Author's Note: The person that is known as the author would like to be called, The Master OP. It means nothing but at the same time. Implies that I am a supervillain. In less random nonsense, I would like to thank everyone for the help with their criticism of the logo. It is always great to have input.
It was some time in the day and Jim was following his superior Wesley. They were walking to some sort of meeting, It was his job to watch his back and ensure that nothing happened to him, it was very important to Mr. Fisk that his second was safe from any threat. There were no excuses.
The man waved at him, wanting to speak to speak to Jim. There had been numerous talks between the two since he started, most of the time was just asking after the family, sometimes it was about whatever was on the news that day. Then there a short list of time that dived into topics that left the father feeling a bit uncomfortable.
"Mr. O'Reilly," Wesley polished his glasses. "I was wondering something about your time with the Irish"
"What is that sir?"
"Would it be possible to for you to find out where the Irish are getting their new guns?"
"It would be dangerous," The bodyguard told him, scratching his chin in thought. "I would have to talk to right people, get them while they're alone," Jim didn't really like the idea though, his former group weren't the type to take that kind of thing lying down if they were to find out about it. "What the boss want with that know how?"
"It's quite simple, Mr. Fisk wants to make this city a better place," Wesley started to wave his hand, as that would make his statements grander. "To do that we need to get these weapons off the street and attention off the area"
"And you want me to be the one to do that?" Jim did not like where this conversation was heading. He didn't want to go against his old employers. Not for moral reasons but for not wanting to poke at the snake nest that the Irish Mafia represented. "I think that's a bit too dangerous for a nobody like me Mr. Wesley"
"Oh no," His superior let out a surprised gasp. "We would never put you such a directly dangerous position, we just would like you to get us some names, we'll deal with the rest"
It wasn't a bad deal there, as long as he kept his name from going out that he was the one supplying names, then he would be pretty safe from them retaliation from them. There was already a few names that were popping into his head, Mickey O'Hare would know about them. He at least had his fingers currently in that kind of work, that was how Jim got his old shotgun that the masked freak had crushed.
"I could do that sir, it would take some care and I would need to keep my head down for a bit after the supply was hit but it is very doable"
"Good," The glasses wearing man wiped his glasses on some fine cloth. "I know that you'll be proud of the bonus that you'll receive from this," They resumed their walk to through the building. "How about we send you home early so that you start that work early in the morning, we can have someone else fill your usual role Mr. O'Reilly in the meantime"
There was a smoothness to Wesley, it allowed him to be both threatening and charming at the same time. This was a quality that attracted him to the employ of Wilson Fisk. It allowed him to get results that others couldn't, to threaten people while leaving onlookers completely unaware of the context that conversation really had. That was what terrified Jim the most.
With the end of the talks that meant Jim could leave and head home. His family had moved out of the small apartment they had lived in while he was in his previous job to a more luscious suite that Fisk owned under a different name. It was a speciously high rise for a man of Jim's position but apparently, the boss thought of him as a long-term investment.
Jim walked through the doorway of the apartment, his wife sat there in a chair seemingly waiting for him, her clothes were of a fine designer quality but had ceases on them that belayed her inexperience with that wearing these kinds of clothes.
"Jim," She exclaimed, her voice jumping up. "You didn't tell me that you'd be coming home so early," There was a question on her lips, a worry that he had screwed up or something bad had happened.
"It was just a slow day Regina, so they let me go home early," Jim looked around the shiny, clean room, still finding the place a shocking contrast from his previous homestead. "Where's Louise?" He asked after his daughter who according to him had the name of an angel.
"Where else, she's in her room playing her Xbox or something," Was the rather nonchalant reply she had.
Jim strode his way towards said room, there was a weakness to his walk that wasn't there before now, a shake in his right leg that caused him to stumble every fourth step. An injury that had still not healed.
"Angel, you not to busy to see your old man," He knocked on her closed door, rattling the door with the force of small mouse.
"Dad," She yelled through the door. "Just come in," There was an exasperation to her voice, as her father was always delaying his actions through meandering sentences.
With that, he entered his little girl's room. There was a series of posters on the wall, there were multiple manga posters, with franchises that he didn't recognize but some that he did. Like DragonBall and One Piece. She also had an array of consoles lined up against a wall, each tucked into square shelves. It went from a PS2 to an Xbox One X. Her room walls were a mostly warm green color with some lighter colors from her own things filling the room. The posters on them caused a certain amount of annoyance from her mother's OCD with such things. Louise herself sat on her bed, that had a blue and white scheme that clashed with the walls.
She was an older teen, she looked at least 16 and at most coming to 17. She was wearing a heavy jumper with the words in massive font 'DO NOT READ THE NEXT SENTENCE' and in that next sentence in smaller font 'You Little Rebel, I like you'. Her hair was a blood red and her eyes were light brown. She was somehow taller than her father at nearly 6-foot 7-inches, Louise towered over her father as if the nearly 6-foot man was just a taller child. Most have been a recessive gene.
"Your home early Dad?" Louise questioned her father with an innocent curiosity. "Slow day at work."
"Something like that," He sighed, sitting down on an office chair that Louise had brought earlier to sit on while streaming video games. "I just wanted to see how you were handling the move"
"As well as I was the last four times you asked me." She told him, there was a fond version of her earlier exasperation.
"I know, I just want to make sure that you know that if you have any problems you can come to me or your mother, after all, you're our number-"
"One priority," Louise interrupted him, a smile on her lips. "Honestly Dad, sometimes you smother me"
Jim smiled at her, soft in demeanor but with a sad edge to it. He stood up from the chair with a groan showcasing his aches to daughter accidentally as his face grimaced, Jim shuffled himself to the door when her voice called out to him at the doorway.
