The Art of Diversion

by TheMightyBox

Three supervillain attacks in one night. All three claim coincidence. Whether they're lying or not, each Defender finds themselves chasing an elusive lead, with information being kept just out of reach, before violently crashing together once again. The only question is, who's pulling all the strings?

2. Set Dressing

Jessica Jones sat at her desk. Shot glass in her hand. It was empty, so Jess filled it back up again. This would be her third drink since the girl had entered her office.

Kara sat across from her, looking at her expectantly. Jessica couldn't bring herself to look at anything. Not yet. Few more drinks.

Kilgrave had a kid. Kilgrave had kids. Thinking about it now, it was somehow the most obvious, foregone conclusion and also a world-shattering revelation at the same goddamn time. Kilgrave had kids. Kilgrave had kids and the kids had his powers.

It took everything in Jessica not to puke just thinking about it. Another drink. Maybe a few more drinks.

Jess went ahead and took a deep swig from the bottle.

"How… old are you." Maybe that was a weird place to start.

"Seventeen."

"Ugh. Jesus."

"But- But I was around during the blip. So things are a little weird on that front."

Right. Another drink. That shit. Goddamn superhero bullshit.

Jessica had missed out on all that. She was still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not. One minute she's alone, drinking in her office cause goddamn aliens are invading New York again, next thing she knows, she's falling on her ass cause all the furniture in her office was gone and there was a white trash couple rutting like animals in her bed.

She tossed the both of them out, checked her phone and saw that it read it as being 5 years later than it should've, checked her cabinet and found no booze, and that was that on her end. Outside things may have been falling to shit, Jess honestly might've been squatting illegally in that apartment for a while, but it's not like anyone was really in a position to care. Police were busy with much more important shit 24/7, and anyone who could've done anything about it was just trying to retain order.

It took the first month for Washington to decide that the current elected officials would stay in power and that those who'd blipped out had effectively 'completed their term'. It wasn't until three months after that when those officials even started considering who now owned what. Eventually it was decided that if you could prove that you owned it before the blip then you could claim ownership of it now and the state of New York would repay the lost value of whatever the hell it was, so Jessica got her apartment back, and nothing else. She had no idea where her old desk and couch were now, even if she did, it's not like she could prove they were hers. Anyone affected by the blip was also entitled to a whopping $200 reparation, so Jess also got a new chair.

Two weeks after that law passed, the same guy who was crushing it in her apartment showed up asking her to help track down his wife who'd gotten blipped. She used the money from that case to buy a new desk.

And now a year and a half later everyone, or at least Jessica Jones, had put that weirdness behind them and were ready to move on with their lives.

Another drink. The long and short of it was that she was gone for a bit, and now she was back. That was all there was to it.

"So what do you want from me."

"My dad… Kilgrave is alive."

Jessica just looked at her for a solid second.

She shook her head. "He's really not, kid-"

"Kara. My name is Kara. I'm not a kid."

"…Kara. Trust me, that asshole is in the ground, even if he won't go away. I…"

"I know what you did. Or, I know what you think you did."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"Well my- our powers work by directly affecting how the brain perceives things. We say something and then the brain takes it as fact. So I could say something like: There's a really hot guy sitting on the couch right there."

Jessica leaned over and looked at her couch. Tom Hardy waved back.

She blinked and the couch was empty again. Another drink.

"His control fades after time though. If he told me to see something else, I'd remember it."

"I don't know. It's something to do with how memories are made. If he or I or whoever said to remember a thing a certain way, the brain does so, and the memory is just stored there like that. Forever."

Jessica chugged from the bottle. As if everything surrounding Kilgrave wasn't fucked up enough.

"How do you know so much about brains," she asked.

Kara shrugged. "Honestly I'm just guessing from what I've been able to do."

Jess leaned forward. "How often are you going around controlling people."

"Look, it's not- I'm just telling you what I know okay, people are in danger here!"

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not doing it."

"But- I just said-"

"Look. Kara. I don't trust you, and I want nothing to do with dear old pops ever fucking again. So no, I'm not doing it."

"You don't trust me? What do you mean you don't trust me?"

"Call it a personal bias for people with your skillset."

"He's already here, Jones. He's in New York and he's planning something big. You're the only one who can help me now, you already beat him once."

"Yeah, not helping your case."

"Wha-"

Jessica leaned in real close. "You come into my office, you tell me you're the kid of the guy who, in my complete shitshow of an existence, is probably the worst thing that has ever happened to me, that he's somehow alive despite the fact that I clearly remembering snapping his neck, and that I need to do something about it. Here's my initial thoughts: Kilgrave doesn't make big plans, if he has an ounce of self-preservation left in his bones, he should know to stay the fuck away from me, and he's not still alive. I made damn sure of that."

Kara didn't have anything to say to that. If she did it wasn't backed by the guts to say it.

"If you actually believe that he's still out there, my advice to you is to run. Pack everything up, take whatever family you have, start hopping continents, go to the ends of the earth to get away from him. Cause if you go to him head to head the only thing you'll get is hurt."

Kara muttered something.

"What. What else is there to say."

"I said… he's already found me once."

That made Jessica freeze up. She gripped the back of her chair, got ready to swing it at the kid if she needed to.

"Found you where."

"Back home."

"And where's that."

"Toronto."

"You saw him."

"He… left me a message."

"What message, what did he tell you."

"… I'll tell you if you take my case."

All the tension and anger bubbling in Jessica's chest was released in a single, angry grunt.

"Get the fuck out of my office."

"But-"

"Out!"

Kara jumped.

She looked like she had more she wanted to say, but without meeting Jessica's eyes she swallowed them back down, stood up, and turned for the door.

Jessica watched her like a fucking hawk.

As she trudged across the room, placed her hand to the door, she turned back for a moment.

"Don't," Jessica warned her.

Kara chewed her glossy lip.

"Thank you for your time." With that she opened the door and left.

Jessica gave it a moment.

Listened intently for the clacking of shoes down the hallway.

The ding of the elevator.

The rumble of it slowly going down.

And she collapsed forward onto her desk, letting out the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding.

A lot of shit bubbled up from the pit of Jessica's stomach. A lot of shit she didn't want to deal with. A lot of shit that should've been shoved down and locked away a long time ago. Layers of assurances built up through the years started tearing away from the uncertainty of their promises. At least she could start putting Kilgrave behind her. At least Kilgrave was dead, where he couldn't hurt anyone again. At least she could never be controlled again. At least she could be sure her thoughts were her own.

Jessica only just now realized that she was panicking. She was panicking. This was a panic attack. That wasn't good.

She tried to remember what she'd been told in anger management, or any of what the doctor had said for the two weeks Trish had made her go to therapy. She tried to breath. Tried to occupy her thoughts with something else. Her brain was buzzing with thoughts, information, words, feelings, problems, solutions.

One voice cut clear through the fog.

'Jessica…'

Jessica looked up from her desk and saw purple.

'Over here Jessica…'

The last bit of logic in her brain told her that it was bullshit. This was a traumatic response, she had been told, it had happened before. Jessica knew it wasn't real.

And the second that train of thought faltered, Jessica was on her feet, scanning the apartment.

And there, sitting with legs crossed on the couch, was Kilgrave. Perfectly kept hair, light stubble, and purple three piece suit. Just like Jess remembered him.

Jessica's entire essence screamed. But she didn't. She breathed. She brought herself back under her own control. If out of nothing but spite. She sank back into her seat and glared at him.

"You're not real," she said.

Kilgrave looked himself over, checking to see if she was right. "I feel pretty real to me."

"You're dead."

"Ah, well," he brushed her off. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"What do you want."

"I want to help you Jessica, always have. I want to help you be a better person, iron out all that nastiness in your, eh… well, everything really. I want to help you look your best, think your best, be your best."

"You want a Stepford wife who will do whatever you want without talking back."

"Why does-" He gripped angrily at the air. "That's not what I want, Jessica. For you or for me."

He stood up and walked over to Jessica's desk. Leaned on it with one hand.

"That's not even why I'm here right now honestly. Right now, I just want to help you see the truth." He turned, nodded towards the door. "See you met the brat."

"She's wrong. You're not alive. You can't-…"

"I can't what, Jessica? I can't be alive? Why not? You were dead for five bleeding years and look at you now. On your feet and kicking, better than ever."

"That's- That's different."

"We're both different Jessica. That's what makes us beautiful. You and I, we're allowed to defy pedestrian things like death."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"You're dead."

"Are you sure about that?"

"You're not here, Kilgrave."

"Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

Kilgrave reached over. A soft, open hand, reaching for her face.

Jessica leaped to her feet and hurled her chair at him.

Her vision tunneled so hard it was hard to tell at first that she was looking at nothing. An empty apartment with no one in it but herself. As it widened back out, she could also see the cheap office chair now embedded into the plaster of the wall between her and the bathroom.

She just stood there for a while, arm still extended, panting.

Shit.

Jessica Jones grabbed the bottle of brandy from her desk, chugged the rest of it down, then wiped her mouth and went for the door.

---

Misty Knight stared into space, hand on her chin. The events from last night spread out before her, to her left was Burbank attacking the outdoor market, to her right was Ohnn in the lawyer's apartment, dead ahead was Shappe busting into Harlem's Paradise. The timeline stretched out before her, the events playing and replaying in her mind, perfectly on their cues. Standing to the far back was a figure, shrouded in shadows, giving the order for each attack. Misty tried to piece together anything she could from the attacks, but nothing was coming together.

How did it all come together?

A sharp knock dragged her back to reality, the images fading away before her.

Luke Cage leaned in through the metal door. "Am I interrupting something?"

