A.K.A HELLCAT!

Patsy Walker. Thirty-four. Former almost Avenger and actual Defender. Current Secret Warrior. Come see me at the Patsy Walker Temp Agency! "I'm done running. I'm ready to be a hero again."

[thchellcat]

 akagoddammit:

She should’ve been helping herself to the free food, but her appetite was distinctly lacking. Always was, when her paranoia was this high. She’d never enjoyed parties, even as a teenager. (Of course, Trish’s parties had always included a hell of a lot more than just booze.) After Kilgrave, she actively detested them, and so far nothing had changed her opinion. So far, her experience was: bored to tears, put on display, actively attacked, and dumped, when it came to parties like this. Her hopes for tonight weren’t high. 

 “Oh boy,” she deadpanned. “You think assholes would give it a rest. But hey, not like you can ship them off to federal prison while we’re trapped in hell-dimension,” she muttered, shaking her head. “There’s always that. I’m sure as hell tired of hearing it though, aren’t you?” she asked, turning her head towards the woman. 

Optimistic wasn’t the right word for her feelings on tonight -- though, she was Patsy Walker, so it wasn’t the wrong word, either. She wasn’t hopeful, but she hadn’t dreaded coming. And if anything bad happened, it was better to be there than to skip out and stay at home. Even as nothing seemed amiss, she couldn’t help but continue to scan the crowd for signs of magic or other such not-rightness. And as she looked, it was hard not to notice how happy everyone seemed to be.

“You’d think a hell-dimension would have a handy pocket prison-dimension inside of it.” Which, hey, for all they knew, it did. All in all, this wasn’t the worst place to be trapped, and certainly was a step above hell itself, but it was kind of unsettling how demons running around was their only dangerous problem. “Mm, maybe a little? But at the same time, I can’t blame anyone. Even if people aren’t used to normal in this city, at least they could always count on being on Earth. And this isn’t even the fun, just-visiting-space kind of thing, either.”

[thchellcat]

 notdaredcvil:

Matt doubted that you could ever find two more different heroes than Hellcat and Daredevil. Despite their proclivity towards similar themes in their names - the Devil and Hell working together seemed apt, and ultimately inevitable - their public profiles were insanely separate. The Devil worked alone, stuck to the shadows, took down arms dealers and human traffickers at night and left them tied up on the steps of the police station with restraining orders pinned to their chests. Hellcat fought bad guys with Avengers, she had published her own tell all memoirs, and wherever she went, people knew that Patsy Walker was a hero.

On the outside looking in, it appeared to be a life that anyone would want. Her good deeds were well known, she was thanked for them often, and she had the same benefits of fame as the Avengers did, the same elevated status in New York. That being said, Matt knew that there was a dangerous, ugly side to that as well. Her entire life was on show, her every action magnified, and her family was in danger. Of course, her family almost entirely consisted of superheroes from what Matt could tell, but there was still that potential that a villain could use them to get to her, or put them in harm’s way because Patsy had dared to piss them off.

Despite their differences, they were both on the same team now, and that meant that working together was something they needed to hone into a fine art. They both had martial arts training, which meant more than likely they read from the same hymn sheet. Daisy had emphasised the need to train together, and Matt knew that relying on another person meant being able to predict what they would do. Spending time together in the ring was a part of that. “No one’s experienced at boxing. They just hit things and hope for the best. As long as you’re quick enough, you’ll win.” Knowing that his dad threw fights proved that. “Yeah, yeah,” Matt said with a laugh, “I’ve heard of you here and there.” An understatement, clearly. “Already there are several adjustments in there,” Matt admitted, a small smile on his face. “Hotheaded decisions are a bit like my specialty at specific moments in time, and being saved doesn’t sit well with me. How long have you fought on teams? Did you join one after your training?” Of course, reading her book could probably tell him this, but hearing it from her was something he preferred.

One could make an argument either way, that Patsy’s dependence on others was a crutch or that she was a more valuable asset because she knew how to listen to people while still taking charge when necessary. Somehow, the Secret Warriors were the first team she had chosen for herself. She had always dreamed of being an Avenger, she had gotten so close, but was convinced to become a Defender instead, and then she left them to go into the occult business with Daimon. For so much of her life, she allowed herself to be pulled in what ever direction was easiest. After starting her own business, Patsy was finally going after the things she truly wanted. Teams, it turned out, made her a better fighter.

Patsy had dreamt about this life since she was a kid. Even back then, she had never been particularly concerned with anonymity in her desired future as a superhero. For most of her life, her mother had shown the world an idealized version of her daughter, and becoming Hellcat was eerily similar. She was one of the more chipper heroes and no crime was too petty to stop, no civilian problem too small to offer a helping hand. Even with her book Gidget Goes to Hell explaining exactly why she had disappeared, there was still an expectancy that she be happy and carefree. In public, anyways, that was easy. Smiling for a crowd was familiar territory.

