Chapter 1
From The Shadows
'Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.'
~ Edgar Allen Poe
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Playlist:
Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons
Brother (feat. Gavin DeGraw) by NEEDTOBREATHE
Paint it Black by Ciara
In the End by Tommee Profitt, Fleurie, Jung Youth
Coming Home by Sheppard
The Last Of The Real Ones by Imagine Dragons
Drunk Again by Song House, Mariarose
Gods by League of Legends
Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch
Mr Ed by Mammoth WVH
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Chapter 1
My eyes scanned over the man before me. Arms flabby, dressed in an ill-fitting black suit - basic, and too tight in the waist, sagging in the shoulders. His blue striped tie was crooked, wrinkled, and loose. He was sporting a mustache, unaware it mimicked Jameson's.
Or maybe that was what he was aiming for, since the independent reporter across from me loved to spout off the same bullshit as James.
I cocked my head. Why was I here again? Tuning this guy out?
Oh yes, I groaned internally. My fucking job. There were very few moments I regretting my career choice. This was definitely one of them.
"When is the event, Mr. Cook?" I butted in to his story. "Your half hour is almost up and I do have other client's."
He huffed. "Tomorrow at seven. I can get you a ticket if -"
"I can get my own ticket, Mr. Cook. I will email you the final invoice tomorrow, and I expect to be paid in full before I send any photos." I stood up and brushed his paperwork back into a stack on my desk. "I'll see you out before my next appointment comes in."
In the last year since moving to NYC, I had upgraded from the bedroom office in my apartment to a real office in Hells Kitchen. I had a room for my studio photography now, rather than my living room, and even expanded my services to include journalism photography.
I waved off Charles Cook then dropped my smile with a groan. "If that man had tried to touch me one more time I would have taken his hand off."
Someone behind me laughed.
"I am so sorry," I whirled to face the office across from mine. "I didn't see you there!" He was cute, in the same way a puppy was cute. His teeth were straight and white, and - unlike Cook - he actually filled in every aspect of his grey suit.
He brought a hand to his mouth and tried to muffle his laughter. A pair of dark red sunglasses glinted in the afternoon sun, and I couldn't help but appreciate the way they stood out on his face. Red was his color, for sure. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"I didn't actually mean it," I assured him. I did, very much so, mean it. But he didn't need to know that.
"And I'll pretend you meant that too," he smiled, and held out the hand that wasn't wrapped around his cane. A hand that sported bruised knuckles, I noted. "Matthew Murdock."
I shook. Under my palm, his was calloused, and I watched the muscles bunch in his forearm. Muscles you couldn't build on a Stairmaster or Elliptical. Whoever this blind lawyer was, he had some interesting hobbies. "Maeve Barnes."
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Murdock."
His nose scrunched in disgust and I caught another glimpse of his impossibly white teeth. "Matt. Mr. Murdock was my father."
I smirked, chin lifting, studying him from a new angle. The way he held himself, his stance, the way he gripped his cane... I found myself intrigued by this person, and I wasn't easily entertained.
Before either of us could speak, a younger woman cleared her throat. "Is this MB Photos?"
I grinned - and maybe I showed too much teeth, maybe I moved a little quick, but it wasn't - not really. Just a trick of the light. You're imagining things.
"It is! I'm Maeve. Come on in," I waved her on and turned back to Matt. "I hope to see you around, Murdock."
A strange look passed over his face, a mix of excitement and apprehension, and he nodded. "You as well, Barnes."
+
I didn't see Matt the next day. Nelson, Murdock, and Page was closed when I came in at six, and only their secretary (a sweet, innocent college student named Sarah, who was adorably unaware the attention her boss had just brought on the office) was in when I swung by on my way home at lunch.
My apartment was a short walk from work, so it didn't take long to get back. I did a quick workout, made a mental note to search for boxing gyms in the area, and showered.
Charlie Cook had hired me to photograph a dinner where the mayor and a few representatives would be dining, along with a few other notable guests, including Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. Cook himself - predictably - wanted to 'focus on the interviews', which translated to 'I want to enjoy myself instead of doing my job'.
To be quite honest, I never did understand the hubbub around the heroes. Of course I was raised by a mercenary and spent a good chunk of my childhood as a vigilante, but to me the heroes were just people. People with powers and questionable moral compasses and a shocking amount of publicity.
But a job was a job.
The dinner started at seven, but I needed to be there by five for entrance photos and to survey the dinner for the best angles. It would be over by nine - thankfully - and I could edit tonight over a bowl of leftover chili. My dress short, form fitting, and simple. Long sleeves and a high neck covered everything, and I grabbed a pair of black thermal leggings and wool socks too.
Because even though it was only November, this was New York, and I was from South Carolina, not Alaska, thank you. A pair of dark brown knee high boots and a brown purse and I was ready. My camera had been charged last night, and my ticket printed (after some questionable phone calls) I was hailing a cab and heading to Midtown.
+
The dinner was boring. All talk and no entertainment. Just glasses clinking and soft music and bright lights. I hated bright lights - they scared away my shadows and made it harder to listen in on what was going on below the surface in the Shadow Realm. I felt deaf, like one of my senses had been ripped from me, and it made my skin crawl.
