Chapter 35:
[Matt Murdock POV]
[Nelson & Murdock Attorney Office, New York City]
[Office.] I work the documents on the latest case at my desk, still sore from last night's expedition as Daredevil. Got news from Foggy that Quesada confessed to all his crimes to the police when he turned himself in. I played it off like I was surprised at the news, but I wasn't. Quesada is going to rot in prison, and Megan will finally have peace of mind that Videl got justice. Up a few floors, I can hear a TV stream of a boxing match. It gets me to recollect my childhood days and my father.
Battlin' Jack Murdock wanted me to live my life without fear. He urged me not to follow in his footsteps as a small-time boxer. To have the guts to make something of myself. When I was still a teenager, I saved an old man about to be run over by a runaway truck. But a radioactive cylinder fell over me and blinded me for life. The same accident that blinded me changed me as well. I quickly discovered my other senses were enhanced to superhuman levels. Can tell if someone is lying by hearing their heartbeats. Recognize people by their scent alone. Even develop a sixth sense, a radar-like awareness. After my father's murder, I pursued a crusade to battle against corruption and evil as Daredevil.
My personal cell on my desk rings, repeatedly stating the caller's ID name. It's Foggy. The man tells me Brett Mahoney, a semi-friend on the police force, contacted him, informing him of a potential client that requires a lawyer. Jessica Jones.
[13th Police Precinct, New York City]
[Interrogation room.] Foggy and I enter the room to find Jones cuffed to the table. "Can we please get the handcuffs off the 110-pound woman?" Foggy demands. The male detective who escorted us in scowls, "Can't and won't do that. Girl's a META. Protocol dictates power dampeners are to remain on her at all times while in police custody." Foggy and I *peer* at each other, confused. It's obvious to anyone that META is a new term to us. "META is one of many terms used to describe people with powers," Jessica explains, "Hell, it's far more humanizing than others." "Thank you, Ms. Jones. Either way, we would like a moment alone with our client please," I say. The cop shoots Foggy and me a nasty glare, then exits with his partner in tow.
The two of us take a seat across from the woman. "My name is Matt Murdock, and this is my associate Foggy Nelson." By Jones's heartbeat, she's studying the two of us. Suspicious of our intentions. "Who are you two?" she presses. I tilt my head, "We're lawyers. Yours." Jones raises a brow in a question. "I bribed the sergeant with a box of cigars for his mom to point a client our way," Foggy discloses truthfully. "Really?" Jones asks, slightly relaxed. We nod. "You need to stop giving Brett's mom cigars," I tell my friend. "She likes to smoke. It's a free country," Foggy argues. Dropping that subject matter, we move back to the main topic. "Ms. Jones, our practice is relatively young and we're aggressively pursuing clientele," I say. "How long have you both been lawyers?" she questions. "One year, but we've been doing our own practice for six months now," I say. Jones lets out a long sigh, "I can't pay much." "Okay, that's fine. You don't have a lot of money and we're seeking clients. Maybe we can help each other," I say, "Please tell us what happened?"
Jones leans in, her cuffs rattling against the desk, and starts to talk, "I'm a Private investigator by trade. Was working a case. A contact of mine rang me up on a possible lead. We were supposed to meet at Roscoe street station. As soon as I got there I felt something was off, but the doors were already shut behind me. The station was completely empty, blame the freezing cold I guess. I made my way to the upper level only to come across a locked gate and Wyatt's dead body. Neck broken. The next thing I know I'm waking up on the ground with five cops standing over me in full SWAT gear pointing ARs at my face accusing me of murder. Look, I know how crazy this sounds but I didn't kill Wyatt. I'm being framed!" "I believe you, Jones," I say to her, listening to her heartbeats to know she's telling the truth.
[Later, Nelson & Murdock Attorney Office, New York City]
[Office.] Foggy paces, tossing a softball while reviewing Jessica Jones's case, "I'm friends with Gary Feinstein in the DA's office. I'll give a call first thing in the morning, see where their heads are at. They have to know murder two's a risk. We can drop down at manslaughter, get the right judge. Maybe she'll be out in five to ten." I cut the man off, "We're not making a deal." I won't allow an innocent person to rot in prison for a crime she didn't commit.