Misty shook her head clear. "No, please, step into my office."

The 'office' that she gestured to was the back alley behind the police station, the place where deliveries were brought in and trash was taken out. Luke took the invitation and stepped out to join her, Colleen following along right behind him.

"Hey girl." She gave Colleen some dap. "Haven't seen you in a while. How you holding up?"

"Ah, well, you know. Getting by. Things have been quiet. Stopping your occasional burglary or assault, but nothing big until… well, until yesterday."

"I assume you asked us out here for a reason," Luke said.

"Sure, but can't we catch up first? Maybe go out for some drinks?"

Luke raised an eyebrow. "You serious?"

"Yeah I'm serious, I need a goddamn drink right now." Misty sighed. "Alright look, I'm gonna 'leak' some information here, as a friend and a concerned citizen. Not as a member of the NYPD. Feel me?"

Colleen leaned up against a handrail. "Well when you open with that…"

"We're still looking at what we can get the three of them on and where we can lock them up. Until then, some of the information we gathered from the perps, while irrelevant to their overall cases, are… concerning, to say the least."

"Concerning how?" Luke asked.

"Guy at the market," she nodded towards Colleen, "his name's Carl Burbank. He's ex-CIA, and he had some special CIA tech with him."

"Is that what those crazy prosthetics were?" Colleen asked.

"On the money."

"Wait," Luke said. "Prosthetics? You mean like what you got?"

"No," Colleen said. "What Misty's got is a mean right hook. This Burbank guy, his were way more dangerous."

"Seamless prosthetic arms," Misty explained. "A left and a right, indistinguishable from flesh and bone at a distance, but with hidden firearms in them."

Luke was taken aback. "Hidden- What?"

"It was like something out of Transformers," Colleen said. "He like, spun his hand around and then it was a gun. But I totaled his arms, I hit 'em with the iron fist, they shouldn't be anything more than scrap now."

"Well he went ahead and let us know that he was supposed to be getting a shipment of backups," Misty said. "Didn't tell us what channels they were coming through, but one might assume that they aren't going to be legal."

"But there's no way he could get to them if he's in prison."

"There's not. But if he doesn't get to them,"

Luke finished her thought, "then they'll be sold off to someone else."

"It's the Judas bullets all over again. Once those arms start disseminating through the black market, it's gonna get a hell of a lot harder to track them down."

"Ah Christmas…" Luke muttered. "Something like that got around… that kinda thing could change how crime is done in this city."

"Everyone's got two arms. How can you tell who's are real and who's are going to kill you."

"Ah," Colleen said. "That doesn't sound too good."

"No, it doesn't," Luke said.

"But, you'd have to amputate your own arm to use them. Is anyone going to actually do that?"

"It's a prisoner's dilemma," Misty said. "Everyone who'd think about doing it is thinking about everyone else who could do it, everyone else who to them will do it and do it to fuck them over. The reward for doing it and the risk of not are both too high. And that all but ensures that someone out there will."

"I'll start asking some of my contacts," Luke said. "I don't want too many people on the lookout for when they break, but if I put out a few fingers, see if I can't find out who's getting them and when, I can get rid of them before they get sold."

"We're also hitting up some of our informants, see what the word on the street is."

"I can help," Colleen said. "Maybe hit up some old friends, see if they've heard anything."

"I appreciate the effort, but you might be busy yourself, Immortal Iron Fist."

Colleen's brow scrunched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"An epidemic of gun hands isn't the only thing that's cropped up from this." Misty reached a hand into her pocket and tossed Colleen a tiny square of paper. "The crackhead had this on him."

She looked at it, confused at first, but realization quickly broke across her face, followed immediately by dread.

A new voice made itself known. "Let me guess."

Misty spun on her heels and, in an instant, had a gun leveled at the source. There she saw, in broad daylight no less, the devil of hell's kitchen.

"Jesus, dude." Misty dropped the gun back into its holster.

Daredevil, for his part, didn't seem to care much and finished his thought. "Steel Serpent?"

"Looks like it." Colleen tossed him the tiny packet.

Daredevil slipped his glove off and began feeling across the surface of the paper with his thumb. What he was looking for, Misty wasn't really sure.

"Now this," Colleen started. "It doesn't necessarily mean that they're back – or that she's back."

"It doesn't," Daredevil agreed, slipping his glove back on.

"Could just be someone else looking to ride the, like, illegal drug brand name."

"It's not normal, whatever it is. Base components of your standard street heroin are all there, but there's something else on top of it."

"Dragon bones?"

Misty saw Luke mouth the words 'dragon bones' in disbelief.

Daredevil lifted the paper up to his face and gave it a sniff. And then he gave a grimace and pulled it back down. "Hard to tell. There's a big cloud of… a lot hanging around it."

"Yeah…" Misty said, still trying to catch up to why the devil of Hell's Kitchen was smelling drug paraphernalia. "The guy it came from looked like he hadn't showered in a few years, if ever. Were you going to try and track the source like a bloodhound or something?"

Daredevil gave the slightest, almost imperceptible smirk at that one. "Just seeing what I can pick up. I'm going to see if I can't find out where this stuff is coming from. At least put the suspicion to rest."

"Right." Colleen rubbed at her chin. "I'll –… If they're actually back… I can check out some of the old meeting places. Maybe someone will show up there." She paused, and turned. "You wanna help, Luke? If they're actually back in town, it's not good news for anyone."

"Yeah, sorry," Luke said. "You guys are running off to chase this cult of yours on a hunch from a heroin packet. This thing with the prosthetics, that's got a bit more weight to it, and it's on a timer. I need to look into this now."

"I get it." Colleen gave Luke a firm pat on the shoulder. "Looks like the city isn't saved just yet, huh?"

"Well, let's see if we can't get this done before everything goes to shit this time around."

"Look at y'all," Misty said. "It's like having my own little superhero team. Well, you all got your assignments, get on it then-"

Misty looked over to see that Daredevil was already gone.

She huffed. "Of course. Alright, well, good luck you two. I'll be stuck grilling your catch of the day for a while longer."

"Thanks Misty," Colleen said. "When all this is over, I'll be sure to get you that drink."

She ran off as well, leaving on her and Luke Cage standing in the alleyway. Luke looked out towards the street, then back to Misty.

"Can I ask you something?"

That was unexpected. She thought this meeting had been over. "Depends on what."

"Kinda personal." He shrugged.

"That lonely at the top, huh?"

Luke didn't laugh. "Last night, when Speedshot or whatever his name was-"

"Shappe is his actual name."

"Last night when Shappe attacked, there was this moment… this moment where I looked down and I understood that people might've been in trouble, but I thought it… wasn't worth my time. I thought I'd let someone else handle it. That ever happen to you?"

"…Why do you ask?"

"I wonder if that's how the Avengers and the big time heroes like them feel. Like that's why they let so much shit happen around them. If it's not threatening a continent, it's below their paygrade or something."

"You got something against the Avengers?"

"Misty, a friend of mine got seriously hurt because I didn't step in sooner. He's still in critical condition. So yeah, if I can help it, I don't want to end up like them."

She sighed. "Well, I mean, I get paid to care."

"I'm being serious here."

"I get it. I don't know Luke, you've been at this for so long, I'd be surprised if you didn't get tired of handling every problem that crops up in your neck of the woods. If you get to the point that you realize that you can't help everyone, you then fall back on a system that lets you help who you can and trust that the people above and below you are doing their jobs just as well."

"You honestly believe that? You and I have both seen who's sticking their neck out for the people at the bottom."

"That we have," Misty said. "I guess there's not really an answer. I just know that if you insist on staying there and helping those people, it gets that much harder to move up past them. We both do what we can, help who we can, but we both have our positions. We don't really live in that neighborhood anymore."

Luke nodded. "Alright."

"And just try to remember, what you're doing right now, it's still helping those people."

"Right. Thanks Misty."

"No problem." She smacked him on the shoulder with her good arm. That made him flinch a little. "Now go get 'em, superhero."

That actually got a smile from Luke. "Don't push it."

One last wave and he turned and ran off, leaving Misty by herself.

She sighed. That was probably going to be the last break she got today. It was going to be rough.

---

Jess hadn't made it 10 steps out the front door of her apartment building when-

"Jessica Joooooooooones!"

Jess groaned, turned away from the source and tried walking the other way, like maybe the teenager would get confused if she wasn't sure it was her and give up and go home.

"Jones, hey," Kara said as she ran up anyways. "Jones. Jones! Hey! Did you change your mind? Are you taking my case?"

"What gave you that impression."

"I mean, what else would you be doing out here?"

"Maybe I'm working someone else's case."

"Really? What kinda case is it?"

"…" Nope, didn't have one for that. "I'm not taking shit, okay. I need to see for myself if Kilgrave is actually back or not. Nothing to do with you."

"That makes it sound like you're taking my case. Need any help?"

"Kid-"

"Kara."

"Kara," Jess growled through her teeth. "I don't need your help on this. I can track this asshole down in my sleep at this point. If he gets to you that's one more problem I have to deal with. And you don't want to see what I'm about to do to him when I find him. So just stay out of my way. In fact, just go home, okay?"

Kara scoffed. "Fine."

She continued walking alongside Jessica.

"You hard of hearing or something."

"Pretty sure the greyhound station is this way."

It in fact was not.

Jessica sighed. At least she was drunk.

---

Matt Murdock pondered, as he sat perched on the edge of the building's rooftop like a gargoyle frozen in the midday sun, that he was usually a lot smarter about these kinds of things. More tactical. Operating under the cover of night was best. He had the upper hand at night, when everyone else was blind. During the day, he was just some wackjob in a costume sitting on a roof.

