Chapter Twenty-Three

Experto Crede

"Yo, is Matt Murdock here?" I asked, bursting through the door, trying not to look rushed and failing spectacularly. My hair was wild and sticking out of my hat in weird places, and my face was red from both the cold and my hectic Death Sprint.

Let's just say that the distance between the Village to Hell's Kitchen was one not made lightly. I decided not to tell the Doc that I almost got hit by three cars and a semi on the way here.

The blonde woman at the front desk jumped and blinked at me in confusion. She stopped tapping at her computer to stare at me, before pointing a hesitant finger at the door to the left. "Uh, he's in there. Are you...a client? Oh, no, wait, I know who you are — you're the new hire!"

"Uh," I paused, hanging against the open door and glancing about the office uncertainly. It was a lot smaller than I imagined it to be. There were only two doors, to the only two offices. Nelson & Murdock indeed. "Yes and no."

"I-I don't..." the woman pursed her lips, giving me a strange look. She was young, actually, younger than I thought she'd be. Maybe twenty-nine, thirty. Too pretty to be working in a place like this. "I don't think we're allowed —"

"Who is it, Karen?" the door to the left opened, and out stepped Matt Murdock, his cane resting against his hip. He seemed comfortable here, as if he knew the area better and thus felt safer. Maybe he did. This was where he worked, after all.

"It's, uh," Karen faltered, throwing me a look when she remembered she didn't have a name.

I realized that was my cue. I got off the door, letting it close behind me as I took a few steps towards Matt, who turned his head in the direction of the noise I was making. "It's me, Amy. The-the Running Girl. Who, um, knocked you over."

"Whoa, what?" a muffled shout came, and with a loud whoosh the opposite door flew open, and the other lawyer, Foggy Nelson popped out, floppy-haired and as slightly pudgy as ever. His eyes narrowed down on me instantly, and he pointed an accusing finger. "It's you! I knew I recognized your voice! Wait, why were you talking to Matt? And when?"

"It was last week, at North Chapel," Matt informed him with a tilt of his head, sounding as calm as ever. It was a nice change, considering how excitable Foggy was. "I offered her a job here, as an intern."

"You what?" Foggy blurted, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe it. He stepped out into the main room, waving his hands all over the place. "Matt, you can't just do that! You gotta communicate first! We can't have known felons working for a law firm! It's just not done!"

I frowned, doing a double-take. "Wha...I-I'm not a felon! I just — wait, is this still about hitting Matt?"

"Oh, she calls you Matt now?" Foggy raised his eyebrows, pacing around Karen's desk. She swiveled around in her chair, watching the whole thing with wide eyes and looking just as confused as I felt. Foggy placed a hand at his chest, affecting a look of hurt. "Have I been replaced as a best friend? Am I that disposable? Well, I never!"

Matt seemed to be having a hard time trying not to laugh in front of me. He raised a hand, trying to find Foggy, who placed himself underneath so he could be patted on the shoulder. "Foggy, you're not being replaced. You're the first name on the sign. Amy's just here for the job offer. To be honest, I didn't think you were going to accept it."

I gave a weak smile. I hadn't left the Doc's house for three days, at his urging, to make sure that the air had cleared so I could move about safely again. I wasn't too concerned with missing school, now with the massive amount of free time I had.

Calling Peter was also a requirement. I knew I was already in deep trouble for evading the curfew so early, but I'd rather be grounded for life than give Eddie any opportunity to hurt my family and friends.

That was also something we discussed. While I didn't mention him to the Doc, since I didn't have hard evidence of it, it was pretty obvious to me and Peter. Who else would be so motivated to attack me like that? Who else knew my secret identity and tried to twist it to their advantage?

Exactly.

I hadn't seen hide nor hair of Eddie or Venom since he confronted me on my date with Dorian, but I always had the creeping feeling that he was watching me, no matter where I was.

Even now.

It sent a shudder down my spine, making me shiver in a way that I hoped no one else noticed.

Foggy fixed me with a curious look, but amazingly he didn't pick up on it.
"You're here for a job?"

"Um," I said, biting my lip and leaning against the closed door to the office. This was going to be awkward. "Yes and no."

Now it was Mat's turn to frown at me. "What is it?"

"I need your help," I said, clenching my fists and hoping that this wasn't a big mistake. I never asked for help before, not like this. Was I exposing myself? Was I taking an unnecessary risk? Did this mean I couldn't handle my own problems anymore?

I didn't know. But there was something about Matt I liked, and I wanted to trust him.

With three adults staring at me, I was starting to feel a little self-conscious, so I quickly asked, "You guys have been watching the news, right?"

"Did you really just say that to a blind man?" Foggy asked, before he was elbowed by Matt. "What? It's a joke."

