riverviewlogs | Have you had enough? (Closed)

Entry tags:

Have you had enough? (Closed)

who: Ivar and Dodger, later on Eddie
what: Brawling in the street
when: 5/19
where: A seedy street in the city
warnings: Language, violence, bones breaking, stabbings, and graphic impalement of an eye.

If there was one thing Ivar never did, it was let go of grudges. The last time they had met, Dodger had insulted him in just about every way possible, and then beaten him soundly in a fight. Ivar had killed men for far less than what Dodger had done to him. He'd spent the past month waiting patiently for an opportunity to present itself, working on the techniques he'd learned from others in Riverview in the meantime. Ragnar had always said to beware the fury of a patient man. Dodger was going to learn the truth of what his father had said.

Finally, he was ready as he would ever be. He knew Dodger had powers. He also didn't care. Powers or no, Ivar still had his mind. He had a plan in mind, taking what he had already seen of how Dodger operated, and how he could take the other men down. He waited until Dodger had gone down a side street, alone as he would ever be. The one thing about being in a wheelchair is that Ivar didn't have the advantage of stealth. So he simply pulled out a knife and threw it at Dodger's shoulder to announce his presence. "Guess what? It's later. I'm going to make you bleed."

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Sneaking up on Dodger is hard; he is vigilant and paranoid, particularly now that he's back in the swing of breaking the law. But with the fireflies and casing the city for Reaper, he'd managed to completely forget about Ivar - right up until that knife slices across his shoulder, close enough that it might have embedded itself if it was slightly to the left.

He turns on his heel, a lazy grin spreading over his face as he sees the kid approaching on his wheelchair. "Finally got that ax outta the floor, huh, speed racer?" It seems the nickname's stuck. And now that he knows the kid's there he's happy to let him back the first move - he's confident he can teleport away from anything that's thrown at him anyway.

Ivar let his fury grow upon seeing the irreverent smirk that had made its way across Dodger's face. He didn't think he was a threat. He'd soon come to realize his fatal mistake. He took out another knife. He'd stocked up this time for just this occasion. "My name is Ivar The Boneless. You'd better remember it because it's the last one you're ever going to hear in this life."

He wheeled himself forward and made a deliberately slow jab at Dodger. He wanted to get the man teleporting. He couldn't believe anyone would have such a power without falling into some sort of pattern. Once he figured it out, Dodger was going to be screwed.

This time he isn't surprised by the kid being stocked up to the ears - if his whole goal for the day is killing Dodger, it checks out. And honestly, despite knowing what the kid's capable, he still finds it adorable that he thinks he can do what so many people have tried and failed to do.

With an audible POP he disappears into a flash of sparks and reappears behind Ivar, leaving a trail of sparks in the direction of his teleportation. He leans over the kid with a condescending chuckle, "Plenty of people have tried to kill me - what makes you think you're special, Ivar the Spineless?"

He's expecting Dodger to pull just such a move. He'd gotten the measure of the man the last time they fought, his mind reading him the way he read other people. He's arrogant and full of himself, convinced he can get the better of anyone he faces. With those powers, maybe that's usually true. But Ivar plans to play into that.

He turns and swipes at Dodger, hoping for a hit, but expecting he'll dodge this one too. It won't be too long now. His arrogance and need to taunt won't allow him to just passively avoid his blows forever. He'll strike back. And then-- then Ivar is going to make him wish he'd never been born.

Having to spin the chair around gives him plenty of time to dodge the attack, and he just teleports a foot back to be out of range. Sure, he's confident he could destroy the kid if he started to take this fight seriously, but for now he's still just toying with him. And making his own calculations on the kid - he can already tell that vengeful temper will be a weakness.

"Where's your ax at, kiddo?" He jeers, shoving his hands casually in his pockets, "This time I might shove it through your thick skull."

Ivar pulls out another knife, throwing it once again. Sure, just think he's a dumb kid who never learns from his mistakes. He's going to prove just how wrong that line of thinking is. "I wouldn't waste my best weapon on scum such as you. You're not worth more than a few knives."

