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New York City is full of wonders. All kinds of things you can't find anywhere else, especially compared to a tiny little no-name town in Middle-Of-Nowhere Iowa. But for all of its advantages, there's one thing that Alex craves, which is nowhere to be found here in this city. Pinball, which was banned in the city when the country joined the Allies in World War II. As with all contraband though, when LaGuardia made it illegal, pinball just went underground, and the mob got its fingers even deeper into the industry. It's not easy to find in the city, but with some well-placed inquiries, you can find tables hidden in back rooms, often in some of the less savoury parts of town. This is what brings Alex to the East Village today. The store is obviously a front; little more than a few magazine racks, most of which are of the more, ahem, adult variety, and small assortment of other goods. Sunglasses, cigarettes, etcetera. All the essentials. A surly looking man stands behind the counter, leafing through a magazine to pass the time when Alex walks in. The youth walks to the counter, and sets a five dollar bill on the counter, looking the man square in the eye. "I'm looking for a game," he says simply, and the man nods, takes the bill, and leads Alex through the door at the rear of the room. The paid disappear, and a few moments later, the man returns to his post.
*
Fronts are good places to get people to talk, and Jessica needs information. A lot of information. For two different cases. Having actual work means doing actual legwork for the job. Dressed in a black leather jacket, a pair of faded wash blue jeans, and a blue scarf, Jessica Jones never leaves home without one thing: her 'fuck you up' attitude that can be read through ever step she takes into the establishment.
Her eyes narrow and she slips a five on the counter. "I'm looking for information. Heard your patrons could have some." Her eyebrows lift, and then her eyes turn downwards, "And you know I'm not the fucking cops. I was here last week having some of that shit you guys pass off as gin. That moonshine is bound to take paint off the walls." There's no question she could report them to the police.
The man takes the bill and ticks his head to the rear of the room. She's been here recently and he knows it.
She skulks into the back room speakeasy and clucks her tongue in silent assessment.
*
Alex only just arrived himself, and hadn't even claimed one of the half-dozen or so pinball machines yet; he had his eye on a certain game, which unfortunately is in use. Not being the most patient of men, he waited the requisite two minutes before making his way rather brusquely to the two youths standing at the machine. He clears his throat to gain their attention, which distracts the one playing enough that he loses his ball. The young man is taller than Alex, and a larger of build. Maybe a year or two older, while the spectator is about Alex's height and apparent weight. The taller of the two isn't happy about losing his ball, as you might expect. "What the fuck, man," he says angrily to Alex, glaring down at the youth. "You owe me a quarter for that ball." The younger of the two is quiet, but offering his brother, perhaps, moral support in the form of enthusiastic nodding.
"You lost your turn. Find a new machine."
*
Jones' arms cross as she skulks further into the room to where the trio is paying pinball. She frowns as she glances between the young men and then Alex. Her lips quirk into a near-sneer of consideration. "He's right," she states blandly, "you lost your ball. Makes you available for a chat." She ticks her head to the space beside her, "Heard a gal named Charlotte Ferguson used to come around here, you seen her in the last week?" Always working the case. It might not be the most graceful encounter, but it is what it is. "Give me something useful and I'll pay the twenty-five cents."
*
The older of the pair, let's call him Freddy, looks Jessica over once. He's a pretty big guy, probably not used to getting spoken to so carelessly by smaller people, and girls. "Fuck off, kid," he says to Alex, and turns to face Jessica. "Rich girl? Blonde hair, big tits?" He cracks a smirk at her, and then glances down to his brother, "Go play another machine, Benny," he instructs, and the boy gives a nod before stepping away. "Looks nothing like you? I mean, not that I'd turn you down, but.." he grins widely, "Maybe this jerk knows her. Why don't you talk to him about it, and I'll come find you when I'm done. Maybe we'll have some fun, too," he says, and motions to Alex.
Alex cracks a smirk when Freddy dismisses him, but remains calm otherwise, choosing to watch how he interacts with Jessica rather than force a more physical confrontation. When the discussion circles back around to him, his expression darkens a bit. "How badly do you want to know what this guy knows, lady? I'm pretty sure he'll tell you whatever you want to know," he says matter-of-factly.
