I had a horrible night. Now that I had the threat of brain surgery hanging over my head, it had proven a great addition to my nightly nightmares. But the dogs didn't wake until I sat up in bed and turned on the light, so apparently it all remained in my head. Which is good, because I didn't need to give Peter anything else to worry about.
I used that time before I could get back to sleep to apply some blunt-force logic to calm myself down. First of all, I am not without resources. I have money and I'm devious. Second, it's one thing to threaten somebody with brain-butchering surgery, and another thing entirely to find a doctor to perform it. My doctor had said that any surgery, if for example the organs started to fail or a tumor formed, was out of the question, even in the worst-case scenario, and that I'd find, shopping for a second opinion, that nobody would touch it. Then there was the forcing of everybody to join teams and work. Everybody who could help was helping, so why the press gang approach? I fell asleep pondering these questions.
Over breakfast, I talked to Peter about some of this. "Honey, I'm concerned about this registration of all the supers. Do you know if there's an exclusion for those who are underage?"
He put down his spoon. "No, there isn't. And it's public."
I nodded. He wouldn't want everybody finding out about his alter ego. "May I suggest that you lie low for awhile? I've got some ideas."
"People out there need my help," he said mulishly.
"I'm not denying that. Just for a day or two."
"Well, we get to go back to the apartment today. I'm supposed to meet May there this afternoon." He shook his head. "The damage to the city is weird. There are pockets where there's a huge amount of damage to the streets and buildings, then other big chunks aren't even touched, or the damage isn't structural."
"That's something to be grateful for," I agreed. "Listen, I need to get in touch with my lawyer, but I'd like to acquaint him with my situation before dropping in. Do you think that you could hand-deliver a letter for me?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, interested.
"He's not a hero, just a damned good lawyer," I said, smiling at him. "But if he doesn't feel comfortable working on these issues--he does corporate, mostly--he'd be able to research and find me names for lawyers I can trust." He looked curious. "One of those things concerns you. I don't think we're going to be able to carve out an exemption for underage heroes, if anything the argument will be that they need supervision. I think we can apply pressure to keep the names out of the public realm, though. For all heroes, but especially the minors. What do you think about that?"
"If I have to register, then that would be the best case outcome, I guess," he said. I patted his hand where it rested on the table.
"Times are changing," I said a little sadly. "I think what we need is an absolute asskicker of a civil rights lawyer. We get that, I think we'll get the best deal that we can." Peter picked up his spoon and poked at his cereal. In the end, he agreed to make himself scarce for a couple of days, and we left to get him a burner phone. Two actually; a backup in case something happened to the first one. I didn't want him to be without resources. To that end, I also gave him some cash for emergency purposes. Just in case he couldn't reach me and something happened. Then he took my letter and took off. I made myself go to the tower, picking a different route where I could see a different view of the damage.
A lot had gotten done, actually. People from all over the country had descended on Washington and New York to help. My recent outing made me both known and recognized; I got a lot of hails from people as I passed. I stopped frequently to ask how they were doing and to thank them for their help, hear their opinions. I felt like I had to explain why I hadn't been helping, but people were pretty easygoing. Apparently there had been a team of journalists who'd been trapped when we had to fall back to the tower who had filmed the battle and it was known that I'd been hit. Several people asked about Bucky, his heroics had featured in the film. I was glad to hear their concern for him, given that some people still seemed to think he was half a step away from being a psycho killer. Eventually, though, I reached the tower.
When I checked in, the front desk guard handed me a new Avengers ID on a lanyard. I took it like it was dirty and put it in my pocket. Then I went upstairs to the clinic; I asked one of the nurses if there were any records of my medical file being accessed after I was no longer a patient in the clinic. There had been one when I was on Asgard, but there wasn't a way of determining who had accessed the file or from where; the system only logged that the file had been accessed from some place other than the clinic. I went in to see Bucky; he was getting ready to be discharged which was excellent news. I waited around until he signed his paperwork. His doctor was explaining about how long he would need before we could attach a new arm when the doctor cursed and excused himself. Bucky and I looked at each other. When the doctor came back, jaw clenched and upset, he had the news that the clinic computer system, separate from the rest of the tower, had been hacked and patient data files were being breached and deleted. I really hoped that this was Batman.
Bucky and I went upstairs. Had to be done, sooner or later. The rest of the Avengers were in a meeting. I reluctantly took the last chair and listened to Jim's summary of restoration efforts, which had switched from recovery of survivors to clean up. Then Steve gave out assignments; I was to help out by City Hall. With only one arm, Bucky was stuck getting more up to date and acting as our press liaison. I was grateful I had two functional arms. But shoot. Avengers Tower was located on Broadway in Times Square and wasn't that far from Hell's Kitchen, but City Hall was way down in lower Manhattan. I would be getting a lot of mileage today.
