These Five Words in My Head Scream "Are We Having Fun Yet?"

[webdevil]

NOTE: This is a spiritual sequel to "You Better Watch Out, You Better Not Die!" by shadejak !

A typical morning for Franklin Nelson, or simply “Foggy” to most of those that knew him – a silly nickname he picked up in college that never went away like a bad penny – was even by the standards of most New Yorkers: routine. He got up, showered, made sure he had a pressed suit in his usual shades of brown ready to go, out the door, and caught the first cab from his Upper East Side loft over to the offices of Nelson and Murdock. Unfortunately, this was anything but a routine morning as a sharp, clipped voice rang in his ear in the most smug tone known to man. It was also, most unfortunately a voice he recognized over the phone. He regretted reaching for it the split second he heard it.

“Mister Nelson...” came a smug voice over the line.

“Delacourt...” snarled a half-asleep Foggy, whose eyes immediately snapped open and his body bolt upright with the agility of a man far smaller than his pudgy early-to-mid thirties chassis should ever have the ability to do. Foggy was of average height, wearing matching brown silk pajamas, and single, yet the jolt made him look around to the bed next to him thinking one of his own list of many exes was asleep next to him. They weren't. This fact pulled his brow into an even deeper scowl.

“Yes, a pleasure as always, Franklin,” said the man called Delacourt coolly over the phone. “And a golden opportunity for you to get in good with the big boys and that stain off your firm’s, ah, lacklustre reputation,”

Foggy turned scarlet at this.

“‘Lacklustre!?’ So I see you’re not going to take any responsibility for the fact you’re the one who dragged my law partner into your sick crusade to campaign for the Attorney General’s office and tossed him in prison on the presumption he was a masked vigilante!? And now you want to sound like you owe me a favour?! I oughta trace this call and send it to - -”

“Temper temper, Nelson. Threatening someone is unbecoming and a felony, afterall. Now, your precious little firm - -”

“Little?” Foggy cut in, getting to his feet, his finger looking for the end call button.

“- - is one that has a reputation of garnering significantly effective Witness Protection contracts for its clients. Yourself included as I recall, speaking about that rather unfortunate incident involving your partner, Mister Murdock... And as a defence attorney, your firm’s name was top of the list for the parties involved for full retainer,” said Delacourt, speaking as if he didn’t hear Foggy with that same smugness oozing out of practically every syllable he uttered.

“If this contract is so lucrative, why aren’t you taking it? Save your own career after you – oh that’s right – cratered your own damn attempt to become Attorney General! What, did you actually not let the Gina Alderbright case go to your head?” replied Foggy sarcastically.

If Foggy’s words had any bite, Delacourt did not betray it in his next words.

“If only I could. Unfortunately I am merely a humble civil lawyer and WitPro is, ah, just beyond my scope. So my clients decided to seek help elsewhere. They wanted the best, Mister Nelson,” he said coolly, though the smugness in his tone was only present at first, clearly trying a honeyed approach. It was a tactic Foggy sussed out instantly.

“I thought our firm was ‘little’, Delacourt?” he said dryly.

“Oh believe me, you weren’t my first choice, Mister Nelson, but my clients insisted,” replied Delacourt flippantly, though Foggy sensed a defensive posture. He was fully awake now and he hadn’t even had his first coffee. Perfect...

“Uhhhuh. And who would this magically wealthy client of yours be, by chance?” asked Foggy, leaning forward, elbows on his knees and putting his forefinger and thumb between the bridge of his nose.

“Why, the Mayor himself, of course,” said Delacourt, that smugness returning.

Foggy sat up. What?

[webdevil]

A shower, shave, and at least four coffees later, Foggy found himself outside the law offices of Teague, Delacourt, and Bromwell, the middle of the partners he decided to take up on out of sheer curiosity. He didn’t vote for the Mayor personally – the laundry list as to why was too long list off even in his own head as he walked – but the fact he was able to charge an otherwise inhuman amount for retainer meant his time was as much as the gravy train they paid wished it to be. He would have preferred to spend his last few precious hours before holiday relaxing before Matt’s big Christmas party before he flew out for Christmas with his father and family. But nooooo, he was trudging along New York’s more-packed-than-usual streets walking into an office that gave him ‘Nam flashbacks of his time when he unwittingly was working for Wilson Fisk. Nobody there called him “Foggy” either.

“Hello, what can I do for you today?” asked the receptionist at the front desk with a pleasant but distant smile. Ah, a kindred spirit, Foggy thought.

“Yes, Franklin Nelson of Nelson and Murdock. I have an appointment with Mr. Delacourt?”

She typed his name into the computer and pushed a piece of paper on a clipboard towards him.

“Nelson, Nelson... Ah, here you are. Could you just sign in here?” she asked, her smile warm but clearly strained.

“Yes, of course,” he said returning the smile. As he filled out his information, he spoke to her.

“Last day for you too?” he asked. She exhaled with a small smile at the small talk.

“Yeah, my flight leaves at eight,”

“Oh you’re headed out of New York too? Where too?” he asked

“Miami! I’m seeing my mother,” she replied pleasantly. Foggy let out a friendly chuckle.

“Ah, snowbirding the holiday? I’m jealous. Headed out to Ohio myself after this,” he said. He handed the form back and looked at her. She was pretty, tanned skinned, had a slender but pleasant face. Asian, probably Chinese if he had to take a shot in the dark, and definitely out of his league. Probably had a boyfriend as well.

“Awww. Well have a Happy Holiday anyway!” she said with a tone that indicated it was time for him to go up.

“Elevator is the first one on the right! 27th floor, here’s your security key and pass,” she added, handing him the proper clearances for a guest badge. Taking them, he smiled and said “Thank you,” and after waving goodbye, made his way towards the indicated elevator, pinning the guest lanyard to his lapel as he went. She was nice, he thought, but getting a girl like that in the dating game these days in New York didn’t seem to come along all that often and he wasn’t interested in being a putz for Twitter. He thought to the case with the client who got caught up with the E-Girl and shuddered at the thought. Nope, he was definitely too much of a traditionalist.

He pushed the elevator button and the door opened right away. Huh. Good service, he thought. Stepping in, he keyed the lanyard to the pad next to the buttons and pressed 27. Going up, the ride was a lot quicker than it seemed. Maybe it was because it had been a spell since he spent any time in a posh steel and glass law office. Sure, most of the floors were in fact devoted to other smaller businesses and firms that could afford the lease, but he knew the dedicated law office floors and their elevator when he saw it. And he still never got use to it.

The doors opened straight into the main offices of Teague, Delacourt, and Bromwell. There was a second receptionist who had clearly been informed of his coming from the receptionist at ground level and without saying a word, pointed him towards a seat in the room adjacent. The room was large with comfortable black leather chairs, a familiar sight to say the least. He took a seat and knew right away they were going to drag this out. Delacourt wanted to make Foggy feel small. The feeling was mutual except it was Foggy who was in the shark tank and not the other way around. He wondered why he accepted this.