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Bed-Stuy. 3:24 AM.
It reeks of bangers and Guiness in the back room of O'Malley's Pub. At least, that's the odor that lingers somewhere beneath the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap whisky. A group of Irish thugs are gathered around a table covered in green felt, playing poker. Cold hard cash is at stake, not to mention pride.
"Oy. Get that bloody fag out of my face, Johnny." Seamus Diggins waves away the cigarette wielded from the man to his left. "Hey, how long we gonna be sittin around here with our fucking hands in our bloomers?" he asks. "Is this thing going down, or not?"
"Shut it, Seamus," says McDouglas. "Ya fucking shut it or I'll turn your mouth into a fucking pancake."
"That's what you get for dealing with wops, Mick."
O'Malley's isn't in the prettiest part of town. Word is its about as easy to get a call girl here as it is a shot of Irish Whiskey, and despite whatever the State of New York might say, this place never closes. Some kind of deal with the fuzz, or so they say.
Either way, this is not the part of town one expects a really nice car, Mercedes to be exact, rolling around in. The car rolls up to O'Malley's, and parks. Lights click out, but there's no motion inside from those who fill its fine leather seats.
*
This is the kind of place that attracts both the scourge of the earth and theoretically heroic linger. But then, this is no place for a real hero. Which is why Jessica Jones rather than Jewel sits at the bar in the normal part of O'Malley's Pub.
The small shot of whiskey rests in front of the dark haired woman and her fingers tap the bar in front of her absently. Her eyes flit around the pub as she assesses many of the patrons in the room. Silently, she tugs her glass from the bar and slips towards the other end of the pub. All the while, her eyes move from one person to the next, all the while seeking out an informant about a story she's been chasing about investment fraud.
*
Said investment fraud involves a member of the Cavassini family, and said informant happens to be Seamus Diggins. He checks his watch again, and curses. "Shit. I'm late."
"Late for what?" asks Johnny, who looks toward Seamus suspiciously.
"To blow my load thinking about your mum," Seamus retorts. "Mind yourself, aye?"
Meanwhile, the Mercedes outside begins disgorging its contents. Men in suits, Italian cut, one of them carrying a briefcase, all of them wearing trench coats that are too long for even this 'cool' summer night. As the group enters the bar, Seamus is coming in from the back, rubbing at his nose while making his way toward Jessica.
Seamus plops down, fingers fidgeting. He bares his teeth, tongue rubbing at the roof of his mouth, and snorts at the air once before lighting a cigarette. "You got the money?" he murmurs, nervously, without looking Jessica's way.
*
The man that plops down across from her earns a quirk of Jessica's eyebrow. She brings her drink to her lips and takes a long languid sip before her head cants to the side. "You should offer to buy me a drink," she deadpans as her eyebrows lift higher on her forehead. "And know that I always come prepared," money isn't the issue today. Not if this blows the entire story open.
Her dark eyelashes flutter as she finally aims to make eye contact with the man across from her, only to have her gaze rest beyond the man in front of her. Quickly, abruptly, she moves her weight back to her feet.
*
"Easy," says Seamus, eyeballing Jessica with a frown. He sniffs once more, then gestures to the bartender, nods to Jessica's drink, and flashes two fingers up into the air. "So, as I was saying…"
Meanwhile, the suits are ushered along toward the back room, from whence Seamus came. It's then when he notices the men, and he grimaces, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Oh, fuck me."
In the back room, the Italians take to the corners, while the man bearing his briefcase walks in and sets it down right on top of the poker game. "Money. Show it to me."
McDouglas, sneering, nods his head toward a red haired brute at the far end of the back room. The brute produces a briefcase of his own, and walks it over. He sets it down, clicks it open, and reveals that it is stacked to the rim with $20 bills.
"Alright," says the Italian, who then opens his briefcase. All that's inside is an envelope.
"What the fuck is this??"
*
The motion towards the drink has Jones' lips curling upwards with a hint of amusement that fades moments later. Jessica mumbles, "You really could use a bit of a — " but she doesn't finish the thought, her own eyes honing in on the men with the trench coats moving to the back room.
