He's wearing red leather, skin tight. Full body suit, complete with a mask with devil horns. Gwen would laugh at him for his getup, except for the fact that her getup is pretty similiar - though minus a mask, of course. He's an extraordinary fighter, keen reflexes, phenomenal acrobatic skill. Gwen's beginning to doubt if she's going to win.
His full body suit makes it nearly impossible for her to use any kind of currant against him. She needs to be able to touch him, skin against skin, and she really doubts she's going to get a chance for that.
She's not dying tonight. Not for a commision that puny, not at the hand of some masked wannabe superhero. Wannabe, a voice inside her head laughs, try the real deal. Yeah, whatever. She's still not dying tonight.
Gwen's an extraordinary fighter as well - her reflexes are good (not as good as his) as is her acrobatic skill (not a match for his.) She's not dying tonight.
Not dying tonight, those are the words that echos through her head as he has her down.
"Don't you superheroes have some kind of code of honor? Like not killing people?" Gwen asks, her breath coming out ragged. She has no way to get up. She's too weak from the fight to try to physically knock him out of the way, and shocking him is still not going to happen.
He doesn't say anything.
"I don't deserve this." She doubts this route is going to work, of course, but its her only hope right now. "I didn't do anything - "
"You killed six men tonight," he responds.
Gwen falters. "I didn't - They were going to kill me."
He doesn't say anything.
"You've got to understand, okay? I didn't kill them because I'm some - "
"Murderer?" he offers.
"I'm not a murderer," she says sharply.
"What are you then?" he asks now, almost as if he's actually curious.
"I'm a freak." An idea sparks in her head. "I'm - I'm a freak, you see. I can't touch anyone without shocking them, without killing them. I can't live a normal life, I can't just - just live like people."
She watches him carefully. He seems to be interested.
"The only way people accept me is if I can do something for them. That's all people think about, what's in it for them. How they can use me. I'm only accepted when they think I can get things for them, steal things for them. When I have something to offer them." This started as a ploy to seek his sympathy, but now she finds herself speaking with sincerity. "Ever since I was little, people have been afraid of me. My parents, other kids, family friends, even my priest. All terrified of what I could do to them. Most people avoid me - others, they try to take advantage of me. I, for the most part, let them. Because at least then . . ." she trailed off.
There's a long stretch of silence before Gwen begins again.
"I was hired to steal a painting, okay? A stupid, measly painting. Those gaurds, they rushed me and - I don't know. I did what I had to do to defend myself." A pause before, "And I'm not sorry for that."
He remained silent.
"Look, Horned Avenger or whatever the hell you go by - "
"Daredevil. You want to kill me, kill me. I can't stop you. Just know that makes you more of a murderer than I will ever be." Please, please, please don't kill me.
Silence. And then he takes a step back, letting her up. "I was never going to kill you."
"Why not?" Gwen asks, genuinely shocked.
"I'm not the bad guy," he says simply.
Gwen gets up, and brushes herself off. "Neither am I."
"Go." His voice is even, calm. "And - "
"You won't see me again," she says quickly.
"I'm sure that's true." And then he turns and jumps off the building. Gwen watches as he does a flip in midair and lands on his feet.
Gwen smiles slightly, watching him until he's out of sight. Finally, she gets the painting, and goes off to meet her client and negotiate with him about a hell of a lot more comission.