With the whole 'aliens constantly invading the city' shit that's been happening over the last decade, along with the sudden career change into a private eye, Karen had no idea how she never noticed this building.
It's not like they were being subtle. It looked like a wizard hiding place with the rustic purple brick and the golden accents and that massive window sitting on top of the building that was covered in weird symbols. And yet, somehow, Karen never really paid attention to it. Maybe they cast some sort of spell? It sounded absolutely ridiculous, but given that there was a spell that could erase everyone's memory of one specific teenager, anything was possible.
She stood at the steps of the Sanctum Sanctorum and took one last calming breath before marching up them. Karen squared her shoulders and let loose her murder face; people tended to part like the Red Sea whenever she looked at them this way.
The door knocker was really strange, covered end to end in sparkling runes, and she was almost scared to touch it. But there was no other way to do it.
Karen knocked hard once, twice, three times and waited. The wind picked up out of nowhere and she was momentarily distracted. During the second she looked away, the doors opened on their own, displaying a completely empty sorcerer foyer.
Slowly, she entered the building, scanning the room for any signs of life. There were some moving artifacts held up in displays and a roaring fire, but other than those, the room was completely still.
The doors slammed shut behind her. She yelped and jumped, whipping her head backwards to see. All this magic stuff was just insane.
"Is there something I can help you with, ma'am?"
Karen quickly turned around again to find a sorcerer standing on the stairs. He stood with his chin held high in a dark maroon robe, his eyes looking her up and down critically.
She cleared her throat and held herself higher. "My name is Karen Page, of the firm Nelson, Murdock & Page. I'm a private investigator, and I have a few questions for Dr. Strange."
At that moment, the man slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "Of course you do," He muttered as he began walking down the steps. "Unfortunately, Stephen is in Nepal at the moment." He folded his hands behind his back.
"Do you know when he'll be back?" She asked, twisting her hand on her bag strap.
"With any luck, not for a while." The sorcerer chuckled darkly. He stood next to the fire and began staring at the flames. "What is it you'd like to speak to him about?"
"The situation with Spider-Man." She answered simply.
The man's eyes shot up to her, a look of disbelief on his face. He stared at her for a long moment before he looked down and shook his head. "I told him this was inevitable."
Karen knitted her eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"
He looked back up at her and gestured to the staircase. "Come with me, Ms. Page. I may not be Stephen, but I'm well appraised of what happened with Spider-Man. I'll answer what I can."
Karen nodded, letting herself smile a bit as he led her upstairs. Her phone dinged her text tone, but she ignored it in favor of this sudden interview. "Thank you, Mr…"
"Wong." He half smiled at her before gesturing back up the stairs. "How do you take your tea?"
"Wow. You look like shit."
Peter shot a glare at Betty, who sat behind her desk with a massive shit-eating grin on her face. "Good morning to you, too." He grunted as he dropped a file on her desk before falling into a nearby threadbare chair.
Betty looked down at the manilla folder before looking back up, her smile somewhat faded. She nailed Peter with a quizzical look for a moment, long enough to make Peter shift uncomfortably.
"Uh, Betty?" She blinked, seemingly coming back to her senses as she lightly shook her head. "Everything alright?"
"Uh…" Her eyes darted over to the shut door of Jameson's office, where Peter could hear some shuffling and stomping. Jameson must be building up to an epic freak out on some poor unfortunate soul.
Betty's eyes quickly swept back to Peter, accompanied by a weak smile. Peter's shoulders fell. "No." Betty cringed and slowly nodded. He crumpled forward, burying his face in his hands. "Fuck."
He could hear Betty as she stood, grabbed something, and made her way to the other side of the desk. "I'll be right back with some nice coffees. Call it a consolation prize." She said quietly before her heels tapped towards the elevator.
He stayed slumped over in the chair for a minute, trying to mentally prepare for the absolute onslaught he was about to face. Peter was not ready. He just got shot, for God's sake. Can't New York just give him a break every once in a while?
Evidently, he was taking too long, as the door next to him slammed into the wall with a dangerous crack. His spine immediately straightened, and he looked up into the eyes of the city's most infamous newsman.
"Parker!" Jameson screeched. "Office! Now!" He immediately whirled back on his feet and stomped behind his desk.
Peter sighed, grabbing the manilla folder as he slowly rose from the chair, not bothering to wipe the pained look off his face. Jameson would barely notice from behind his own… issues.
