The same apartment.
Thirty minutes later.
Jean walked out of the shower, back in her robe, drying her hair in preparation to turn in for the night when a red summoning circle appeared on the apartment floor.
A moment later two figures materialized in a flash of red light, and the circle was gone. The first figure was familiar, the young man that had just left the apartment. The second figure was unfamiliar, a petite young girl in her late teens, likely a senior in high-school or freshman in college, with long jet black curly hair, full lips, and a nervous, haunted stare… the look that many victims of long term abuse had, like they were expecting someone to hit them for no reason at any time.
“Wow Greg,” Jean said as she registered what she was seeing, “I know we talked about bringing other women into our relationship, but I didn’t think you’d go straight to kidnapping.”
“What? No,” Gregory huffed indignantly, “This is the client that summoned me. She was sitting alone in a hotel room and refused to speak to me or move from the spot she was on. I could tell something was wrong but…”
“Whoa Greg, joking baby. Calm down. Let momma Jean see what’s wrong here… oh!” Jean’s voice softened, becoming instantly serious, “Oh, Jess, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to joke about… hold on Jess, we’re here to help, let me talk to Greg real quick and I’ll be right back.”
Jean dragged Greg to the doorway, leaving Jess on the couch
“You know her?”
“What? No. Telepath, remember?”
“Ah, right, that makes sense.”
“Listen, I need you to make yourself scarce for a few hours.” Jean said in a whisper, pulling Greg in close for a hug, “Sorry, she really shouldn’t have men around her for a bit. While you wait, I need you to head back to the hotel room you found her in, and take care of some ‘trash’.”
“What, like cleaning up? I mean, it’s for a contract, but…”
“No Greg, not that kind of trash. Human trash.”
“Ah, well, that makes a bit more sense.”
“Right, the guy is named Kilgrave, and he’s some kind of mutant. Loves his presentation, wears a purple suit all the time and everything. He’s a real piece of work. I think he gives off some kind of pheromone or something, because she strongly associates his presence with a strange smell, and it somehow bypasses the decision making centers of the brain. It’s not any kind of telepathy I recognize, but if you hear his voice, you have to follow his orders.”
“Oh, wow… this just got really dark now didn’t it.”
“Yeah, Greg. Really dark. And not only the way you’re thinking. She’s enhanced. Super strong, healing factor like Logan. He didn’t only use her for pleasure… he made her his executioner, and because she’s not much more durable than a normal human, but heals really fast, he used to use her to… work out his frustrations.
“She met him six months ago. She hasn’t been away from him for more than a few hours since. She was conscious and aware the whole time, but she had no control over her body. She’s only 18 Greg… and she just turned 18. She’s supposed to be graduating high school in two weeks.”
“Oh, oh wow.”
“Yeah, so I need you to head back, take out the garbage, and make sure it isn’t quick. Take a few hours, really take your time with it, ok?”
“Yeah, that’s… listen. I need you to know something. I would do all of this for nothing, but the summoning spell requires some kind of reciprocity and a binding contract. There needs to be something of value exchanged, or there are going to be repercussions. Bad ones.”
“I know Greg, don’t worry, we’ll work something out. I don’t know what, she’s an orphan, but maybe she can work off the favor or something. Anyway, I won’t be here when you get back. I think we’re going to need to find a hotel room or something to stay at tonight. I don’t want to kick you out of your own apartment, and anyway I’m not going to make her sleep in your bed after all those things we did in it.”
“Oh, that reminds me. The rest of the apartments on this floor are empty… Well, actually, the rest of the apartments on the top five floors are empty, but they all have some basic furnishing. There is a master key on the breakfast bar. I was going to give one to you anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted.”
“Oh shut up, you loved that interruption."
“I did quite enjoy it.”
“Okay, wow, I have my own apartment. This is amazing. If it's anything like this one, I already love it.”
“Really? I didn't realize this apartment was all that special."
“Really Greg? It's a 1200 square foot studio apartment in the Upper East Side with a full kitchen, a whirlpool bath that fits four, and a loft bed that could fit a basketball team. This place is amazing.”
“Dear, most of my knowledge of real estate comes from late 90's and early 2000's sitcoms that my auntie made me binge watch.”
“Wow, ok, fair point.”
“Okay, I’m heading back.” Greg kissed his new girlfriend on the cheek, “Take care of her, and let me know if you need anything else. My contact info is in your phone.”
A luxury hotel just outside of Hell's Kitchen
May 29, 2006. 2 am
Zebediah was having a wonderful day. Earlier, he'd had Jess clear out a gang of idiots in Hell's Kitchen, earning a big payday from Fisk. He'd spent the evening with a bottle of champagne (or six) and a couple of very accommodating blondes, and now he was going to spend the rest of the evening with his favorite meal ticket.
Sometimes Zeb thought it was hard being a man like himself, but honestly, most days it was pretty damn great.
Well, it was supposed to be, but it looked like today wasn't going to be one of those days.