Based on his public persona, Patsy didn’t think of Daredevil as a team player. Not to say that he wasn’t capable, but he tended to throw himself into things without a safety net, which was how Patsy viewed team mates a lot of the time. “Oh, yeah, like bob and weave, right? I think I’m pretty good at that.” Reflexes helped. A desire not to be punching in the face did, too. “Try not to listen to the gossip too much -- not even when the source is me,” she joked, referring to her books. It was another part of cultivating a superhero personality that the public would trust and believe in. There were still deeper layers of herself that she kept hidden from people who didn’t really know her. “Weirdly, despite all of that, I look forward to working with you.” In Patsy’s younger days, Nighthawk managed to do all the bad decision making and a lot of the team mates saving. Already Matt Murdock didn’t give off quite that same chaotic energy. “As someone who’s been saved, like...way too many times, I can’t say it ever gets more comfortable, but it beats the alternative.” Another reason for the teams -- Patsy couldn’t say how long she’d make it without them. “I was actually all set to join the Avengers before I had much training. Don’t judge them, though. Took a little trip to space, got better at fighting, and yep, pretty much joined the Defenders immediately after that. I don’t have much experience being alone.” How surprising, that a girl who got married right out of high school and was already twice divorced by thirty-four had difficulty being on her own.

[thchellcat]

 bloody-good-occultist:

Yeah, competition was all well and good, but that was when the parties involved were competing over something mundane, like which food truck made the best tacos. Trying to one-up someone over demon hunting would probably do more harm than good. “You’ve got a point, but I think it’s a bit different when yer talkin’ ‘bout bloody demons.” Smiling again, John said, “Aw, ta fer the vote o’ confidence, luv, but I know yer really sayin’ they can’t compete in terms of bein’ a total wanker.” He knew he was damn good at what he did, but he was not much for tooting his own horn. So it was always nice to hear someone else say it. 

The thought of the prats coming in dressed as Ghostbusters made him laugh out loud. He had had no idea people were actually really pursuing the idea of being demon hunters. Granted John had seen a couple of idiots here and there who thought they were macho enough to chuck rocks at the demons–until the demons cam after them, and then they ran away screaming. “Yeah, they’ll benefit by finally realizin’ how stupid they’re bein’. No matter how many demons are runnin’ 'round this city, you can’t learn ta fight 'em overnight.” And, as Patsy said, not everyone was cut out for the job. It actually was not weird that demons thought she was too upbeat. “That ain’t surprisin’. They’re bleedin’ dreary sods, you know. Anybody who acts as nice as you is bound ta put them off. Guess that’s why I’m so good at doin’ what I do. I’m a bleedin’ dreary sod meself." 

Though he was flattered in her continued confidence in him, John really did not know what to do now. He knew how to fight demons, but these ones were not his usual type. The typical gamut of spells did work against them, but John had never felt so out of his element as he did now. "Don’t count on me too highly jus’ yet, luv, 'cause even I’m pretty lost for what ta do these days. Yeah I can take on the demons, but I’m used ta a few here or there, not a constant soddin’ barrage.” He shook his head and blew out smoke. “This gets any worse and even I might not be able ta get the job done.” He did not want to dwell on that, but who knew where things would go from here?

Patsy had some, ahem...animosity with demons, but she didn’t fear them. It was part of knowing your enemies, in part. Once, Patsy’s soul had been sacrificed to a demon, and later something the ill-informed would call a demon had relegated her soul to Hell. Patsy and her soul were both a little battered, but resilient. It was a whole lot easier dealing with just one demon at a time, though, she had to admit. “Any chance this epidemic teaches the public how to fight demons for themselves? ...Yeah, nah, I didn’t think so.” Patsy did sometimes consider throwing a seminar on the subject, but who would come? New Yorkers had a way of relying on heroes to do all the fighting. Plus, without her magic sight, she actually wasn’t sure how to go about killing an invisible demon. “There are loads of people in this city who could beat you in that department. I run into at least one a day on the subway. But being a total badass and canning demons?! That’s all you.”

Being an occult detective or a demon buster sounded cool in theory. Out in the field, though, there was nothing quite as terrifying for the average human. The supernatural were like nothing found in the natural world, they were often times more mysterious than aliens. “Buffy never prepared the general public for demons from other dimensions.” Or other planets, really, she couldn’t say for sure which was the case. “Hey, I’ve met drearier,” she said with a smile. He had a point, though. The occult stuff had never been her passion by any means.

“I wish we knew where they were coming from. At least then we could create a barrier, at least for as long as it takes to get back to Earth.” If Patsy was one thing, it was optimistic, and she had to believe that this strange period in New York’s history wouldn’t last forever. “At least you’re never bored?”

[thchellcat]

 foggyavocado:

“You’ve got a point there,” he said, smiling at her. “Course, I have a feeling ‘rough’ is relative depending on your profession. I almost never wind up flat on my back on a Saturday. There was that one case…” he said, trailing off and grinning to let her know he was kidding. 