Mr. Foswell was already sitting in the office, white as a sheep. He looked at Peter with pure terror in his eyes, far more scared than when he'd literally infiltrated a gang the night before. Peter offered him a shaky smile, to which he simply shook his head once.
Without being asked to, Peter shut the door behind him. Mostly to preserve his and Foswell's dignity, but also because he was maybe two seconds away from breaking and truly screaming back at Jameson, and he didn't want anyone listening if that happened.
He shrugged off his backpack and sat down next to Foswell as Jameson paced behind his desk, his face the most colorful thing in the room. Peter knew better than to interrupt or - God forbid - speak before he did, so he kept quiet, letting the volatile man go through whatever he was going through.
After a couple of long, grueling, silent moments, Jameson stopped behind his desk, slamming his palms onto the center and hanging his head down, as if in defeat. At that moment, Peter could feel his spidey sense begin thurming at the back of his head. He winced a little, knowing that he was in more danger here than last night.
"You two…" Jameson growled.
Foswell cringed. "Mr. Jameson, sir, I-"
"Shut it!" He threw his head back up, a death glare aimed at Mr. Foswell. "Neither of you will say a God damned word until I'm finished!" His manic eyes flew between the two of them. Peter meekly nodded, and Mr. Foswell began having a staring contest with the floor.
"Now, I feel like we've had this conversation before, but maybe you forgot since you surreptitiously dumped this job for some poverty-stricken law firm," He narrowed his eyes at Peter, who felt a shiver go down his spine. An angry Jameson was almost as scary as the Punisher. "But let me repeat it one last time. We do not have liability insurance! We cannot afford to pay damages or medical bills or whatever else may happen if either one of you gets hurt or pisses someone off enough to hurt you!" His face kept getting redder and redder as he yelled.
And he yelled for 10. Solid. Minutes. Peter wasn't even sure if he paused to breathe. By the end of it, Foswell had a death grip on his chair, Peter felt the smallest he'd ever had, and Jameson was breathing like a gorilla. More than one coffee mug had been shattered due to Jameson's wild hand gestures that wiped stuff off his desk, but he barely seemed to notice. His eyes were still glued to Peter, and he looked like absolute murder.
It had been quiet for almost a minute, so Peter decided to chance it. He cleared his throat, bringing both of their full attention onto him. Jameson's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing, so Peter began.
"I completely understand, sir, and I apologize. It was… reckless of us, to go into those Maggia meet-ups," Peter sat up, loosening his hold on the manilla folder. "But I think I have something you'd find interesting."
"If it's from that God damned mob meetup-"
"It's not. Well, technically," Peter shrugged and tossed the folder onto the desk in front of him. "Just look."
Jameson still looked pissed as all Hell, but his brow creased in curiosity as he slowly reached for the folder. Mr. Foswell began peeking up, wanting to look but not daring to get any closer to him.
Honestly, Peter was a little relieved that Jameson was trying to put a stop on the Maggia story. His best pictures of last night were from the epic showdown between the Punisher, Spider-Man, and eventually, Daredevil. Jameson seemed interested in them, his eyes lighting up with something that would be considered fascination if it were anyone else.
"When I was trying to find a good spot to get pictures, Spider-Man showed up and fought that Frank Castle guy, from that really old trial? He seemed to have something to do with whatever was happening in the warehouse," Peter explained carefully. "Eventually, Daredevil showed up and fought the Punisher - that's what he called Castle - while Spider-Man ducked into the warehouse. I saw them leave together, and I heard they both ended up at FEAST."
Jameson picked one up, rubbing at his chin as he examined it. It was Peter's favorite; Daredevil was twirling in the air, deftly dodging a couple bullets aimed by the furious Punisher. It looked graceful and light, everything Peter wished he could do when he moved, and it contrasted with the fury radiating off the Punisher. Spider-Man had his back turned to the camera, crouching on the ground, watching but ready to jump into the fray. It was energetic and exciting, but also showed the darkness of the confrontation.
He made sure to leave out the photos that had Daredevil and the Punisher in what seemed like a standoff before Castle left nonviolently. Didn't want to give Jameson anymore ideas about faking stories for a quick buck. He had a lot of questions for when he met up with the other hero tonight.