To make matters worse, the organizers had neglected to tell anyone that photographers would only be allowed before dinner and for the first thirty minutes, so I was shoved to the side with all the others. We were given a glass of water and a plastic chair, and left to fiddle with our lanyards until the dinner was over.
I flicked through the photos I had on my camera so far to pass the time. Steve Rogers and representative Walker? Good. Mayor and co - okay. Mayor and representative Gilmore? Blurry. Can't use that one. Stark and Mayor - decent. Mayor and MIT president? That's actually pretty good.
The floor vibrated under my feet and my shadows squirmed, agitated. I snapped my head up only to see the kid next to me shaking his leg. "You okay?"
He glanced up in surprise. "Yeah, why?" His stomach growled loud enough for the photographer on the other side of him to glare, and he blushed. "Sorry."
"Did you eat anything?" I frowned.
"I left my job, and then Jameson called me to tell me I had to fill in for someone who got sick so I only had enough time to run home and change but then my suit was really wrinkled and I couldn't possibly wear that so I had to find something nice because there's no way I could show up in a t-shirt with a math pun. So I didn't have time to eat anything."
I blinked.
"But its okay because I was able to get here early but then we found out we can't take pictures the whole time and I didn't get many and Jameson isn't going to be happy with me."
"Jameson? As in JJ Jameson?" I asked, already not liking where this was going. He nodded and I sighed. "That man is a menace to society."
"That's funny since he likes to think the menace is Spiderman."
I scoffed. "Spiderman doesn't lower the city's IQ just by publishing an article. Can I see your pictures?"
He wordlessly handed his camera over and I clicked through. "These are... good. Really good! How old are you?"
He blushed again and muttered, "Seventeen."
My eyes widened. "Why do you work for James if he treats you like shit?"
"Well.... I mean, he pays. Not well, but I still need the money, and not many people will hire a high schooler."
I looked down at his camera again as a crazy idea came to my head. But first, food. "We're not gonna get anywhere else tonight. Want to get dinner?"
His head tipped sideways. "I don't have any money."
"My treat, kid. I have an offer I want to run by you."
"They're not going to be upset if we just leave are they?" He glanced over his shoulder at the tables nervously and I rolled my eyes.
"Like I care. We'll be quiet, and its one less person to watch." They're expensive security guards had been observing us all like hawks since the moment we sat down, making sure we didn't pull any stunts or take any unauthorized pictures. "Just follow me."
I slipped from my seat and walked towards the door, where the event organizer was standing, the kid hot on my heels. Two of the guards broke away to follow us and I made a mental note. Both were in decent, on the shorter side, and armed - but only a tazer and a single pistol. Both were righties and the older one was favoring his left leg - most likely a knee injury, given the brace under his slacks.
The organizer narrowed the eyes as I strolled up. "We're just leaving. Don't worry - " I assured her when she opened her mouth. "No extra photos, no plotting. We're just hungry and there's no point in staying longer. Have a great night." I pushed past before she could get a single word in and started off down the road.
"That was crazy, lady!" The kid jogged up beside me. "I think you just became my new idol."
I snorted. "My name is Maeve, kid. I own MB Photos over in Hells Kitchen."
"Peter Parker."
"So Peter Parker. How do you feel about tacos?" I motioned up at the sign. A client had wanted to meet here one time and the owners were super sweet, so I made it a point to stop by when I was in the neighborhood. Best authentic tacos in New York, I swear.
Peter just nodded. "I love tacos."
"Good." I held the door for him (poor kid really thought I was just going to let it shut on him) and waved at the hostess. "Just the two."
She nodded and soon we were seated in the back of the restaurant, waters in front of us, and menus to read over. I already knew what I wanted, so I leaned forward. "So Peter, where do you go to school?"
"Do you know how predatory that sounds?" He asked without looking up.
Sassy, this child. "Consider this a job interview."
That got his attention. "Job interview, Miss Barnes?"
"Well, you don't like working for Jameson. You take really good pictures. And I just so happen to need an assistant, if you're interested. Part time, of course, since you are still in school." He ducked his head and muttered something I couldn't catch. "What was that?"
"I'm not actually in school right," Peter said. I raised an eyebrow, because last I checked, seventeen was still a minor and he should be in school... and holy shit, I sound like my dad and brother. But even teen vigilante me went to high school, so this child should definitely be in school too. "Last year my uh, my guardian passed, and I didn't have anyone left. And I can't go into foster care, so I started working and I couldn't afford the tuition at my old school and work at the same time so I just... dropped out. I'm working on my GED right now thought!"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, because there was a lot to unpack there, and while I was doing better in my adult years, I was still not the most well adjusted human being. Technically I wasn't the most 'human' human being either but schematics. "Okay. Where did you used to go to school at?"
"Midtown."
"The fancy science school for smart kids?"
"Yeah..."
"Okay." I opened one eye. "I shouldn't do this, but if you want the job its yours. I'm positive I pay better than Jameson, and I'll give you time off for your GED, but you have to pass it and at least apply to college. Deal?"
For the first time all night, Peter smiled wide and shook my hand. "I can do that. Thank you, Miss Barnes."
"Stop with the 'Miss Barnes' shit. It's giving me hives." The waitress lowered a plate of food between us and I thanked her. "Now let's eat, because I so hungry I could eat a horse, and then you can show up for work Monday."