicks Jack in the side. "Get him out of here. I don't want him on my floor."
Phil is straight up horrified. One hand goes to hold the side of his head like his brain will fall out. "What is wrong with you people?!" He keeps pumping the calming pheromones, despite the fact that he is So Not Calm right now. It takes a lot of concentration. He looks distracted and terrified and disgusted all at the same time. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it... then opens it again. "...Is anyone hurt?" He tries to stay neutral, but it's not working that well. He leans down and tries to pull Jack's arm over his shoulder, "C'mon Jackie, what the hell?" Honestly! YOU PEOPLE.
Jack took the kick like it was nothing, though he groaned in pain and tried to curl up. Now, he just kind of leans on Phil, pushes himself up. His left elbow and right hand are burned and to someone like Phil (and someone like Jack), the smell is horrid. "Son of a bitch," Jack mumbles, staggering a step before he spits in Richard's direction. Kind of lazy, not all that venomous about it.
The bruise is just starting to form on his face, but it only makes Richard look more dangerous. "I said get out."
"Fisk, I don't know if you noticed, but Jack has a good forty pounds on me, so--" Phil grunts, trying to pull Jack up. "Holy cats, Jack." Phil doesn't want to know who started this. Phil doesn't want to know anything about 'revenge' for 'mother' or anything like that. He just wants to get Jack out of here and into the lab. He is wondering what his Pop will think to see Jack again. Jack is pain magnet.
Jack shrugs Phil away, taking several steps away on his own. He rubs at his face where it had been digging into the floor. He's glaring at Richard, but he's too calm right now to attack him again. He opens his mouth to say something and then, deciding he doesn't have the energy for it, he stalks out, rolling his shoulders until he hears a few pops down his spine.
Richard watches Jack leave before looking over at Phil, grinning. It looks sick, like Richard's still unhinged despite Phil's pheromones. "You'd better watch him," he says, not bothering to hold back the snicker -- and then Richard's sinking onto his bed, lowering his face into his hands. He's not in pain. He can still stand. But he's laughing. It's coming straight up from his stomach to bubble out of his mouth, and under the circumstances?