AN: I'M LATE WHAT ELSE IS NEW.
From: Zero S szero
To: Mard Geer Tartarus mgeer
CC: Lucy Heartfilia heartfilial
Subject: RE: Erik's Contract
Attached: vivas_ 49 MB
Kindly find attached the document highlighting violated sections of the contract.
From: Mard Geer
Time: 3:21 AM
Counsellor, I do not say this lightly - what in the genuine fuck.
To: Mard Geer
Time: 3:34 AM
I know a good defense attorney if you can get rid of the body.
"They're claiming he was illegally bought out," Lucy snaps.
"Way to make me feel like a piece of meat," Cobra laments, sinking lower into his seat and tapping away at his phone as if this is a boring lunch date and not the absolute end of the world for everyone involved in this shitfest. There's a second where Lucy's tempted to whip her heels at his head and mail his unconscious body to FC Seis, but her boss is right there and so is his boss, and she did not graduate summa cum laude for this idiot to kill her professional streak.
His phone makes a weird noise and he grins. Is he playing fucking candy crush?
Mard, bless the man, pinches her hip.
"So they want him back?" Makarov guesses, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "I always knew Brain was a cheating bastard, but this is going too far."
"Brain? The email said Zero."
"I'm officially Kobe beef," Cobra declares, "$300 per pound. I think that's more than I'm actually insured for, hold on…"
"Zero is his legal name, Brain is what he goes by professionally," Mard says tiredly, adding in a mutter, "If one could declare that professional…"
"So what's our plan of action here?" Makarov asks, eyeing the two of them. He's a short man, jovial and a bit too over-the-top for her liking most days, but the look on his face right now has the base of her spine going cold. This is it. Her first hurdle as an actual lawyer. Mest isn't here to cover her weak spots, and no professor is going to give her tips for improvement. This isn't a mock trial and she can't afford to lose.
Mard pinches her hip again. She leans against the wall next to him, her knees suddenly too shaky to hold her upright without buckling. Fuck. This is it, then. Lucy flicks her eyes over; her boss is as cold and collected as ever, not a hair out of place even after being woken up at 3 AM to deal with this shit. God she wishes, now more than ever, that they could switch places. What she won't do for calm. Just enough that her head stops spinning and she can think rationally.
"I'm way more expensive than Kobe! $31250 per pound!" Cobra crows.
"Are you serious?" Lucy hisses.
"Dead. Last I checked I'm insured for five mil, and my weight...you can google, so I guess it's not a secret, but-"
Mard pinches her hip again, this time probably to keep her from killing him. Again.
The only good thing to come out of this entire debacle is that Makarov, with Mard's approval, has her on house-arrest so she can tackle this head on, dressed down, and eating junk food like the good lord intended.
Except she has no 'dress down' clothes, and the closest thing she's got to junk food in her pantry is a pack of sugar-free gummy worms, so this house-arrest is already off to a great start.
Mest sends her yet another comforting meme she remembers him tagging her in back in their first year. Right around the time of their first moot, actually.
She's fuckin' got this.
To: Mestikins
Time: 10:51 AM
This baby lawyer's off to slam dunk this case
From: Mestikins
Time: 10:51 AM
YOU WORK WITH SOCCER PLAYERS AT LEAST KEEP YOUR ANALOGIES STRAIGHT
/
She don't got this.
She really, really, really don't got this.
According to the most trustworthy Google link she can find, there are approximately 63 pages per megabyte. Some quick math later and Lucy almost winds up dialing 911 on her calculator because her entire upper body goes numb and all she's able to do is let out a pitiful slur of squeaks when she realizes the contract is just north of three thousand goddamn pages. She needs to stack two Febreze cans on top of each other so she has a scale to send Mest, whose only reply is a gif of some lady crossing herself and knocking back a shot.
Unhelpful bastard.
Lucy runs her shaky hands up and down her face, grabbing a fistful of hair at the crown of her skull in an attempt to stall the migraine she feels building behind her eyes. She can't stress out now. They're all counting on her, every last one of them. Even Cobra, whose bouncing leg during the meeting belied his anxiety and sent a shot of something cold and uncomfortable through her veins. She's not used to him being nervous. It's...unnatural.
For Cobra, then. And her peace of mind.
And her job, but that's an aside.
Ultimately, Brain/Zero/Whatever his name is's main issue is that Cobra was - supposedly - illegally traded from FC Seis to FC Fiore before his contract with the team ran up, and there are - supposedly - no records to confirm whether or not his contract was purchased before the trade, adding a whole layer of illegal to the already overpainted wall. Their last accountant was a dud, and Mard promises sweet, filthy murder when she texts him so.
There are a couple other complaints: he played a casual game with the members of FC Fiore while wearing their spare jersey when his contract clearly outlined he was forbidden from playing soccer for any team other than FC Seis; he stole some sponsorships when he switched teams; contracts were never signed fully officiating his release. A bunch of hot bullshit but there are no timelines and no paper trails, leaving her with a blank whiteboard and way too many dry pens and highlighters.
The doorbell rings.
"Mest, if it's you with takeout then the door's open, you know this!"