Zeb slid the key card into the reader on his hotel room lock, only to find his favorite meal ticket missing, replaced by a pretty boy ponce with a punchable mouth sitting on his freshly made bed.
“Oy,” Zeb yelled, sobering up a little from the surprise, “Whoo tha fuck are you? Where the fuck is Jess?”
“Ah,” the ponce answered in the smarmiest posh southern accent Zeb had heard since he crossed the pond, “Mr. Killgrave I presume?”
“Ah shit, I hate southern fairies,” Zeb complained, “Alright, here's how it's going to work, chap. Don't move from that spot, and you’re going to answer my questions to the best of your ability, you understand?”
Zeb saw the signature vacant stare that indicated his powers had taken effect, and silently celebrated this southern ponce falling into his trap. His purpose was a mystery, but all would be revealed in good time.
“I believe your instructions were rather succinct, Mr. Killgrave.”
“Excellent, first tell me where Jess is.”
“She's in my apartment. My girlfriend is with her.”
Zeb was drunk, not an idiot. Jess was a walking tank, and she wouldn't have moved from this spot willingly. If this southern ponce had pulled Jess out of here, they were either another powerhouse… or worse. Zeb needed to play this carefully.
“Ah, well then. Alright, so, how the hell did you get Jess out of here?”
“I teleported her.”
“Teleported, hey? Well… that's interesting, how did you keep her from trying to come back?”
“Hmm? Oh, well your orders were not to move until you returned. She still hadn't moved when I left, though I have no doubt Jean will have found a way to countermand your orders by now. She's probably the third most powerful telepath I know.”
Fuck, Zeb thought, telepaths were a hard counter for him. His ability worked on the body, it did nothing to control the mind.
“Oh well, you win some, you lose some I suppose. But you, my friend, made a big mistake coming back here. Who sent you to take Jess from me?”
“Hmm? No one, I came on my own.”
“Well, that's perfect. Looks like we're going to be great friends from now on. Gonna be nice to have me own teleporter. Before anything, however, you'll need to be punished for taking one of my toys from me.”
Zebediah suddenly stepped forward and clocked the southern ponce right on his punchable chin… except… things didn't go quite how he expected.
“Oh fuck, fuck!” Zeb cried out, cradling his newly broken hand, “Jesus kid, what the hell is your jaw made out of, cast iron?”
“What, no, of course not,” the kid answered, “I'm a semi-spiritual entity. My flesh is reinforced by my spiritual energy.”
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“Well, this is boring,” the Kid said and motioned with his hand. A red runic ring appeared in the air, and suddenly Zebediah was suspended by his ankles from the hotel ceiling.
“Sorry,” Greg continued, "I thought it would be amusing to let you think I was under your control, slowly answering all of your questions as obtusely as possible, and giving you a feeling of triumph, before doing a turnabout and surprising you at the end, for a bit of irony, you know? But honestly it wasn't as interesting as I'd expected.”
“What?”
“Oh, god. I don't even want you to talk anymore,” the kid conjured up another circle and suddenly the only thing coming out of Zeb's mouth was muffled yells, “Your northern drivel really grates on my nerves. Actually, I'm not sure if it's your smug northern accent, or the knowledge of the things you've done that annoys me, but whatever.
“You know, Jeanie, that's my girlfriend by the way, told me to make myself scarce for a couple hours so she could work on that girl you destroyed. Told me to ‘take out the garbage,’ and ‘make sure it wasn't quick’. “
Silence.
“Can you believe that? I mean, hell, a sweet girl like that basically implying that I should torture you to death. Can you imagine the things she must have seen in that poor girl's mind for her to ask me to do that?”
Whining pleading.
“To tell you the truth, I don't think you're worth it myself. My plan was to tie you up and just teleport you to Antarctica, but unfortunately I've never been. You can't teleport someone if you've never been there yourself… unless you're using a summoning circle of course.”
Relieved sobbing
“Right, an hour and a half left… I guess you and I are going to be chatting for a while. Hopefully you don't mind? Sorry, just a little joke. I know you mind, and I don’t much care.
“You know, it's a shame, really. You do have an amazing ability. It's nearly impossible to counter for most people. Anyone you want to control long term, you just need to keep them nearby. Anyone else… let me guess, you don't let anyone who's been under your influence survive long enough to tell tales about it.”
Muffled pleading.
“That's what I thought. That's the thing about you mutants, though. You're all one trick ponies. You have one, maybe two powers. Sure, some of those powers are amazing, but if you give a mage enough time to prepare, it's child's play to counter them.
“With your powers it was simple as hell. As soon as my Jeanie let me know your powers were pheromone based, all I had to do was block off my sense of smell. It’s weird as hell walking around not smelling anything, but let me tell you, in New York City it’s actually kind of a blessing.”
Sobbing.
“I know, the Bruce Lee quote about the ten thousand kicks… the thing is, if a guy practices the same kick ten thousand times, all it takes is one smart guy to figure out what the kick looks like and you'll dodge it every time.
