Chapter 11: The Deal with Urich
(? ?)
A clean suit, well-kept hair, glasses and a face clean of any sign of facial hair marked the beginning of what was a rather nondescript if well-dressed, man. He was one of the Boss's most trusted men, the man that got things done or at least arranged tasks to be completed.
Quietly.
Sometimes… even deadly.
He was sitting in a limo, watching a flat-screen showcasing the news of the evening. The breaking news at that, a bunch of girls, blind ones that were found at the docks, shoved into cargo containers like they were animals.
But that wasn't the only thing of interest, it seems that some of the docks were being run by the Irish Mobsters that currently were in power of the criminal element of Hell's Kitchen. Obviously, the two were connected.
And the final thing, a man in blue was rumored to have been seen taking gunfire like he was a tank; even being lit on fire at one stage. A ridiculous rumor no one seemed to take seriously, except for the fact that there was a vigilante wearing blue that beat them up.
Currently, he was just being called the Blueman.
"Yes, sir," He spoke into a phone, one that looked like something that would only see the mass market within the next ten years, perhaps something that only high ranking government officials would be using.
"It's been taken care of, the relationship between the Kitchen Irish and Madame Gao's group will be strained by this loss. It should leave her open for you to negotiate the Russians to take over the trade."
The Boss said something in return.
"O'Reilly?" The metaphorical right hand of the Boss said, not so much in question to the man on the other end of the call but as a question to himself. "He's trustworthy enough, the man has his morals but… put some pressure on his family and he'll fold."
More words were said by the Boss, something that would vaguely sound like a threat to anyone else hearing it, but the man wearing the glasses knew it was just the tone of voice that the other always used.
He was polite but had trouble speaking in a manner that didn't come off as threatening when certain topics were being discussed.
After all… Wilson Fisk didn't need to threaten anyone.
He just ended any threat to his goals. No warnings were needed.
"No, I don't know who Mr. O'Reilly sent in there but I can find out if you want?"
"That… won't be necessary," Fisk replied, for the first time the driver of the limo could hear his voice. "I'm sure that once we've brought him into the fold, O'Reilly will eventually hire the man again."
"Mr. Wesley," The Driver spoke up for the first time, interrupting the man's rather important conversation. "We've arrived."
"Ah, thank you," James Welsey replied, before returning to his conversation on the phone. "I'm afraid that I've arrived sir and will have to cut this call short. Once I've finished things up here, I'll call in."
"Remember, we take this slow," Fisk warned his right-hand man. "No need to make too many waves yet."
x-x-x
(Patrick Doyle: The Next Day)
The night before had ended with a rather quiet talk with Jim O'Reilly about how exactly I knew his daughter.
Now thankfully the man didn't become that stereotypical angry dad that wanted to kill all males that came into contact with his daughter, at least the ones that were not family, so he did let me explain the full story of that to him.
And so he left me with a note telling me where to meet up with Urich again. Some cafe down the road, think it was called Brennans or something.
"You did good work, kid." Ben told me, sitting across from me in a booth near the corner of the room.
"Real good, not a single person died, though some of them may not walk again… " he trailed off, his hand coming to rest under his chin as if a thought had struck him. "Maybe try and work on that, it wouldn't be good if you get mugged by some fool and you accidentally break him in half."
There was an image for you, accidentally doing Superboy-Prime, as in what he did to the Teen Titans that time they as a group decided to just throw themselves at the Superman-level being… and most of them didn't have durability as a power.
"On that," I said, agreeing with him. "So… what do I do now?"
Ben took a long gulp from his drink, while I dug into a toasted ham and cheese sandwich waiting for him to respond.
I could feel my heart start to race as my ears started to pick up the sounds of the city going around me, the noises were far louder, far clearer than anything else. For a few seconds, I tried to down it all out.
"Pat," Ben's voice suddenly overpowered the rest of the noises, letting me return to normal. "You okay?"
"Yeah, suddenly gained super hearing," I said, nonchalantly finishing off the sandwich with a single large bite and then swallowing it in that same motion. "This is a rather terrifying, wonder what new power I'll get next. I kinda hope it isn't flight… I've got a phobia of heights."
"But you were leaping small buildings yesterday," he replied, his tone a mix of amusement and confusion with his index finger pointing directly at me. "What… now that you're fireproof, do you have a phobia of fire as well."
"Nah, I've a phobia of water, though," I grinned at him, something that he mirrored with one of his own. "So swimming is out of the question."
"You'll never make a good reporter if you don't get over those sort of fears," Urich's grin was a small proud thing, especially as he reached inside his jacket pocket. A folder of papers slapped onto the tale with enough force that they slid over to me. "And you'll need these."
I slowly peeled over the folder, revealing a mix of I.D cards, birth certificate and a lot of other sorts of papers that meant that I was who I said I was. Utter proof that I was both an American and an Irish citizen.
"This is a lot," I closed the folder, sliding it back to Ben, who was the only one between the two of us that had a jacket big enough to even carry the damn thing. "Why?"
He didn't speak for a few seconds, instead his eyes just roamed about the room, as if he was collecting pieces to a puzzle that I couldn't hope to understand.
I continued to watch as he took off his glasses and wiped them with the fabric of his shirt till they were sportless to my eyes, it was only when the glasses returned to the ridge of his nose that he spoke once more.
"You saved lives," Urich said lowly. "You've been given power like no one else in the world. First thing you do with it?" he asked, but I couldn't bring myself to answer, sensing that it was rhetorical.
"You've decided that you'll use it to help people. I'm doing this because your sort of power worries me and maybe now that you've seen that you can work outside the law without consequences… maybe that will be how you think things should go."
I couldn't deny the rush that went through my body last night, the raw emotion that churned through me like a drug. It could be addictive to me, nothing could stop me from going after every gang, every criminal enterprise and every mugger… nothing could stop me but myself.
"I think it's time that you learn how to use people, the public's opinion and a journalist's ability to expose corruption to stop the big guys, to help people," Ben continued, standing now to deliver the documents right back into my hands. "or this is where we end this, you go on your ways and I go my ways but no matter what, I'll help you find out what happened to you… It's up to you."
Our eyes meet and I watched as he held out his left hand for me to shake.
"What do you say?"
I smiled.
"When do I start," Grabbing his hand, we shook and I could tell that this was the start of a beautiful friendship.
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