He laughed at her joke. (At least he hoped it was a joke, it was hard to tell how far ‘themed’ supers went.) He hauled her to her feet, pleased to see that she seemed steady. He might’ve had a personal issue with Matt’s vigilante life, but after representing a few enhanced, he’d come to appreciate them a little more. (It didn’t hurt that they kept saving the city, too.) “Better hold on to your other six pretty tight,” he quipped. “Maybe we should find somewhere to sit…?” he offered, gesturing to a park bench.

She told him her real name, and that was a pretty big comfort. He didn’t have the best experiences with secret identities. “I’m a born and bred New Yorker, I don’t drive,” he laughed. “Foggy Nelson. Attorney, Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz. You ever get into trouble with this, we’ve got a whole department now. Just for enhanced and vigilantes.”

She nodded slowly, fully believing he had experienced something similar, until he gave her a look that said otherwise. “Oh!” Patsy said with a too loud laugh. “Personally, I just try to avoid too many witnesses. Bad for the rep, you know? But you seem to be the only one who noticed -- or cared, that is. Not too shabby.”

It was probably the best that he chose to laugh at that comment. Despite the freakishly high amount of superheroes who died and came back, people still didn’t react super positively all the time. She got it, to an extent. Patsy easily could have come back as, like, a zombie, or a demon. Then there were the heroes who died and didn’t return. There were so many unknown variables. “Ugh, you’re tellin’ me. That’s easier said than done, in a place like this.” Patsy knew she would have probably been better off in California, but it hadn’t felt right. Somehow, chasing after thieves while trapped in another dimension was better. “That’s probably a good idea. I feel fine, but I’m not the best judge of whether or not I’m okay.”

“No wonder you barely blinked when I popped out of costume right in front of you.” That was one explanation for it, anyways. The ability to change in and out of her costume at will was, sadly, one of her more useful powers. “I’m from California -- we don’t walk anywhere.” How convenient a lawyer would be if she wasn’t already best friends with the greatest one there was. “Really? That’s surprising. I guess you’d get a lot of customers with that niche, though, huh? But I already have a lawyer. I was briefly an investigator for her agency, actually.” Because clearly, this was a woman who excelled at being inconspicuous. 

[thchellcat]

 mccoysbeast:

The party, and President Doom’s softening of the curfew for one night present Hank with a unique opportunity to see the world outside of the walls of the Xavier mansion—he hypothesizes that anyone who isn’t at the party will be less likely to care about his appearance, though the chance of danger will likely increase in a similar fashion, a risk he has to be willing to take considering the lack of security. He waits until everyone who is going to go has cleared out of the mansion, and pulls a dark hoodie over his shoulders—hopefully enough of a disguise apart from his sloped and potentially oversized posture. He’s skeptical, but he feels like if he doesn’t take this chance now it will be a long while before another one like it appears—after all, a large part of the scientific process is risk, and taking advantage of chances that present themselves. The finishing touch is to slip his glasses over his nose, a reminder of his humanity, in his attempt to return to it.

He keeps himself mostly in the shadows, tries to remember what a casual posture felt like before, though he’s not sure he can make this new version of his body adapt it. He’s focused on just making his way past the Empire State Building–his head turned firmly towards his feet and the rest of his mind focused on appearing casual–when all of his concentration is broken by a collision with another person. “Oh, I’m sorry, please excuse me.” He says quickly, pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. It’s impossible to say if they were trying to exit the party quickly, or if his own carelessness is to blame, but his gut is telling him it might be a combination of the two–it would have been the perfect stage for Doom to do something drastic. 

“Are you all right?” 

Okay, well, it seems obvious now, but she never should have even remotely trusted a man named Doom. That’s the whole reason she didn’t sign his stupid list in the first place! And while Patsy has grown fond of her abilities, they’re not that impressive. She’s certainly no Thor or Superman. Who, she noticed, also didn’t sign the list. So...there! She’s in exquisite company. Then again, both Crystal and Daisy complied, and they’re her team leaders. Ugh, being a super person was already hard enough without odd presidents giving ultimatums.

Typically, having a public identity was great. At least, it was rarely dangerous, maybe because she had already died once and killing someone who had already been there and done that wasn’t as exciting. Even in New York, though, people know what Patsy Walker looks like. In Centerville, it made sense that everyone recognized her and asked for autographs on the street. By this point, she’s older, her mother’s books are behind her, but she’s written memoirs of her own and it seems like the guests at Doom’s party are fans. That’s nice. If she offered to sign some books, would they refrain from chasing her? She highly doubts it, and while she’s thinking of better alternatives, she crashes into someone so sturdy she briefly considers she just ran right into a wall. But nope, no wall, just her old friend Hank McCoy.

“Gee, am I happy to see you! Actually--scratch that, you shouldn’t be here. Neither of us should. It turns out the final item on Doom’s party menu was a heaping helping of angry mob. And since neither of us listed our powers, we’re exceptionally unpopular right now.” Patsy grabs his hoodie sleeve and shakes it childishly as she moves to keep running. “We gotta get outta here, Beast.”