"Um, sorry?" I winced, then shrugged my shoulders. "Anyways, in case you didn't know, my cousin's just been accused of being Spider-Man and now I think I'm in danger."

"Whoa, wait, you're related to Peter Parker?" Karen asked, straightening in her seat, eyes going wide. "They have a special on it every night. Is it true?"

"Of course not!" I felt insulted that it had to be asked. Even if it was a lie, I had lived it so often that it was almost second nature by now to tell the false story. "But obviously no one believes us!"

"We believe you," Matt said, earning looks of surprise from his coworkers.

"We do?" Foggy and Karen asked at the same time, exchanging looks with each other as though they thought their blind friend was crazy.

"Yes, we do," Matt repeated, not even turning his head. "And stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Foggy asked, all innocent.

"You know what," Matt said, appearing to roll his eyes behind those red lenses. "I can hear you looking at each other. Anyways, you were saying, Amy?"

"I, uh," I shook my head, trying to get myself back on track, somewhat distracted by the little tangent in the conversation. "Well, as you can expect, Spider-Man's made a lot of enemies, and I imagine quite a few want revenge. And if they think they know his real identity...well, it's that much easier to hurt Spider-Man if you can hurt the people he cares about."

Karen's eyebrows shot up on her forehead, the first to look legitimately concerned where this conversation was going. "You were attacked?" she guessed, rather astutely.

"Yeah, a few nights ago." I nodded. "These thugs cornered me in an alley. They tried to follow me home, but...I don't know. Something weird happened. There was this crazy vigilante and...I don't even know what happened next, it was just so crazy. And I'm afraid something like that might happen again. I was hoping you guys might help. I don't know what to do. I know it's not really a legal problem but... I didn't know who else to go to."

I couldn't go to the police. Not when I knew they were corrupt, or at least enough that would make my life even harder than it already was. I couldn't trust them to protect me the same way some small-time lawyers could, an office too small to be noticed, to be part of the mafia.

Matt remained silent for a moment, considering my plea, his lips set in a thin line of deep thought. Both Karen and Foggy watched him, waiting for the executive decision. Was I a client? Could I even be helped? Or was this a job better left to the more lawfully prepared?

Then he stepped back, gesturing towards the door of his office. "I think we should have a talk."

OoOoO

"So let me get this straight," Foggy said, holding up one finger as he flipped back through the pages of notes on his legal pad. "You were attacked by five men, who had been sent to attack you by some mysterious unknowns with a grudge against Spider-Man whom they believe is related to you, and then you were saved by some the Devil?"

Matt's office was small, and the window was facing the alleyway, so there was very little natural lighting. Then again, I supposed he didn't actually need it, but it was darker than I was used to. Foggy and Matt sat behind his desk, Foggy kind of on the edge with a legal pad, with me in the opposite chair, sitting on my hands and trying to get my thoughts in order.

"No, he just looked like him," I said, waving my hand before he could turn that line into fact. "It was a costume, I think. It seems to be a thing now."

"And you have no idea who this...Devil might be?" Matt asked, hesitating on the word as though it bothered him. Although his glasses hid his eyes, I felt as though he were looking straight through me, like he knew every thought I had.

It was disconcerting to say the least. "I have literally never even heard of him until this point, and then I saw that they had reportings of him on the news the other day. But I don't really watch the news a lot, so maybe that's just me."
"You think he might be someone you know?" Matt asked. I could hear him tapping his cane in concentration.

"I think I'd remember a guy with no eyes."

"Right," he almost smiled at this.

"So, you were attacked by some thugs and then saved by a vigilante," Foggy returned to the topic at hand. "And you didn't call the police?"

I just realized how stupid I was. "...No."

"Why?"

"Because I ran away. I was scared. I just wanted to get out of there."

"But you never filled in a report or anything?"

I hesitated, concentrating on the plaque on Matt's desk as I felt the burning gaze of two lawyers burrow into me. I didn't want to tell them the truth, but at this point it seemed to be the only thing of value here. So I finally admitted, "I...I don't trust the police."

"Why?"

I threw Foggy an annoyed look. All these questions were really starting to get on my nerves (even if it was my fault). "I have my reasons, okay? I don't trust the police the same way you think aliens built the pyramids."

"Oh, come on," the blond man snorted, tossing his head in disbelief.

Matt glanced at his partner. "But you do believe aliens built the pyramids."

"Not the point," Foggy raised his hand, scowling a little but not taking his eyes off of me. "If you ran away, how can you know if the men who attacked you got arrested?"

"Well, it was on the news the next morning. Maybe the Devil contacted them or something."

"There weren't any other witnesses?" Matt said, as if that'd be something I'd overlook.

