A blind woman lawyer. Business suit, cane, sunglasses of a deep crimson shade, and a tie the same blood-red color as her hair. What could possibly be threatening about her? And yet, standing face to face with her, Jane Stacy, a police captain and no coward, did not feel in control of the situation, not even in her own precinct.
"Peter is here as a victim and a witness," the captain said in a confident tone, but the confidence was for show.
Most people probably wouldn't have caught the difference between a police chief's usual resolve and her current behavior. It would take remarkable experience, attention, and sharp senses to notice something was off. And right now, in this precinct, such people were present.
For example, Officer Doakes, a former operative in the Army Rangers of the United States. Having once been part of a regimental reconnaissance corps that carried out deep recon missions, she immediately spotted how uneasy the captain truly felt in the lawyer's presence. Besides, she knew Jane Stacy pretty damn well.
"Why are you here?" Doakes cut in again. "Why would Parker need a lawyer? Especially one like you!"
As she answered Doakes' remarks, Murdock kept "looking" at Captain Stacy, which annoyed the officer immensely, since everyone knew the blind woman had zero problems with spatial awareness. She'd proven it in court many times, flawlessly addressing people who'd sat through the entire hearing without making a single sound. Even now, entering a room full of cops, she had pinpointed Stacy and Parker with absolute precision before even speaking to the captain.
"You've already overstepped your bounds by bringing him here without his guardian's approval. Don't make this worse," Murdock shifted her unseeing gaze, hidden behind the dark crimson lenses, to the man she'd declared her client. "If you have any questions for Mr. Parker, please go through his guardian first, or..."
"Alright, enough," the boy himself interrupted. "Why all the fervor? I've told you everything I know about the case. Can I go?" he asked, looking at the captain.
"Yes, of course," the woman replied, shooting another hostile glance at the lawyer. "Thank you for your cooperation."
Stacy turned and disappeared into her office, signaling the conversation was over.
*
*
*
All the way to the exit, Doakes drilled Murdock and me with her unblinking stare. I felt it so intensely it was like my spider-sense had returned, so strong was the woman's animosity.
I got why a lot of cops hated lawyers. Sure, they defend criminals. But Murdock... wasn't this person always on the side of ordinary people? Something weird was going on with the local cops. Could they really not tell black from white?
"While I'm grateful for your intervention, why?" I asked once we were out of the precinct. "And how did you know about me, and so fast? I was in there barely half an hour."
"You made quite a stir with your performance yesterday," Murdock said with a slight, patronizing smile. "You made the news, they wrote about you in the morning paper, the video of you on YouTube already has a million views, and you're asking how I know about you. It would be strange if I didn't."
"Fair enough," I replied.
Meanwhile, Murdock stopped beside a black Jaguar XJ with tinted windows. The rear door opened smoothly for her, without her touching it. Maybe I should've been suspicious. Why would a blind lawyer need a car worth over two hundred grand? But for some reason I chose to put caution aside and trust Murdock. After all, up to this point, everyone I'd dealt with in this world had been remarkably similar in character to their counterparts from my past.
"As for your appearance at the precinct..." Murdock continued as we settled into the back seat. "You've caught the interest of the person I work for. My task was to invite you. The fact you were at a police station at that exact moment is just a coincidence."
The car pulled away, its engine growling predatorily. The driver clearly liked speed. I noticed a scar on the neck of the Asian woman behind the wheel, a knife wound or something. Her hair was cropped short, in a boyish cut, as they'd say in my old world. Her knuckles were calloused and heavily scarred, like someone who'd dedicated her life to martial arts.
And I had instantly realized that this Murdock was not like Matt, whose lawyer persona I'd encountered a couple of times. Matt always gave off an extremely friendly impression. He treated people with unwavering politeness and never placed himself above others. A whore and a district attorney, he spoke to them the same way.
But this woman was different. She was nothing like Matt, and how exactly, I was probably about to find out.
"Aren't you a lawyer?" I asked, now on alert. "Who is your employer, then?"
"You know a lawyer's job is to represent the interests of private individuals," Murdock replied calmly. "Not necessarily in court."
Now that was something new. Matt Murdock was not the kind of lawyer who was interested in working for fat moneybags. I mean, he was always extremely selective about his clients. And that selectiveness was primarily about a person's decency, not their bank account.
"And just who is this individual?" I continued.
"You'll find out soon enough. No need to rush. Questions will only ruin the first impression," the woman hinted, pretty unmistakably, that I should shut up.
I had a sinking feeling that the hero Daredevil and the person hiding behind the lawyer's mask named Murdock were two different people.
At least she was blind. They'd mentioned that at the precinct. Taking advantage of the fact that she couldn't see my phone screen, I quickly typed "Daredevil" into the browser search bar. Nothing. Well, results existed, but they clearly showed that no hero with that alias existed in this world yet.