"You leave your door open? Fucking hell, what a weirdo."
Her brain blue-screen-of-death's.
Cobra enters her living room like he owns the place and tiptoes over piles and piles of paper, making a beeline for her sofa, flopping on it belly first and sighing like a content cat. "This is comfy. La-Z-Boy?"
"What are you doing."
"Keeping my lawyer company while she gets me out of this mess," Cobra replies, waving a bag of gummy worms innocently. "I brought snacks. Why are you wearing a suit in your own home? Do you have cable? Jesus, is that my contract? It's huge, that fucker really hates trees, huh?"
"Dress for the job you want, and no, I don't have cable, yes, that's your contract, no, I'm not hungry." Lie, truth, truth, filthy lie and her stomach starts drumming out the beat to the Lion King opening music just to make a point. Cobra eyes her, a brow raised.
Lucy huffs and heads to the bedroom to change.
"I'll get us UberEats if you give me your credit card number!"
"Die!"
"I need a timeline check, not an ass check," Lucy snaps irritably.
"I'm just appreciating how nice my number looks on your back. You sure this is your only dress down shirt?"
"When did FC Fiore approach you for a trade?"
Cobra shrugs and shovels another spoonful of fried rice into his mouth. "I dunno, probably December two years ago? Something like that."
Lucy ruffles through the papers and checks the dates on both. "December 19th? In the off-season?"
"Yup," he pops the p. "I was chilling in Desierto when Makarov called with the offer."
"Desierto? Jesus, if Seis was paying you that well why switch over to Fiore?" she mutters as she uncaps a new pen and scribbles the new information down. Forget getting new hardwood done, if she laminates these timeline sheets and notes she's set for life.
"'Cause Brain's a dick," Cobra says in a tone that shuts down that entire line of inquiry before she can even begin to open it. Lucy frowns, but allows it. It's none of her business until it is - and it will be if she needs it to strengthen her case, but for now he can keep those secrets buried under the fortune cookie he's munching.
"'Flattery will go far tonight'," he reads his fortune off the little slip and waggles his brows at her. "Hey, legal, gotta say, as fine as that shirt looks on you right now-"
"Did you know there's a small zone in northern Alvarez where nobody has any jurisdiction so murder is technically legal?" Lucy chirps, "And did you know Serena has a lovely mansion in Alvarez he's invited me to before? Perhaps we can make it a team event."
Cobra grabs her fortune cookie and rips it open, helping himself to the cookie as he reads her fortune. "'You will die alone and poorly dressed'."
"Fuck you."
"Have you considered, like, pinning them up?"
"Pinning what up."
"The timeline so it actually looks like a timeline and not a jumble of papers you need to sort out every ten minutes."
Lucy shoots him a glare. He's right. She'll never admit it, but he's right.
Cobra smirks. "Need a hand?"
"Die."
"I hate this," she moans, scrunching up the paper in her hand and whipping it in the air. It lands on her neck after peaking at an impressive two feet.
"I don't see what that jackass is going after me for," Cobra says, "Seriously, this whole thing is just some shitty revenge fantasy gone wrong."
Lucy rolls on her stomach and pokes his hand with a pen. "Explain."
"Brain hates my guts because I hate his guts. You think I'm bad with legal here? You should've seen me with Seis. We didn't have a single permanent lawyer on hand because they hated dealing with me."
"Why?" Lucy blurts out, narrowly avoiding slapping herself. He was on a roll, dammit, this could have been good. He could've told her some real juicy shit had she not been stupid enough to ask a question he would've probably answered in his tale anyway.
"The more I badgered legal, the more attention I brought to myself in the media, the more Brain and the whole team was scrutinized," Cobra replies, "Which meant that hopefully, some goddamn shit for brains would start looking into things. Start tearing apart the financials, for example, find out how Brain was blackmailing major companies to become sponsors. Look into where those financials go, trace them through the shell companies he was using to launder the cash for himself." A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Then more serious stuff. I wasn't the only one to leave Seis."
"Sorano, the social media rep, right?"
"Yup. One of my oldest friends. She was rep for Seis, too. Then Brain-"
"If the next word out of your mouth is rape-"
"I didn't let it get any further than a couple unsolicited nudes." His mouth twists up into a sneer. "His plan was, if she declined him, he'd find a way to leak the nudes and blame it on her."
"When was this?" Dumb, dumb, horrendously dumb question - she already knows.
"December tenth," he replies, and he doesn't have to say it was two years ago. She knows. She knows, just as sure as she knows she's going to win this case and then launch the combined forces of Mest and Lahar Brain's way. She'll stay up every goddamn night reviewing criminal law and tax law and insurance law and everything in between. Not just because all she can hear right now is her own blood pounding in her ears and her eyes ache so very, very much - headache or angry tears, she'll never know - and the unbridled rage coiling in every muscle fibre demands Brain's head on a pike, but because nobody has delivered justice for Cobra and Sorano. Nobody.
And she's goddamn ashamed of herself for never asking why he's such a hellion with legal.
"I'm going to win this," Lucy says evenly, meeting his eyes with cold fury in hers, "And then...then I'm going to make sure he pays."