*
Jessica sucks on the inside of her cheek as she's dismissed. Her hands ball into small fists as she takes a step away from the two younger men, and her head turns to face Alex at the remark. "A teen girl is fucking missing and all they can do is call her some rich spoiled brat. She's from Hell's Kitchen. Anyone down there knows she couldn't be rich." Brat is another story, and not one that Jessica wants to deal with. "Unless you know something about Charlotte Ferguson…"
*
"I don't, no," Alex says to Jessica. "Just moved to the city. But hey, I live there too. Might be a neighbour I haven't met." He turns to look at Freddy, and his eyes start to glow white. "You're going to tell this nice lady everything you know about the girl she's looking for," he says, his voice dropping to a slightly lower register. "Or else your father beating the living shit out of you when he finds that scratch on his car is going to be least of your fears," he threatens. "Or maybe.. Donna? Donna's pregnant. Congratulations, you're a father." He pauses, and the white of his eyes intensifies a bit. "Definitely get that wart checked out, by the way. Could be something serious." By the time Alex mentions that last one, Freddy's white as a ghost, and frozen in place. "He's all yours, lady. Hope he knows something helpful," he says, pushing his way past the petrified fellow, and slips his quarter into the machine. Freddy looks at Jessica, visibly shaking. "Wha- what do you want to know?"
*
Jessica stares at Alex a few beats. Her jaw tightens and her eyes narrow. "Fuck. You're not one of them fucking mind-bending types, are you?" the memory of Killgrave is just too present on her mind, and there's no way that Jessica Jones is just going to be Killgrave'd again. Of course, the kid getting primed to talk about Charlotte Ferguson is enough to get her attention. Time is of the essence in missing person's cases, and Charlotte has already been missing a week. "Ferguson. Charlotte." First things first. "You know her?" Jessica's intel, found by perusing the kid's bedroom, had said that before going missing, Charlotte had spent quite a bit of time in here with the boyfriend that has still not yet been identified. Some older guy. Possibly an adult. Always referred to as JR in her diary amid pages of doodled hearts.
It was all so painfully predictable.
*
"God of Fear" Alex says idly, pulling back the pin and firing the ball up the column and into the play field. "This asshole has plenty to work with. Yours are.. a lot more serious than his, but you're not being an insufferable prick, so you get a pass," he says. His fingers work the flipper controls expertly, even as his attention is split between the game and Freddy's level of abject terror.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know her," Freddy says, on the verge of sobbing. "She used to come in here a lot, with some guy, figured it was her boyfriend," he continues, the shaking actually making it a little bit difficult to get the words out, but he manages. "He was older. Haven't seen her in a while. About a week, I think. God, please don't hurt me," tears are welling up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry.. so sorry.."
*
Jessica's eyes narrow at Alex's reply. Of course the god of fear. Why not? Her eyebrows lift, but she makes no remark, instead she chews on her bottom lip.
Freddy's reply earns a deep frown. No one has seen Charlotte Ferguson. "Fine. You know her boyfriend? Got a name?" Because any lead would be worthwhile.
But as the trail already starts to feel cold, her jaw tightens and she looks back towards Alex, "Thanks for the help. I just needed… Christ." She frowns and pinches the bridge of her nose, "Teen girl goes missing and no one has a trace of her. My associate is still looking into the school…" her head shakes. "But home, volunteering… everything is coming up empty except the fucking boyfriend who I can't even get a name for."
*
"Uh," Freddy says, wiping his face with his sleeve. "His name is Jamie. Remember hearing her call him that once. Look, I didn't do anything to her.. I mean.. yeah, maybe I tried to fuck her this one time, but I didn't.. I didn't.." He's now having a hard time breathing. Panic attack. Alex take a quick glance back, and the white fades from his eyes. "Relax, man," he says with a smirk. "And maybe next time you're a little more polite," he suggests. Ironic, since Alex pretty much baited him into this whole scenario. "Maybe you should run along home," he says after a moment, causing Freddy to get up, and start toward the door. His brother sees him on the move, and joins him on his way out, trying to figure out what the hell happened.
"Happy to help," Alex replies, turning away from the machine for a moment to face Jessica. Apparently lost his ball, or just got bored. Table's a bit simple for him. "How'd you end up tracking her to this joint?" He asks, motioning with his hand around the room. "Kind of far from home, isn't it?"
*
"Jamie," Jessica repeats as Freddy retreats. "Jamie, you're not on my radar," she mutters before turning her attention back to Alex. "Honestly? Luck." Her lips hitch up on one side. "My associate and I ran into her father at the O'Rourke. He was walking around with a picture of his kid. We took the case. David is checking out the high school. I took the house. And the only useful piece of anything was her diary. She vaguely mentioned this place and," she shrugs. "Just following the clues. I gotta tell David about this Jamie kid. Fuck. If he made her disappear I'll — " she stops herself abruptly. Uttering threats isn't a good idea, and she knows it. It's not the first time that's gotten her in trouble.