Foggy stops pacing, "No, we do. It's a straightforward case." "I don't think she did it," I argue. Foggy extends his arms exaggeratedly, "She's the sole suspect, found at the scene with the body, and she has a record of violence. If they offer anything it'll be a gift. We do not want this case to go to trial." I point out the facts, "No, it's them who don't want this to go to trial. On paper it's a good arrest, it should be on the news already. Why isn't Jones charged yet?" "They have 24 hours. And it's the weekend," Foggy reasons, "They're gonna take every last second to collect the evidence before they move." I shake my head, "They already got all of the evidence. You just laid it out yourself. Something reek about this case. I can feel it."
My partner and best friend turn to face me, "You feel it? Alright I'm only going to say this once, and we can move on. You don't necessarily show the best judgment when beautiful women are involved." "How would I know Jones is a beautiful woman?" I frown. Foggy lifts his shoulders, "No idea. It's kind of spooky, actually. But if there's a stunning woman with questionable character in the room, Matt Murdock is going to find her and Foggy Nelson is going to suffer."
Feels like that's a jab at my history with Electra. "Okay, not 100% wrong," I say agreeingly, "But that doesn't change anything about this case. I need you to back me on this." Fuggy stiffens, pressing the softball onto his forehead, "Fine. Let's start with the obvious. If Jones didn't kill Wyatt, who did? We're dead in the water if we don't give the DA an alternative." He's about start pacing again but stops, "Jones may not be guilty but that doesn't mean she was telling the whole truth."
[Jessica Jones POV]
[13th Police Precinct, New York City]
[Holding Cell.] It's always the same nightmare. The monster is on top of me, inside me, violating me in every way possible. He takes a twisted pleasure in physically, mentally, and emotionally breaking me. Despite my power, my strength, I can't fight him. The monster uses my body like a puppet. His voice is the strings, and I'm compelled to do anything he demands. Worst of all, he turned me into a murderer. Made me kill an innocent woman. A pregnant woman. A wife with a loving husband. Reva Connors.
My eyes snap open as a hand goes over my nose and mouth, suffocating me. Escaped from one nightmare into another. I start thrashing, fighting back with everything I have. The attacker quickly changes position and wraps the sheet around my neck, pressing my back against the chest. Using my legs, I push myself back, pinning him to the wall, then bash multiple back-elbows to his face, breaking his nose. Despite not having access to my enhanced strength, I still have my knowledge of Krav Maga. The man doubles over. Gathering all the strength I have in my lungs, I let out a shout for help.
[Matt Murdock POV]
[Interview Room.] Once Foggy and I got news of the attack, we immediately rushed back to the station. The two detectives from earlier march into the interview room where Foggy and I wait. I focus my unseeing eyes on the two men, forcing myself to keep my anger in check, "I'm going to make this easy, Detectives. Get the ADA in here to release Ms. Jones and we'll recommend to our charming, media-friendly client that she not plaster the airwaves with how she was almost killed in your custody." "And I'll agree not to make cooing noises for the rest of this meeting when I think of the civil suit we have on our hands," Foggy adds.
Detective Blake scratches his temple irritatingly, "How do you know they're not charging Jones?" "Because you were supposed to do so four hours ago. If you were going to do it at all?" I state plainly. Black's nostrils flare. "My question is how the security camera on Jones's holding block went on the fritz around the time of the attack?" Foggy presses. "We're still investigating the incident," Hoffman tells us. "Fine. Get my client released. Don't make me ask again," I growl, letting a small hint of the Devil out. The cops glower with controlled fury.
Hoffman leans into Blake, whispering in his ear. The man nods begrudgingly. Blake rises from his seat and angles forward, "I call the ADA. But you take that tone with me again, I don't care if you're blind, I beat the shit out of you." Foggy coos, "Please, Detective, keep digging yourself into that hole. You're making our job so much easier." Both detectives storm out. Foggy and I turn to each other. "None of this is making sense. There's something more to this case," I say. Foggy frown nervously, "We'll talk about that later. Let's just get the hell out of here."