[comicslams]

Patsy Walker, Vol. 1 No. 124, December 1965

[thchellcat]

 akagoddammit:

This was the last place she wanted to be. Well, almost. Her mindscape was the last place she wanted to be after that last freakin’ session, but this party was a close second. But it seemed like the entire goddamn city population had turned up, and after about two hours of listening to it from her apartment, she decided she might as well get some free goddamn food out of it.

The smell of liquor hit her first, though. Not the dozens of different kinds of food, not the sounds of the band or the dull roar of a thousand people talking at once. It was the champagne trays she noticed, the martini glasses sloshing onto the ground as people danced, the full bars on every floor just for the occasion. 

She just stared at it all for a minute, then sighed irritably. “How is it I’m always goddamn sober at these things?” she muttered under her breath. Apart from Halloween – and that hadn’t been pretty either. She deliberately turned towards the food, away from the bar, even if she could still smell it. “Guess we’re not gonna starve after all. What’s Jameson gonna bitch about now?”

Once, her life had been full of parties, purportedly dedicated to Patsy, but they celebrated a version on her that didn’t exist. All they did was appeal to her mother’s ego, both for writing the Patsy comics and for creating the girl she based them on. These occasions were not fun, because Patsy didn’t agree with the idea that her mother deserved all the praise, and she didn’t want to claim it for herself, either. This party was perhaps even more of a farce than those, proclaimed as a celebration for...what, their perseverance as a city? For the fact that they wouldn’t be starving to death in the immediate future. But Patsy had the very distinct feeling that Doom was just patting himself on the back

Unfortunately (no, that was a terrible way to think, it was a positive) her supernatural and magical senses weren’t detecting anything out of the ordinary. Although, the ordinary she had grown accustomed to since they left Earth wasn’t encouraging. Patsy turned towards a faint voice, not sure whether to ignore the woman or pry, when she spoke again, this time almost even addressing Patsy. “Crime’s still up. There are few things as reliable as crime. Other than death, and taxes, or whatever that saying is.” Ben Franklin, she thought. Did that make it another of her antiquated phrases or was it one of those things that stood the test of time? “I don’t think complaining about not knowing where in the universe we are will get old any time soon, either.”

[thchellcat]

@ofelements

Occasionally, Patsy worried about her independence. Although experience apparently did little to sway her towards making better choices, she was aware that she had a tendency to jump into things because she longed for human connection, to have a place she belonged and to have someone to hold on to. When both of her husbands turned out to be supervillains, she had to actively acknowledge that her judgment in men was off. Which mostly meant taking time to be herself. That said, the crime fighting thing had always been easier with a partner, or more often, a team. She had always joined up with well established groups in the past, but she was more than willing to help Crystal kick off the Secret Warriors. The other names attached were impressive and morally seemed in line with Patsy’s own views. Plus, one of her best friends was an inhuman, and she loved that she would finally have a chance to help others who may have walked into the mist unexpectedly.

Patsy experimentally threw an oeur d'oeuvre in the air, catching it easily in her mouth. It would be more exciting if said oeur d'oeuvre wasn’t just some cucumber with a schmear of who knows. She looked over at Crystal to see if she had witnessed this feat. “Super reflexes are a great party trick.” When it came to genuinely interesting powers, though, Crystal had her beat by a mile. Or, like, fifty miles. “It’s nice to hang out in a normal setting,” she commented, looking over the rest of the party. “Well -- sort of normal. This is still pretty weird, isn’t it? Seems like we shouldn’t be celebrating anything while we’re stranded in another dimension or whatever and there are still demons staring us down from the sidelines.”

[thchellcat]

 sensctionalshehulk:

@thchellcat

Time with Pasty Walker was genuinely one of the things Jen enjoyed most in the world. Every meeting with her best friend was like a breath f fresh air, and if anyone else was trying to drag her out of Walters’ Law Firm, she would have protested extensively. Her business wasn’t set up yet, there was furniture scattered around the space, and the walls were painted a disgusting orange… there was a lot of work to be done, and frankly, Jen didn’t have the funds. Her money was blown the second it was deposited, you never knew when your time would be up, even when you were a Hulk! 

The work was besides the point, Jen guessed, as they walked into one of their favourite restaurants. She was here with Patsy, they were about to have the time of their lives, and no one was currently trying to kill them. The small victories mattered just as much as the huge ones. “This is exactly what I needed,” Jen informed Patsy as she took a seat. “Well, I need to paint my office and rearrange it, too, but I’ll take you over that stuff any day. How are you handling the whole ‘demon, new planet’ thing? You okay?” She smiled at Patsy as she said, “I bet you’re getting a lot of new clients, right? Everyone wants to be a hero while the world’s possibly ending.”