"If there were, I sure as hell didn't see them."

"Well, this is just great," Foggy said, dropping his pencil and pad on the desk and folding his arms. "There's a Devil in Hell's Kitchen and not even the police can stop him. And I thought Spider-Man was bad enough."

"Hey, he saved my life!"

"What, out of the goodness of his own bedeviled heart?" Foggy rolled his eyes, rather unprofessionally, I might add. Did lawyers usually act like this, or was it just him?

"I don't know, maybe!" I said, throwing up my hands helplessly. "I mean, he never asked me for anything! He didn't even give me a name when I asked. I mean, if he does work for someone, it's probably the Rose. That seems like something they would do."

"And what do you know about the Rose?" Foggy demanded, looking rather amused by the idea that some teenager had any clue how super-secret mafias worked. "And why would the Italian mafia want anything to do with you?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. So I just stuffed my hands under my legs, hitching up my shoulders and staring at the ground. How was I supposed to explain something like that? He had a point, after all — the White Rose shouldn't have any interest in me. I had done nothing to them. My family was poor and had nothing to offer to them. And yet, the whole reason I was here was because of them.

"Amelia, why do I get the feeling you're not being completely honest with me?"

My head jerked up. I stared at the blind man, a jolt of panic going through me. What had I done wrong? Had I contradicted myself? I didn't think so, but I wasn't the one keeping a comprehensive pile of notes on this. So I kept my breathing even — this wasn't the first time I've been called out — and said, "I told you everything I saw."

A small smile pulled on Matt's lips, almost a smirk. "But you didn't tell me everything you know."

I played dumb. "I don't understand."

"The men you saw that night. Did any of them seem familiar to you? They all live in Hell's Kitchen. Maybe you recognized one of them."

"Would it matter if I did? They're all in custody now."

"It does matter," Matt said, leaning forward a little. I then realized we were having an argument, and how scary it was to be fighting against my own lawyer. "Because it changes motive. Now, obviously, they all claimed not to know you, to protect their own hides, which brings up their own slew of problems, but the jury's going to think differently if told otherwise."

"Like she said, it was on the news," the blind lawyer replied simply. "One of them confessed when they were taken in. Mahoney told us about it, remember? You're the one that said that crooks like them were more useful in jail than on the streets."

"Oh, right," Foggy nodded as he finally remembered. "I forgot about that. I didn't think it'd have anything to do with...this. Didn't a few go to the hospital?"

"The Devil beat 'em up pretty bad," I decided to input.

"But none of them looked familiar to you?"

I heaved a sigh, rubbing my eyes with the palm of my hands. Matt raised his eyebrows, saying, "What was that?"

"Oh, she just hung her head, I think you're wearing her down," Foggy narrated helpfully. "And, uh, now she's giving me the evil eye."

I kept the glare a second longer, keeping my focus on Foggy and his paling face as I spoke to Matt. "The man with the crowbar. I've seen him before."

Matt motioned for Foggy to take notes but the blond man seemed reluctant to move while I was still glowering at him. "Where?"

"My apartment building."

"He lives there?"

"He owns it."

The partners exchanged looks, or at least Foggy did, and he was the one who asked, "He's your landlord?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" I snapped. "His name is Luca Tomoni. He likes to smoke cigars."

Matt raised a placating hand before I could say anything else mean. "Easy there, girl. It's an honest question. Did Mr. Tomoni have a reason to go after you? Did you forget to pay the rent?"

"No, I did that at the beginning of the month." I said, "He replaced the old landlord in November, upped the cost of rent to double. I've been saving by not using heat or electricity —"

"In the winter?"

Well, it was easier when I wasn't actually living there most of the time. "Yeah. I'm not using it. I've been at my cousin's place in Queens for a while."

"You can't think of any other reason why he'd attack you?"

"N-no…" I stammered, answering just as a thought occurred to me. The two lawyers gave me curious looks and I elaborated, "Well, I mean, aside from the whole Spider-Man thing. But I didn't think Tomoni ever had something against him."

"So, he had virtually no motive to attack?" Foggy said, pointing his pen at me and frowning. "Then why would Tomoni go after you?"

I looked at the table.

"Amy?" Matt asked when I didn't respond.

"The last time there was a crime in my building, I was thrown out my window."

At first, neither of them said anything. Foggy dropped his pen, fumbling to pick it up again. He was stuttering all over the place, unable to look at me, "O-on the tenth floor? I-I mean, how are you – how did you even —?"

"Beats me," I shrugged my shoulders, slumping back in my chair. "This was before the new landlord. Maybe he realized the Rose didn't do the job right and he knew he needed to finish it."