If their first fight is any indication, Dodger will eventually try to tip him out of his wheelchair. In fact, Ivar is counting on it. The other man has no way of knowing that Ivar is far more comfortable fighting on the ground than in his chair. It's what he's been doing his entire life. Soon, there will be blood.

Were he Ivar's age, he'd probably try to catch the knife - he's tried several times in the past, and it's a miracle he has all his fingers because of that. But he's matured since then - at least enough to just dodge out of the way while laughing at the kid.

As predicted, the attack comes - Dodger teleports behind Ivar again, this time grabbing the wheelchair and lifting it up to spill Ivar down onto the ground - a three foot tumble, while Dodger tosses the chair aside to slam into the wall beside them. "You're out of your league, sweetheart. Now how about you give me an apology before I get really pissed off?"

That fall to the ground hurts, Ivar won't lie. He's broken bones in his legs from even short distances like that, the bones too brittle to withstand such a jolt. This time, the pain is worth it, for it puts him exactly where he wants to be.

Ivar lies there for a moment, eyes to the ground so Dodger can't tell what he's about to do. He's gotten too close to the teen, cocky to the point of getting within striking distance. "I'm sorry..." Then the Viking warrior looks up and there's a vicious feral look on his face. "... This is going to hurt a lot." Without warning, he slams the knife into Dodger's leg with as much strength as he can muster. And Ivar, unlike most sixteen year olds, is a lot stronger than he initially looks.

Alright, he'll admit it - he'd gotten cocky. He realizes this the moment the knife sinks into his leg, and he slams onto the ground hard enough that he's pretty sure he'll end up with bruises on his back.

With a noise not unlike a bark, he aims a kick at Ivar's head with his good leg, trying to shove him off and teleport away so he can try and get his advantage back. If there's one thing he knows, it's that a man without legs with as much bloodlust as Ivar will have a much better time fighting if they're both stuck on the ground. He does not want to be stuck near him while he's getting his bearings.

Ivar seizes the moment, not waiting to give Dodger a single second to get back his already considerable advantage. He grabs a hold of the mutant and holds on tight, preventing him from being able to teleport away. He stabs out randomly, trying to score a few hits even with Dodger struggling beneath him. He's heavier than Ivar, but the teen is in a better position to stab away.

"Ek vili enda þik!" He roars out in Old Norse, the words ringing in the air like a battle cry. I will end you. Ivar fully intends to see Dodger dead by his hands. It's every frustration, every humiliation, every person who has ever laughed at him, called him useless, or seen him as nothing all rolled into one.

He manages to teleport a few feet, which will give Ivar the sensation of everything around him exploding into sparks, leaving him in an empty void for just a second before reality reasserts itself. And when it does Dodger realizes the kid's still holding onto him, and worse - he's climbing up on him.

One of the stabs makes it to Dodger's side, another to his stomach, all while he struggles to try and get free of his grasp. The knife slices along the bandages on Dodger's wrist, adding a layer of panic as if it fucking matters right now if his wrists are bare. He's spitting profanities as he aims a punch to Ivar's face, a kick to his ribs, anything that will get him off.

Ivar feels the bottom of his stomach drop out when they teleport. Now there's something he doesn't feel every day. Before he can make another stab wound, there's a sickening Crack! as one of the kicks directed his way definitely breaks a rib or two. Ivar's grip loosens for a moment in pain, but he's always been a stubborn sort. He's not giving up now.

He manages to get the hand still holding the knife free from Dodger's evermore desperate measures. The knife gets raised up high and then gets plunged down into Dodger's right eye. It won't kill him and Ivar knows this. But it's sure going to hurt like hell.

Dodger lets out a shriek as the blade dives into his flesh - the eye was useless, had been sightless for at least a year, but that didn't stop the nerves from exploding in pain as he finally manages to shove the boy off of him.

Something snaps in his head; the same thing that snapped when he got the scars on his face. He's seeing red, and he forces himself to his feet as he grasps the handle of the knife and yanks it from his eye. Blood gushes from the wound, and he forces his eyelids shut to try and stop it as best he can. He'll feel the pain later; once he's made sure this kid learns the meaning of pain.

There had been anger in his expression before, but now there's almost nothing. His face is blank, but focused and intense, as he drags himself on top of Ivar and grabs him by the neck. Holds him still so he can sink the knife into the boy's stomach and chest in quick, almost matter-of-fact motions.

The satisfaction he gets from hearing Dodger scream is short-lived. He'd been hoping that would incapacitate him long enough for Ivar to pull out another knife and end this for good, but he hadn't been expecting Dodger to rally enough to get back to his feet. He's made a grave miscalculation and he knows he's going to end up paying for it.

There's no way to break out of Dodger's iron grip no matter how he struggles. The knife entering his chest is a shock of cold, sharp pain. His struggles lessen. After the first couple of stab wounds, he really can't feel much of anything at all. There's no fear of death for him. Vikings who die in battle end up in Valhalla. Still, he's not about to go down without one last act of defiance, and so he wills himself to stay conscious long enough to spit in Dodger's face.

Edited 2017-05-21 07:16 (UTC)

If anything, what truly angers him is the lack of fear on Ivar's face. He doesn't beg or cry, he just fights until he lacks the strength to. It's pathetic in its own way, but not a way that's fun or satisfying. But oh, it is satisfying to dig the knife deep into the cripple's throat after he's been spat at.

His adrenaline dies down as he tosses the knife aside, rolling over to catch his breath beside the kid. By now there's blood coating his front, most of it Ivar's but plenty of it his own. His body has started pulsing with pain from all across his body, as he wipes enough of the blood off of his face to see properly and check that no one's run across them.

Fresh off shift, and carrying a bag of takeout dim sum (well, the alien equivalent that's so close he can barely taste the difference), Eddie's ready for a low-key evening. Getting out of his suit, doing a few push ups, relaxing in front of the TV to watch a movie. What he's not prepared for is to hear screams and shouting and then an abrupt, panic-inducing silence from down a side street.

There's not even a moment of hesitation before Eddie is dropping his bag of dim sum by the entrance to the alley and drawing his gun from his hip holster. Moving cautiously down the alley, hands in front of him, gun cocked with the safety off and every nerve on end, attention focused, he reaches the scene of the fight with as much efficiency and speed as he can manage without sacrificing his own safety.

When he finally sees them, his breath catches sharp and hard, and his hands rearrange on his gun, which he points at the two of them, ready to pull the trigger if he needs to.

"Freeze where you are, show me your hands."

His voice is firm and his expression is hard, despite how horrified he is by the scene - and he hasn't even recognized Ivar yet.

Of course someone happens to be walking by at this moment. And of course that person just happens to be a cop, if the gun and order are any indication. Dodger's out of fight for the night, with his cheek soaked in blood from his eye and the bruises on his back coming in full throttle. His hands move smoothly above his head in a sign of surrender, his voice a bit hoarse as he speaks up.

"Don't want any trouble."

He hadn't in the first place - an odd occurrence for Dodger - but here he is coated in blood, sporting a ripped and cut shirt, squeezing one eye shut and hoping he doesn't pass out from the pain of it. And there is Ivar beside him, legs bent and shirt ripped and drenched red. He's fairly certain the kid is dead, or will be if he doesn't get pulled to a hospital soon... not that he'd mind, it would make things easier for him. But he can absolutely see the conclusions that the new arrival is probably drawing from what he sees.

There are definitely a particular set of conclusions that Eddie has drawn - it looks to him like either this guy decided to attack the one on the ground and was wounded by the resulting self-defense, or the two of them got in a fight and he has his gun pointed at the winner. Either way, he doesn't like it.

The guy lifts his hands indicating surrender, and Eddie moves in closer, keeps his gun trained on the guy as he kneels beside the other figure on the ground. His fingers are already at his pulse point when he recognizes Ivar, and pauses. Ivar, who might be a Viking and a strong fighter, but is still a kid in a wheelchair, a kid who'd given him wise advice, just to be helpful. For a moment, his hand shakes as he holds his gun, and his jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze. It takes everything in him to maintain objectivity as he looks up at the other man, but he manages it.