The fact that Patsy could afford to support herself at all was entirely talks to Jen (and, begrudgingly, her mother) so it was the least she could do to help out when she could. There wasn’t much Patsy could do when it came to bills or redecorating, because her best friend was not the type to accept hand-outs, but she could insist on lunch. And time and time again, that’s what she had done. There was no dire concern about Jen’s eating habits -- however, there was quite a bit of concern about making sure that Jen went outside and breathed fresh air every once in a while. Although Patsy had a similar tendency to overwork herself and take on too much responsibility, she understood the importance of taking a break.

“I had a feeling,” Patsy grinned as they sat down, opting to ignore the way Jen tacked on business talk at the end. They had both taken on the daunting task of starting their own businesses in a city where competition was inevitable and the cost of renting office space was sky high. But thankfully, they were super and that kind of made them a viable commodity in New York. So even before she’d won the rights to the Patsy Walker books, she’d had hope that they’d both succeed. “Of all the wacky yet terrible possibilities, this whole thing? Not the worst. Demons are...comfortable for me, sorta. There’s not much I haven’t seen.” Which was the comforting part, in a twisted way. “Powered people who aren’t already costumed up are pretty afraid of the demons and the only ones stepping up would totally get their asses kicked if I let them.” Thankfully, she was a good person! She set them straight right away and offered them temp jobs as secretaries and assistants instead. “What about you, anyone trying to sue some demons for property damage?”

[thchellcat]

 notdaredcvil:

@thchellcat

Hellcat was one of the most experienced fighters that Matt had ever heard of. Although he had not personally worked with her in some time, and even when he had it had been more like fighting alongside someone rather than collaborating with him, he knew enough from the brief snippets that he had heard on the streets, or on occasions small pieces of her fights that he could hear from the rooftops. By the time he got to the place where she had been battling against criminals and gang members he found they were on the ground unconscious and she was nowhere to be found, and there was something to be said for someone who managed to make Matt smirk without even saying two words to him. Now, it seemed, they were on the same team, and Matt was more than eager to get started on working with her.

A good place to start, it seemed, was in Fogwell’s. Knowing what the other people on your team were capable of was one thing, but being able to integrate tactics and approaches with each other was the difference between defeat and victory. Add into that Matt’s insane curiosity, and he figured it was basically a given where they would end up. After running through a few warm-ups himself he considered putting a scarf around his head to hide his face, but teams were built on trust. When Hellcat walked into the gym, Matt Murdock was standing there, though he still felt as if he was wearing the mask.

“I’m guessing you’ve boxed before, right?” Matt asked, a small smile on his face. He stepped forward, holding out his hand. Was that too formal? “Matt Murdock,” he said. “I have a confession to make. I’m not really one for teams. Actually, this is my first time, technically. Got any pointers?”

Although Patsy Walker had grown up idolizing superheroes, she had never attempted to fight crime on any scale back in Centerville. She was raised to be a pageant queen and All-American teen that younger girls could look up to, even if their perception of her was based on fictional comic books written by her mother. That meant people watched her closely and she was famous by the time she entered high school. It wasn’t until she was married to her first husband and trying to adjust to life as a housewife that she stumbled upon Hank. Patsy was proactive and she went after what she wanted, but when it came to saving lives, this was hard to do without a little push. Becoming Hellcat had led her to the Avengers, which led her to a mentor who forced her into rigorous martial arts training, and ultimately she wouldn’t be half the hero she was today without the people she met along the way.

All that said...she couldn’t claim to relate to Daredevil’s dedication to New York, or more specifically Hell’s Kitchen. Of course, on principle, she loved the name, but she was more of a Brooklyn Heights girl herself. New York was by no means her city. Even though it was practically the only place to be a costumed vigilante, she still felt like a visitor sometimes. It was so different from California and Patsy knew her demeanor played better on the other coast. Even if their reasons for being on this team must have been different, she had a lot of respect for Daredevil. The one time she’d had to save Centerville, she’d fought like hell.

Patsy Walker was exceptionally open with her secret identity. Writing books about Hellcat had seemed natural, even necessary, after everything she had gone through. She knew she was something of an oddity, though, so she was thrown slightly off-guard when she entered the gym and saw who she knew must be Daredevil. “Like, ever? Sure! But I wouldn’t call myself experienced.” She beamed at him, both in appreciation at his honesty and because she actually felt qualified to offer tips on the subject. “Patsy Walker -- but you probably knew that. Teams are tricky because one person can bring everybody down and you can’t waste time getting angry if someone makes a hotheaded decision and risks the mission. But I’m better on them, because there’s nothing like having a support system around when you’re not feeling confident. Everyone has their own strengths, even if there’s a learning curve. Plus, if someone ever kidnaps you, we’ll be right on top of that!” 

[thchellcat]

 flyboylantern:

“I was Air Force for most of my young adult years, and the best way I can think to describe one is the things they fly in Top Gun.” He chuckles and surveys the tree, runs a hand through his hair before settling his hat resolutely backwards on his head. He could hypothetically just use the ring and be done with this sooner, there’s actually a myriad of things he could do with the ring–he could fly up there, he could manifest a stretchy arm, he has a specific vision that makes him chuckle of one of those claw game hands reaching up into the branches. But he’s got nothing better to do at this particular moment, and he hasn’t climbed a tree since he was a kid. Surely one with actual branches is as easy as a palm tree. 

