Alias Investigations on 485 West turned out to be a dilapidated building in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, with perpetual construction projects splattered along both sides of 46th street. The area reminded Emily of an apartment she'd rented in her undergraduate years at Columbia. Her days had been spent busting her hump to keep her GPA high enough to retain her scholarship while nights were consumed by part-time jobs.

They weren't happy memories.

It took Emily about five minutes examining mailbox labels to even figure out what floor Alias Investigations was on.

An email from Linda came in at about the same time Emily found the elevator. Where are you on the Lawrence case? Brian called me. Let's meet tomorrow morning. 10AM. I hope you have something to show me.

Emily deleted the email, squared her shoulders, and entered the elevator. The ride up to the fourth floor didn't help relax her nerves. The enclosed space reeked with the odor of dried beer and slate sweat that somehow wafted in through the ventilation system. Emily held her breath until the elevator jerked to a stop.

When the doors crept open, a dark hallway with dingy floors greeted Emily. As she made her way down the hall, she wondered if this Jessica Jones was having a good joke at her expense. She certainly didn't seem like she cared about getting business.

At the end of the hallway, Emily finally saw the sign stenciled on frosted glass. Alias Investigations.

This was it.

Emily raised her fist to knock, but instead the door flew open.

In front of Emily stood a woman even younger than herself, with pitch-black hair and pale skin. The woman shrugged herself into a black leather jacket. Her ripped jeans and outerwear were a strange juxtaposition considering the suffocating humidity outside. Then again, Emily had seen far weirder attire in July. This was New York, after all.

The woman flipped her hair out from underneath her jacket collar. "Who the hell are you?"

Not to be deterred, Emily held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Emily Graham. Are you Jessica Jones?"

The woman rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh before turning to walk back inside the office, as if having a paying customer appear had resigned her to some terrible twist of fate.

Emily waited.

From deep inside the office, she heard the woman's scratchy voice. "Well? Are you going to come in?"

Emily pursed her lips and came inside, closing the door behind her.

Once inside Alias Investigations, Emily could hardly describe the space as an office. A disused fireplace sandwiched between bookshelves stocked with liquor instead of books and lumpy couches were the highlights. It looked like Alias Investigations also doubled as a home. And judging by the lack of amenities, maybe Jessica Jones could use the payday. Emily hoped so.

The woman stood waiting behind an empty oak desk and placed her palms flat on the top. "I'm Jessica. In case that wasn't clear."

"Nice to meet you, Jessica. I'm Emily Graham."

"So you said. And I'm late for an appointment."

Emily wasn't about to ask what kind of appointment Jessica was late for. "Well, then. I won't waste any more of your time than I have to. I'm hoping to find a P.I. for a case I have coming up later next month."

Emily handed Jessica a folder. Inside lay the short dossier Emily had managed to wrangle together just before coming. Jessica thumbed through the initial pages, then stopped to study Emily.

"You're a defense attorney?" Jessica asked.

"Yes."

"For Chao and Benowitz?"

"That's right."

Jessica snorted. "Seems like there's scumbag lawyers everywhere in this town."

Emily was too stunned to summon a reply. Instead, she observed Jessica as the P.I. studied the notes written inside the case file. Jessica read the dossier carefully. She even appeared intrigued.

At first.

Then, the P.I.'s expression changed. The more Jessica's eyes scanned through the pages, the tighter her grip on the folder became until she flipped it shut and slammed it down on her desk.

"Is this a joke?" Jessica asked.

Emily's heart pounded. "I'm sorry?"

"You're an attorney, right?"

"That's right."

"And you're defending some shithead who killed a defenseless kid?"

Emily could feel the self-righteous indignation rising up inside her. "No. I'm defending someone who acted in self-defense…"

Another snort from Jessica. She slid the folder away from her, as if it were a slimy piece of offal she couldn't wait to be rid of. "You can lie to yourself if you want to, lady. But I make a rule of not getting involved with people who do bad shit. And you choosing to defending this kid is some bad shit."

"You think I have a choice?"

"Everybody has a choice."

Emily scooped up her dossier. "Are you upset because I tried to hire you at, what is apparently, a bad time? Or because you're super-powered yourself?"

The air went as still as death.

Emily stepped away from the desk as Jessica's face went rigid with anger. Fear rose up like bile in Emily's throat. What if Jessica became violent? If she acted out her rage, Emily had no idea what the P.I. was capable of. Foggy had never mentioned what Jessica's powers were. What if Jessica could bend her thoughts, the way Stilton claimed Derrick had bent his? It took all of her self-will not to panic.

But Jessica didn't use any telepathy. And she didn't smash through a wall like the Hulk, or create any number of other terrifying scenarios that Emily had envisioned. Jessica didn't even ball her hands into fists. Instead, the P.I. just grunted and shook her head. "You've got a lot of nerve, lady."

"It's Emily. And Foggy Nelson recommended you."

Jessica's eyes snapped to Emily. "Matt Murdoch's friend?"

Something clicked inside Emily's brain: Nelson & Murdoch. So Foggy had been partners with his friend. And it hadn't worked out. Best to keep her answer simple then. "Yes," Emily said.

Jessica leaned forward. "Listen Emily. The last thing enhanced individuals like me need is someone like you digging up information about us and putting it on trial."

"Is that what you call yourselves? Enhanced?"

Jessica stood to her full height. "Get out."

Emily hugged her dossier folder to her chest and left. She barely got five feet from the door when she heard it open again and slam shut behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jessica locking up.

Jessica zipped past her. "Get the hell out of my way."

