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1917
A group of hoodlums stand on a street corner in Hell's Kitchen staring up at the night sky, and talking shit about what they aim to be when they grow up. What they are now is gangsters. "What about you, Bontie? What about you?" asks Harry, his friend of 19 years. Alexander Bont laughs. "Well, Imma save enough money from the Gophers and by Lucy somethin' real nice. A ring. Then we gunna get ourselves a spot in Midtown. Live like a king and a queen. Just like she deserve."
Harry throws his head back in a laugh, "Yeah you keep dreamin'."
"You watch," Bont says. "Lucy is gonna marry me."
NOW
Speaking of Kings and Queens, Danny Rand is sitting across from David Rockefeller, who is essentially like New York royalty. Surprisingly, he seems astute, well mannered, but with just a little bit of pizzazz to make Danny feel a bit more at ease. "You want any more of this swill?" Hundred dollar bottle of champagne, David means.
*
Usually, Danny's dates are a little more wild than this. But every now and then she throws in something that's at least a little bit respectable. Something to throw the tabloids off her scent. Besides, when you make nice with the other respectable people, sometimes you can get them to donate to pet projects like community centers. So there she is, making nice.
"Tell you the truth?" she laughs. "I can't tell the difference. It all tastes like bubbles, and if I'm really honest, it just doesn't give me that much of a buzz."
*
"Well, then, Danny. What would give you a buzz? I tried with the champagne, but we could switch to whiskey if you prefer. Or moonshine." His eyes flash towards her. "Maybe then we could head to the GoGo bar."
*
"Now you're talking," Danny grins, pushing her chair back to stand. "Although there's a jazz place in Harlem, if you're feeling like taking a risk. Best drinks in town, so long as you don't mind waiting for them. Place gets crowded when there's someone on the piano." Danny doesn't believe in places she doesn't belong - she just goes there, and to hell with the consequences.
*
JOSIE'S - HELL'S KITCHEN
"Oh shit, he's going to throw him on the piano!"
Daredevil brings a man crashing down, busting the piano that was set up for the evening's ragtime band. The bar has gone silent as the man clad in red slinks around. He tilts his head and sniffs with some gusto, taking in everything and everyone. No one is making a move though. They're too terrified.
The Man Without Fear approaches and then grabs the groaning man on the keys by the hair.
His voice is quiet.
"Two days ago," he mutters, "a girl by the name of Siobahn Walsh. Murdered on her wedding day." His hand tightens and the man gives out a little yelp.
"I…I don't know!"
"Grotto," Daredevil says quietly. "How many teeth would you like to lose today?"
_ _ _ _
"I think Harlem would be a fantastic idea." David reaches his hand into the air and calls for the check. "Are we a little overdressed for the place we're headed? Or is that a good thing?" he asks with a grin.
*
"Honey, if I go home and get changed, this date is headed in a whole different direction," Danny smirks, tossing back the rest of the champagne while they wait for the check. Admittedly, the dark green silk number she's wearing is definitely on the very short side, but at least it's not covered in sequins, and the color is dark enough to blend in comfortably in a dark bar.
*
_ _ _ _ _
"I don't know which direction they headed," Grotto says, mid story. He is missing one tooth that he wasn't missing earlier. It seems that he's gotten the message. "It was the bikers. The ones from the Lower East Side. I heard they were doing it for revenge."
"Good," says Daredevil with a fake smile on his face. "Now I don't have to hurt you any more." The red-clad man yanks Grotto down off the piano. For a moment he stops and his head tilts towards Turk, apparently staring him down. "Stay out of trouble," he says.
_ _ _ _
"I think I could handle anything you threw at me, Rand," David says with a grin. But as the waiter is coming, he is completely without a check. "Sir, there is an urgent phone call for you."
*
"Oh, I think that's a very brave assumption," Danny chuckles, picking at the few things left on their plates as the waiter comes over. She quirks a brow when it seems things aren't quite as expected, absently stacking the empty plates up. "Go ahead," she nods to David, smile flickering. "I'll go visit the ladies room while you take care of it, meet you back out front for the car."
*
"Holy shit, are you Danny Rand?" one of the girls in the bathroom says as if she's just shocked. "You look just like Danny Rand. I /love/ that dress." This is the best attempt to decipher whatever goes on in a women's bathroom by a male writer.
In the office, however, where the phone is held, David grabs it and frowns. "Yes?"
"Right."
"No, I'm sort of indi.." David sighs as he looks out towards the dinner table. "Fine."
*
Danny doesn't take too long in the ladies room - honestly, she's in there more to give her date a chance to take his phone call in peace than to actually powder her nose or anything like that. "Thanks," she laughs to the other woman. "Have to go all out, right? I love the new things they're doing this season. Less covered up. Time for some freedom." She winks, and once she's let enough time pass, she steps out to head for the front of the restaurant and the valet stand, looking around for David.
*
It doesn't take long for him to arrive, and she can tell by the look on his face that he's mortified and that something is wrong. "Listen, it's work." David tilts his head at her. For him it could be business or politics. It's never really clear. It could be both. "I hate to do this, but I have to go." His head tilts to one side, and then bounces to the other as he looks to her. "Tell me I'm going to get another chance at this."
