There was a long silence after Myla asked him what his name was. Rather than an answer, he grabbed her wrist, causing her to gasp slightly. She didn't fight him. Perhaps she offended him, or that was one thing he had no intention of sharing. She couldn't help but wonder if he was purposefully keeping his name from her. Was he someone she encountered in the past? Someone she imprisoned or angered? But if that was the case, why help her at all in the first place?
With her wrist still in tow, he stood up from the toilet, pulling her to her feet along with him. For a moment, brief and fleeting, they stood close. Strangely close. Myla could feel the breeze from his breath and the slight brush of his jacket against hers with every inhale. He then released his hold on her and took the towel from her grasp. She didn't fight him or argue, just stood exactly where he left her. She half expected that to be the end of their interactions. For him to walk out of the bathroom and disappear forever with not so much as a name to ever find him again. Instead, she heard him open the medkit and quickly sift through its contents.
Gently, he spun her around so her back was to the sink and pressed her against the counter. One hand of his gently moved to cup the back of her head. Myla could have swore she felt him lean in towards her. She swallowed. Many scenarios rushed through her mind in that split second. It felt intimate. Her pulse raised as anxiety tried to set in. Then there was an abrupt stinging sensation on the side of her head. When she realized what he was doing, she nearly kicked herself over her mini mental freak out. She let out a soft sigh and her brows furrowed from the cleaning of her wound.
When he was finished, he softly blew on the wound to ease some of the stinging. Myla's head adjusted the smallest amount as if she was trying to look at him. He confused her. Of course, she had barely known the man so that didn't give her much grounds for knowing him at all. But in the brief time they've spent together he's come of cold, distant and detached, while some how also being compassionate and protective. It was enough to make anyone wonder.
"Kane," his voice broke the silence and her train of thought as he lightly put some ointment and a bandaid on her head. Myla didn't move and remained silent as he put a dab of medicine along her bottom lip. For some unknown reason, she almost felt like she had a piece of knowledge now, that no one else did. It made her feel special, if only a small bit. He hadn't shared that with anyone else... But he did with her.
Before his hand withdrew from her face entirely, Myla took his wrist this time. Kane didn't seem like the type who liked the attention of gratitude or any special attention, but she couldn't
not say something.
"Thank you... For coming back for me." That was it. She had no other words to share, nor did she expect any in return from him. Her fingers gently released their hold on his arm and let him proceed.
Myla was hopping she could get by without him noticing the cut to her side. No dice. It wasn't bad. She, obviously, had no idea how bad it looked but it didn't feel deep. There was no tearing or tugging when she moved, or at least not that she noticed. Of course, there was the adrenalin that could erase it from all thought while in the middle of a fight. So, she might not be the best judge of that. Either way, she wasn't going to argue, and let Kane put a bandage over it for the time being. While she probably would have slapped some gauze on it and called it a day, he went the extra step to wrap her abdomen.
"Get what you need. We'll take a taxi." With that, Kane was finished. She heard the bathroom door unlock and his footsteps retreat toward the entrance of the apartment.
Once alone, Myla took a moment to breath. She ran her fingers over the clothes she borrowed, each piece either torn or tacky from blood.
"Damn it," she cursed under her breath. She tried to clean as much of the blood out as possible but knew the clothes were effectively ruined. With a sigh, she trudged down the hallway toward her room, pulling off the shirt and jacket on her way.
Myla went to her closet and quickly sifted through the clothes trying to find something to wear.
"Jesus, Marci," she muttered under her breath. A good 90% of her closet was pencil skirts and dresses with twice as many pairs of stilettos. She shoved and moved the outfits out of the way until she found her own old clothes towards the back. Myla put on the first outfit she could find and grabbed whatever casual clothes she had left, not much and tossed them onto her bed.
She knelt down on the ground and pulled a duffle bag and a trunk out from under her bed. Myla open the chest revealing her suit perfectly folded and tucked away. It was a simple costume, much like her dad's. It was a black leather bodysuit, with angel wings that started at the shoulder blades and stretched down the sleeves embroidered into the leather. Her helmet, was nearly identical to Daredevil's, the only difference was her's was black and instead of devil horns, there was a golden halo that fastened at the crown of the head.
Myla placed it and the billy club into the bag, followed by shoving a few pieces of clothing inside and zipping it up. With the bag on her shoulder, she headed back toward the entrance where Kane waited for her. Without a word, he took the bag from her and headed out. She followed him down the stairs and for the most part she was fine. Whatever issues she did have, the railing more than sufficed to help.
Kane made his way back over to his motorcycle where he grabbed something from a hidden compartment. A weapon perhaps? Myla didn't care much either way. And while he stepped aside to flag down a taxi, she stopped in her tracks at the sound of a faint beeping sound. Without a word, Myla knelt down on the ground and ran her hand along the underside of the bike. Her fingers stopped when they found a strange foreign object.
A tracker. After she stood back up, she dropped it on the ground and smashed it with her boot. She had to do it a couple times, but eventually the beeping stopped.
"You should put your bike in the garage." Myla said before showing Kane where he could park his motorcycle. At least there it'd be safe from the elements or getting towed. She'd feel even worse about the whole situation if he lost his ride simply because he helped her.
Once Kane got a taxi, he opened the door for her and she slid in, scooting over to the farthest side of the backseat. He gave the driver the address while she buckled herself in and settled into the seat.