[Nelson & Murdock Attorney Office, New York City]
Jones hunches over in a chair, still shaken by the attack. Foggy walks over and offers her a cup of hot tea. "We have tea now?" I ask. "Uh, I might have stolen it from the financial office next door," he tells me. Jones cracks a small chuckle, relaxing a small bit. I sit down in front of Jones, "How are you feeling?" "Better," she answers, "Thanks for bailing me out." "Don't thank us yet. Just because they released you doesn't mean they won't eventually push forward with the charges," Foggy says.
"Which means it's crucial that you don't speak to anyone besides us," I tell her. Jones nods weakly, "I don't have anyone else in my life to talk to anyway." I shoot her a sympathetic gaze, then ask, "Do you have anywhere else to stay tonight?" The PI shakes her head, "No. And it's probably not a good idea to go to my apartment." "Our immediate priority is to keep you safe, Jones. And in order to do that, we're going to need to have a frank discussion," I say, "Do you know who's trying to kill you." Jones sighs, glazing around the office to nothing particular, "I got a suspect in mind but not a 100% sure. More like 90%."
We set up a recorder to get everything on record. "For the past month I've been working a corruption case on Captain Decker of the 5th precinct. Guy was dirty. Hell, most of the NYPD is in someone's pocket. An asset passed around from one criminal organization to another. Decker was even under the thumb of Rigoletto's for a time before the other guy took over. Kingpin," Jones explains to us. I raise a brow at the odd title name, "Kingpin?" Jones shrugs her shoulders, "The de facto boogeyman of NYC's criminal underworld. The big boss's title. Nobody knows his true identity." The woman's shoulders slump down, "They killed Wyatt because I was digging too deep into their business. They wanted to shut us up."
Jones wipes her face with her hands and then leans back into her chair, exhaustion finally kicking in mentally and physically. "He's laughing at me somewhere. Even now his shadow torments me," she whispers to herself. Foggy and I share a quiet general glance. I break the silence, "You can stay with me, Jones. Just until this clears up." Jones bobs her head wordlessly.
[Murdock's Apartment, New York City]
I open the apartment door for us, "Don't have much in the way of food, but there's a Thai place on the corner we can order from if you're hungry." "No, I'm good. It's a little dark in here," she voices, stepping into the apartment. "Sorry. The light switch is on the wall to your left," I say. Jones switches on the lights. We move our way into the living room. "I'll set the room up for you," I say, walking past her. When I return, Jones stands by the window, admiring the view.
Jones turns to face me, arms folded, "Murdock. That isn't a common surname. You wouldn't be related to Jack Murdock, would you?" I raise my head in genuine surprise. Besides myself, I never thought anyone would remember my father's name. "Yeah, he's my father," I tell her in a soft voice. She takes a seat on the couch. I don't object. "Shit, what are the odds? My old man was a fan. Followed all his fights," Jones says energetically. Up to this point, the woman has been fairly stoic or minimally sardonic, like a shield desperately covering a wound that hasn't healed. "Didn't think anyone remembers a struggling boxer," I say, feeling a little emotional. She stares at me, head tilted, sympathetic, "He wasn't just a boxer. The man was your dad. A single dad. Sorry about what happened to him." I shoot her a sad smile, "Thank you. He was a good man who did his best despite the difficulties."
"Okay, moving on from that somber topic. Mind if I ask you a personal question," Jones presses on another subject. I cross-arms, "I haven't always been blind. Assuming that was going to be your question?" Her mouth curves into a slight smile, inclining her head, "Guess that's what everyone wants to know." "That or can blind people tell what a person looks like by touching their faces. FYI, no, we don't. The whole touching of people's faces isn't a thing. We normally ask them to describe themselves so we can draw an image in our heads," I say. Jones' eyelids sag, "How did it happen? If you don't mind me asking." I sigh, memories flooding back, "Traffic accident. Chemicals burned my eyes." "Must've been rough," she says. "It was, but I managed to get through it," I say back. There's a momentary silence; thankfully, it isn't awkward. "Do you mind if I run some questions with you? I ask. Jones dibs her head, "Asks away." I stand and step toward the window, "Okay. Here's what I don't understand. I'm a corrupt cop. A PI is investigating me for my illegal activities. What makes matters worse is that she's talking to people about those illegal activities. Obviously, I can't have that, so I take action. Why don't I kill you?" "They tried," she voices.