He hauls himself up onto the branch easily, grinning like an idiot the whole time. This is not what he had imagined himself doing this afternoon, but he’s glad that he is–it’s the first time in a while that he hasn’t been actively lost in his own thoughts, in the guilt and the ache from not being able to go into space. He stretches his arm out but he can’t quite reach it, so he leaps and grabs onto another one–finally able to grab it. “You help superheroes find work?” He says as he makes his way down. “Isn’t that kind of easy these days, with the whole city being moved and demons running rampant in the street thing?” 

"Ohhhh,” she says slowly, realization dawning on her in the form of blurry memories. Patsy isn’t super on top of pop culture references, but thankfully this one is old. Just her speed. He laughs lightly before making for the flyer and she wonders what he’s thinking about but doesn’t ask. She’ll only regret it if he’s planning some kind of mean prank. And then she’ll kick him right in the butt! So whatever, there’s really nothing to lose. Except for potentially her flyer. He seems to be going through with the promised retrieval, though. Maybe she should look into tree climbing as a new skill to add to her resume. If she was in her Hellcat costume right now, this would be so embarrassing.

She jumps in surprise as he leaps closer to the stray piece of paper, a hand reflexively covering her heart. Patsy is used to watching people risk life and limb, but it’s different when it’s a normal person who was going about their day before she asked them to scale a tree on her behalf. “Not...exactly.” Her business is kind of weird, to most people. But it’s so essential to those she’s trying to help. “I help people with powers, who don’t want to be heroes. You can’t expect everyone with abilities to be willing to die, can you? Some people have oddly specific powers, too, you’d be surprised. They’re not always conducive to saving the world. So I help people get normal jobs that cater to their special skills!”

[thchellcat]

 bloody-good-occultist:

Someone in John Constantine’s line of work ended up meeting lots of people over the years. For all that he was a self-affirmed loner and his fear of ever getting close to anyone lest he get them hurt, John had built up quite a list of acquaintances who would often call at unexpected intervals. Patsy Walker was one of these. He had not seen her in good long while, since that time he had visited San Francisco, but he needed no explanation to understand why she had called him now.

“I sure bleedin’ hope not, luv. I’ve got the market on this stuff cornered, and I don’t want no soddin’ competition,” John remarked, though he was grinning as he said it. The influx of the demons might pique some people’s interest, but he reckoned most of them were too scared to want to see anything even worse. He gave a dismissive snort at hearing that she had people coming in asking to be demon hunters. “Clueless prats. They got no idea what they’re talkin’ about.” John shook his head and tapped some ash off his cigarette. “Oh I’ve love ta do that. Show those sods what a real scary demon looks like and they’re liable to shit their pants. That’d make ‘em reconsider their career real damn fast.” He smirked, taking a drag on the cigarette. “So if yer runnin’ a temp agency, I’m guessin’ you’ve gotten outta the occult game. Don’t blame you. I would if'n I could, but after all this time, I think I’m stuck wit’ me lot in life. But then, when shit like this goes down, I’m kinda glad I’m in the line o’ work I am. Least I can be useful ta somebody.”

After getting out of Hell, Patsy had a way of falling into isolation. Whether she was actually alone or not, she had moods that kept her away from her old friends and there were people she had once worked alongside who she hardly spoke to anymore. But since moving back to New York, she had made huge strides in restoring her sense of self and seeing people from her past helped. Although John was part of a life she had only led thanks to her ex-husband, her experiences with him were all positive. And since Patsy had only dabbled in the occult business for a relatively short while, her list of people to turn to was not extensive.

“Competition is a good thing, right? It pushes you to be better. But between you and me...they could never compete with you.” What he did was so completely different from how she had dealt with demons in the past and she had never known someone quite like him. Daimon had an insight into the occult thanks to being half satanic and that meant he was practically part demon himself. “Some of them showed up looking like Ghostbusters. So far I’ve been turning them away, but I’m always up for a little hands on learning. They might benefit from some one-on-one demon action.” Patsy was kidding, of course, but she felt confident in her ability to intervene between a demon and someone else, whether that someone was powered or not. “I don’t think I was cut out for it. Weirdly, demons found me too upbeat. It’s safe to say you’re one of the only people in this city who knows what to do right now. I’m pretty good at yelling at civilians to watch out for invisible demons behind them, but they don’t seem to appreciate it too much.”

[thchellcat]

 foggyavocado:

Foggy was feeling the pressure now. Being in a pocket-dimension was bad news for everyone. The business clients at Hogarth, Chao, & Benowitz were freaking out because the stock market was essentially useless, and the economy was about to take a pretty big nose dive. Demons were everywhere, and had a tendency to belch flames every now and then. (Plus the stench.) And while Foggy wanted to believe that the President would get them out of this somehow, he wasn’t sure how much  you could trust a guy named Doom. The irony was a little too much for him.