"Get some sleep."
"I'm not tired." Myla had far too much adrenalin coursing through her to simply fall asleep. Her mind was racing with everything that had transpired. Less than 24 hours and her life had been flipped upside down. It was times like these she wished her dad wasn't missing or she had a friend she could confide in... Just to have someone to talk to. But like most of her life, Myla was alone. So, she tucked it away. A small part of her wanted to cry. But not then. That was something for the privacy of her own room, behind closed doors. She hated nothing more than appearing weak. She's had enough of that for the day.
For awhile, the drive was quiet. But as time went on, Myla could feel the taxi driver's gaze lingering on her longer and longer.
"Lovers quarrel?" he asked.
"Something like that," was all she could manage to think up in response. Myla hadn't even considered what it might look like to someone else. She was pint sized sitting next to Kane. And while he had some woulds too, it always drew more attention whenever it was a woman. Domestic abuse. Of course that's what he thought. She could sense his concern and hear him moving for his phone. That's all they needed, for the cops to be called and them stuck in a precinct for the next 24 hours.
Myla scooted forward in her seat before he had a chance to make a call.
"You've heard of BDSM... Right? We just get carried away sometimes. Heat of the moment and all that." Her voice was soft and hushed with a small taste of seduction at the end of her words.
"Isn't that right, babe?" She turned her head toward Kane.
"Oh... OH!" the driver said, quickly realizing what she meant. Myla could sense a change in his heart rate. He went from concerned to uncomfortable as he laughed awkwardly and tugged at the collar of his shirt.
Bullet dodged. Myla gave a coy giggle toward the driver as she sat back in her seat. Luckily, he didn't ask anymore questions the rest of the drive, so she was able to drop the charade and return to her thoughts.
* * *
When they were a few blocks away from the Academy, Myla asked the driver to stop there. Considering the day she's had, she'd rather air on the side of caution and not let anyone know where she would be... Beyond those who already knew. She paid the driver and climbed out of the backseat.
Once the pair were left on the side of the street alone, Myla reached into her pocket and pulled out some money. Each bill was folded differently so she knew what they were. She then held it out toward Kane.
"This should cover your ride back." From what she knew of him, he was the stubborn type and wouldn't take the money even if he needed it. So, rather than argue about it, she stepped forward and slid the cash into his jacket pocket.
And while she was there, Myla reached up and took her bag from his shoulder. To the best of her knowledge, Kane still had no intention of staying. It wasn't her place to argue one way or another. That was his decision to make. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and gave him a small smile.
"It was nice meeting you."
Myla pivoted on her heels and headed in the direction of the Academy. It didn't take her long to reach the building. And it seemed the second she walked through the doors Phil and Alfred were there, waiting. Before they could bombard her with questions, Myla spoke up.
"Looks like I was next on their list." They didn't say anything. Maybe they were digesting. Either way, she was happy not to answer all their questions at the current moment.
"Where is the infirmary?"
Alfred cleared his throat.
"11th floor and then take a left."
"Thank you." She had nothing else to add and proceeded in the direction of the elevators.
Just before pressing the button, she could hear Lexa's voice coming from near by. Myla side tracked toward it, finding herself out back on the patio. She beelined for the girl who sat near another one of the men. She couldn't quite make out who it was when he wasn't talking, but it didn't matter. One by one she lifted each of her feet and pulled off the boots. She set them down on the ground beside Lexa, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out roughly $200. Myla held the money out to the girl.
"If this isn't enough, just let me know."
And that was it. No other words were shared and Myla didn't linger for their questions. If they were dying to know they could find her in the infirmary. She went back inside, her socked feet quietly tapping against the floor as she moved towards the elevator.
Level 11. She pressed the button and patiently waited as the lift ascended.
It wasn't difficult to find the infirmary. It was quiet and there wasn't a soul to be found. The second Myla stepped foot in the room she could hear the fluorescents turn on.
"Hello, Ms. Murdock. I am J.A.R.V.I.S.. What may I help you with?"
At first, the voice took her by surprise. But she quickly grew to accept it. Tony Stark was one of the most intelligent men in the world. It only made sense that this tower came with every bell and whistle known to man.
"Abdominal laceration," she replied as she moved towards the closest hospital bed and set her bag down on the ground beside it.
"Of course. Please lie down and expose the wound."
Myla held up the hem of her shirt with her teeth as she removed the bandages Kane wrapped her in. With the wound exposed she could smell the blood and couldn't help but wonder if it was, perhaps, worse than she had thought. She climbed onto the bed and laid down on her right side, being sure to leave the cut visible.
A machine off the side of the cot, like a little arch, raised and scanned her body.
"Ms. Murdock, I will need to sanitized and then suture your wound. I estimate the procedure to take 12 minutes and 27 seconds. May I proceed?"
"Yes."
Arms began to extend out from under the hospital bed. There were so many of them moving around it was hard for Myla to know what exactly was happening. She closed her eyes and tried not to focus on it. Stitches hurt, but it was a sensation she was more than used to. Her back and torso were covered in several scars from various injuries since she took up the mantle of Hell's Angel. She remained calm and still, the only movement she made was when her chest rose and fell from each breath she took.
And now, in the quiet infirmary, away from everyone else, one silent tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek.