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In every sense of the word, you were a pacifist. You didn’t like fighting unless it was in movies or video games where you knew it was fake. Violence wasn’t something you were okay with.
That being said, you were completely out of your element when a bunch of fucking ninjas showed up at your work. You knew to expect weird things, living in Hell’s Kitchen where there was a masked vigilante and crime rings everywhere. Nothing, however, could have prepared you for ninjas. I mean seriously? You didn’t even think they were real at first. Maybe a cosplay or something.
But then they started taking out their very real swords, and they started slicing and dicing. It was something straight out of a movie the way they cut into those people. You were fine. Well, as fine as you could be with a group of ninjas attacking anyone that dared to move. If you just stayed under your desk and didn’t move, you’d be fine.
You were trembling, holding a hand to your mouth to try to prevent any noise from escaping. You heard your friend talking to them, begging them to let everyone go. You heard her heels click along the floor. And then the unmistakable sound of her body dropping into a heap on the floor. Tears sprung into your eyes as you heard her gurgling.
You couldn’t see what was going on, and you were grateful for that. Seeing your friend bleeding out probably wouldn’t be the best for your mental state. But then again, listening to the sounds of people close to you dying and being held hostage by ninjas wasn’t either.
You were hyperventilating under your tear and snot stained hand. It was ugly. Everything about this was ugly, though, so you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
You wanted to look when you heard grunts and hits being exchanged. Someone was fighting them? Who the hell would be insane enough to go up against these psychos?
The fight continued on for quite some time and you didn’t know who was winning. You could only hope that it wasn’t the ninjas.
Two people went right past your desk as they fought. They probably didn’t even notice you were there. More people joined in and you wondered where the hell was the rest of your saviours. Surely no one would be stupid enough to do this alone.
You could hear that the man was getting his ass handed to him. You dared to peek out from under the desk and barely held in a gasp.
It was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in the flesh. He was getting the shit kicked out of him by multiple ninjas.
Being a pacifist, you weren’t apt to fight. But when someone is getting ganged up on… well, that’s just unfair. Silently, you grabbed your purse that you always set under your desk, searching for anything that could help you in this situation. It would be stupid to help out, but you couldn’t just watch this poor man get beaten to death.
You found your keychain and took the pepper spray off of it. You didn’t want to make a lot of noise with it. You also grabbed your pocket knife that you always kept on you for emergencies. Being a woman in the city definitely taught you to be prepared. You never thought you’d be fighting off ninjas, but what the hell can you do?
You tripped a ninja that was passing you and kicked him in the face. You sprayed him with the pepper spray and left him wailing on the ground. The ninjas turned around, giving Daredevil the chance to hit each out them with his… sticks?
Was he seriously entering this katana fight with fucking sticks? You’d have to have some strong words with this man when you were done.
You slashed a few of them with your little knife and pepper sprayed them as best you could. The masked vigilante kept yelling at you to leave, to get away while you still could. You wanted to listen, but the ninjas wouldn’t let you go. They kept coming for you and you could barely dodge every katana swinging your way.
It was at that moment that you were seriously questioning your life’s choices. Was this how you died? In a ninja fight? Well, it certainly would be a cool way to go. You couldn’t complain there.
On the other hand, there were so many things you wanted to do. You hadn’t truly lived yet. Only recently had you started to make friends again. There was Karen and Foggy and Matt. They were so wonderful when they saw you sitting alone at Josie’s. They cheered you up after getting harassed by some loser. You could even dare to say that you had grown quite fond of one member of the group in particular. It was only now, in the face of great danger, that you wished you’d have told him.
You screamed when one of the katanas ripped through your torso. Daredevil froze before letting all hell loose. He would kill anyone and everyone who dared lay a hand on you. He didn’t care if he got hurt, not when you had already gotten hurt.
He could smell and taste the copper of your blood—or was it his own? It didn’t really matter. It still made him nauseous. When he got to your side, he felt the katana that had impaled you. It was still in which was good but also bad. He could hear the sirens of the ambulance from blocks away. He wished they’d come faster.
“What were you thinking,” he muttered, mostly to himself as tears welled up in his eyes.
“Was thinkin’ your ass w’s gettin’ handed t’ya,” you replied, your voice slurred and quiet.
“I could’a done it myself, sweetheart.”
“Din’t look like it,” you smiled, head drooping to the side. Terror set in his bones when he felt blood pouring from your mouth.
“No! Don’t… don’t leave me! Please, please be okay! Please, c’mon sweetheart!” He cried out. You couldn’t leave him. You were the best thing in his life. He couldn’t bear to let you go just yet. This was all his fault. Why did you have to step in? Why couldn’t you have just stayed under your desk?