But the city, for the moment, was still kicking. And some things about it never changed, no matter how bad things got. Like, petty theft. Foggy saw the teenager run by with way too much panic in her eyes and an overly-expensive bracelet in her hand, and he wasn’t surprised. He also wasn’t surprised when the superhero landed at his feet after smack-landing into that car. 

“Rough day at the office?” he asked, barely even phased. There were a lot of costumes out there now, he’d even represented a few. He extended a hand down to her. “Two at least, maybe three. You should get that looked at. I can look up a good vet if you’d like,” he joked. 

The state of the city was not yet dire, but she knew it could get there in a hurry. A teenager stealing a single piece of jewelry was nothing out of the ordinary and in a way it made her feel more comfortable in their current predicament. People could be, like, burning buildings and looting for food but they weren’t...not yet, anyways. It seemed like that was just around the corner and she’d have to be ready for that, too, but for now, she was happy chasing after an average teenager instead of battling demons or trying to stop a hoard of angry New Yorkers who’d had enough.

Patsy looked up at the sky, blinking a few times before sighing loudly because catching up with the girl was probably impossible now. She looked like a total amateur right now! “Isn’t it always?” She commented, annoyance seeping into her voice, though it was directed towards herself. As he offered a hand, she smiled sheepishly, uttering a quick thanks as she grabbed it and got to her feet. “Oh, I lost the first one a while ago.” Morbidly, all she wanted for her next run in with death was to avoid Hell -- even if her name made that seem untrue. “Haha,” she deadpanned, though her smile softened her tone. “Other than some major bruises, I think I’m all right.” He seemed utterly unfazed, which wasn’t surprising in New York, but she wondered how far his experience with suits really extended. Speaking of...Patsy immediately transformed back into her street clothes, knowing Hellcat wasn’t needed anymore. “Patsy Walker, nice to meet you! I hope that wasn’t your car I just dented.”

[thchellcat]

 quecnofcrime:

Patsy’s company was always a welcome distraction from Felicia’s everyday life. Well, her everyday life as Felicia Hardy. There was nothing she loved more in the world than the thrill of discovering her newest angle as Black Cat, performing her heist seamlessly, but in order to maintain appearances, she couldn’t constantly be thieving. Besides, the rich upperclass Americans would inevitably see her coming, and that would just be tragic! She loved hearing about their shock the next morning, and in some instances, loved watching their assets dissolve. Those she stole from were not innocent in any form. Patsy seemingly lacked her rebellious streak, but they had fun together, and honestly, that was exactly what Felicia needed. Besides, Hellcat was pretty cool, too.

As Patsy started choking beside her, Felicia’s eyebrows rose and she looked over at her friend curiously. “You going to survive?” She asked her, genuinely concerned. She definitely did not know the Heimlich Maneuver. As Patsy spoke, Felicia took a sip of her milkshake, preparing to feign fear. “Oh, my god,” she said, sounding stressed as any logical person would be. “How do you know?” She asked, still faking her terror. Quickly, Felicia scanned the crowd, her eyes wide. “I can do that,” she said, her tone relaxing slightly. “I’ll have your back,” she promised. Stepping away from Patsy, Felicia called out to the people, “Stay like ten feet away! There’s a demon and Hellcat is here!” As she yelled, she walked backwards, gesturing to the New Yorkers.

There were surprisingly not too many downsides to being as public about her double life as she was. A handful of heroes had public identities, but none of them had gone as far as writing autobiographies. Going that route had been tricky, not just because suddenly people would treat Patsy like she was Hellcat even when she was going about her day, but because she had been a normal girl before becoming a hero. In retrospect, she had gone about it all the wrong way. She had some fears about -- pardon the expression -- copycats cropping up. So far, that problem was minimal. It helped that Patsy had already been famous, unwittingly, and people often still just recognized her from when she was a teenage celebrity. People like Felicia somehow saw past all these weird aspects of being her friend and seemed almost comfortable with instances in which Patsy had to magically summon her Hellcat costume.

Had this not been something of a serious situation, Patsy might have laughed. But demons were no laughing matter! Not even these dummies, who didn’t have the power of persuasion that Patsy had come to associate with many of the demons she’d met. “Uh...sometimes my eyes burn and I see stuff.” It was too hard to explain, given the circumstances. “You’re great!” Patsy ran off to fight the demon, with her bare hands, because that was kind of her thing and the closer she got the more she wished she had a different thing, but oh well. “Hey, ugly, stay back! I have claws and I’m not afraid to use them!!” Patsy pulled out her claw-line grapple and starting spinning it around her head threateningly. While this distraction proved successful, Patsy sprang into the air and kicked the demon in the face, sending it flying onto its back.