"Friends of yours?" the hushed tone she emits is followed by her grasping the Seamus' coat to tug him (willingly or unwillingly if need be) closer as she trails towards the back room, "What are they after?" she asks blandly. There's a no-nonsense hint to her tone. She aims to listen and spy rather than confront at this point, and as such, shesituates herself so she can observe at a better vantage.
*
Seamus is quick to down his shot before letting himself he tugged along. He yanks back a bit at her question, surprised. "Me? Those fucking Mario's ain't friends of mine." He leans back in, hissing, "You ask me, McDouglas is making a big mistake, dealing with greaseballs like that!"
From Jessica's vantage point, she'll be able to hear the escalating voices that come from the back room.
"Your next instructions."
"The fuck do you mean, next instructions?"
"An address. Where you'll be given further instructions. You don't think we'd actually bring the product with us, do you?"
"Always like a Rizzo, definition of sleaze."
The shouting escalates, when suddenly, something whizzes through the air. Jessica will catch glimpse of it; a stick-like object, which blasts right into the breaker box. A shower of sparks fills the hallway, before the lights in the entire bar go out.
*
Eyes narrowing into slits, Seamus is regarded with obvious skepticism. Undoubtedly, Jessica Jones is a cynic. Her lips press into a tight thin line and she listens and watches rather than interacts. A glance is cast towards Seamus as the voices escalate. "What are they talking about?" she hisses.
"You're coming with me," she whispers back at him, tugging him towards the room. But just as she's pulling Seamus towards the room's entrance, the lights go out.
She takes the opportunity to slip into the back room, now opting to leave Seamus, her proverbial luggage, behind.
*
"Only the best shit ever," Seamus answers, before rubbing at his nose again. "It's called - hey!" Tugged along, he can't do much; she's surprisingly strong!
Its dark in the back room. The only illumination comes through the door, which is kicked open by a figure in shadow and a glimpse of dark maroon. In a silhouette cast from the street light in an alley outside, one can make out the figure of a man, with horns upon his head; hard to see whether it is a costume of sorts or not. In the blink of an eye, he dashes into shadow.
Next, come the sounds of scuffle. The meaty thumps of bodies being struck by fist and club alike. One of the Italians ends up thrown into the wall right before Jessica, his chin smashed in, a spray of blood staining the old brick wall next to her.
*
"Drugs," Jessica whispers to herself. "It had to be drugs." Of course she'd end up on a different story just as she's trying to wrap up a different one. The street light has Jones squinting, and, with a groan, she can feel the spray of blood splatter even her.
She reaches for the penlight in her pocket and twists it on, shedding a bit of light on the situation. Her eyes narrow to bring the brawl into focus. Now a witness to a gang brawl, she looks around for Seamus again, this time to ensure he doesn't give her the slip. She needs to know about this drug — one fight isn't likely to resolve a larger problem.
*
The pen light reveals a figure only spoken of in rumor; the 'Devil of Hell's Kitchen'. Masked in dark maroon from head to toe, with a mask that covers the upper half of his face and seemingly leaves him blind. He fights with an impossible skill, anticipating the thugs movements and striking with brutal, and yet non-lethal, efficiency.
"Oh shit!" curses Seamus. "Shit! Fuck!" He ducks low against the wall nearby Jessica, and turns her way. "Screw this, lady!" he hisses. "I'm outta here!" Then, he makes a mad dash for the back door.
Which, of course, throws him right into the thick of the brawl.
*
The cursing has Jessica rolling her eyes, but the exasperation expressed by Seamus causes the relatively diminutive woman to traipse after him — into the brawl. Stepping into the thick of things means putting herself in presumed danger.
A body is flung towards her, and she ducks, causing it to narrowly miss, and making her incredibly thankful for her penlight. Her paces increase, and an overzealous thug throws a punch at her, prompting her to catch the thug's fist, and push him back, literally pushing him down to his knees as she grasps his fist. She punches him once with her penlight-bearing hand, causing him to crumple.