"He's still alive. Lucky for you."

It comes out clipped, and his eyes flick between the two of them for a moment, before he's lifting his jacket in the back and stepping toward the older man, "I'm going to cuff you so I can stabilize him. Hands behind your back."

Dodger narrows his eyes a bit as he sees the gun still trained on him, but he never expected to get the benefit of the doubt. He isn't about to try and convince the man that Ivar hit first - it's embarrassing enough the kid landed any hits at all.

"Yeah, because I really want that dumbass coming after me for revenge." He mutters, half to himself. His hands stay above his head, and he braces himself to teleport if an attempt to cuff him forcefully is made. "Look, I'm not gonna stop you taking care of the kid. But I'm not getting chained on top of all this bullshit."

His hands are starting to get shaky, as the shock and adrenaline subside in favor of racks of pain. It's only out of pride that he continues to force himself still, instead of betraying just how much he's hurting. It almost makes him kind of glad that Ivar's blood is camouflaging his own injuries.

Eddie notices it, the way the guy's hands are shaking a little, while he talks back, the signs of pain are easy to see, and it registers that probably a good bit of the blood on this guy is his own. Eddie's eyes narrow as he stares at the guy, reading his expression, and then flick down to the boy on the ground.

"It's lucky for you because this way it's just attempted murder, not murder. Eyes on me. Are you going to attack me, or him?"

"Couldn't if I wanted to."

It's only slightly a lie; he could force himself if he really set his mind to it, but he's not in any condition to try and finish a fight. And he finally gives up trying to disguise his pain, one of his hands flying to his stomach to try and keep pressure on the wounds there.

"If you're gonna save him, you better hurry, Charming. People don't live through fucking with me too often."

The question accomplishes what Eddie was hoping it would - when the guy answers it, Eddie's eyes narrow and he reads his body language. While he might've believed the words, if only because of the phrasing, it's the body language that gives him away, and Eddie has a keen eye for that. But the honesty, and the pain, is pretty obvious, written all over him.

Eyes still narrowed, he nods once at the guy, keeps his gun out, and moves over toward Ivar on the ground, fingers pressing against his pulse point to make sure he's still alive before he turns his attention to the other guy again.

"Sit down against the far wall of the alley, if you can. I'm going to stabilize him, then I'll take a look at you."

Pausing for a moment, he quickly calls in to the Emergency Services and requests backup and an ambulance, rattles off the address, and then turns his attention to Ivar.

"Come on, hang in there, Ivar..." he whispers, grateful for the advanced first aid courses they'd given him when he arrived here.

Dodger nods curtly, and he disappears in a flash of sparks before reappearing slumped against the far wall. He bristles a bit at the talk of ambulances and police officers showing up, but of course that's where his luck is at - he supposes he can teleport away from all of this if it gets to be too much. That is, if he's conscious for it.

He stays silent while Eddie's fussing with Ivar, brooding in his own thoughts while he waits for the man to either stabilize the kid or give up. He doesn't figure he'll be lucky enough tonight for the kid to die, but there's always the next time. A kid like that will be too stupid to not try and take revenge.

The sparks make Eddie jump a little, and he lifts his head, eyes a little narrowed, to watch the guy settle down against the far wall. Teleporter. Interesting. Eddie remembers there being one like that in the meta prison at STAR Labs, but that isn't really relevant right now, aside from something to note, something to keep in mind.

It takes a while to stabilize Ivar, to fight to keep him alive before he hears the ambulance coming. When the lights are reflecting off the walls and Ivar is alive enough that he'll stay alive until more help gets here, Eddie turns to the other guy, crouching in front of him.

"Where are you hurt?"

"Where do you... think?"

His tone is biting and harsh, but he's struggling to keep himself conscious by the time Eddie gets to him. The pain has really, truly set in, there is dried blood across his entire face and body, and his breath is shuddering awkwardly.

"Fucker stabbed... my fucking eye out..."

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Have you had enough? (Closed)

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ugh I'm so sorry this is late

no sweat!