"How dare you! After everything I've done for you, how could you stab me in the back like this!"
Peter barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Mr. Jameson, the contract you offered me is below minimum wage. I literally can't afford to take it!" He grabbed the papers from his bag and set them back on Jameson's desk as gently as he could. The man was coiled like a predator ready to pounce. "I'm happy to still sell you pictures and videos I get, but I'm sorry, I really can't sign this contract!"
It looked like Jameson was about to explode. "You listen here, Parker," He spat, quite literally, in Peter's face. "I took a chance on you when no one else would! If you walk out of here without signing that exclusive contract, you'll commit career suicide! We will never work with someone like you again!" He shoved the papers back at Peter and slammed a fountain pen on top.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jameson, but I can't do that." Peter squared his shoulders and lifted his chin high.
Jameson looked like he just had a facial of bees and fire with how red he got. He growled lowly, and Peter took that as his cue to leave. He turned quickly (probably too quickly for a normal human, but that wasn't important right now) and ran out of Jameson's office, closing the door behind him. Just in time, because there were some distinct crashing noises that probably would've been directed at him.
Sitting at a desk right outside of the office was one Betty Brant, who sent worried looks between Peter and the closed door. She was Jameson's assistant while she finished off her senior year at Midtown.
"I take it he didn't take the news well?" She asked after a moment.
"About as well as he could've," Peter sighed. Before, when Peter still went to Midtown, he never really talked to Betty. Sure, they had a couple classes and a few sporadic conversations, but they weren't really friends. The longest interactions he had with her were when she dated Ned during the Europe trip, but he was sort of distracted when all that happened.
Now, with them working together at the Daily Bugle, Peter would probably consider her his closest friend, though that wasn't saying much, considering he didn't really interact with a lot of people. But he really liked Betty; she was fun and witty, curious and brilliant, charming and stubborn. With both of them having to deal with Jameson and his bullshit, they got kind of close.
Betty shrugged, smiling. "Oh well. Honestly, I'm sure he'll be calling you soon enough to continue with the freelance stuff. Your pictures are the only connection between our most successful articles. He knows he can't afford to let you go,"
Peter sat down across from her, sinking into the shitty office chair and dropping his bag on the floor. "If he can't afford to let me go, he should actually pay me well enough to survive in New York City."
"At least he pays you anything. I'm only here for 'credit'," She laughed. "You're not going to abandon me here forever, are you?" She leaned on her hand, quirking an eyebrow at Peter.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Betty. I'll always be hanging around the Bugle. Feels like it's a part of me," Or he's a part of it, since it only exists thanks to Spider-Man, but po-ta-to po-tah-to. "Anyway, I've got to head out so I don't miss my GED course. Coffee in a few days?" He stood and grabbed his bag.
"Definitely. I'll text you when Jameson's ready to crack for your pictures." She waved him off and turned to her computer. Peter smiled at the back of her head. Betty was one of the few things he could keep from his past life, and he would be grateful for that until the day he died.
Peter left the Bugle as quickly as he could. Even though the office was built from slandering him, he had come to appreciate this place in the past few months. The people here were great, and the staff was built up of journalists who no one else would take a chance on. People with bad reputations or criminal records or bad qualifications. No other news outlet would hire them.
Luckily Jameson was desperate enough for them, and he got really lucky. The people he managed to get were insanely talented and persistent, letting nothing get in the way of their work. And some of their articles went big, getting the attention of the media at large and making the Daily Bugle more than just an anti-superhero conspiracy show. The little website that could had a bright future. Hell, there was even talk of Mr. Foswell getting a Pulitzer for his recent expose on Wilson Fisk.
As soon as Peter stepped into the elevator, his phone buzzed. It was Ms. Page from the firm. Probably calling to tell him he botched it and didn't get the job. He sighed and answered. "Hello?"
"Is this Peter Parker?" She asked, light and sweet.
"Yes."
"Great. This is Karen Page, from Nelson, Murdock & Page. I'm calling to let you know that the job is yours, if you want it, but there's a few things you should know first." She stated.
Peter blinked. He wasn't expecting this at all; he wasn't expecting he'd get the job, and if he did, he definitely wasn't expecting 'things he should know first'. "Yeah, yeah, of course I'd love the job! Thank you so much, Ms. Page, I-"
"Hold on, Peter," She interrupted. "Like I said, there's some things you should know. Would you be able to meet me for breakfast tomorrow?"