Jessica pushes forward to continue her Seamus-pursuit.
*
During the brawling, two things happen. Seamus is able to snatch up the Italians' briefcase before dashing out the door and into the alley. Daredevil pauses in the fight long enough to observe Jessica's feat, or at least it would seem; one of the Irish comes close to striking him, which pulls him back into the fight.
Not that it's much of a fight. Between his fighting prowess and the reclaimed billy clubs, it won't be long before Daredevil is the last man standing.
That being said, there is the telltale glint of light upon metal. One of the Italians has just brandished a machine gun from within his trench coat, and is fixing to spray death into close quarters combat!
*
Distinct irritation accompanies Seamus' abrupt exit, but there's no time to follow him.
The shine of metal has Jessica reacting rather than thinking as she flies towards the presumed assailant, silently thankful for the dark of the room. The flight, of sorts, serves as more a tackle than a true lift, aiming to force said man to the ground and grasp the large machine gun, presumably taking it from the would-be assailant.
*
Just in the nick of time, too. Another moment and the Italian would have managed to pull the trigger. As it is, a few rounds are sprayed harmlessly into the ceiling, sure to attract the fuzz, even out here in Bed-Stuy.
Daredevil grimaces and throws his attacker into another like a bowling ball, before leaping off the wall and landing in a crouch next to Jessica. "He took the briefcase," he observes between breathes, suggesting that he's a hair away from leaving this fight and giving chase to the Irishman.
*
Having tackled the gun toting Italian, Jones shoves an elbow into his face, ensuring he stays down. Daredevil's mention of the now-retreating Seamus colours Jessica less than impressed. "He owes me a story," she murmurs in reply as she quickly dispenses of the weapon. She looks back towards the door. "I'll catch him. Welcome to join." Although trailing after him may prove difficult, she has incredible endurance and strength. She dives to the door and begins pumping her arms at her sides as she breaks into a sprint to catch Seamus.
*
A beat, during which Daredevil stares at the woman. Wasn't this his operation? This is what happens when he leaves the Kitchen.
A heavy crack is heard when he bounces a man's head off the wall, and then, Daredevil is giving chase. Once out into the alley, however, he is quick to catch up. Seamus, however, is nowhere in sight.
Which won't be a problem.
At the mouth of the alley, Daredevil reaches to catch Jessica's arm. "Wait," he says, then tilts his head just so. A second, then two, then three pass, before his body tenses. "This way."
He bolts left, headed toward the L train station a block down the street.
*
There's a curious furrow of Jessica's brow as Daredevil touches her arm. But without an obvious trail, she's up for following a stranger on a wild goose chase. She needs the name of the drug, and if there's any chance she can catch up with Seamus….
She follows the Devil down the block. "How do you — " but there's no time to really get information, instead she's running hard, after Daredevil, not quite sure if this will take them back to Seamus.
*
No time to answer. The streets are quiet at this hour, save for the odd hobo, drunk, or late night commuter. One such commuter, an older lady, gasps on the subway stairs when Daredevil leaps into the air and rides the railing down, speeding into the tunnel beyond.
He strikes ground, takes two heaving steps, then vaults himself over the turnstile and into the station proper.
Out comes one of his billy clubs. With a fling of his wrist, it goes soaring over the tracks, striking Seamus on the opposing platform, right in the face.
*
Jessica continues to run, her lips parting wordlessly as she follows Daredevil through the subway. She narrowly dodges the older lady, uttering a soft apology as she moves.
Her own paces remain an even pace, never relenting, but her steps lack Daredevil's elegance in movement. She's quick and strong, but she's not martial arts trained.
Even after the billy club strikes, Jessica follows after it, running at, and then grabbing Seamus tightly. "What," she puffs, "is," she breathes heavily, "the drug?"
*
Seamus loses the briefcase when he's struck, blood spurting from a shattered nose, a tooth somewhere in the spray that splashes across theplatform. It gives Jessica the advantage.