To: Mestikins
Time: 1:21 AM
Who was the best at tax law back in our year?
From: Mestikins
Time: 1:21 AM
Juvia Lockser? She's working for Porla's huge firm. Why.
To: Mestikins
Time: 1:22 AM
Are you and Lahar down to form a dream team with Juvia and myself the likes of which haven't been seen since the OJ trial.
Missed Call: Mestikins [1:23 AM]
Missed Call: Mestikins [1:23 AM]
Missed Call: Mestikins [1:24 AM]
From: Mestikins
Time: 1:25 AM
YOU CAN'T FUCKING SAY SHIT LIKE THAT AND NOT PICK UP MY PHONE CALLS LUCY
It goes a little like this: it's four in the morning, and somewhere between Cobra snoring away on her couch and her phone vibrating - Mest somehow contacted Mard who's now ready to blow off her head - that the solution hits her.
"I got it!" Lucy shrieks so loudly it wakes herself up along with Cobra, who hits the floor, cursing.
"What the fuck," he mumbles sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He's oddly cute when his hair is sticking out at odd angles and there's drool drying on his chin.
Yeah, no, not gonna look into that, nope, nope, nada...not cute.
"I figured out how to get you out of this," Lucy says triumphantly, holding up her magnum opus - a sheet of paper with messy scribbles she's not entirely sure are English. "See?"
"No, actually," Cobra yawns, getting up and wincing as his knees crack. Are they allowed to do that? Like, that loudly? Jesus Christ. He plods towards the kitchen, arching his back so that snaps, too, much to her horror. How is he in one fucking piece?
"You're out of coffee, I'm getting UberEats."
"I want a McFlurry!"
"Are you four, legal?"
"If I was four, I wouldn't be legal, dumbass."
Watching the smug smirk slowly drop off his face like he's having a stroke is one of the most beautiful things Lucy's ever witnessed in her short career. She only hopes Cobra, seated to her left, is enjoying this as much as she is.
"I think, Brain, that this should satisfy your legal department entirely," Mard finishes smoothly, sliding over a sleek black USB that Lucy matches with one of her own, red this time.
"What's this," Brain spits out, staring at the red USB like it's a bloody finger. Lucy smiles, a touch too cold to be considered civil.
"The offices of Nayar and Lates will be joined by the offices of Porla in a joint effort to look into your finances and other affairs," Lucy says.
"The effort of which I will be matching as a sports law consultant," Mard continues, nodding at the red USB. "This is just a primary draft of complaints for your legal department. Only a couple hundred megabytes worth, I think."
Brain shoots up out of his chair so forcefully it topples backwards and slams his palms on the table, glaring at Cobra venomously. "You think you've won this, haven't you, you little-" he cuts himself off and breathes deeply. "You've not seen shit yet."
Lucy stands up and crosses her arms over her chest, meeting his baleful gaze with an equally hateful fire in her own eyes. "Give me a reason, please."
"Hiding behind a woman's skirt? Not the first time I've seen you stoop this low. I always wondered why you took that silver-haired bitch with you."
Lucy throws an arm out and bends it so her elbow digs into Cobra's rock-hard stomach. She doubts he feels it the way she's sure she will tomorrow when she starts bruising, but it keeps him from strangling his former owner - as much as she'd rather the old fart die in the first place.
"That would be the other affair we've opted to look into in the case," Lucy says, half an eye on Cobra, who's gone stock still. A part of her is afraid she's overstepped her bounds, taken the odd olive-branch he'd offered her and burned it for her own light, but that same part of her reasons that it's about fucking time someone did something. If it costs her her career, so be it.
"Excuse me?" Brain asks softly.
"I think you know," Mard takes over, waving at her dismissively. "Counselor, kindly take your client to practice. I've a few...details I need to iron out with Zero here."
Lucy's only seen that dark shadow cross Mard's face once and it was on a televised court case where he single-handedly eviscerated a coach accused of sexual assault of his female players on the stand. The verdict was an ungodly amount of years behind bars, and that had been the night Lucy sent in an application to work for him. That kind of passion is impossible to fake, especially in a man so devoid of it.
Brain's in for some pain if he survives this.
Lucy shoves Cobra out the door as professionally as she can and sighs deeply as she tapes a hastily made 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign to the front. It's for the peoples' sake, really. Mard's demon face is not for the faint of heart.
"You did it," Cobra says a few minutes later, once they've loaded up in her car. "You actually did it."
"Told you I'd win it."
"Not that. The...you did that. Why?"
"What do you mean why?"
"I asked legal at Seis a few times. They never did shit. Why did you?"
Lucy shrugs. "Guess I'm still young and yet to be jaded. Besides - a wrong had to be righted. Juvia's probably drooling over the financials right now, and Mest is - eep!"
Cobra's hugs are a perfect metaphor for his personality: way too strong, overwhelming, and only tolerable in short bursts, which is why when he pulls away a whole three seconds later, Lucy's struggling to figure out how to make her lungs work in tandem again.
What the fresh from the farm fucking hell.
"Thank you," Cobra says, "And if you tell anyone I did that, I'll accidentally scissor kick your head."