Note to self: don't trust the "good guys" from my old world, especially if they've turned into women here. Who knows what kind of dirty tricks they're capable of now!
Still, I decided to make one last attempt to shake off the unwelcome attention of this new acquaintance and her mysterious boss, and to test my conclusions at the same time:
"Didn't your parents ever tell you it's not polite to push yourself on others?" Murdock didn't dignify me with a look, not that she could anyway... "What I'm getting at is, stop the car. I have absolutely no desire to meet your boss!"
"Don't panic. I promise, nothing will happen to you," the lawyer replied in a tone like she was speaking to a dimwitted child.
"Either you let me go right now, or I'll make you," my hand was already on the injector with the last dose of the Lizard serum. Maybe I was overreacting, but I'd rather reveal my "superpower" by getting into a fight with kidnappers than let them drag me off to God knows where. Even if I had to tell the cops about my "abilities."
"I'd like to see you try," the driver spoke up for the first time.
Murdock seemed to consider my words for a moment, then said curtly, "Stop the car."
"What?" the woman at the wheel asked, surprised. "But Mrs. Fi..."
"I told you to stop," the lawyer repeated, her voice cold.
And suddenly, my heart went cold. Mrs. Fi... that couldn't be what I thought, could it? The car pulled over, and Murdock turned to face me.
"There's no need to push things when a handshake could settle it," she said as I opened the door. Then she held out a business card with a phone number.
"If your boss wants to talk to me, then tell her to haul her ass over to my house. Or at least send an invitation and introduce herself," I said, but I took the card anyway.
"You might not like it if someone like that comes to your house, Peter." I glanced quickly at the card. Besides Murdock's own contact info, I saw a familiar logo. Just brilliant. "By the way, what's that you've got there?"
The woman pointed the tip of her cane at my shoulder, where the serum injector was hidden under my sleeve.
"Something neither you nor your boss would like if you keep meddling in my life."
"How presumptuous," Murdock managed to say before I slammed the car door.
After one last look at the card, I flicked it into a nearby trash can a few meters away without even glancing. I'd memorized the number, and a healthy dose of paranoia never hurt. What if she'd planted a bug in it? I'd encountered that kind of thing before. So, what did we have? Murdock, M.P., not Daredevil, works for a Mrs. Fisk. And she'd already taken an interest in me, specifically as Peter Parker. That spelled big trouble down the road. And somewhere out there was Osborn, who might have already injected herself with the OZ serum and could start causing mayhem any day now.
"Young man, what do you think you're doing?!" an old man standing nearby screeched, brandishing his handbag at me. His cracking, rasping voice made me think of old trees, their branches long dried out, their trunks ready to snap at the slightest gust of wind.
I immediately realized what had happened. Murdock's card had missed the trash can.
"It was an accident," I started apologizing, but the old man was relentless, as if he'd been waiting for just this chance to chew someone out. And with an audience, a whole bus stop full of people, he latched onto the opportunity with his gnarled hands like it was his last.
In the end, I had no choice but to pick up the damn piece of plastic and drop it into the bin, blushing with shame as a dozen women watched the scene and laughed.
I headed straight to our secret hideout. I had no desire to go home. Honestly, I went back there reluctantly. It reminded me of home. The home where Aunt May and Uncle Ben lived. When I thought of home, the first things that came to mind were the smell of rising dough and Aunt May's hands as she kneaded it. She loved to bake, and our house always had fresh pastries that Uncle Ben adored. Later, after they died, I had many houses, but they never had that quality... that homely warmth. Just places to live. My house in this world had become the same. Empty and lifeless. Not a home at all. I didn't want to live there, and after Gwen fried my computer, I couldn't even work there. The only reason to go back was Mary Jane, but she was at school right now.
Bobbi wasn't around, and Deadpool, firmly ensconced in front of the TV with a beer, had no idea where she'd gone. Well, I wasn't paying her a salary, so I couldn't demand more than I already had. Besides, it might be something important.
Since there wasn't much point in developing anything substantial at our current level of equipment, I couldn't even synthesize new doses of the Lizard serum without restocking supplies, I suggested to Deadpool that we continue our lessons.
Thanks to the unexpected side effect of the serum, I was now in far better physical condition, and the training session was much more productive. I got so absorbed in the process that Vanda could only marvel at how fast I absorbed her teachings... and honestly, so could I. It all seemed pretty simple. I recalled how many times I'd been told that instead of actually fighting, I just flailed my arms... Rogers and Romanoff never missed a chance to rib me about it. It was practically Cap's favorite topic. Hell, even Felicia, during our short-lived romance, had joked about it a couple of times. She once found a recording of me catching a runaway taxi heading for a crowded sidewalk and said she could throw me with the same ease I'd caught that car. Which, by the way, wasn't that easy. A ton at seventy miles an hour. Lucky I hadn't had time to think about what I was doing then.