"Ow!" he cries. "Owww, shhhhit, you broke my nose!!" Then, when he's grappled by Jessica, he nearly squeaks. "It… it's…"
Daredevil walks up to them, reclaiming his billy club from the platform. "Tell her," he growls, menacingly.
"I don't know, it's called 'Joy'! We… we were getting it from the Italians, we don't know who they get it from!!"
*
"You're lucky that's all he broke after what you just pulled." Jessica doesn't let go of the man's collar. "Joy," she repeats before casting a haphazard glance towards Daredevil. "What does it do?" Her gaze turns back to Seamus.
Her lips purse irritably. "And how much of it do they have?" Following the supply chain has imminent importance.
*
"What does it to?" breathes Seamus. "Everything."
"How much do they have?" insists Daredevil.
"I. Don't. Know!"
"No matter." Daredevil turns away and scoops up the briefcase. "We have what they came with." He turns back to Seamus, glowering. "That all you have to say?"
"To you fucks? You bet."
*
Incredulous, Jessica casts a glade towards Daredevil before redirecting her attention to Seamus and, finally, letting him go. Her hands that had so easily clung to him, keeping him in place, are removed entirely, and she steps back.
"You need to remember something: You might think you're invisible, but you're not." Her eyes narrow. "Turn yourself into the police. It's your best bet at having a go here. If us fucks," there's obvious annunciation there, "can find you after you bolted, you can bet the Italians and your own brood aren't far behind. Only place you're safe is the police. Especially after lifting," her eyes glance towards the briefcase.
With that said, Jessica turns away. If the fellow wants to run, evidently, she's not intending to stop him again. Instead, she looks towards the briefcase, "It didn't have in it what they expected." There's blandness to her tone. "They said it's an address. With further instructions about — " she shrugs. "I'm guessing this Joy stuff."
*
Daredevil looks on as Jessica delivers her warning. For his part, Seamus isn't the smartest Mick this side of Boston, but he does know well enough to at least get the hell out of dodge, though not without spitting a wad of saliva, snot and blood toward Jessica's shoes.
With a heavy sigh, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen doesn't give pursuit. Instead, he glances in the general direction of the briefcase in his hand. "And a clue to the brewing war between the Irish and the Italians," he adds. His head tilts toward Jones, considering her for a moment.
Then, he offers her the briefcase. After all…. he can't easily read whatever might be on that note inside.
"Feel like breaking up a drug deal?"
*
Seamus is quickly forgotten and Jessica's fingers grasp the handle of the briefcase. "And I thought tonight was going to be boring," she notes as she unhinges the clasps of the briefcase to take whatever address has been scribed inside.
The open briefcase is given a once over, "You heard of this Joy stuff?" she asks as she reviews the contents, reiterating them back to Daredevil in turn.
*
"First I've heard of it," Daredevil answers. He accepts the contents and pretends to read them; he'll likely have Foggy look them over later. As luck would have it, the drop is not scheduled for another day or so. That gives him time.
"But I can ask around the kitchen. If not there… always smart to ask around the black neighborhoods." Sad as it may me, traffickers always start in the black neighborhoods.
"Cops'll be here. You got a name?" he asks.
*
"Neither," Jessica responds quietly. "I'll keep my ears and eyes open. People tend to get involved with that kind of thing around here." She's lived here long enough to know what happens around her home.
Trish said she had to have an alias. Trish said that all heroes needed them. She'd taken on Jewel. But then, that always felt like more of a lark than a real thing, and unlike most heroes (or at least, most she assumed), Jessica had no family left to threaten, and no current disguise to protect her. And so the name given is the one given her: "Jessica Jones."
She glances towards the toll booth, "You're the Devil, right?"r
*
"Something like that," answers the man in red. "The bad guys are afraid of me. That's all that matters." He closes the briefcase, then shoots Jessica an upnod. "Watch your back, Jones." There's a clear subtext in his tone of voice.
See you at the meeting point.
Turning, Daredevil makes a run for the tracks. One of the express trains is rolling into the station; he leaps right in front of it, coming within inches of being clobbered. However, his silhouette can be seen on the other platform as the train whizzes past, headed for the exit.