Across the street was an apartment building. A party had been raging in a two-bedroom on the fourth floor last night. Now it was on its last legs. Matt was waiting for the last person there to pass out.

There was a rumbling from his pocket. His phone was going off. With the volume at the absolute lowest, muffled by Matt's body armor, and being dispersed into an open space, it was very unlikely that anyone else could hear it, even if they were right next to him. Matt heard it though. Foggy was calling.

Matt reached into his pocket and canceled the call.

A moment passed, his attention shifting back to the apartment-

Foggy called again.

Matt sighed. He backed away from the edge of the roof and moved to somewhere a little more secluded in the middle, before fishing his phone out and answering.

"Hey, what's up?"

"What's up yourself, you planning on coming into the office today?"

Matt inhaled a small breath through his teeth. "Sorry, I got a little wrapped up in something."

"Look, I know you've got your other business and I try to be supportive and I want to give you space, but man, you've been in the office maybe once a week since the blip."

"I'm really sorry Foggy, I promise as soon as things start calming down-"

"You think it's bad out there? Matt, it's chaos in here too. We're wading through cases right now because everything's in disarray and nobody knows who's entitled to what. Me and Karen can only go through so much in a day, you know."

"I'll be there to help as soon as I can. Tomorrow even. The rest of the week."

"Matt, it's Friday."

"I'll work the weekend, then."

"I know you feel bad about – not being there. I get it. It sucks when you just miss out on something you could've helped with. But right now, I think people need a Matt Murdock more than they need a-… personal friend of ours."

"Foggy, let me tell you, you make a really compelling argument. But I really, really can't come in today. Today specifically. Sorry."

"Matt-"

"Gotta go, see you tomorrow."

Beep. Matt hung up.

He gave a sigh. Was that a dick move? Probably.

Matt really did not want to think about the blip.

New York had been burning. His city had been under attack. Again.

Matt had arrived too late to try and fight off the invaders, and if he were entirely honest it had seemed like the Avengers had things handled. But when the fallout started hitting and started hitting hard, they'd already ran off. Deep space or something. Off to beat up the existential threat, while buildings were falling back home.

It had been a busy day for Matt. He heard every single scream across the entire island, and he was only able to help maybe 5% of them. Some people had been trapped under rubble, some had just been left out in the open, too injured to move. Everyone was panicking, some just tried to run as far as they could, some took advantage of the chaos to get away with taking what they could. And Matt was alone to try and deal with all of them.

He leaped from one rooftop to a construction site next to it. It had been a practiced maneuver, one he could do in his sleep, and then something odd happened. A rising tension from his gut overtook his nerves, his brain screamed that something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what exactly it was.

There was an instant, less than an instant of nothing.

And then Matthew Murdock had been flying towards a building he didn't recognize. There was no time for him to react, and nothing he could do to stop it. He had slammed into the concrete side, fell three stories, hit a dumpster, and rolled to a stop. His senses were going haywire trying to adjust, nothing was where it was supposed to be.

All he could feel in that moment was the city falling apart around him for a second time.

Matt shook the thought out of his head. The last of the party dwellers had finally passed out across the street. No time for wallowing in the past, now it was time for business.

He ran forward, pressed his boot against the lip of the roof, and took a leap. Every jump came with a paranoia in the back of his skull these days. That it would all happen again. That he'd fall on his face and it would all start over again.

Every time, Matt pushed through that paranoia. He couldn't let the fear hold him back.

Matt pulled his billy club and gave it a flick. A wire whizzed out from its base as the top half was sent flying and wrapped around a lamppost. There was a click as the winch tightened, and Matt swung across to the balcony of the apartment.

He landed quietly, the club clacked back into place, and he shoved it into his holster then moved to the screen door. He jiggered the frame until the cheap latch locking it in place relented and he was able to slide it open.

Inside the apartment was a dozen passed out twenty-somethings. They'd be fine in a couple hours, probably a rough hangover though. The air in the apartment was clouded over with a cocktail of smells for Matt to sift through. First he had to put aside the general musty odor that had sunk into the carpets and furniture, then the empty pizza boxes with a few slices still sitting in the morning sunlight, plus other various snacks, the food in the fridge and in the pantries, a lot of it starting to go bad.

Moving past that, there were a couple of illegal substances he could smell around the apartment. A lot of weed. Some harder stuff, a couple LSD tablets, or the empty paper that once held them. There was a crack pipe somewhere in here but Matt wasn't sure if it had been used recently.

Matt's ear twitched. The guy in the bathroom. His heart had just stopped.

Matt swore and pushed against the bathroom door. It was locked. He kicked it open, the impact cracking the wood in half.

He rushed over to the passed out man, leaned over, and began pumping his hands against his chest. Keeping the blood flowing would buy him time, but it wouldn't save his life. He needed an ambulance as soon as possible. Matt had his phone, but he didn't quite like the idea of putting his number in a system when he was here illegally as Daredevil.

It didn't matter. One of the others had woken up. They were coming over now.

"Hey, Jonah." The woman stepping into the bathroom doorway was rubbing her eye. "You're still giving me a ride, right-"

She paused as she noticed Daredevil in the middle of the bathroom, crouched above Jonah's body. Matt didn't stop what he was doing.

"He needs an ambulance," he said.

The woman just stood there in shock.

"Call an ambulance."

She jumped and fished her phone from her pocket. Matt heard her dial 911.

"Hello, yes," she started. "My friend needs an ambulance… What's wrong with him?"

"His heart's stopped."

"His heart- His heart's stopped!? I mean- No, yes, his heart- his heart's stopped… No, yeah, someone is uh – already on it."

Matt continued his pumping as the woman rattled off the address and apartment number, said thanks, and hung up.

"You know how to do CPR?" Matt asked.

The woman shook her head.

"Come over here."

She stumbled over to where Jonah was laying and stood above him in confusion.

"Give me your hands."

She crouched down next to him, still unsure and confused. Without missing a beat, he grabbed both of her hands and held them under his as he pumped. He could feel her shaking underneath him, but he pressed forward and drilled the rhythm into her muscle memory. He pulled his hands away when he thought she could handle it.

"Good. When the paramedics arrive, tell them what he took."

She blinked and quickly nodded.

With room to breathe, Matt quickly took in a scent that had lingered at the bottom of the air in the room. While she continued to pump away, Matt reached into Jonah's pocket and produced a small slip of paper.

"What are you-"

He pulled his glove off and ran a thumb over the paper's surface. Printed on it in ink was the symbol of the steel serpent.

"Do you know where he got this?" Matt asked.

She just looked at him for a second. "Probably from our usual dealer…"

"I need to know where they are."

---

It had been a long time since Colleen had been back to the old compound. Years maybe. The flood of emotions that returned to her then, the sense of nostalgia tinged with bitter stings of betrayal and the horror of recalling the gentle smile of Bakuto as he severed Misty's arm, these were all things she expected. These were things she could somewhat prepare herself for.

She hadn't been expecting the campus to be quite so populated.

After the Hand fell, its five fingers severed one by one, all of its footsoldiers scattered to the wind. Colleen had come here immediately after it had happened specifically to check. She'd hoped some of those kids could stick around, that the compound could still be used for housing even without the Hand backing it, but when she'd arrived back then, it was a ghost town. And she had reasoned that it was maybe for the best. Going back out into the world would hopefully help to counteract the brainwashing to some degree. It certainly worked for Colleen.

Now though, the courtyard along must've had at least a hundred people in it, relaxing on the grass, milling about, or moving from place to place. None of them children by any means, but all of them certainly young. Late teens and early adults, exactly the kind of people the Hand sought when she was with them.

To say it was upsetting was the least justice one could give to the feeling brewing in Colleen's gut right now.

Colleen put a hand to the wall next to her to steady herself. She was starting to attract looks. At first it was just the occasional side eye, but whether it was how she looked, how she was acting, or maybe just that they'd been told she didn't belong, what started as light glances became a crowd staring her down in curiosity.

Colleen was nervous. Backed into a corner, she followed her gut and reached for her blade. Pulling it an inch out revealed the slightest strip of cold steel. The kids before her recoiled in surprise, a number of them taking off running from the scene the second her metal hit air.

Well that wasn't right. Not a single one drew their weapons or took their combat stances, even if they were only in training, they should still be able to put up some kind of fight.

Colleen realized that she might've just attempted to pull her blade on a bunch of college kids.

A couple of concerned security guards broke through the crowd and jogged up to her.

Colleen sighed. "I need to speak to whoever's in charge here."

It took a bit of explaining, conversing, complaining, coercion, and having Misty Knight yell over the phone, but she did eventually convince the security not to toss her out on her ass and bar her from ever entering again, and instead was lead to the office of, according to the placard on his door, one Dean Morley Erwin.

Colleen knocked and received a "Come in," in response. The inside of the office was about what she expected, a warm brown color with a polished wooden desk in the middle, couple chairs in front of it, some full-to-bursting bookcases behind it, and a framed degree in economics on the wall above it confirming that the dean's name was in fact, Morley Erwin. Erwin himself sat at the desk, he was this mousey looking, brown-haired, clean shaven, scrawny guy wearing a rumpled shirt and a way too eager smile.

"Miss Wing, please, have a seat," he said, and she did.

"I didn't introduce myself."

"Oh, I know who you are."

"It doesn't sound that good when you say it like that."

"I'm a big fan of your work, Miss Wing. This is- It's really a pleasant surprise that you actually came to me for something."

"My – work?"

"Your hero work! You're the Immortal Iron Fist! I mean, in terms of local superheroes, you're one of the most open and vocal about the issues of the community, maybe behind Luke Cage, but it's very inspiring stuff."