“But if a man takes the time to learn ten thousand separate kicks? Hell, that man has done a comprehensive study of kicking. He probably knows the fundamentals of kicking so well that he can improvise a kick for any situation.
“I know who I would rather fight.”
An empty apartment on the 24th floor of an upper east side apartment building.
Two hours later.
“And that's why my mother was the single most incredible influence on my life,” Gregory finished, a comfortable sigh rolling from his chest as he grew nostalgic, “I've got to say, Mr. Killgrave, talking to you about these things has been incredibly cathartic. I feel like we've really grown close over the past few hours.”
Muffled pitiful whining.
“Oh, stop complaining. I let you down from the ceiling when you passed out from being upside down for too long. If you can't handle a little ball gag and ceiling shackles… well, there's just no pleasing you in my eyes.”
Long drawn out groan.
“Well, I mean of course it's uncomfortable. It's a full body raw woven wool outfit. It's made to be itchy, and the restraints are designed to make it impossible for you to scratch that itch. Maybe you should feel lucky I didn't add the poison sumac leaves I was contemplating. If you didn’t want this, you should have tried harder to pay attention.”
“Alright, fine. I will admit I'm a bit curious as to what you have to say for yourself,” Gregory rose from his chair and unfastened the ball gag from the man hanging from a chain in front of him, “Alright then, out with it.”
“Just fucking kill me already,” the sobbing man yelled before breaking down into incomprehensible sobbing complaints.
“Just as I thought,” Gregory said with a disappointed tone, replacing the ball gag, “Nothing interesting to add to the conversation. What did I expect from a northern monkey? Oh well.
“Anyway, did I tell you about how my mother single handedly reworked the teleportation spells my kind used? It gave us a great advantage during the war, especially for logistical support. Logistics, you see, may not be a flashy weapon that wins battles, but wars are won by accountants and quartermasters. You see…”
“Greg,” a young woman's voice called out tentatively from the apartment doorway, “Did you just spend the last two hours giving a pathological narcissist and misogynist a lecture on the power of an intelligent and willful woman in a male dominated society, all while using external stimulation to ensure that he couldn't zone out of the lesson?”
“Eh? Is that what I did? Honestly, I just think my mum is a bit of an inspiration, honestly, and I rather enjoy going on about her. He also kept nodding off when I was talking to him, which is a dreadfully rude thing to do when someone is pouring their heart out to you, so I added a few things to help him stay alert."
“Right,” Jean said with a little fear on her face, “Honey, when I asked you to take out the garbage and make sure it wasn't quick, I thought you might drown him or freeze him to death. I didn’t think you would break the man's mind.”
“Eh, well, the thing is…”
Jean smiled indulgently with a look that said she knew exactly what was about to happen.
“What was that look for? Am I ‘mansplaining’ or something?”
“No dear, I love your little lectures. Your adorable enthusiasm in explaining things you find fascinating always brings a smile to my face.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it makes me not want to explain.”
Long, drawn out and pained groan.
“No dear one, please, continue. I really meant it. I love watching you talk about magic. It's something you truly love, and your excitement is infectious.”
“Well, fine,” Greg said with a pout, “But you're not allowed to make fun of me until I finish.”
“No promises,” Jean said with a smirk and a mischievous light in her eye.
Muffled but resigned screaming.
“Fine, where was I. Oh yes, the thing is,” Gregory paused at the groan from his captive and the blatantly poor attempt of his new girlfriend to keep a straight face, but continued anyway, “The magic behind the summoning contract is old and established, and I haven’t had the time to modify it. The ritual allows a relatively magicless human to summon a devil using an extremely complex and powerful set of commands. Specifically, it adds karmic ties between the human and the contracted devil.
“Anything the devil does for the human from that point forward, including teleporting to the human’s location, taking the time to negotiate a contract of exchange…”
At this point Greg couldn’t continue, as Jean was having an extremely difficult time containing her giggling.
“I’m sorry dear,” she said once she finally gained control of herself, “Please continue.”
“Forget it… the short of it is, the value of a human life is karmically incalculable. If I killed the man, the spell would make Jess incapable of feeling emotion for the rest of her natural life, and use her drained emotions to fuel my own magical growth. Even now the Karmic debt is significant enough that I don’t know how she’ll be able to pay it, but the debt is still finite. Adding infinite debt before our contract is concluded… well, you can imagine the consequences.”
“Oh, well, that’s not funny at all.” Jean added in thought once Gregory finished explaining, “So are you talking severe depression, or emotionless killing machine?”
“No dear, motivation and desire are also emotional responses. This is one of the things AI alarmists get wrong in their predictions. In the absence of emotions, the poor girl would simply go catatonic, being incapable of even mustering up the emotions responsible for maintaining her life, but leaving her incapable of caring enough to take her own life. She would essentially become a self-aware vegetable.”
“Well, that’s not ideal.”