*
Alex gives a nod, and scratches the side of his head briefly. "Sounded like this Jamie character wasn't a classmate, or anything like that. Probably wouldn't have been bringing her around home, if he were older; dad's don't usually like older men banging their daughters," he says, offering his extremely amateur insights, no doubt things that Jessica has already thought of. "Ferguson, O'Rourke. Irish? Probably Catholic? Maybe a guy she met at church? The guy's probably Irish too, I'd guess. She might be rebelling against her parents by running off with an older man, but girls like that usually have a type, and it's usually not too different from their fathers." He shrugs a bit. He's not exactly a professional here. Most of what he's learned about this kind of thing has come from television and books, neither of which are necessarily all that accurate.
*
"Yeah, I don't know about the school yet, like I said, North is looking into it," Jessica easily flips into David's last name. It's what she mostly calls him anyways. "Could be a guy from church. And probably worth checking. The kid spent time at the Hell's Kitchen soup kitchen. She wasn't a bad-bad kid or anything." Jess shrugs. Her eyes turn downwards, "We got a tip she was a mutant, but her dad denies it." Again she shrugs. "Police think she's a runaway. Dad thinks she got taken and is in trouble." Jessica's cheeks puff out with exasperation, "To be honest, I have no idea."
*
"Teenage mutant girl from Hell's Kitchen. That's like, the perfect storm of shit. No wonder she's missing," Alex says without much inflection. "Wish I could be more help pointing you in the right direct," he continues, "Pretty new in town, myself. Got myself a shitty apartment in Hell's Kitchen, so missing girl is pretty close to home. If you want a third pair of hands on this, I can offer some help." Tracking down missing children is a noble deed, right? It counts? "Not really an expert, but I can get answers out of people who don't normally want to give up information without having to resort to breaking their fingers," he says. Usually 'God of Fear' is enough of a selling point. Of course, just because he's not causing them physical harm doesn't mean the psychological damage of tapping the well of their greatest fears is any better. Just less physically obvious.
*
Jessica's eyebrows lift and she nods slightly. "Look, my associate and I are worried that it's related to a different case where people disappeared. We just want to recover her." Her chin drops slightly, "You can help our efforts. And believe me, I hate getting ell from anyone, but…" she sucks on the inside of her cheek. "We're getting late on the draw here. A week missing is shit." Her head tilts as she stares at Alex. "So. You're like a fear god? " She reaches out her hand, "Jones. Jessica Jones. I own Alias Investigations with my associates."
*
Alex smiles at that, and reaches out to shake Jessica's hand. "Broken door on 2C," he says. "Seems like the fates might have wanted us to meet. We're neighbours, and yet here we are halfway across town at an underground pinball hall. Funny." He lets out a quiet chuckle. "Not 'like'. Am. Phobos, God of Fear. Generally go by Alex. Or Alexander, if you want to be formal." You know, as in 'the great'. Not full of himself at all, this one. "And yeah, a week is a long time. How long have you been on the case?" Hopefully not a week. Alex is expecting the girl's dad didn't hire Jessica until he exhausted the police option.
*
"Aren't they all fucking broken?" Jessica arches a wry eyebrow. "Fuck, that apartment is shit. But it's home." Her arms cross over her chest and she considers the Ferguson case, "Since Sunday. We basically elected ourselves for it. Missing kid and the cops aren't taking it seriously. Like they fucking take anything seriously." She rolls her eyes. "If we were given the case sooner, I'd have found her by now, but the cops buried it in paperwork. Heck, I don't even think he papers have put out a call for this kid."
*
"Mine works. Even locks, if I hold my mouth just right," Alex boasts. That's something to brag about, apparently. "Huh," he grunts, considering what she's said about the case so far. "Can't pretend to be surprised, I guess. So this is basically a charity case," he says, giving a nod. In truth, it doesn't really matter to him. He's not looking for money. "Ok, well. This North guy is checking out the school, you want me to follow up on church?" Because a God of Fear in a Catholic church is a /great/ idea. Fear and Guilt are like, the same thing. It can only end well.
*
Jessica nods. "Yeah, check out the church. I have a small team I work with. Feel free to come by the apartment and I'll introduce you. My associates would be willing to work the case with you as needed. Sometimes it helps to go in groups. Other times?" her lips quirk to the side. "It can be a goddamned liability." Pause. "No offence," because he's a god. "She volunteered at St. Mary's Soup Kitchen. Definitely has potential to check in on."
*
"None taken," Alex says with a shrug. "I'll run down the church and let you know what turns up, if anything. Let your people know I'll be around. I'd hate to be an unwelcome surprise," he says. Now then, no time like the present. Alex steps away from the machine, and starts back toward the door leading to the front of the store. "Hope this place gets some better machines soon," he mutters. "Goddamn stupid law. Of all the shitty things they could have banned, fucking /pinball/ makes the list."