"…Right." Colleen wasn't really sure how to handle being treated like a celebrity.

"So," Erwin said after a pause. "What can I help you with?"

"Oh. Sorry, I'm just – confused. What exactly uh, is this place?"

Erwin looked just as confused as she felt. "The… Martin University of New York?"

"Just a university?"

"Y- Yeah, of course."

"Cause the last I remember, this entire site had been abandoned, and it's just hard to believe that something else cropped up here so fast."

"So fast? It's been-… Miss Wing, can I ask you a personal question?"

Colleen narrowed her eyes.

"Were you around for the, erm, the blip?"

Oh. "No, I wasn't."

Colleen had been meditating when it happened. She barely noticed a thing. Some of the noises from outside were a little weird, but Colleen didn't know what had happened until Danny called. He was panicking, she was confused. He told her that she'd been dead for five years, and that was hard to wrap her head around.

As soon as she did though, the thought had become terrifying.

New York had been without an Iron Fist for five years. Five turbulent, chaotic years, when people needed all the help they could get. And Colleen had just been sleeping for that. It wasn't something she could help of course, no matter how many times she ran the events over in her head, there wasn't anything she could do or any action she could change that would make things turn out any different, so the only path forward was acceptance. She knew that, but something still grated at the back of her mind.

But more than that, the world had been without an Iron Fist for five years. The Iron Fist was supposed to be the check against the Hand. If you had a rat problem, you got a cat. The world had a Hand problem, so they had the Iron Fist. That's who Colleen was supposed to be, Danny had entrusted her with that title and the power that came with it. And the world just, didn't have that. For five years. For five years, if the Hand had made any moves, any steps to recovery, Colleen wasn't there to stop them because she was too busy being dead, apparently. Until today, there had been no sign that this had been the case, just a niggling paranoia in the back of her skull, so seeing Misty hand her that heroin packet confirmed every nasty thought she'd had since coming back.

Even just seeing this campus full of people again, it made her feel sick to her stomach.

And of course, Danny had also had been without Colleen Wing for five years. When you stack it up against the threat of the Hand it didn't feel as important, but it was still an anxiety that had settled in the pit of Colleen's gut. He was five years older than her now. He had five years of experience, travelling the world and vanquishing evil, that she just didn't have. It felt like there was a weird disconnect between them these days. Or maybe he didn't care and it was just Colleen who had trouble with it.

She pushed the thought aside and focused on her mission.

"If this was all established while I was… gone," she said. "I guess that makes sense."

Erwin shrugged. "Regardless of whether you thought the big purple alien had a point or not, well, the population got cut in half. We didn't really need any more extra housing. The campus was already here. Owners had disappeared a long time ago. It kind of seemed too good to be true."

"I see."

The enthusiasm seemed to be slowly draining from Erwin's face. "Was- Was that all you needed?"

Colleen sputtered out a sigh. Might as well throw this guy a bone. "I'm following a lead right now. I'm trying to track down the people who owned this place before. Th- The ones that disappeared. They might still be around."

"Oh." He perked right back up, then shrank down again as he quite visibly started thinking. "Well, uhm, hmm… I'm afraid I don't know much, ehm, a lot of the minutia of who owned what kind of, heh, kind of got lost in the shuffle after the- you know."

"I've got enough of an idea at any rate. Anything unusual happening recently? You been, I dunno, accosted by weird guys in ninja outfits?"

"N- Ninjas?"

Colleen waved a dismissive hand. "It's a joke. I'm joking."

Erwin nervously laughed along. "Well, uhm- oh!" He tapped a pointer finger against his chin in excitement. "I got a call the other day, weirdest thing in my life, some guy wanted to buy the campus back from me. I told him no, anything he could reasonably pay for it wouldn't really match the long term investment, but he gave me a meeting place anyways."

Colleen suddenly leaned forward. "Where was it?"

"Wh- Wha-"

"Where did he tell you to meet him?"

"Uh- somewhere midtown, I didn't take it that seriously."

"Where midtown? What did he tell you?"

Erwin jumped and fumbled with his pen and began scribbling down an address down on his notepad.

"I- I think this was it-"

Colleen snatched the piece of paper from his desk as soon as he was finished and dashed out of the office. "Thanks."

"You're welcome- I mean- if you need – anything -… else…" He called fruitlessly after her, but Colleen was already well out of earshot.

---

If Luke Cage wanted information, the first and easiest place to look was Turk's big mouth. He just needed to know where Turk was.

The first guy he asked spilled the beans immediately. The second guy he asked quickly corroborated the first guy's claims. Third said the same thing and then said some nasty things about Turk's mother.

So Luke went to the junkyard.

He wandered through literal mountains of trash to find Turk, sitting by a scrapheap in a beaten to high heaven, disfigured, ancient Camaro with a single flat tire, all the windshields shattered and, from the look of things, basically only half a steering wheel left in the entire dashboard.

"Hey Turk," Luke called out.

Turk looked up, spotted Luke, and immediately threw his hands up in frustration.

"Aw, nah, come on man! I can't keep doing this!"

Luke approached with a casual nod. "Don't know what you mean."

"You know what I mean. Squeeze old Turk for information once, that's fine. I'm just trying to get by, I cooperate. All of y'all coming at me every other day, people are gonna stop letting me in on shit, man! You're ruining all my carefully cultivated business relations! Shit!"

Luke leaned up against the car, elbow on the hood. "You done?"

Turk sighed. "Yeah."

"Nothing big this time, I promise. Just looking for a little information on who I need to talk to."

"Yeah, whatever, make it quick. I got some business to attend to."

Luke looked around the empty trash heap. "Out here?"

"Yeah man, used car people pay a decent living if you can find the right parts. Long as you ain't afraid to get a little dirty."

"Well I'm proud of you, making an honest name for yourself. How do you know the parts you get actually work though?"

"Shit man, I don't know. They don't gotta know that I don't know though."

Luke nodded. Of course. "I'm looking for arms, Turk."

"What, big boss man can't find himself a piece? In this age we're living in?"

"I'm not just looking for guns, Turk. Prosthetic arms. Super advanced things. From what I've heard they're special enough to get passed around on the black market, you heard anything?"

"You know what, maybe I won't tell you. How about that?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What are you going to do about it, Luke Cage?"

Luke looked at him for a second. He then reached down, grabbed the edge of the car door and twisted it, metal screeching loudly and making Turk jump in his seat, until he was confident that door wouldn't open anymore.

He fixed Turk with a look.

"Man, you got nothing. I've done this song and dance with the Punisher, with Wilson Fisk. You ain't got the position, you fell off, disappeared for five years, and when you got back you had to beg the cops to give you your fancy nightclub back. I know for a fact that you ain't gonna kill me, cause you don't kill anyone do you Mr. Superhero. And you know what, this ain't even my car. So do your worst, cause what the hell can you do to me, Luke Cage?"

Damn, Turk grew some balls.

Luke wouldn't exactly call it falling off, but it was hard to deny what happened.

When the aliens invaded for a second time, Luke Cage's first priority had been Harlem. They had been far enough away that buildings weren't falling, but panic had still set in. Luke Cage was the brick that kept Harlem steady, it wasn't enough to just help out, he had to be seen helping. Rushing from emergency to emergency, herding the wounded, getting people out of dangerous areas, stopping the occasional looter. It had gone on for what felt like hours with no stop.

And then something weird happened.

Luke had been rushing across the street, having just carried a kid with a broken leg back to his mama, over to another woman yelling about how her son had disappeared.

Everything shifted.

Luke hadn't been able to catch what exactly had happened at first, the only thing he noticed was the car coming at him. A car that definitely hadn't been there moments ago. Luke was launched, rolled along the pavement, and eventually came to a dizzying stop.

The car had screeched to a halt as the world finally slowed back down around Luke. He had pushed himself up. Around him, dozens of other people were appearing out of thin air. Whatever was happening though, it went deeper than that. Luke knew Harlem like the back of his hand, and things were different than they had been a second ago. That deli across the street was now a flower shop. An apartment complex down the block looked like a business tower now. It was dizzying, confusing, Luke had almost believed he was in a dream or something.

He did, however, eventually figure out what had happened.

After the battle with the aliens, the Avengers fucked it up so bad that half of all people on earth just disappeared for five years, Luke included. They had apparently only just now managed to fix it and bring everyone back.

Luke had nothing now. Harlem's Paradise was now being run by some cat named Gordon Fraley. His old apartment had been rented out to a new family. He was surprised to find that his bank account was still open (and five years of interest wasn't a bad feeling) but that's what he was living off of for now. He had needed a new place to stay and a new way to make some green.

By some miracle of miracles, Pop's was still open and operating. Bobby'd even managed to avoid getting blipped, as people were calling it. Luke had to start from the bottom all over again.

Over half a year after everyone came back, after Luke had managed to get settled, it was announced that there was now a reclamation process in place for getting back property that'd been lost because of the blip. It wasn't hard for Luke to prove that he had ownership of Harlem's Paradise, what was hard was scrounging up the money for lawyer fees to settle it in court. Luke had gotten his nightclub back, but the more he looked around Harlem, the less he could see other people managing the same. If you couldn't afford someone to represent you in court, there wasn't much you could do if the new owners held out. Everyone else was stuck back at the bottom.

But Luke had told himself, the best thing he could do for Harlem was get that nightclub back, put his thumb back on the borough's crime scene, he didn't really have time to focus on much else.

But he was here to help people now, so if that's all he could do, that's what he would do.

"What am I gonna do Turk? You wanna know what I'm gonna do?"