[thchellcat]

 flyboylantern:

Hal is a California boy at heart, some days he wakes up and the sun is doing it’s thing, warming his legs, and he doesn’t feel like doing much of anything until it goes down. These are the kind of days when he would call in sick even though Carol knew full well that he was fine, when he would surf until he felt exhausted and just fall asleep on the sand–until his stomach necessitated that street tacos be found. He has none of that now, which makes his heart hurt in a profound way, but he’s determined to carry the same spirit with him today. He’s not going to do anything until tonight when the Lantern takes to the streets.

He sleeps well into the afternoon, throws on the jeans with the holes in the knees and his rattiest Ferris Air shirt, and obtains the fruitiest, most sugar laden drink that the barista can give him. All in all it’s turning out to be a big success, like he feels a fraction of the nervousness and tension that he’s been carrying start to dissipate–even lavender fliers being suddenly and violently tossed into the air and gently cascading down doesn’t really affect him (he wants to laugh more than anything, but contrary to popular belief he’s not really an asshole, so he doesn’t). 

“Luckily for you, I do both, but one is a lot harder unless you’ve got an F-14 parked around the corner.” He drawls as he approaches the tree, sipping from his drink. “Hold this yeah?” 

Patsy wonders if this is the life she was supposed to have, after being rescued from Hell, despite the fact that she had all but decided to go there herself. Is this really what fate wants for her, to be feebly (and, frankly, embarrassingly) jumping up and down in an attempt to grab a flyer that only a handful of people would find useful? Ultimately, yes, she decides, this is the best she can do with what she’s been given, with who she is. There are a whole lot more powered people in this town than everyone thinks and she wants to give the non-heroes (and even the hero-heroes!) the chance to find work that caters to their very special skills.

At this moment, she is wishing that one of her very special skills was the ability to stretch her arm out like Mr. Fantastic and grab the pesky purple paper. Thankfully, a kind stranger saves her from the possibly stupid thought she had about climbing the tree herself. “I do not...I’m actually trying to picture one in my head and I can’t.” Planes are not an area of interest or even casual knowledge. “Sure thing!” Patsy eagerly reaches out to accept the drink, then gives it a funny look when she can’t immediately identify what it is. Like, is that a tea or a coffee or a melted smoothie? “Yeesh, I hope you have a dentist appointment booked already--Er, I meant...thank you!” Now she was slightly concerned that he would read the flyer and laugh at her for, in theory, having powers yet not having the skills necessary to rescue papers from trees.

[thchellcat]

@bloody-good-occultist

There wasn’t much Patsy could say for her demon hunting days. Actually, there was a lot she could say, just nearly all of it bad. Dabbling in occult investigation and hanging out in Hell made her more equipped than most to face off against the sudden outpouring of demons, but sometimes she felt out of her depths. The...easiest person to call for help wasn’t in the city and was also never a viable option. Patsy wondered what it was like to have an amicable relationship with an ex-spouse. Thankfully, she knew somebody in New York who didn’t make her skin crawl and he would hopefully know more about surviving in this dimension than anyone else. 

It was a nice day, so Patsy suggested they meet up in Battery Park, partly because despite the weather, demons could always appear suddenly and she’d be able to see John in action. Because she’d lived in San Francisco while functioning in the role of occult investigator, their relationship was mostly based on sharing information rather than fighting side by side. There weren’t very many people in the park, which was useful when discussing things like magic and the underworld, but she watched the few people walking around and wondered if they were in denial or somehow unfazed. “So, what do you think? After this ordeal, are more people gonna start turning towards the occult arts?” If they could be called that. “I’ve actually had a few people offer to be ‘demon exterminators’ through my temp agency. You should vet them for me -- throw a demon at them and see how they fare.”

[thchellcat]

@foggyavocado

Unlike most people, Patsy had based her superhero persona around her costume instead of picking an alias and going from there. It was something of a hand-me-down, or maybe she had technically stolen it, but it was the only costume she’d ever had or wanted. She used to think it gave her catlike reflexes, when she knew now that it had simply given her the confidence to believe in her own natural abilities. Despite not having any feline powers (sonic meows? a weaponized tail? claws like Tigra’s?) she still believed the name was fitting, because she threw herself into it so whole-heartedly. Unfortunately, she did not have the ability to fall from great distances and always land of her feet, even if it sometimes felt that way.

Patsy had been chasing after a teenage girl she caught trying to shoplift a bracelet, hoping to gently but sternly lecture her about how theft was wrong and then maybe buy her some frozen yogurt if she cried. Sadly, the second Patsy approached the teen, panic filled her eyes and she ran for it, bracelet and all. Patsy immediately transformed into her Hellcat costume so it would be clear what kind of chase was unfolding and people might be more willing to move out of her way. She threw her grappling claw around a street light, but just as she was going to land right in front of the young thief, the girl darted across the street, throwing Patsy off-guard. Instead of landing on the sidewalk, she fell onto the roof of a parked car. She slowly rolled to the ground, finding the sidewalk just as a man was passing by. “Ow, ow, ow, ow...” She whimpered before looking up at the owner of the shoes she was now lying on. “If cats have nine lives, I think I’ve officially used two of them now.”