Before I went home, I told Vanda about my unexpected run-in with, as I suspected, Fisk's right hand. Vanda unexpectedly admitted that it was the Queenpin who had hired her to hunt the symbiote. And now, because Deadpool had told the client to piss off in no uncertain terms, there was a hundred-thousand-dollar bounty on her head.
"So I'm thinking, maybe I should try and collect that bounty," Vanda shared. "Though, the last time I lost my head, it took over a tribe of natives in another world, so I'm still not sure it's worth it."
Sometimes, I started to think Vanda was becoming more sane. But then she'd tell another insane story or pull some other stunt... and I'd realize nothing had changed. She was just making an effort to hold back. Which was actually not so bad, come to think of it.
Thus, Vanda gave me a vivid description of the local version of Fisk, who, it turned out, was named Vilma. According to her, the Queenpin hadn't earned her nickname for nothing. This woman had come a long way from a bullied fat girl in grade school to the queen of New York's underworld. She was one of the richest women in the world, and that said a lot. According to Vanda, Fisk's enemies had two paths: into the ground or into servitude. The moral of her instructive speech, in which she tried to convince me of the empire's invincibility, was a proposal to kill Fisk.
She probably thought that option would shock me, but I'd long ago figured out that's exactly what she'd propose. In my time, I'd fought my world's Kingpin for years. I disrupted his plans, threw his henchmen in prison, even exposed his dark dealings, forcing the King of Crime to hide from the authorities in Japan. But a few years later, he was back. He cleared his name, started a bloody war among New York's gangs, and ultimately only strengthened his position.
Even after the crisis began, he was one of the few criminals who didn't get swept up in the total purge. He managed to come out clean. I was afraid to even guess how much it cost him. No matter what I did, Fisk always came back. And with him came ruined lives and death.
In the end, either Felicia or Mysterio killed him. Which led to an obvious conclusion.
Yes, Spider-Man doesn't kill. But I was no longer the superhero my world once knew. With my own hands, I'd condemned the crews of four ships to death when I told the Captain my plan. For six months, I ate alongside everyone else from the Blue Space's fridges, after we'd plundered the captured ships.
I'd buried deep inside the one who survived in the dark depths of space, with others just like him, stripped of any chance to return to Earth. Because I understood: that was no longer a man. That was a creature of a different morality. The most terrifying thing is, I never felt, and never will feel, any guilt for what I did as part of the micro-civilization called the "Blue Space crew." Just as I felt none for ultimately betraying that civilization, just as I'd once betrayed fundamental human values.
But the seeds were still there. After everything, I wasn't as categorical, though I still preferred to avoid killing when possible.
"How do you propose we do it?" I asked.
Deadpool shrugged.
"Queenpin's a paranoid bitch. Armored cars, bulletproof glass in the building and at home, all that. But there's no one you can't kill if you're okay with being at ground zero of an explosion."
"No. No collateral deaths," I objected.
"Well, then we'd have to get inside and kill Queenpin face to face." I could feel Vanda grinning under her mask. "You were just offered a job working for her. Too bad you blew that chance and even tipped off Murdock with your threats."
All the other options she proposed involved mass slaughter and firefights where countless innocents would almost certainly get hurt. In the end, we couldn't agree and decided to think it over. Of course, I couldn't forbid Vanda from killing Queenpin on her own, but I didn't think she would.
I got home barely alive after the hours-long training session with the mercenary, and I passed out the instant my head hit the pillow.
*
*
*
"Why didn't you tell me anything?" Mary Jane demanded, not even bothering with a greeting, the moment she saw me on the street the next morning.
"I was just about to call you," I pulled her into an embrace and a kiss. "Good morning."
"Good," she said, her ire partially defused, but immediately she was back at it as we walked to the bus stop. "Peter, why do I learn about what they're writing about my boyfriend from Liz, and only the next day?"
"I don't know what rumors you're talking about, but I do know the answer: because Anna took your phone and your computer!" I earned a light jab in the shoulder for that.
"Don't make a joke out of everything! Have you even seen what the Daily Bugle wrote about you and Spider-Woman? Is it true?"
"What about it?" I honestly hadn't bothered to read the papers yet. I'd already been confronted twice yesterday about my sudden fame, but I hadn't checked what they'd printed. And this wasn't just rumors about Spider-Man, spread by Jameson. This was about me as Peter Parker!
"Unbelievable!" Mary Jane exclaimed.
Just then, the bus arrived, and we hopped on, searching for a free seat. I immediately noticed the change: people were staring at me more than usual, and I could hear whispers from all sides. Though, some of that might've been about the fight with Thompson.
"Hey, Parker!" a guy a year older shouted from the back. "Is it true you're dating Spider-Woman?"