As I got up, a bag landed in front of me. "What's this?" I asked Stark, not touching it.
"Your costume. A replica of your last Paladin outfit." I nudged the bag back to Stark with the toe of my boot.
"Nope. Paladin is retired. I'm Poppy now, and Poppy belongs to New York."
Stark looked like he was going to argue, but Natalia said that my Poppy alias would be better PR, and he shut up.
"If you insist on me using the costume department, I demand to retain the right to control my image. Any alterations to my costume must be approved by me. In advance, and before you get any ideas, I'm not living here, either." I sidestepped the bag and Stark and headed for the elevators.
I caught a bus partway down and used the time to check my burner phone. I had a message from Foggy, who proposed a meeting time of 5pm, perfect. I called the office and left a message that I'd be there. I spent the rest of the bus ride talking to the other riders. A lot were working on digging out, but businesses were reopening and life was returning. I got some recommendations for restaurants that were open around City Hall, and got off when it would be faster to walk. The subway wasn't open yet; there had been damage, and inspectors were still going through the tunnels.
I reported to the foreman of the project, and he assigned me to join a team assessing a parking structure. The dogs were a big help, and were able to get into places that we couldn't, despite their size, and it was thanks to them that were were able to rescue what turned out to be the last survivors: two people trapped in a car, dangerously dehydrated. I ordered and picked up lunch for my team, then afterward, then I was elected to meet with the mayor and other officials who wanted to know how things were progressing. I couldn't blame them; I was the amateur on the crew, and besides, nobody else wanted to do it. So I joined representatives from other crews and we took turns updating the mayor in front of city hall and news crews. My report that we'd found survivors was news, and after the meeting, I had to answer questions from the press. Still, I was going to need the media, so it was a good chance to be get them on my side. I answered questions about the rescue; Sigurd and Torburn thought that the questions were ridiculous, but did enjoy the attention they got when their role was highlighted. I made it clear that the rescue had been achieved thanks to my teammates (whom I named) and the professionalism of the first responders. Chandra Newton, one of the reporters for the metro's leading local news station, accompanied me back, chatting on the way, being charmed by the dogs. She took the time to interview the team leader. Her questions were brief, descriptive, and allowed him to showcase the team and his leadership, and everybody seemed happier when we went back. Because our work wasn't a priority, we quit when it started to get dark as lighting was only available for priority projects. The dogs and I hustled up to Hell's Kitchen for our appointment. We waited quietly; the paralegal must not be back to work yet, and the lights in both partner's offices were on. Interesting. I didn't know that Daredevil was back in town.
After a bit, the client from Foggy's office left, and Foggy's face broke into a smile when he saw me. After a hug, he he flipped the pups some Milk Bones and took us into his office. After we sat down, Foggy said, "We're waiting for Matt on this one." Then we chatted until we heard noise outside, and Matt Murdoch came in without knocking. "This is an interesting issue," Matt said as he took a device and scanned the office interior. The green light stayed on, and he set it precisely on Foggy's desk and sat with us. "I didn't know the extent of the threats against supers," he said. "Our civil rights are being trampled all over the place, and right now, the threats against you are the worst. We also need to protect the minors among us, and I'm sure there are more than we know about." We started to talk about a potential lawsuit. I thought a moment before pulling out my burner and calling Batman. No chitchat; I just asked him a question and he replied in the affirmative, then we hung up. I smiled at the lawyers.
"A third party has a recording of the conversation I had with the two officers," I said. "I was speaking to him when they showed up, and he had me leave the line open. I was glad, frankly, I was afraid I was going to disappear into the night." My smile faded.
Matt actually rubbed his hands together. "I don't think we're at that stage yet where they can just make you disappear, especially since they think you can be intimidated into doing what they want you to do. I want to bring another civil liberties lawyer in on this; it's likely to be too big for our firm, and I want to be sure that Daredevil can testify if needed." We talked about it for a bit, then I gave them some papers I'd forgotten about: patent applications for my alloys and a copyright on my image as Poppy. Matt smirked and said they'd pass the alloys on to a patent lawyer but that Foggy could take care of the copyright. I had to get going and they wanted to start doing the work. I left another check to make sure there was enough money for the new lawyer and to get started as quickly as possible.
I went back to the tower to report. Tony pounced on me immediately, wanting to know where I'd been. "It's not exactly a short walk between here and there," I said shortly. "There's also piles of debris to avoid, and I can't find a bus that runs the whole way. What is the problem, anyway? There are still people who haven't gotten back yet."