"You think the Rose is behind this?" Matt asked with a tilt of his head. While Foggy seemed to be in the midst of a personal freak out, Matt had remained calm, if somewhat tense, as we continued to talk. "Why would they want you dead?"

"I…" should I tell them? I had already said so much. Things I haven't talked about in months. "They took my mother to find my father. I don't even know who he is — just that he got a debt to the Rose, and they really want to collect. I was an unnecessary piece, and I guess they decided they didn't want the trouble of having me around."

"And I imagine your father is keeping his head low."

"He probably doesn't even know I exist." I said, then shook my head. "Anyways, that's not the point. I just — what the hell am I supposed to do? Am I witness to a crime? Are they gonna keep sending people after me? I've got enough trouble as it is."

"Nothing, for now," Matt raised his hand when I was about to protest, and I stopped myself, half out of surprise. Damn, he was good. "There is nothing any of us can feasibly do at the moment. Lawyers aren't exactly proactive by nature. If you're really worried, then you should go to the police. Until then, my best advice is to stay safe."

"Why? So the Devil can pick off the last witness?" Foggy asked sarcastically.

"What? No." Matt frowned at the same time I said, "You'd think he'd do that?"

"I do," Foggy said with a chuff nod.

"No." Matt said more emphatically, throwing his friend an irritated glance, almost looking offended. He turned back to me. "Whatever his motivations are, this...Devil persona, he may have other things to think about. And if he really is after you, we might've heard something on the news. Right, Foggy?"

"Right," the blond man muttered, scribbling something on his legal pad in glumness.

I wasn't blind (oh, god, what's wrong with me) to Matt's attempt at calming me, and to be honest I was a little relieved, but now Foggy had planted the seed, and I couldn't shake it. What if the Devil really did have nefarious plans? I hadn't considered it, or at least not seriously, because he had seemed kind, and, well, saved my life. But even bad guys can do good things if they wanted to.

I also couldn't help but feel this endeavor was entirely pointless. But then, what did I expect? They were lawyers, they only helped after a crime had been committed, and they don't do the arresting/detaining thing.

I sighed, pulling myself out of the chair. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Not much else I can do..."

As I made my way towards the door, Matt cleared his throat. "Um, aren't you forgetting something?"

I paused to glance back, looking about the room as if that might hold the answer. "I-I don't think so...?"

Foggy just laughed while Matt raised an eyebrow. "I understand it wasn't the main reason you came here, but the job offer's still on the table, if you're interested."

"Oh, right," I had completely forgotten about that. My hand slid off the doorknob as I stepped back into the office. "What, exactly, is the job again?"

"You can make coffee, right?" Foggy asked with a cheeky grin.

I glared at him, which immediately stopped any laughing, while Matt continued regardless. "We'd probably be using you in an investigative capacity. Obviously, we can get very busy here, and we don't always have the time to locate witnesses or collecting electronic evidence. You seem to be skilled at snooping. You'd do better if you had something to work for. And getting paid for it, too."

"Uh," Foggy raised his hand like he was in a classroom. "Not that I don't like this idea, I do, she's scary for a sprout, but, uh, isn't that kind of illegal? I mean, what if she gets caught?"

I snorted at the idea before I could stop myself. Me? Caught? Unlikely.

Still, Matt seemed just as serious as Foggy about it. "He's right, Amy. Under no circumstances are you to engage with anyone at any time. Don't go where you're not supposed to. Don't talk to anyone who could be dangerous. That's our job to handle. Your job is just to observe and gather information. Is that clear?"

"You go where you're not allowed?"

"I was speaking hypothetically."

I frowned, considering it. Not that I actually expected them to give me dangerous work, or make me do anything that might risk my life or, well, anything else. But Matt's insistence on the matter made me feel like maybe something else was going on. How much did he know about me? Was he really that worried I'd do something so stupid?

(I mean, I probably would, but that's not the point).

Eventually, I said, "Sounds fine to me. But how much are you paying?"

Matt opened his mouth to reply, but it was Foggy who cleared his throat and very diplomatically said, "Me and my partner were thinking of paying you a flat rate for whatever tasks we require you to do."

"In other words," Matt added. "We'd pay you hourly if we could afford it."

"But we can't."

"No, we cannot."

I just shrugged. "Fine by me."

Both of them looked surprised. "Really?"

"I'm a broke high school kid. I'd accept even if you paid me in donuts."

"Well, we have plenty of those, too —" Foggy started to saw, only to get elbowed by Matt, who quickly spoke over him. "That's great! You won't start immediately, though — it would be best if we waited until after this whole thing with your cousin blows over."

"Yeah..." I rubbed the back of my head, making a face. "That-that's a problem. Hopefully, it goes away soon."

But even "soon" wasn't soon enough.