Turk just stared back, jaw kept stiff and clenched.

"I'm gonna be straight with you."

That caught Luke a head cock and a raised eyebrow.

"What I'm looking for? It's real dangerous shit. It's a way to hide your guns in plain sight. Now, if you're really in as deep of shit as you say, the last thing I think that you want is to be looking over your shoulder every hour of every day and have it not even matter. So if you wanna save your own hide, it's in your best interest to tell me what I want to know."

Turk took a deep breath as he mulled it over. Luke waited patiently, staring him down.

"Alright look," he eventually said. "I don't know nothing about no prosthetic arms that hide guns or whatever the fuck you just said. But what I do know is, after the snap there was a pretty sizable hole to fill in terms of who's moving what. There's a new guy at the top from what I hear, any weapons that come into the city worth a nickel go through him."

"How about a name?"

"Stoneface."

"That's a name?"

"It's what he goes by man, I don't know! Goddamn everybody wants in on that superhero supervillain shit nowadays, probably just thought it sounded cool."

"And where can I find 'Stoneface'?"

"Boss man likes to hang out at a club uptown, Club 1610. Your best bet would be to check there."

Luke nodded. "Thanks for the help, Turk." He turned and made his way out of the junkyard.

"Wh- Hey. Hey! Luke, ain't you gonna fix the door so I can get out?"

"Good luck with your dumpster diving, Turk," he called back without turning around.

"God- Mother- Bitch- Cage!"

---

"So, where are we off to first?" Kara asked.

"Why are you following me," Jessica said.

"Because you're taking my case," she said. "And I still have information that you need. All you gotta do is ask me for it."

Jessica huffed. She definitely wasn't going to ask. "Your dad's a creature of habit. Kilgrave has a couple of favorite spots around the city. And he's very, very used to getting what he wants. If he's back in town, he'll have visited one of them at some point. Avoiding them would involve not existing in the lap of privilege."

"Oh, smart. Cool, cool."

Jessica looked over at Kara. "Aren't you scared."

"Of what?"

"I dunno, Kilgrave tells you to slit your throat the second he sees you, or something."

Kara gave a laugh, equal parts surprise and discomfort. "Why would he do that?"

Jess looked her over. Reaction was pretty suspicious. Either Kara knew more than she was letting on, or she was an awkward teenager. It was a tough distinction to wade through, Jessica knew from experience.

"He doesn't like me much. Maybe he won't recognize you."

Another nervous laugh. "Well I'm pretty sure that won't happen."

She could be as innocent as she claimed, Jess was familiar with Kilgrave's idea of domestic bliss. He liked to keep things as 'normal' as physically possible. Made her stomach turn just thinking about it. Or she could be in denial. The more she talked to Kara the harder it was to pin down what her actual relationship was to dear old dad.

She said something about his powers being able to alter the formation of memories too. Would he hit his own daughter with something like that.

The more Jessica thought about it, the more uncomfortable she became at the fact that she had no idea.

"So you do, like, the same shit as him, right." Since she was thinking about it.

"Um, I think so. But I think it's kinda different."

"Oh okay that clears everything up."

"Dad always complained about how, like, whenever he told anyone to do anything, even if he didn't actually want them to, they'd always do it anyways."

"Yeah, I remember that."

"Well, I don't actually have that problem. I always have to, like, concentrate on someone to get them to do what I say. Trying to do more than one person at once gives me a headache."

"So you couldn't like, tell a whole room to stop talking."

Kara shook her head. "Nope."

"Just to one person."

"Three on a good day. My record is five."

"How different are your powers."

"I don't really know, I just picked up on that one bit."

So much for a secret weapon.

"Alright, we're here," Jessica said. "Just stand back and let me do the talking, okay."

"Roger." Kara gave Jess a salute.

Jess gave Kara a sneer and pushed through the glass doors.

She entered into a posh, upscale sushi place that had previously been an Asian fusion place that had previously been a classical Italian place.

"Wait, are we just getting lunch?" Kara asked while they waited for a host.

"Stop saying we," Jess said back. "Your dad hates compromise more than anything."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"This used to be his favorite restaurant. He still came here even after they got bought out and forced them to make his favorite dish regardless."

"Oh… so… what?"

"So if he's back in town he'll have stopped here again."

A well to do Japanese guy in a clean, pressed, fresh out the plastic looking white shirt approached. "Good evening ladies, table for two?"

"Actually I need to speak to the manager."

He faltered. "What for?"

"Just get them."

"Right away, sorry," and he scurried off again.

"Actually, do you think we could get some sushi while we're here?" Kara called after him.

"Sampler platter?" asked back the host.

"Oh, that sounds good."

"No," Jess said at Kara. "No," she said at the host. "Just- No sushi, just get the goddamn manager."

"Jesus." He sneered back over his shoulder as he ducked into a back room.

Jess looked down at Kara.

"What?" she asked. "I'm hungry."

A few seconds later a decidedly not Japanese guy came out from the back room, thick guy with a thick, red, curly beard and a set of thin glasses perched on top of his thick nose.

"Yes?" he asked. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, Jessica Jones, private investigator, I'm just looking for a person, they might've stopped in here in the past…" She looked back at Kara.

"Two weeks."

Jessica nodded to her.

"Uhm, well," the manager ran some thick fingers through his thick, curly hair. "I can try to help as best I can, but I don't remember, or even see every customer that eats here."

"You'd remember this guy, white, male, British, around six foot, brown hair kept short, light stubble, mid-thirties, maybe early-fourties I don't know if he was blipped, probably wearing a purple three-piece suit, maybe made a really weird order."

"Weird like, what, like hold the wasabi weird?"

"Weird like you'd know what I'm talking about if he did."

"Well, I'm sorry Ms. Jones, but I don't recall anyone of that specific description, we haven't had any Brits in here recently, have we?"

The host from earlier gave it some thought. "There was the one last week, but he was black."

Jess pulled out her notepad, scribbled her number on a page, tore it off, and handed it to the guy. "Well if you see him, give me a call."

"Is he dangerous?"

Jessica blinked. "Excuse me."

"I mean, you're Jessica Jones. Don't you usually go after – dangerous people?"

"…Nah. I'm just trying to find this kid's dad. A job is a job, you know."

"Right, of course. I'll keep an eye out."

He turned back and started heading towards his office again.

"Wait," Kara said. "That's it?"

"Yeah? Why, you expecting something more."

"I mean, you didn't needle him at all or dig up any dirt or – you just asked him a question and then he answered it!"

"That's how this works. I'm not interrogating this guy, he's got no reason to lie to me or hide information. Not unless Kilgrave's already got to him."

Kara scratched at her chin for a second.

"Hey!" she yelled. "Hold up!"

The manager stopped at the door and turned around. "Huh?"

"If you've seen him you have to tell the truth, you have to tell us right now!"

"Oh- wha- I mean, I haven't. No, I really haven't I swear."

"Okay," Jess said. "Thank you for your cooperation, I'll be in touch."

She already had Kara by the back of her shirt, dragging her out the door.

"What the hell are you doing," she growled between her teeth.

"You thought that dad told him not to say anything and he's still following that order, right?"

"It was possible, didn't say it was definitely the case."

"Well, if he was then I can give him a new command. We can override each other. It's happened before."

"That's great, unless Kilgrave set up contingencies, which he usually does. You just risked that guy's life doing that."

"Well, he didn't, so it's fine. The guy hasn't seen him, he's fine. It's fine, Jones."

"That's not the-" Jessica took a deep breath, then turned and stalked off.

"Hey, wait up!" Kara ran up after her. "So are we getting lunch or not?"

---

Matt took one last deep breath. The dealer was in apartment 4123, his window latch was unlocked, his attention was currently on his computer monitor.

Time to make an entrance.

Matt jumped, pushed himself off a dumpster, kicked off the opposite wall, off a window lip, scrambling up an extra few feet before he latched onto the windowsill of the dealer's apartment on the fourth floor.

Carefully and quietly he pulled himself up to a crouch and slid the window open as quietly as he could. He pulled out both his clubs, gave it a moment to recheck his calculations, then tossed them both forward one after the other. They hit the front door of the apartment, in rhythm, thu-thunk, then bounced back to Matt's hands just as quickly.

The dealer looked up from his computer, pulled his headphones off, and went to the door. Matt slipped into the apartment and closed the window behind him. While he opened the door and looked outside, checking down both lengths of hallway outside to try and see who'd knocked, Matt began flicking the lights off. He didn't notice the first from the bedroom. He did when the kitchen light went out though. He spun and Matt made sure to stay behind his line of sight, maneuvering around the apartment to turn off the last light off. How dark it actually was, Matt wasn't sure, it was still daytime after all.

That was alright though, Matt wanted the guy to see him.

The dealer had been successfully spooked, he reached for a small cabinet against the wall to his side and pulled a pistol.

"Whoever you are, I ain't playing around here."

Matt knocked on the wall next to him. The dealer spun around, saw Matt, and fired. Matt heard every single twitch, the quiet scrape of metal on metal of the trigger being pulled, and the exact moment it retracted fully. He took that moment to lean out of the way, and only heard after the fact when the bullet whizzed past his ear.

The dealer swallowed, then tossed the gun to the side and threw his hands up.

"Hey, man, I haven't done anything – nothing illegal I swear."

"You just shot at me."

"Self-defense, you're a home intruder."

"You sell drugs."

"Come on man I just need the money to help get me through school."

Matt heard a half dozen other residents in apartments surrounding this one, all panicking from the sounds of gunfire. Many were already calling the police. Exact addresses, approximations of apartment numbers, a few got it right, confirmation that vehicles were on their way.