Well, to be fair, he also had a lot of questions for Castle. But he'd get those answers. He had plenty of time before he had to meetup with Daredevil.
Jameson quietly hummed before putting the picture back with the others and shutting the folder forcefully. He stood tall, crossing his arms, the red of his face replaced with annoyed determination. "I want these for free." He said simply.
Peter stood, squaring his shoulders. "70% of my usual rate." He responded. He was willing to negotiate a little since he finally had a regular paycheck.
Jameson narrowed his eyes, trying to will Peter into backing down. Peter simply stuck his open hand out in front of him, meeting Jameson's eye.
After a tense minute, Jameson finally snatched Peter's hand in his and shook it roughly. "Foswell," He barked without breaking Peter's eye contact. "Write out a preliminary. Go to FEAST. Chase this lead until it dies." He ordered before letting go of the teenager's hands.
Mr. Foswell bolted upright, grabbing the manilla folder and hitting himself in the forehead with an awkward salute. "Yes, Mr. Jameson!" He cried before rushing out the door.
"Don't forget about the insurance!" Jameson yelled at the door as it swung shut
Both Peter and Jameson watched him go. Peter reached for his bag, intent on leaving the Bugle as soon as humanly possible, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around to find a softer looking Jameson gazing at him.
"Mr. Jameson?" Peter questioned, scrunching his eyebrows together.
He sighed. "Look, Parker, I know I don't say this enough…" He was cringing a bit, and he looked like he had to force the words out. "But your work is adequate. The Bugle wouldn't be what we are now without your work, and I know Marla appreciates talking to you. So… be more careful."
Peter could easily read between the lines. He was a little tempted to poke some fun at Jameson for his unwarranted emotions, but he decided to take pity on the man who was already struggling with this level of feeling.
He shot the man a small smile as he twisted his hands around his bag strap. "Yes, sir." Peter nodded as he threw his bag over his shoulder and backed out the door. Jameson crossed his arms again, but said nothing else as Peter left.
As soon as the door was shut, Peter pretty much collapsed onto Betty's desk with an exhausted breath. She'd already returned with two coffees from the fancy place down the street. Hers probably had almond milk and just a little bit of sugar. Peter could already smell the caramel monstrosity she brought him.
He looked up at her with a tight smile, but made no other attempt to get off of her desk. The smile she returned was wide, kind, and open, and she picked up one of the coffees. "Congrats on making it through that. How bad was it?"
Peter let his head drop down with an airy chuckle before he stood back up, gratefully accepting the warm drink. "On the Jameson scale? Probably a 4 out of 10."
She blinked in surprise. "Seriously? With the way he was pacing, I was expecting at least an 8."
"Well, I had to dock points cause he got all sappy with me at the end, and because neither of us were fired only to be re-hired in a few hours." Peter shrugged.
Betty grabbed her coffee with both hands, holding it close. "'Sappy'? Since when does Jameson get sappy?" She gently kicked the old chair across from her.
He pulled the seat out and sank into it, less exhausted than he was before. "Since I've become besties with his wife."
"Ah. I forgot you were Marla's favorite." She snickered.
Peter laughed. "What can I say? The nerd charm works on most women."
"Yeah, I guess," Betty laughed along. "I guess I shouldn't be talking though, since I go to MSST. Oh man, you should've seen the first guy I dated after the Blip."
Peter tried not to let his face fall. He knew exactly who she was talking about. "Did he pull the nerd card on you?"
"Yeah, and it totally worked. I mean, I probably wouldn't have fallen as hard if our lives weren't in constant danger, but hey, what can you do?" She took a long sip from her coffee. "He and I are still good friends, and I see him all the time. From what I heard, he and one of our other friends had a nasty run-in with Spider-Man again."
This time, Peter couldn't hide the cringe, but thankfully, she was more focused on her coffee. He knew her history with Spider-Man, naturally, and he didn't want to talk about it much. She never brought it up either, so it was almost like it wasn't hanging over them.
He tried to let it fall off his shoulders, feigning interest to see if Ned or MJ were saying… saying anything about him. "What happened?"
Betty huffed. "How much time have you got?"
Peter checked his phone. "I've only got a half day, so I don't need to leave for another hour." Betty's mischievous grin was telling him that it was the wrong thing to say. Still, he couldn't help but smile back at her as she took a deep breath.
"We have a problem."