*
Danny's brows rise when he explains, surprise flickering across her features. Huh. That's a new one. "You know, usually that's my line," she chuckles after a moment, crossing her arms loosely over her chest and shifting her weight to one hip as she gives him a long look over. "But yeah, sure. You've got my number. Give me a call when you're free, we can try again. But!" She holds up a finger, grin spreading. "I'm totally saving this and calling you on it later. I get one, free, no questions asked disappearance from a date in return." Because that's something she's almost always going to need.
*
"I bet my life on it. Can my driver give you a ride home? I can take a cab," David says, looking at her regretfully. "And, because I take the things I want, I'm going to try and kiss you. Just to see how far I can go with this."
*
"Oh, are you?" Danny arches a brow, grinning. "Go ahead and see what happens." It's a challenge, no doubt. But then again, all sources agree that Danny Rand doesn't back down and likes to live on the edge. Probably genetic. Or the result of surviving the crazy mountaineering trip her father took the whole family on that got most of them killed.
*
David leans in, looking down at her. He tilts his head, approaches her slowly, and does his best to place a chaste kiss upon Miss Rand's lips. Buyer beware.
*
Chaste? Disappointing. Danny doesn't move away, but she doesn't move in either, and the curve of her smile when he pulls away is rueful. Before he can have any second thoughts about his choices, though, she's stepping back and out of reach, hailing a cab from the other side of the valet line. "Next time, Rockefeller," she calls over her shoulder, pulling the door open for herself.
*
David laughs and watches her go, putting his hands into his pockets and he shakes his head. "I certainly hope so." And from there he gets into his own car and that is the very last time that Danny sees David Rockefeller alive.
_ _ _
2 HOURS LATER
Matt Murdock, well, we know it is him because he's yanked off his mask and thrown it upon the floor of his apartment. With a sigh, he opens the fridge. He pauses to peel his suit off of his upper half before he grabs for a beer. His muscular back has several nasty scars, reminders on times when he was just a bit too slow.
_ _ _ _
RAND RESIDENCE
In Danny's apartment the phone begins to ring.
*
Late night phone calls are never good news. Then again, the sort of trouble Danny gets into late at night rarely actually calls. She climbs out of bed when the phone starts ringing, shrugging into a robe before she snatches the receiver off the wall. "Danny Rand," she answers the phone, leaning against the wall with her brow on her forearm as she looks toward the clock. "What's the emergency?"
*
"Miss Rand," says the door man. "I'm afraid it is the police. They have a warrant for your arrest. They have advised me that they will be coming up and that it is in your best interest to contact whatever law representation you have."
*
"The- Son of a bitch," Danny sighs, pushing off the wall. "Put a call through to Jeryn, will you?" She doesn't wait for an answer before she hangs up, walking away from the phone to at least get dressed. Granted, the nearest thing is a pair of loose-fitting silk pants and a tunic that matches, but it's certainly better than being dragged to the police station in her bathrobe. Besides, the front desk knows Jeryn Hogarth. He's the one who fixes anything…unusual that might come from Miss Rand's presence.
*
A few moments later, the police have come knocking. Literally. On the outside of the door there are six of them. Danny has a history, you see, and some people in the force always sort of believe she offed Meachum. The rich always get away with things. But can they get away with it again?
*
Danny at least doesn't start anything. Here and now. It's the middle of the night, she has no witnesses of her own, and while she could mop the floor with them, they're (supposedly) the good guys. That would be an unnecessary complication. "Officers," she says as she opens the door. "Come on in. Sorry, I wasn't expecting company or I'd've gotten out the cocktails." She doesn't start anything…violent. Being a smart-ass is harder to control.
*
"Miss Rand," the head officer says, apparently in no mood for a joke. "This warrant is for us to search your home and bring you in for booking." Another officer begins to speak slowly, "You have the right to remain silent…"
After the rights are read, the phone rings. It's Jeryn.
*
It's a good thing being the Iron Fist doesn't exactly require a lot of equipment. Although the police are no doubt going to be confused by the full gym and sparring area that's set up in what would probably be a spare living room further into the penthouse. "Uh huh," Danny drawls, reaching for the phone. "You want to tell me what you're charging me with, so I can let my lawyer know?" Just because she's cooperating doesn't mean she has to be nice about it, apparently.
*
"You are being charged with the murder of David Rockefeller," one of the policemen responds as they move to cuff her. "Your lawyer can meet us down at the station," the cop responds. His friends, the boys in blue, descend into Danny's stuff, opening the sofa cushions, emptying the ketchup, generally making for irritation.
*
"What?" Genuine shock crosses Danny's features at the news. The furniture, the condiments - those aren't important. They're just things, just money, and it wouldn't be the first time they were destroyed either. But lives are a little bit harder to replace. "But I-" No. Be smart. Don't say anything without your lawyer present. Instead, closing her eyes, she just nods. "Right. Well. Guess I'll meet my lawyer down at the station."
*
By the time she gets out to the car, there are paparazzi taking pictures. Luckily she looks fabulous in all of the shots. Unluckily, they throw her in the back of a squadcar and zoom off towards the precinct.
*
Danny tries her best not to look angry in the photos. Angry people look like guilty people. And she's been through this before. She didn't do it, so it's bound to come out all right eventually. What's the worst case scenario? Go into hiding, wait another four years for the next portal to K'un Lun to open, go back there…