"You're lying to me. Let's establish now, I don't like when you do that."

"Come on man, what do you want from me?"

"We've only got a few minutes to ourselves before the cops turn this place over. They'll take care of your peddling practice, I just want information."

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit! What the fuck did you do?"

Matt knew he was about to go for the gun again before he did, and quietly kicked it towards a corner.

He pulled the steel serpent packet from his pocket. "I want to know where you got this."

"I don't know anything about that." Lie.

"Wrong answer. Give another one and I start breaking fingers."

"Fine, fine! I don't know man, I got the normal set from my supplier and a couple of the packets had the weird snake on them, I don't know anything about them, I thought it was just a weird tracking method." Lie.

"What about this situation makes you think I have the patience to deal with this." Sirens were approaching, a few blocks down now. Matt stepped forward and snatched up his wrist.

"Please man come on, I'm not- I'm not supposed to tell man!" Truth.

Matt gripped the man's pinky finger, tight. "A man almost died this morning because of this drug. How liable do you want to be held for what's about to happen?"

"Wh- Who, what?" Truth.

"You're out of time. Tell me now or I'm leaving with this hand."

"Okay. Okay! I was going to pick up my supply in Harlem and this guy, this guy came up to me-"

"What guy? Details."

"I- I- I dunno dude, kinda old, cheap suit, dorky fucking bowl cut, I didn't get a name or anything, he just- he knew who I was and he offered me some fancy drug that'd been off the market for a while." Truth. "Said I could sell them for twice the price. I got them for real cheap, cheaper than the regular stuff, so I didn't think much- but he said he'd stop selling them to me if I ever told anyone and I-"

"Where?"

"Out front of some shitty apartments, Brook- Oak- Oakridge, Oakridge Apartments." Truth. Bingo.

Heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Out of time. Matt let go of the dealer's hand and shoved him backwards where he stumbled into an armchair.

"Word of advice, start looking for a new job. Either that or start locking your window."

With that he strode across the apartment, opened the window back up, and slipped out just as the first cop kicked the door down, gun at the ready. "NYPD, freeze!" they yelled.

Rather than scale back down, Matt climbed up, jumping from the apartment building to the building next to it until he reached the roof. The police had already begun asking the dealer questions, the dealer was talking about how Daredevil broke into his apartment, but Matt could smell the sweat from here as the cops began searching the place.

Harlem huh? Matt hated to butt in on Luke's territory like that, but a lead was a lead, and Luke was probably busy enough on his own.

---

Richardson Tower wasn't the fanciest building in New York by any metric, but it certainly wasn't unimpressive. The tiles were clean, the lobby had a receptionist in a nice suit, there were more than 5 floors, parking garage to the side. It was pretty nice. Colleen might've looked out of place in jeans and a hoodie and a sword.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

Colleen had really hoped he should could get in and out without having to go through anyone, but eye contact had been made. If she tried to barge past now, she'd probably only get security called on her.

"Hi, I'm here to discuss business matters with the people in 502."

"Business matters…" he looked over Colleen with suspicion. She was already forcing herself to be ready to leave instead of fight if things went south. "Name and exact business?"

"Colleen Wing, I'm here to discuss the purchase of the Martin University."

"You're here to discuss real estate purchases… with a design studio."

Colleen hesitated for a second, and she could tell that second was all that the receptionist needed. "That's just the address that I got. I wasn't really going to question it till I got in the room, you know?" That 'you know' was also completely suspicious.

The receptionist gave a deep sigh. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to l-"

"I work with Rand."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm an employee of Rand Enterprises." Colleen fished out the employee ID that Danny gave her and slapped it down on the table. "In fact, I'm a secretary to Mr. Rand himself, so if this deal falls through it's gonna be very bad for a lot of people. Including you."

"Including me?" he seemed incredulous.

This was definitely gamble territory. Colleen was definitely going too far too deep and all by herself. She should call up Danny, hearing it from him would seal this and she knew he'd play along.

"Yeah, you too. You know how much private schools make in this economy? You want to be responsible for sinking a deal with that much money riding on the line? Cause I'll make sure they know the name of the guy who stopped this Mr." her eyes darted down to check his name tag, "Bigelow."

"You can't be serious."

"Dead serious."

Mr. Bigelow huffed, stared Colleen down for a second, grabbed her ID and looked it over as closely as he could, all while Colleen stood there with arms folded. Then eventually, with a sigh, he handed the ID back.

"Leave the weapon, if you wouldn't mind."

Colleen fiddled with the strap of her katana's sheath, but quickly relented, slung it off her shoulders, and handed it off. The receptionist clearly wasn't entirely sure how to hold or handle it, and awkwardly leaned it up against his desk.

"If I catch a hint of any commotion, I'm calling security."

"Perfectly reasonable." Colleen nodded him off and moved towards the elevators. She could hear him continue to groan and grumble as she went.

Into the elevator and up five floors, Colleen exited to a basic carpeting and basic white walls. There was a big set of double doors to her immediate right with a buzzer with a speaker. But that was suite 500. 502 was a smaller single door that wasn't even locked, letting Colleen barge right in. The 'office' was just a meeting room with a long table and a whiteboard, connected to about three total individual offices.

Well, that made this next part pretty easy.

She started banging on office doors. "Staff meeting! Staff meeting. Get out here, staff meeting."

Three confused heads poked their way out from three different offices. A blond white guy, a blond white guy with longer hair, and a blond white guy with piercings.

Colleen frowned. "You brothers or something?"

"Wh-" long hair started. "Who are you?"

'Right," Colleen huffed. "Okay so this is how it's gonna work, I'm the crazy lady who broke into your office, it wasn't hard you guys don't even have a lock. I'm gonna ask some questions, when I get an answer I don't like, I break something. That table looks expensive, important, you wanna start with that?"

The three of them looked at each other.

"What?" asked piercings.

"I said I'm going to break your table!" That made the three of them jump. "First question, who here knows anything about Martin University?"

Quiet, confused stares all around.

Colleen lifted one leg and placed the heel of her shoe against the table's lip. "Going once."

"Hang on, hang on," default started. "W- We're all from the Art Institute."

"Yeah," long hair said. "Martin U, what is that, like, competing art school?"

Colleen lifted her leg up, ever so slightly. "If I find out any of you are lying I'm gonna break something a lot worse than this."

"I swear," said default. "You can check the financial records. I'll have the student loans to prove it for the next 20 years."

The cover story was all wrong if it was a lie. If any of these guys wanted to hide their interest in the site, they'd deny even knowing it, or talk about having heard it. But they seemed to think Colleen was asking because of their prospective attendance, it was too specifically wrong.

"Good answer, next question." Colleen raised her leg just a little bit higher. "What about the Hand?"

"Hand?" asked piercings. "Like, hand hand?" He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers to demonstrate.

Colleen didn't respond.

"Didn't you do an internship at a place, Hand something?" asked default.

"No, no," long haired said back. "That was Hands On, it was just a workshop though."

"Like, hand is such a vague title for anything," piercings said to Colleen. "You expect us to get anywhere just giving us that?"

Colleen's leg was pointed straight up. "Are you questioning me?"

"No! Not at all, miss, uhm-"

"I don't think we can help you on that though," default said. "Really really sorry." He winced back, waiting to see what Colleen would do with one eye open.

Colleen gently let her leg fall back down. Away from the table. Softly onto the carpet. "Fine. I'll believe you. For now. But if I find out you were hiding anything from me, I'll be back. And even if you get a lock, it's not gonna stop me. We clear?"

"Y- Yeah! Yes ma'am!"

"Good." She turned and walked out of the office as cool as she could.

She was kicking herself in her mind though. That was a bust. Absolutely nothing gained. Whoever had called must've been using some random business as a cloak. But to what end, what was the goal?

In either case, Colleen probably didn't have much time before security came at her. She peered down both lengths of the hallway, ready to make her way back to the elevator.

But something caught her eye.

To her left was a window that overlooked the city. It was a decent view actually, a wide view of Central Park. But before that, there was a tiny little scrap of paper taped to the window.

That caught Colleen's interest. She walked over and gently pulled it off. It was thin, with a crease through the middle, and an arrow drawn in red ink. Closing it along the crease showed, printed on the outside, the insignia of the Steel Serpent, a red dragon without any wings.

She opened it back up, wondering what it meant.

She then realized what it meant. Colleen scrambled down to try and line it back up with the mark left by the tape. Tried to put it back where it had been.

If she looked at it dead on, the arrow pointed toward an older building up in Harlem. Or maybe… it was the one next to it?

Actually, close by where the arrow looked to be pointing, there was a weird shape on one of the rooftops. Unless someone was hosting some kind of light show up there-

From down the hallway she heard the ding of an elevator and heavy footsteps. That would be security. Better take the stairs down. She'd pass by reception and snatch her sword up as she left.

---

It was only just past 5 now, and already Club 1610 was already getting busy. It looked like people had come here minutes after getting off of work for the day. The DJ wasn't even set up yet, it was just a generic club track being looped by itself. Not that anyone on the floor seemed to mind.

Luke Cage didn't have trouble getting in. Maybe the bouncer recognized him, or maybe he just had a good face for the club scene.

He had a bit more trouble getting past the bouncer guarding VIP, he actually had to push that guy to the side and walk past him. A ruckus was being made. Things might go south because of that. But that was definitely an issue to deal with later.

Luke walked up to the only party currently in VIP. Three guys, five girls, the girls were all way out of the guys' leagues, and only one of the guys looked like he knew how to handle that.