Foggy's chin dramatically knocked against his chest as Matt walked into the office, folding up his cane and dropping his briefcase on the floor. "Good morning to you, too, Matt." He sighed. "How was your 'game' last night? I didn't hear from you after you and your friend left." Matt could feel the glare pointed at him and winced a little.
"Look, I understand you're upset-"
"Matt, you're not hurt. Spider-Man's alive. So I'm not upset. In fact, I wasn't going to say anything." Foggy leaned back against his desk. "But the fact that the first thing I hear from you after the disaster that was last night is 'we have a problem'? Not a great sign."
"Yeah, I know." Matt sighed, stepping across the room and mimicking Foggy's position. It was probably best to not mention the injuries he got after the scuffle. "But this is a… it's a pretty big problem."
"How big?"
Matt bit his lip. "Frank Castle is supposed to be here in 20 minutes and Karen's not picking up her phone." Foggy's heart seemed to skip a beat, but he remained in shocked silence. "When I caught up to him last night, he was already fighting Spider-Man. I sent the kid to go deal with Manfredi while I talked to Frank."
"And what did Frank have to say?" Foggy said lowly, refusing to look at Matt.
Matt crossed his arms, feeling more defeated than ever. For some reason, it was always Foggy that seemed to take him down the best. "That he's fixing the mess I didn't during the Blip. That the Maggia have dirt on Spider-Man." That seemed to pique Foggy's interest, if the way his heart sped up was a tell. "He… he tried to talk to Spider-Man before I got there. Not sure about what, but I know Mysterio is part of it."
"Ah fuck." Foggy rubbed at his temples. "Of course it does."
"Frank wouldn't stop fighting either of us until I agreed to show him why the city fell apart during the last five years. So, he's coming here. Now, I think." Matt sighed in defeat.
Foggy took a deep, trembling breath before he lifted his head back up. "Thank God Karen somehow had the foresight to give Peter the morning off. Did you mention this to her?"
"I thought it'd be a better conversation in person, so no. But maybe he texted her." He shrugged. Sensing Foggy's anxiety, he added, "The first thing he said was that he wouldn't hurt any of you. You're all safe."
"But what about you?" Foggy finally turned to look at him, and it felt like sunshine poking its way through an overcast sky. "Will he hurt you?"
"Only if I get in his way." Matt said simply, turning his head forward.
Foggy hummed, but didn't say anything else. They stood against his desk for a long, quiet moment.
"How are the Leeds?" Matt finally asked.
Foggy rested his hands on his hips. "FEAST got them set-up with housing, so they're good for now. I'm meant to meet with them later today, along with the girl that was with them when the house went up."
"Have the cops talked to the arsonist yet?"
"Not that I know of. Haven't been able to call yet. I was actually hoping I could get Peter to take care of that later, but…" He let his sentence trail off.
Matt slumped against the desk, practically falling on Foggy. "That poor kid."
"Yeah." Was all Foggy could say.
"We should give him the full day off. He shouldn't have to be involved in this."
Foggy took a moment to think. "He walked into this with his eyes open. Karen told him everything about Frank, so it's not like he knows nothing. But, yeah, I don't want him any closer to this."
"Should we call him?" Foggy scratched the back of his neck.
"Probably," Matt shrugged, standing up and stretching his arms out. "Man, I wish we could make Karen do it. She's way better at this stuff."
"Right?" Foggy snorted, rounding his desk and sitting down. He reached for his laptop, much less tension in his shoulders.
Matt winced a little as he moved his right arm. He had definitely been aggravating the fracture, but it wasn't actually broken. He tried to cover it up as part of his stretch, but unfortunately, Foggy didn't miss his flinch.
He carefully shut his laptop and folded his hands on his desk. "What's wrong with your arm?" He said simply and blankly, not giving anything away in his tone.
"Nothing. Probably just sore from last night's escapades." Matt snorted back at him, reaching for where he dropped his cane.
He clicked his tongue, standing to follow Matt. "Matty, I know how you move when you're injured. What the fuck happened?"
Matt groaned, walking faster to try and hide in his own office. "Foggy, there's nothing wrong-"
"Matthew Michael Murdock, if you don't tell me what exactly happened with your arm last night, so help me God, I'm calling Jess."
He turned back around to find Foggy's finger shoved in his face. "I'd rather you call me Matty." Matt mumbled after a minute.