"Of course, Ms. Page. I'd be happy to." Peter stepped out of the elevator and stood off to the side.
"Perfect. I'll text you the location. 8 am work?"
"It works great, Ms. Page."
"Good. I'll see you in the morning, Peter." She said her goodbyes and hung up.
He stared at his phone. That went well, right? He was offered the job, which was always a good thing. But 'some things he should know'? Was this about the interview? Or maybe… did she know about Spider-Man? She was a private investigator, maybe she pieced it together. Oh, this could be really bad.
The phone's screen blinked on. Shit. He was nearly late for his GED course. He was going to have to swing to get there in time. As much as Peter loved web swinging, it sucked when it was this cold out. Oh well. He jogged out the building and ducked into the alley, grabbing his mask from his bag.
Peter tried to stifle a yawn as he walked off the train. After his class, he planned on going home, but Mr. Foswell sent him a text about a Maggia meet-up that he needed pictures for, so Peter had to haul ass to make it in time to set up his camera and bust-up the gang members. With that done, he went home and studied for a few hours for his upcoming test. Before he knew it, it was 3 in the morning, and he had to meet Ms. Page at 7:30.
Here he was, at 7:20 trying to look way more alive than he felt. He got at max 3 hours of sleep and had a few bruises from the scuffle last night, but he was fine. He had to be.
The diner Ms. Page picked out was a block east of the station he got off at yesterday, so Peter didn't have much time to psych himself up for this… meeting? No, he wasn't enough of a professional for this to be a meeting. A meet-up? Yeah, that felt a lot better than meeting.
He slid into the restaurant, looking around for Ms. Page. She was sitting in the farthest corner of the restaurant, her table covered in stray papers and her nose buried in a file. Nervously, Peter crossed the restaurant. Karen idly looked up as he approached and gave him a wide smile.
"Peter!" She half-yelled, earning her a glare from the cranky looking guy behind the counter. She shrunk down, mouthed a 'sorry' to him and waved Peter to her table. "Good morning! How are you today?"
"Good morning, Ms. Page. I'm doing great, thank you. How about you?" He slunk his bag off his shoulder and sat down in the booth across from her.
"Good, good! And, you can just call me Karen, by the way," She began organizing some of the papers spread out around the table. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble to come here this morning."
"No, no of course not!"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You sure? You look pretty tired," He giggled nervously. She laughed a little bit, sitting up straighter. "Hey, it's okay. I'm the same way. Get whatever you'd like off the menu, it's on me, Peter."
"Are you sure, Ms. P- Karen?"
"Of course, Peter. I wouldn't have asked you to come if I weren't happy to do it. Besides," Karen shuffled some papers around. "You and I have a lot to discuss."
"Oh?" Peter tried not to let his anxiety show on his face.
Karen looked like she was about to say something, but the grumpy looking waiter arrived and poured them both some coffee and took their order. Once he walked into the back with their order, Karen pegged Peter with an interesting look. Peter smiled awkwardly.
"So Peter, in the past, before the Blip, our firm has been tied up in… interesting circumstances. These have made some of what we're working on very dangerous. There have been a couple times where all of us have nearly lost our lives. I want you to be fully aware of these things before you choose to work with us," Karen slid some of the papers toward Peter. "Matt, Foggy and I agreed that we're all happy to work with you, but please, read through these before you make a decision. Just know that whatever you decide we'll be happy with."
Peter nodded, relieved that she probably didn't figure out his secret identity. He pulled the papers closer and skimmed over the label at the top; The People v. Frank Castle sat right next to a mugshot of some guy.
"Hold on," He said. Karen perked up. "I think I've seen him before. He was on the subway yesterday before my interview, got off a few stations before."
"You've seen him in public?" She asked, dumbfounded.
"Wait, he's a serial killer?" Peter kept reading. He felt a massive pit growing in his stomach. "How is this connected to you guys?"
Karen held her mug with both hands, fidgeting in her seat. "Back when Nelson, Murdock & Page was just Nelson & Murdock, Matt and Foggy were his defense attorneys. Frank had been going around New York, killing at what we thought was random. Matt and Foggy did a hell of a job, but Frank admitted everything on the stand and got sent to Ryker's."