He looked to be the one in charge. He had the spread out, confident stance usually reserved for the guy calling the shots, while the other two guys lounged like every day civilians. Three of the girls at the table were focusing their attention almost solely on him. And considering how the night hadn't even really begun yet, the number of empty glasses in front of him was a little shocking.

Purple suit jacket with a thin gold chain poking out one of the pockets, its twin draped loosely around his neck. Matching purple slacks, freshly pressed from the looks of things. A light pink turtleneck worn underneath. His hair was lengthy and straightened, coming to just above his shoulders, and his beard was bushy, popping out from and covering the lower half of his face.

He took notice of Luke as he approached.

"Luke motherfucking Cage."

"I assume that you're Stoneface."

He turned to the closest of his arm candy. His voice dripped with slime and barely masked sarcasm. "Look at that, I'm famous." Back to Luke. "Pull up a seat, it's an honor to hold a meeting with Harlem's Captain America. Now what can I do for you, sir?" He gave a mock salute and then started laughing.

"Just Luke is fine." Luke pulled up a chair, directly across from him. "Word I'm hearing is, if I need to get my hands on some gear, you're the guy to go through."

"The word that you heard is correct, though I think you wouldn't need to listen very closely to hear that. Notoriety and a low profile are exact opposites after all."

The two guys at his side chuckled.

"I've heard of something special coming in recently. It's piqued my curiosity."

"Motherfucker, everything I sell is special. You'll have to be more specific."

"I'm not out of the game just yet. If what I'm looking for is something you don't have, I think that makes us competitors, doesn't it? I'll keep my cards held close to my chest if you don't mind."

"And how much of a stink are you willing to raise over this." Stoneface looked over Luke's shoulder. He turned back to see security and backup climbing the stairs.

Luke stared Stoneface dead in the eyes. "Never more than what's necessary."

Stoneface gave a quick laugh to that. "I like that answer. That's a good answer." He waved security off. They took a second to make sure he was serious. And he sure as hell was. They went right back down.

"We're talking recent, past week or two. Easy camouflage with high grade results. And a commitment to using one over the more standard available options."

"And what's a bonafide superhero need that kind of heat for? Ain't you blow motherfuckers away by punching them?"

"I'm not a superhero. I'm just a guy trying to make Harlem what I think it should be. And I need equipment for that."

"I don't believe that for a second Luke."

"Doesn't matter what you believe. If you still don't know what I'm talking about, then it's clear that I'm wasting my time here." Luke made to stand.

"You must think I'm fucking stupid."

That gave him pause.

"You can call yourself whatever the fuck you like, but when Luke Cage rolls up on your operation, asking about some new illicit product, you know for damn sure he don't want it for himself. You're trying to shut me down. Whatever it is you're looking for, you don't like other people having it."

Luke glared daggers at Stoneface, but he didn't exactly have a retort.

"I ain't spilling. Maybe I know what you're talking about, maybe I don't. But if you wanna fuck with my revenue stream, you're gonna have to do a lot better than asking me politely. So make something of it, or get the fuck out my club."

Luke stood suddenly. Both of Stoneface's lackeys' hands shot to their belts. Luke didn't move though. He didn't know what the move to make was. He could feel his hands balling at his side, but he wasn't ready to throw them. Not yet.

"Fine," he said. "But don't come crawling back when I regain my seat."

With that, he turned and left VIP. Stoneface called after him as he went down the stairs.

"And you are a superhero, Cage! Know how I know? I read your Wikipedia page! Your name's as fake as mine!" Laughter. Clinking glasses. Shitty club music.

Whatever. Luke pushed past the bouncer a second time, a few of the people on the floor too. He just wanted to get out of this damn club as fast as possible.

---

Jessica Jones had asked around Kilgrave's favorite restaurant, his favorite hotel, his favorite suit shop, his favorite coffee place, his favorite theater, and not a single person recognized the description of a British asshat in a purple suit. So she took a break to grab some food.

Jess got a sub from the first deli she could find, turkey with swiss. It was kind of bad. Kara asked politely for a free ham and salami with pepper jack and got exactly that. The two of them sat on a park bench, eating their sandwiches.

"So," Kara asked. "Where to next?"

"What do you mean where to next."

"I mean, where are we going to ask about a lead next?"

"We've checked every place Kilgrave ever expressed any amount of interest in and no one's seen shit, how is that not enough for you."

"Well, there's one important lead that you definitely haven't followed up on."

Jess looked at her.

Kara just looked back expectantly.

Jessica sighed. Anything to get this over with, she supposed. "So you said that Kilgrave contacted you, what did he say."

"Well he didn't actually say anything to me specifically." She dug through her pockets. "He had someone give me this."

She unfolded it. It was a handwritten note.

'kara kilgrave, I write to you in my limits. Because

I still have not recovered from my near death experience,

I cannot make the journey back to you and your mother.

But I need your help. Come find me in Manhattan. Roof.

If we combine our abilities, I know we can make a world

accepting of people like you and I. Your father.'

And at the bottom, there were a series of scratches.

'| ˥ | VV | | /'

"You folded it wrong," Jessica said.

"What's that mean?"

"This is a really basic kind of puzzle, like something out of coloring book or something." Her hands were already moving the paper, making new creases in it. "The opening is so stilted, and doesn't capitalize your name, so that it has the right number of letters sticking up."

"What are you talking about?"

Jessica manage to wrangle the paper so that the top half of the first line overlapped with the weird scratches at the bottom (and also dropped a diced onion on it, leaving a gross stain on one corner). When lined up correctly, the words made '141 W 119'.

"141 West 119th."

"Oh, I never thought of that."

"So that settles it."

"You mean…" Her face lit up.

"Yep, your dad's dead."

Her face fell. "That's not- What?"

"Look, Kilgrave doesn't leave stupid riddles like this, he doesn't make big plans about impacting the world, and he probably doesn't care enough to even try and make the trip back to you."

"Y- You don't know that for sure."

"Whoever sent you this is setting you up, probably setting me up too."

Jessica shoved the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and stood up.

"Where are we going now?"

"You gave me my lead, I'm following it. I want to know who's pulling my dick on this."

141 W 119th Street was an apartment building on the south side of Harlem. A really old, really battered, really ratty, really gross apartment building. A building that made Jessica's place look like the goddamn Ritz.

The front door and ground level windows were all boarded up, the name plaque had been taken off, probably a while ago by the look of the outline. Deductive powers led Jessica to believe that this meant the place was abandoned.

On the roof, when Jessica peered up and shielded her eyes from the sun, was a giant, purple, semi-transparent decahedron looking thing.

"Yep, this is the place," she said.

"But how are we gonna get in?"

Jessica walked up, grabbed one of the boards from the front door, and snapped it off with a tug.

"Oh."

Within the minute, she had the entrance cleared and was pushing inside. The doors creaked loudly as she stepped into the dark, dingy, cobweb infested foyer. Like something out of a bad scary movie. She paused for just a second to make sure she wasn't about to step in something, and that one second was enough time for Kara to crash into her back and send them both tumbling in.

Jessica grunted from underneath the teenage girl's weight.

"Sorry," Kara muttered before getting up.

Jessica probably would've stood back up and cursed her out some more, but the floor interested her actually.

Calling it clean would be a hard sell, she would probably need to run this jacket through the wash when she got home, but it wasn't a carpet of dust like it really should've been.

She got up and wandered around the foyer. The handrails on the stairs, the mailbox, the front desk, they were covered in dust so thick she could make a snow angel on it. The entirety of the floor though, nothing.

"Well, you coming or not?" Kara asked from above. Jessica looked up to see her standing at the top of the stairs, leaning over the banister to look down at her.

"I'm not going up there."

"What? But the thing's on the roof."

Jessica shook her head. "That's the bait."

"What does that even mean?"

"The floor down here's been swept up recently. Someone's trying to hide their tracks. Whatever trap I just walked into, it's going to be down here, not up there."

Kara blinked. "Did- Did you see that thing? There's no goddamn way that's just bait, that has to be something."

Jessica largely ignored her and started exploring the foyer a bit more. First place she checked was behind the front desk, searching through drawers, lifting the whole desk to look under it, nothing. It was cleared out. She ducked her head into a broom closet, then immediately ducked right back out, coughing a lung up at the rank smell of some ancient cleaning supplies that somehow didn't get cleared out. Probably wasn't anything in there right? What human being could survive it?

The next door she tried, however, was locked. That piqued her curiosity. She twisted the knob a little harder and shattered the mechanism, and the door swung open.

In front of her was a set of concrete stairs leading down. Must be a basement or maybe the boiler room. No windows down there, not even the boarded up kind that still let light in through the cracks. It was pitch fucking dark.

Jessica took out her phone and turned on the flashlight before heading down.

"Jones? Jones!" Kara scampered down the stairs to catch up with her. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Just give me a little extra light."

Kara fumbled in the dark behind her before a new beam of light shot down the stairs. Hers swung wildly, trying to cover every inch of the stairwell by itself. Every time it swung to a corner and spotted a spider web or something, there was a quiet gasp or groan or eep.

At the bottom of the stairs was a second door. Testing it at first, this one wasn't locked, though when she opened it, it also didn't creak like the front door had.

"Seriously Jones, I don't want to be here."

"Then leave."

In here was a single, large room with no other exits. Looked like half the room was used for storage space with a couple rusting filing cabinets and the faint outline of where some crates used to be, while the other half was dedicated to a series of piping, all leading to a large tank with a control box to the side. Support beams sectioned out the room in rigid rows.

And despite her protests, Kara's beam still swung around the room, checking the ceiling for monsters or whatever.

Jessica looked over the boiler. It was old and rusting and worn down, but it didn't look off in any way except for being a really shit boiler.