"You didn't notice?" He turned to look at her. "The newest frame on the wall"
Jim looked at through all the frames on the wall once more. Through the Dragon Ball poster and past the One Piece was a single new paper article titled, "Hero, Father of One". It was that article about him from the New York Bulletin by that Doyle fellow. The largest smile came to the father's face, it was as large as a good banana and glowed just as bright.
"I just to keep that up to remind me"
"About what?" Was her old man's teary reply as she walked up to him. Towering over she gave a large eclipsing hug, which basically engulfed him her rather tall arms.
"That my Dad's a legit hero, I'm so proud of you Dad"a
I was back in the warehouse, the final few days was upon it now and I wanted to get the last few days training that I could get out of the place. I stood there with a lighter and a pile of torn clothes that I had fished out a garbage pile recently. Then I let them on fire.
The warehouse's fire alarm had been taken out of commision at some point, so I brought a fire extinguisher with me in case I couldn't blow out the fire. This was the scene that Ben had walked in on. Me attempting to blow out the raging flames of the massive amount of clothes as if they were candles on a birthday cake.
For the first blow, nothing happened. The flames stayed where they were, unmoving and uncaring to the breath coming out of my lips. Like I had a cheap fan from a dollar store. For the next for blows of breath from my lips caused increasingly better results. I repeated the motion again, and again until I was out of breath. I dug in deeply and then tried for another go.
The flames started to wobble in that manner that usually meant that the person should blow harder. I took a deeper breath this time, I could feel that this one was how to do this, that I would finally unlock the power to freeze things by breathing really hard on them.
Then I loud bang as the door was open, I was left there staring as Ben ran over the warehouse floor with a fury that would send the criminals that I faced out of the building screaming.
"What the hell are you doing!" He yelled out at me, grabbing the extinguisher off the floor and taking out the flames with a quickness that showcased why he got to some of his stories first. "This place could have gone up Pat!"
"Nah," I told, confident in my ability to handle the fire that I caused. "If I could blow the flames out with freeze breath I had the extinguisher within my range to deal it if got too big for comfort"
"Any fire is too big for my comfort," Ben visibly shifted his tie, displaying a certain amount of stress he was currently feeling. Not that I could blame him, some lunatic was starting fires around him. "Look, I just wanted to talk to you about something important"
"Of course, you can tell me anything Ben"
"Good," He sighed the grey in his bread showing his age more than I had noticed in these past few months. "Mitchell has offered me something of a promotion"
"That's great, but I am sensing there must be a problem otherwise we'd be out having drinks celebrating"
"Right, it would mean working over people doing soft pieces, which is a respectful job but-"
"It's not what you're in for"
"Right, but with Doris's rising medical bills I need this job or she gets kicked out of the hospital"
I understood his problem, he would, of course, take this job that wasn't the issue. His wife's life is more important than making sure his work life feels fulfilling but at the same time to Ben, this would feel like he would stop making that important difference. Stop taking down scumbags and helping people couldn't speak out the crimes committed against them, he would at least feel like he was failing people by doing this.
"That's tough," I told him, walking up to him and placing an arm on his shoulder. I knew from previous attempts that Ben wouldn't expect any help from me in terms of money and I didn't have enough experience to give him any advice.
"So I need you to take over this story for me, I don't care who tells it just needs to get out there, I was investigating with this young woman" He sighed. "I tried to get her to back off, the story is much too dangerous for her to be rutting around in with no care for who spots her but she's a stubborn one"
"You want me to keep an eye on her make sure doesn't get in over her head?"
"That's the gist of it," He walked around the pile of still smoking clothes. "I have a feeling that this will be like the blind leading the blind because you are just as reckless as she is"
"I will take that as a compliment but since your handing me this story then the danger must be pretty big," I was aware that while I was lower profile journalist than Ben was so when he dropped this, people watching were less likely to look at me. "But yes, I will look after her to the best of my abilities"
"Don't take any stupid risks with this," Ben started to tell me. "We live in the same apartment, so any bigs waves you make will still make their way back to me"
With that, we began to discuss the story in earnest and all the details. From the lady's, Karen Page, involvement to names of the big players the two had managed to uncover at this point. That story that Ben had written a while ago had been the source that they had linked back to a name that sent a familiar chill down my spine, one that I had in my brief searches found no proof of their existence in this world before now. A renowned villain that I was most familiar of from the nineties Spiderman cartoon, the one known as the Kingpin Of Crime. Wilson Fisk.
Author's Note: Things are happening at a weird pace in the story, I know that they don't, they as in Ben and Karen don't learn his name until after Matt does, in fact, I think was three episodes after he did, but here things have been moved around. Blueman's involvement has shifted things around so that Fisk can't make his move yet because taking out the Russians will only have the Irish take over at the moment.
At the same time Ben and Karen met off-screen, it went largely the same so I didn't write it. There are some differences, obviously, they were able to find more out quicker than they originally did but that is because of how distracted the more competent enemies were by the two vigilantes and the Russian/Irish War happening. So they have only really been noticed now, well Ben has that is, and he is getting out in only the loosest sense because he will still be mentoring Pat on how to investigate this story.
On Jim's daughter Louise, how many were expecting a little girl instead of an older teen we got here. I had this image of her in my head the second I thought of Jim's daughter. Obviously, the side of her here is just one side of her personality because as Jim first appearance implies she gets everything she wants and is protected against all the worst parts of life. So you can imagine what she is actually like out of this scene.