"So why isn't he in prison?"
"Well, he got out with the help of a guy named Wilson Fisk. And once he was out, Frank finished what he set out to do," She took a long sip of her coffee. "Turns out, he wasn't killing at random. He was going after the guys who caused the death of his family, and nearly his own. It still doesn't make what he did okay, but it's somewhat comforting knowing he wasn't just some guy with a murder fetish."
He nodded and skimmed over the rest of the document, which basically went into more detail about what Karen said. "So, why does this matter now? And how were you in danger before?"
"Well, before, when we worked with Frank, the people who killed his family decided to set out after us. Hell, he's the only reason I'm alive right now," She stared into her mug. "As for right now, well, we got a message from him, saying that he's going to 'continue his work'. By that, we assume he means he's going to start going after criminals and stop them for good, if you know what I mean."
Peter felt his heart sink. Yeah, he knew exactly what she was saying. Just his luck, he applied at a place with a massive target on its back. But Karen, Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock were good people just trying to do the right thing. He guessed that trying to do the right thing often got them in a lot of trouble, something Peter should know very well at this point.
… and that was a train of thought he needed to stop. "Is he coming after you guys?"
"No, no. You just can't be too careful with a guy that calls himself the Punisher." She smiled sadly. "If you're reconsidering employment with us, then I completely understand. I'd rather you walk away knowing everything than come in unaware of the situation."
Peter paused for just a moment before he shrugged. "Karen, this is, this is a lot. But after the past few years, hardly anything surprises or scares me anymore. As long as I'm kept in the loop with this… situation, I'd still love to work for Nelson, Murdock & Page."
She blinked, surprised. "Really? You're not scared of Frank Castle?"
He shrugged. "Well, I won't say I'm not scared, but I still think you guys are doing the right thing. And if you've dealt with Frank Castle and literally Wilson Fisk before, then you obviously know what you're doing," Peter picked up five sugar packets and dumped them into his neglected coffee. "So yeah, I think so."
Karen's smile was enough to light up the entire drab diner. "Well then, Peter, welcome to the team." She held out her hand.
Peter smiled and shook it. "It's a pleasure to be here, Karen."
He could practically see the light bulb appear over her head. "Oh, and before I forget-" She picked up her bag and dug around it for a moment before setting some of the photos Peter sent her down. "I wanted to ask you about these. You've got a real talent for photography."
He grinned sheepishly. "Thanks, Karen. I'm surprised you're interested in them."
"Oh, absolutely. As a PI, I have to take a ton of photos for the cases I work on, but they usually turn out like shit no matter how many courses I take online," She picked up a picture and glanced at it, smiling. It was Peter's favorite; the FEAST shelter's dedication ceremony for May. It was lively and colorful as well as somber and muted at the same time. He had it hung above his bed. "I was wondering - and you can totally say no - if you'd be willing to accompany me whenever I need some pictures for what I'm doing. We can pay you extra, obviously, and it would really help some of our work."
"Oh, yeah. I'd be more than happy to, Karen." He drank some of his coffee, satisfied with the flavor. He never would've expected that being a spider-person-thing would give him such a sweet tooth.
"Fantastic. Thanks, Peter," She began gathering the photos and all the papers and shoving them into her own bag. "Next order of business; never use that many sugars in a coffee again. The fact that you used five makes me more scared of you than Frank Castle."
"What?" Peter lifted his mug to his lips. "Can't a guy just drink what he likes?"
"Not with our firm, no," Karen stated dryly. "Once we begin onboarding, you'll learn about the diet you need to maintain in our office. We have a blanket no-garlic rule for the whole office." She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text.
Peter nearly did a spit take. "No garlic at all? That must be against some OSHA regulation."
Karen shrugged as the bored waiter returned with their food. "With an attitude like that, you might be worse than Foggy about this kind of thing."
Talking with Karen was… nice. She was warm and welcoming, the kind of aura May used to have. By the time they left the diner and were walked up to the office building, Peter felt better than he had in months. That warm, comfortable feeling he'd been building up for the past hour immediately disappeared as soon as they walked into Nelson, Murdock & Page.