Back on the other side of the room, she checked all the drawers of the filing cabinets, some of them she nearly had to break to get open, but they were all empty.

Light switch? Jessica tried in vain to flip it on and off, hoping it would do anything, but this place probably hadn't had power in years.

There was a loud crash behind her. Jessica swung around.

Kara shielded her eyes as the flashlight was suddenly in her face. She stood next to the power breaker, the door to which was no longer on the control box, but was now rattling to a stop on the ground next to her.

"I just touched it. I don't- can you please stop shining that in my face?"

Jessica let the beam of light fall to the floor. Kara more or less disappeared into the darkness, but her own beam of light still gave away her position.

Jess swung her light around to continue looking, and something caught her eye. At the base of one of the pillars was a black blob that wasn't quite right as a shadow. Putting her flashlight on it helped her make out the shape a little more, a black fabric bag wrapped around the base.

She moved her flashlight to check the bases of the other pillars around the room, and they all had similar packages on them. There was one under the boiler, and even looking up she could see them at the top of the pillars too.

Jessica approached the nearest one and knelt down to look at it closer. It was one pouch, closed by velcro, over a square shape. She ripped open the top and pulled out what was inside.

A brick-shaped device, sleek black plastic, with one blinking red light above a green bulb that was off, a series of wires coming out the side, and a very professional logo on the front.

'HAMMER/ADVANCED/WEAPON SYSTEMS'.

"Oh shit." Jessica put the brick back in the bag and stood back up. "Oh shit."

"What's going on?" It was Kara's turn to shine her flashlight directly into Jessica's face.

Jessica didn't waste time saying anything, she ran forward and clumsily grabbed Kara around the midsection, hauling her up and towards the stairs. She made it halfway up before she was even able to feel Kara struggle against her grip.

"Jones. Jones!"

She'd made it to the foyer and was halfway to the door.

"Jones, stop!"

Jessica dug her heels in and skid against the wood floor. She slammed to a halt as quickly as she could.

"Put me down."

She complied without a second thought.

Kara looked up at her, brows furrowed and breathing heavily.

"You weren't- You-" She rubbed her face and chewed on her glossy lip. Ran her fingers through her curly hair. Then finally pointed to Jessica. "Don't move."

Jessica's muscles locked in place. Whatever was down there in the basement, it suddenly became infinitely less important than making sure not a single one of her muscles so much as twitched. She stood there, still as she could force herself to be, still as a goddamn marble statue, as Kara turned and ran out the front door, leaving her alone.

---

Oakridge Apartments was closed. It had been shut down at some point during the blip, probably when people moved into nicer apartments that were suddenly vacated. It still wasn't hard to find the building that had once been that.

With a leap, a flip, and a roll, Matt Murdock landed on the roof. Two things of immediate note. One being the big 18-sided glass case situated in the dead center. The other was that someone was approaching, also jumping between rooftops. From this distance, it was hard to tell, but given the sword strapped to her back, he figured it was probably Colleen.

Matt shifted his focus down into the building, trying to get the layout and pick out anyone still hanging around. There was a lot of static though, the amount of dust in the air made it hard to feel around. He could tell where the rooms were, but everything in them was a blurry, lumpy mess. Still, no movement to speak of, it felt pretty empty.

Colleen vaulted over the lip of the neighboring building's roof and landed with the crunch of gravel. She paused when she actually noticed Matt.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said as he turned to face her.

"Not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, that we both ended up at the same place."

"Building's empty. If the Hand is here, they're deep underground."

"Or it's just a drop point."

Matt nodded. "Yeah. That's likely."

"But then what the hell is this thing?"

"That's the question isn't it?"

Matt approached the odd structure. With one knuckle, he rapped lightly against the glass. What had been a nearly opaque space within suddenly lit up for him as the sound bounced around the tight, enclosed space. The inside was mostly empty, but with dozens of cables and wires coiling around the base, plugged into ports along the ridges of the shape.

"Looks complicated, whatever it is."

Matt frowned. Something was off. "No… No, these wires don't lead anywhere. There's no current running through it."

"So… what does that mean?"

"Could be unfinished. Maybe a prototype. Or it's…"

Matt's ear twitched. Something in the basement just went beep.

"Decoy."

"What?"

"The building's about to explode."

"What?"

Something else caught Matt's ear. It was hard to hear through the thick layers of dust and beneath the sounds of the city around him, but in the foyer, he thought he could hear someone's heartbeat speed up.

"There's someone down there."

He moved for the door, Colleen shifted to stop him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Matt you literally just said the building was about to explode."

He put a hand on her shoulder to push her away, she shoved it off her, then used it to yank him in close for a flat palm to the sternum.

He coughed. "I have to do something."

"I'm not letting you end up buried under a building a second time."

Colleen threw out another palm to Matt's face, he batted her arm to the side and followed through with an elbow, she blocked the strike with her hand and countered with a straight punch, he grabbed her by the wrist, twisted, turned, and yanked the arm over his shoulder, she dug her heel into the back of his knee, he lashed out with an elbow back, she ducked it and kicked towards his face, he let go of her arm to grab her leg and pushed her back, she fell back with a handspring and landed on her feet with her sword drawn, he had his batons out by the time she landed, and-

The entire building shook. Both of them were thrown off balance.

Matt could hear that he was out of time.

---

Talking to Stoneface had been a bust, and just like that, Luke Cage was out of leads. It was getting late, and there wasn't much he could do now. But he didn't want to just quit and go home either. So Luke did neither. He started walking home but it was more meandering than anything. He was wandering around, letting himself get lost, thinking over anything that could help him and coming up with nothing.

He crossed over into Harlem, let the familiar sights and vibes comfort him. It was the little details that made it feel like home. The way the sign for Sam's Italian hung just a little bit too far to the right. The initials carved into the bricks on the corner of Sutherland and Jackson Law Offices, he still had no idea who they could belong to. The old, worn down planks, marked by more than a few taggers, of the boarded up Oakridge Apartments.

Wait. Luke looked back.

Someone had pulled the boards off Oakridge's front doors. They hadn't been subtle about it either.

Luke looked around, saw a lot of people going about their day, and curiosity got the better of him.

"Hello," he called out as he pushed the doors open.

He thought maybe they'd still be on the ground floor, he wasn't expecting her to be staring right back at him though.

Luke's brow furrowed. "Jessica?"

She stood there, muscles tensed, still as a statue, but staring a hole through his skull with an intense look.

"Help," she breathed.

"W-"

The entire building suddenly shook beneath his feet. He glanced around, trying to figure out what was going on. A heavy rumbling came from underneath him, in the basement.

With a click and a roar, the cracking of wooden boards being violently snapped, a massive fireball blew up from beneath the floor. It was quickly followed by a second, identical explosion.

The building was shaking even harder now. Chunks of the ceiling began to break off and fall, breaking up the floorboards even harder.

Through it all, Jessica Jones didn't move a muscle.

Luke was lost and confused, he didn't know what he'd stumbled on or why any of it was happening. But working off of pure adrenaline as he was, he did what his first instinct usually was in situations like these. He ran forward and tackled Jessica to the ground, covering her body with his. A plank of wood fell and smashed against the back of his head. A chunk of stone fell and slammed between his shoulder blades. A support beam toppled and pinned him down by the small of his back.

The building quickly collapsed down on top of them.

---

Curtis Elkins was a prison guard. He worked at the mid-level prison for violent felons who didn't require maximum level security, Conway Penitentiary. It wasn't a safe job. It wasn't a fun job. It payed well, probably for the above reasons. Sometimes Curtis thought about branching out, doing something else, something a little safer, but usually he failed to find anyone else who wanted him. So he kept doing what he was doing.

This was one of those times where he really wanted to be doing anything else.

The job, on paper, was simple. Routine even. A bus full of new prisoners was coming in, he would escort them from the bus to processing. Not even all the way to their cells. Curtis had done this hundreds of times before and he'd do it innumerable times in the future.

But this time was different. He'd somehow ended up with a freak to keep track of.

The rumor was it was three freaks, but Curtis had done his research. Two of them just had special weapons, like Iron Man, without those they were powerless, in fact less than powerless. One of them was a junkie, the other was a guy with no arms. Less dangerous than the average inmate here.

But the third guy, the third guy was a freak.

There was supposed to be some special superprison for these guys, Curtis had read about it in the news, but apparently this one just wasn't bad enough to wind up there. So he was here, at Conway, under Curtis' watch, at least until he went through processing.

The bus pulled up. Curtis took a deep breath.

His orders this time were special. While watching the prisoners, he had to make sure that the freak did nothing with his hands. Nothing at all. Even so much as wave a finger, and Curtis was supposed to take him down. He was already getting ready. He didn't want to fight one of those freaks, but if you shot one they would go down like any other person. Right? Probably. But maybe not. The big green guy ate bullets, Iron Man was bulletproof, Cap had his shield, all the freaks always had a way around guns.

The bus parked, the door on its side open, and a steady stream of orange jumpsuits and handcuffs began trudging out, escorted by more of Curtis' coworkers.

All of them were normal looking. Curtis would know the freak when he saw him. There passed the junkie. There passed the guy with no arms. And then at the very end, there was the freak. Chalk white skin with a big, black circle in the center of his face. Curtis watched his hands. They were as white as his face, and had their own little black spots. But they didn't move, Curtis made sure of that. As the line marched forward, Curtis followed at the end, his eyes glued to the freak's hands. One twitch, all it would take was one twitch.

Curtis wasn't sure whether he wanted or dreaded the excuse, he just wanted whatever would get this freak out of his hands as soon as possible.