Richard finally understood why Jessica Jones had changed jobs so often.
Even before coming to this world, he’d found it strange.
Setting aside her superhuman abilities, Jessica was an exceptional investigator.
Someone with instincts that sharp and determination that relentless should have had no trouble building a successful career.
Instead, the future he remembered painted a very different picture.
She barely kept her detective agency afloat.
She worked out of her apartment because she couldn’t afford an office.
Paying rent was a constant struggle.
Richard had never understood how someone that capable could end up living like that.
Now he was beginning to.
He continued reading her résumé.
Then paused.
“Huh.” “You worked at the Daily Bugle?” That caught his attention.
The Daily Bugle was synonymous with one person.
J.
Jonah Jameson.
Richard knew the editor’s reputation well.
Cheap.
Loud.
Quick to criticize everyone around him.
The kind of boss who could make an entire newsroom tense the moment he started shouting.
Richard had met Jameson once after arriving in this world.
The conversation had lasted less than ten minutes.
That had been more than enough.
The two of them had not parted on friendly terms.
Now imagine pairing that editor with Jessica Jones.
It was like striking a match inside a fireworks factory.
Jessica answered with her usual expressionless calm.
“I argued with my boss.” “I crushed his coffee mug.” “So he fired me.” Richard stared at her.
The summary was only three sentences long.
He strongly suspected the real story had been far more entertaining.
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he found himself liking Jessica a little more.
“So…” Jessica folded her arms.
“Am I getting fired, too?” Oddly enough, she didn’t sound nervous.
It sounded more like she was asking whether it was going to rain.
Richard leaned back.
“Do you believe you’ve done something that deserves being fired?” She answered immediately.
“No.” “That guy had it coming.” “Someone should’ve put him in his place a long time ago.” “Then why assume I’m going to fire you?” Jessica hesitated.
“…Because that’s how it always ends.” She looked away.
“Trish finds me another job.” “Some idiot causes trouble.” “Best case, I end up screaming at someone.” “Worst case…” “I hit them.” She shrugged.
“Either way, eventually I leave.” Richard closed the file.
“Or…” “You could work on controlling your temper.” Jessica gave him a flat look.
“I’ve tried.” “It doesn’t stick.” “For some reason, jerks keep throwing themselves into the path of my fist.” “They make it look very inviting.” Richard almost smiled.
“I don’t need promises.” “I need attitude.” “I’m not asking you to become someone else overnight.” “I’m asking whether you’re willing to make the effort.” “Tell me you’ll try to be better.” “If you can do that…” “…you can stay.” He paused.
“I assume you’d rather not lose another job.” Jessica fell silent.
Changing jobs had become almost routine.
She’d grown used to it.
That didn’t mean she liked it.
Every time she lost another position, Trish had to call in favors and convince someone else to give Jessica a chance.
Jessica hated that.
She hated feeling like a burden even more.
And getting fired on the first day?
Even for her, that would have been a new record.
After several seconds, she nodded.
“I’ll try.” She meant it.
Richard nodded once.
“Good.” “Then get back to work.” Jessica turned toward the door.
“Oh.” Richard added one last sentence.
“Your performance bonus for this month is gone.” Jessica stopped walking.
“…Seriously?” Richard simply smiled.
That was how Jessica Jones remained at the Daily Planet.
Richard genuinely valued having her on staff.
She was an outstanding investigator.
More importantly, unlike most reporters, she could actually protect herself when a story turned dangerous.
That alone made her invaluable.
Within a single day, the newsroom had quietly given Jessica an unofficial nickname.
Don’t Mess With Her.
Several days later…
A convoy of brightly painted sports cars screeched to a stop outside the Daily Planet building.
One after another, men climbed out.
Dyed hair.
Flashy clothes.
Gold chains.
Expensive cars paired with remarkably poor taste.
Their leader looked slightly more polished.
He wore a charcoal suit stretched tight over a bodybuilder’s frame, a thick gold chain around his neck, and a cigar clenched between his teeth.
He swaggered through the lobby as though he owned the building.
Conversations died wherever they passed.
Employees and visitors instinctively stepped out of the way.
The group reached the elevators.
People waiting for the next car quietly reconsidered their priorities.
Waiting another minute suddenly seemed like an excellent idea.
Not everyone shared that instinct.
When the gang piled into the elevator, they discovered one other passenger already inside.
A young woman in a leather jacket and scarf.
Jessica Jones.
She stood alone among more than a dozen gangsters.
Completely calm.
Several of the men exchanged surprised looks.
Under normal circumstances, they would have happily harassed an attractive woman trapped in an elevator with them.
Today, however, they had business elsewhere.
One of them grabbed Jessica by the wrist.
“Get out.” “We’re using this elevator.” Jessica lowered her eyes to the hand gripping her arm.
Then she closed them for a brief moment.
A weary thought drifted through her mind.
I really don’t want trouble.
Why does trouble keep insisting on finding me?