"¡Hijo de puta! ¡Cómo te atreves a afirmar que mi esposo debería haberte dejado dinero!" One man screeched at the top of his lungs. Mr. Nelson was holding him back from attacking a woman standing by Mr. Murdock.
"¿Primero vas tras mi marido, luego vas tras mis abogados? ¡Él fue mi esposo primero, ¡y ellos fueron mis abogados primero! ¿Por qué persigues a todos los mismos hombres que yo?" The woman screamed back, throwing a crumpled up piece of paper with as much strength as she could muster. "¡Ese dinero es mío!"
Once the paper hit the man in the face, the room seemed to freeze for a brief, almost blissful moment. Then the yelling and screaming and fidgeting ramped back up to an 11. They were yelling so quickly Peter barely heard what they were saying.
Mr. Murdock winced at the noise, almost as if these people were like a jet engine to him. He finally came back to reality once the woman tried to lunge forward. He barely caught her in time, and he put himself between the two. "¡Por favor basta! Look, it was a clerical error that you both came, but we can still help you both if you calm down." The woman struggled against him and he faced her. "I know you Blipped and the future is difficult to adjust to, but this can all be handled without yelling at him."
The woman finally stopped trying to get to the man; instead, she ripped herself away from Mr. Murdock, leveling everyone in the room with a stony glare.
"¡No puedo creerte! I will not use lawyers who make those kinds of mistakes and defend putas like him!"
Mr. Murdock stepped away like he'd been slapped. "Mrs. Noceda, no! I wasn't-"
"¡Suficiente!" She yelled as she stormed towards the door. She gave them all the stink eye as she passed, and Peter was pretty much shoved out of the way by her as an added bonus.
Mr. Murdock put his head in his hands while Mr. Nelson let go of the man. Karen looked about as awkward as Peter felt. "So I take it the appointment with Mrs. Noceda went well?"
Mr. Murdock let out a humorless chuckle. "Could've gone better."
"Seriously, Matt?" Mr. Nelson huffed and rolled his eyes.
"Relax, Foggy, this is still salvageable," He rolled his shoulders and lifted his head back up. "Mr. Noceda, si pudiera acompañarme a mí y a la Ms. Page en nuestra oficina, nos complacería analizar su caso." The man - Mr. Noceda - huffed, nodded and strode past with Mr. Murdock close behind.
"Foggy, would you mind helping Peter get settled while I handle… this?" She looked towards her shared office, clearly uncomfortable. At Mr. Nelson's nod, she turned back to Peter. "Good luck, Peter. Let us know if you need anything at all."
"Right back at you, Karen." He said quietly as she walked away. She gave him a brief smile before shutting the door behind her.
Peter turned toward Mr. Nelson, who also looked kind of uncomfortable, though Peter couldn't tell if it was because of the fight or because of him.
"So, uh, Mr. Nelson… should I, uh-"
"Please, just call me Foggy, Peter," He seemed to shake whatever thoughts he had away and stepped closer to Peter. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that in your first five minutes here. If it helps, it hardly ever gets less… exciting than that."
Peter shrugged. "It's not any louder than the Bugle. If anything, it's a step down."
Foggy snorted. "Good way to look at it, kid," After a second, his jovial smile faded into something much more serious. "I take it Karen went over the 'working conditions' with you?"
Ah. Makes sense that he would ask about that. "Yeah, she spared no detail."
"And you're still fine with working here?" Foggy asked, worry spreading over his features.
Peter nodded. "I am. I don't think I'll ever meet him, but if I do, he has no reason to do his thing," He slung his bag strap across his shoulder. "Besides, when you work directly with Tony Stark, you make much more powerful enemies, and they've never really been an issue." At least, no one knows how much they've been an issue.
Slowly, Foggy smiled. "You're awfully optimistic, kid."
"I kind of got it from my aunt," He responded sheepishly. Peter looked around the room. "Um, where can I put my bag?"
Foggy made a grand gesture to the lone desk sitting in the middle of the room with an old computer on it. Behind it were a couple of filing cabinets, a garbage can, and a half-alive houseplant. "Everything you see here, this is your domain, my friend." When Peter smiled, Foggy dropped his hand into his pocket. "C'mon, I'll get you set up with a company email and go over your responsibilities."