Emily was happy to oblige. She watched as Jessica got into the elevator and punched a button. The last thing Emily saw was Jessica's judgmental expression as the doors cranked shut.

Emily slowly let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Well, that went well." She sighed and opened her folder to reorganize her notes, wondering what she should do next.

A few feet away, a door opened. A young man poked his head out.

"You piss off Jessica?" he asked.

Emily nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"I used to work for her." The man opened his door a bit wider. "She's got some anger management issues."

"That's one way to put." Emily gazed back at the door to Alias Investigations. "It's too bad. I could still use a private investigator."

A smile lit up his face. He held out his hand. "I'm Malcolm Ducasse. And I work at Cheng Consulting Management now."

Emily returned the handshake. "Wow, how many P.I.s live on this floor anyway?"

Malcolm laughed. "Just the two of us."

"Well, I'm Emily Graham, a defense attorney for Chao and Benowitz."

"I hope you didn't mention that to Jessica."

"She saw the header at the top of my pages. Why?"

"Bad blood." The grin never left Malcolm's face as he pointed to Emily's folder. "Is that the file?"

"It is." Emily handed it over. "It's mostly notes. And it's a jumbled mess, I know. I just put it together this afternoon."

"Looks good to me." Malcolm leaned against his doorframe and began to read. Unlike Jessica, his expression never changed, never wavered. Emily took that as a good sign. At least he appeared more professional than his ex-colleague. And he was thorough. Emily must have stood there for a good ten minutes before he closed the folder.

"I think I can help," he said. "But I have to be honest, I've got a lot on my plate right now. Three cases, to be exact, though one will be wrapped up soon." He tapped the edge of the folder against the door, deep in thought. "You know, there's some legwork you can do yourself. If you want to."

"I've already gone to Derrick's school and spoken with teachers, even the principal. The kids won't talk to me."

"What about Derrick's family?"

Emily shook her head. "That's why I was hoping for a P.I. If the lawyer for the boy who killed their son showed up at their home…"

"Ah. Gotcha."

"And I don't want to get personally involved with Derrick's family unless there's no choice, powers or not."

Malcolm nodded. "If Derrick has super powers, then yeah, I wouldn't want to be the lawyer going around trying to play detective with his family either. But I'll go talk to them sometime next week. I'll also go talk to the kids at Derrick's school. Are there any official records that show Derrick had any special abilities?"

"Not that I've found. His academic records had nothing. I even checked police reports."

"Well, it couldn't hurt for me to look again. Maybe I'll find something you didn't."

"Thank you Malcolm. I really appreciate it."

Malcolm grinned again. "You can thank me after you get my bill. I assume I send it to Chao and Benowitz?"

"Please. I could never pay for someone out of pocket, especially a P.I. from Cheng Consulting."

"Understood." Malcolm leaned forward. "You know, there's one place I'll bet you haven't looked yet. I mean, if you're building your case around super-powered humans and all..."

Emily perked up. "Oh?"

"Not many people know about this, but there's a house where super-powered people go hang out. And I'm not talking about Avengers HQ either. I'm talking about a house where lots of people go who need help with their powers, all kinds of supernatural stuff. Even kids. If Derrick had those kinds of abilities, maybe his parents took him there."

Emily felt the familiar excitement of a possible lead for her client pump through her veins. "Where is the house?"

"It's on Bleecker Street, in Greenwich."

"Have you ever been there?"

"Me? Nah. But Jessica has been there a couple of times. Cheng told me."

Emily took out her phone and went into google maps. "Bleecker Street, you said?"

Malcolm nodded. "But I don't know the address off the top of my head. It's in the 100s, but that's all I remember. Sorry."

"I'll check it out tonight. It's on my way home. And anyway, if super-powered people are coming in and out of a house in the Village, it should be pretty obvious, right? I don't want to start knocking on doors, and then get arrested for solicitation or something."

"Yeah, that could be awkward." He held up the dossier. "Mind if I hang onto this?"

"Of course. My cell and email are on the first page."

They said their goodbyes, and Emily left Hell's Kitchen with a much better feeling than she'd had walking into it.

Emily followed her iPhone's directions for getting to Bleecker Street. It required a detour on the subway, but at least the Village was on her way home. At the corner of 43rd, Emily saw a Starbucks and went in for a cold drink. While she waited for her order, she googled the term Jessica had used: enhanced individuals. She'd been researching super-powers and superheroes for weeks now, but she'd only come up with the usual news articles. Emily didn't expect to find much of anything.

She was wrong.

The first five links had articles about super-powered, no, enhanced beings.

Enhanced people were made, not born, as she had thought. Many had been either coerced or forced into various experiments that had given them their powers. And some were even experimented on as children. Most of the articles paralleled the experiments to the kinds of human torture done during World War II. Emily's stomach soured even as her order was called. She picked up her macchiato, saw the milk curling inside the plastic, and promptly threw it in the recycling bin.

But she didn't turn away from the links on her phone. The next few articles mentioned another term Emily had never heard before: mutants. Apparently, it described a special class of individuals who were simply born with their powers because of some kind of genetic mutation. Mutants were normal kids until sometime during puberty when their powers manifested.

But which one was Derrick?

Emily copied and pasted all of the links into an email, and then sent it off to her business address. She'd have a ton of reading to do tomorrow, but maybe she'd find something to show Linda. She closed her gmail and popped up google maps. She wished she could work a normal ten-hour day, but it looked like that wouldn't happen for a while. Time was running out. As she followed the blue arrows toward the subway, Emily could only hope that Bleecker Street had some answers.

Thanks so much for the reads and reviews everyone. Doctor Strange will be appearing in the next chapter... Stay tuned!