"No, the first time they left you alive," I elaborate, "Why not kill you on the initial encounter? By framing you they discredit you. Scare you into shutting your mouth. They would only do that if you have something they want." Jones takes a long breath, then rocks her head frustratingly but says nothing. "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. Good night, Murdck," she says, rising up and strolling to the room. It's clear to me Jones does, in fact, have something they want but doesn't trust me enough to reveal what it is.
[Jessica Jones POV]
[Alias Investigations, New York City]
[Apartment.] It's the middle of the night now. I waited until I was sure Mordock was fast asleep to make my move to sneak out. Didn't want to drag the blind lawyer or his friend any deeper into the shit with me. This was my mess alone to deal with. I push open the door. No sign of anyone. Slowly and cautiously, I prowl toward my bedroom. By the far wall near the window, there's a hidden compartment. I open it and grab the thumb drive that holds all the evidence of Decker's corruption. Cupping the drive in my hand, I rush back toward the exit. As I reach the door, I feel a presence lurking behind me. Suddenly my shoulder explodes in sharp pain, causing me to double over to the floor, dropping the drive in the process. Seeing the blood pour out of a hole in my shoulder made me realize I'd been shot. Shocked and dazed, I drag myself on all fours toward the door, leaving a trail of blood. The attacker grabs me and slams my head against the door frame. The man picks up the drive and stuffs it into his pocket. He kicks me onto my back, points the gun close at my face, finger resting on the trigger.
The apartment door slides open, revealing a masked man in a red and black costume. My eyes go wide at the sight of him. Daredevil. The defender of Hell's Kitchen. Daredevil tosses a rod at the man's hand, knocking the gun out of his grip. He then charges at the would-be assassin. The assassin moves fast and skillfully, and Daredevil fights hard to avoid the knife he pulled out. The two men exchange brutal punches and kicks as they fight. The assassin brings down his blade, but Daredevil flips him into the air. The assassin lands on his feet and pummels Daredevil. Daredevil grabs the assassin's shoulder and spins him around the wall. In the momentum, the two fighters fling themselves out the apartment window.
[Matt Murdock POV]
[Alleyway.] We fall three floors, slamming through the scaffolding onto the cement. I lay on my stomach, unmoving. Feet come down the scaffolding stairs. Slowly I rise to stand. The assassin bolts toward me. Acting fast, I arm-throw him to the ground, take the mount position, then rain down punches and elbows strikes, finally ending the fight with a hard blow to the head, knocking the man out. Another heartbeat grabs my attention. Jessica Jones's. I stride to the assassin, rip the drive out of his pocket, and hand the device to Jones, "Make sure the right people get this." With that, I escape the scene by parkouring to the roof.
[1 day later, Nelson & Murdock Attorney Office, New York City]
Foggy, Jones, and I are all enjoying a celebratory breakfast. 'Police captain arrested in corruption scandal' is the front page headline of the Daily Bugle. "Sorry, I didn't tell you about the evidence I collected on Decker. I didn't want to drag you two any deeper into my mess," Jones expresses sincerely. Foggy, and I wave it off. "We understand. Not happy about it, but we understand," I say for both of us. "Not that I'm complaining, but you should really be thanking Daredevil," Foggy says. Strangely Jones turns to face me, "Yeah, I really should," adding, "Cute ears." "Think they're honest," I say in response. Everyone chuckles at that. "If it weren't for you two, I'd probably still be rotting in a cell or dead," Jones says, rubbing her slung arm, "Honestly, I think you two earn the most thanks." I smile, "The job is easier when you know the client's innocent. All you did was tell the truth." Again, she peers at me like my word is something she desperately needs to hear. "Thank you… Really thank you," Jones whispers, voice full of emotion.
"Oh, don't get us wrong. We're still going to bill you. As soon as we figure out how to make bills," Foggy cuts in. Jones brightens, "Well, I can pay you back by working as a PI in your firm." "You want to work for our law firm?" I ask. Jones nods, "Sure. You said yourself you're looking for clientele. I got clientele. I can push some of them your way." Foggy and I share a gaze and nod agreeingly. "You're hired," Foggy says.