'You need to play ball, Harrington," Tony said sternly. I rolled my eyes.
"I'm here, aren't I? I'm putting a good face on for the public. Be happy with that." I went around him to the conference table, where I plopped down . As if it were a signal, the others also came to the table. Hawkeye poured me some water while he was getting some for himself.
"So you guys found some survivors?" he asked, and everybody had questions and stories about their own day's work. The heroes with suits, like Stark or Jim, or enhancements like Cap or Natalia fared the best; they could work harder and longer than the rest of us. Then Bucky showed up, and the show could start. He'd brought a roundup of media coverage of us; the media for once weren't blaming the heroes for the mess, and our willingness to get our suits dirty was a real plus for us. The media were treating us kindly, and Steve, Tony, and Sam had also been interviewed. Tony pulled up some numbers; the Avengers apparently had some kind of polling firm or way of tracking public opinion. Surprisingly, a local clip showing the dogs and me at the parking garage, with me getting dirty with my crew members was trending internationally. It included a moment where I rubbed my knees, and Don had paused to ask if I was ok.
"Just some arthritis," I said, and he looked surprised.
"I didn't think you guys had to worry about that," he said.
"Maybe some of us don't, but I sure do. I didn't even notice it until after that night, but apparently my knees took a beating. I don't remember."
He had a friendly, snorty kind of laugh. "We all saw you in the footage from Avengers tower. Yeah, I'd say your knees took a beating, along with the rest of you. We--" And the video cut off.
"Comments echo the surprise of your coworker, that you'd have something like arthritis, and admiration that you're out and helping despite your aches and pains. Referencing the battle at the tower also reminded people that you'd been shot, so that's another plus for you," Stark said briskly, and talked about other numbers for us individually and as a team. Then there were the requests for the next day; our stronger members were still in demand, but those of us who were just regular and without special training were rapidly becoming superfluous as the cleanup became more a matter of getting equipment in and stabilizing weak places. "Don't worry, though, we'll have plenty for you to do," Stark said. Then the meeting broke up and I headed for the door. Tony intercepted me and tossed another bag over. I looked at it without enthusiasm. "It matches the last photos of you in your costume," he said, then turned away. I continued on my way to the elevator without a comment. I'd try it on at home and judge it there.
Bucky and Steve joined me at the elevator, and nobody spoke until we got into the night air. It was snowing lightly again; as it accumulated it was still stained with ash. I wondered if I'd ever see clean white snow again and if I'd think it was weird by that time. As we started walking, I casually said to Bucky, "I'm thinking I'll start work on your arm at home. I heard from Samuel today, he and Forge have a design for an amazing new arm for you. Even if you can't wear it for a bit, it'd be nice for you to have it as soon as it can be attached."
"Yeah, it doesn't look like there's going to be time for much beside the cleanup," Bucky said thoughtfully.
"T'Challa is selling me the vibranium directly," I mentioned.
Steve looked at me sharply, then smiled. "Doesn't sound like you'll need Avenger Tech at all," he commented casually.
"No, I don't think so," I said, and we turned into a Chinese place to eat and warm up. It was really cold. Once we ordered, I checked my phone. Peter and May were cleared to move back into their apartment. I was kind of disappointed; I liked having him around, but at the same time, it would be kind of a relief to have the house to myself for a bit, not having to worry about always putting a good face on. After we'd finished eating and were getting ready to leave, a few diners approached us and we posed for selfies with them. The dogs were also petted and had their pictures taken. We went home and I let myself into my empty house. I looked around and wished I'd gotten the fireplace fixed. It would be nice to have a fire. I did the next best thing and went out to the firepit, where I made a small fire and wrapped up in a blanket for awhile. Then I went inside and grabbed some things, going back out to have some s'mores. I was happily stuffing my face when I heard the gate open; I looked around to see Bucky and Steve. I held up the toasting fork , and they came forward eagerly. We talked about nothing in particular and my hands were sticky from the marshmallows by the time we ran out of chocolate. Bucky went inside, and while he was in the house, I sighed and leaned against Steve. He put his arm around me and we sat in silence for a moment.
"I guess you've had a busy day," he said finally, and I nodded. "You know you can count on me for anything." I smiled up at him.
"I"m hoping to speak softly and carry a big stick," I told him.
"Knowing you, it'll be a club, with highly specific attachments and functions," Bucky said, rejoining us. We sat quietly for a moment, then got up and put out the fire and the boys went home. I took a quick shower to get the grime from the day's exertions off, then a nice hot bath, and then it was time for bed. The nightmares weren't quite as bad.