A/N: Happy to fill a prompt within a prompt, but I wouldn't mind if you made a standalone prompt. I'd repost this and additional parts there. Plus, other people could have at it. The more the merrier and all that. I'd do it myself, but... that seems awkward.
Disclaimer - I might as well know, like, nothing about the legal system. 99.9% of my knowledge comes from fiction. Please pardon any factual errors.
Their client’s son got him out on bail, something Matt had fought for. It was the son who had come to Nelson and Murdock in the first place. He sat across the table from them and rattled off nearly his whole life story. His father, Mr. Paget, was an MMA fighter on his last legs. In his late thirties, he was past his prime in the sport. He had three kids. Two in college, one God only knew where. Mother missing since before they were out of diapers. Paget still tried to provide for them. He found work underground, mostly. Off the book fights in shady bars.
It didn’t pay great, but fighting seldom did. That’s why, his son told them, he got mixed up with a criminal element. For a little while there, he was an enforcer.
“But he never did anything bad,” his son insisted, heart pounding steadily, determinedly. He was so used to people blaming his father, he was defensive by default. “He made a mistake. He tried to get out. That’s when the trouble started.”
Paget told them about the trouble himself. They’d talked to him while he was still in holding, before they’d even taken the case. “They had me and a couple of other guys watching these two business types. They were helping to funnel money. Turns out, they were skimming some off the top. It was- Yeah, those two.” Paget paused and leaned across the table, tapping the pictures in the open folder Foggy was poring over. “A business woman and her… accountant? Secretary? Some squirrelly guy with glasses.”
“And what happened to them?” Matt asked.
“The short version? They told us everything. And then they died.” Paget took a deep breath. “They didn’t deserve it, and I sure as Hell didn’t kill ‘em.” Paget spoke with a conviction echoed in his pulse. “My boss burned their bodies- But you knew that already.”
“How about you go back and we hear the long version?” suggested Foggy, and Paget did.
The whole time, Matt could hear the shifting and minute sighs from his best friend. Matt accepted the case anyway. He knew the incredulous look he was getting once Paget had been escorted from the room. “You don’t think we should represent him.”
“I think he’s a criminal.”
“But not a murderer,” said Matt, a statement Foggy didn’t challenge. “He was looking out for his kids and got mixed up with the wrong people.”
Foggy tapped his pen on the table. They sat in silence for a god twenty seconds. Foggy started to say something several times before he actually did. “Is this a super power thing or are you saying this from personal experience?”
“Both?”
Whether his bias mattered to Foggy, Matt really couldn’t say. Regardless, his friend wasn’t going to fault him for it. “Not that it matters, since you already took the case, but… fine. Everyone deserves a lawyer.” Foggy slid his chair back and stood to leave. “Criminals especially.”
The case became one of very few they were working on. All things considered, despite its serious nature, it was surprisingly straight forward. They worked out a deal for Paget that took into consideration his situation and safety. Paget was mostly agreeable about it all. They were hammering out the final details when things took a sudden turn. Paget didn’t show.
“Not even a message?” Matt asked Karen, fingers on his watch.
“Yes, Matt. As your secretary, I’m just hoarding all your messages and telling no one,” she teased, but then Foggy looked in her direction. Her tone switched to a sympathetic one. “Do you want me to call the son?”
“Sure,” said Matt, distracted. He could tell by how unconcerned they were that they thought Paget had skipped town on them. As much as Matt felt for Paget, maybe they were right. Something had seemed off about the guy, but that was to be expected. Maybe he’d gotten cold feet at the last minute. “Wait.”
Karen stopped dialing.
“I’ll go check on him first.”
“We’ll go,” Foggy corrected.
“You don’t think-” Karen began.
“We’ll call you,” Matt interrupted. He was worried. He couldn’t help it. It was unlikely the people Paget worked for had waited until now to do anything to him, but an oddly childlike part of Matt was worried all the same.
Paget lived in a duplex, only accessible via a cramped side street. Matt could smell rotting trash and body odor. Not far off, glass was breaking, a car alarm sounding. Things were still and, comparatively, silent around the duplex. “Foggy…”
“I am so not waiting outside.”
“Fair enough.” Matt gripped his cane a little tighter. His thoughts were so fixed on running through worst case scenarios, it startled him a bit when Foggy squeezed his shoulder.
“Chill out, buddy. Don’t make this personal.”
Matt forced an appreciate smile and, shoulder-to-shoulder, they walked to the door. Foggy knocked. Before anyone answered, Matt heard noises inside. He smelled Paget’s cheap aftershave and exhaled a breathe he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The door opened. “We should probably talk,” said Paget, wearily. He was sweating and holding something… A metal bat.
“Expecting company?” asked Foggy.
Paget gave a mirthless laugh, hefting the bat and laying it across his shoulder. “Can’t be too careful.”
Matt didn’t sense anyone else around, no immediate threats. Still, though- “If you have reason to believe you’re in danger-”
“Let’s not talk about this out here, yeah?” Paget stepped to one side to let them come in. Matt was less than three steps through the door when he noticed, too late, the bat swinging toward the back of his head.
Fill: Precedent 1/?
Disclaimer - I might as well know, like, nothing about the legal system. 99.9% of my knowledge comes from fiction. Please pardon any factual errors.
Their client’s son got him out on bail, something Matt had fought for. It was the son who had come to Nelson and Murdock in the first place. He sat across the table from them and rattled off nearly his whole life story. His father, Mr. Paget, was an MMA fighter on his last legs. In his late thirties, he was past his prime in the sport. He had three kids. Two in college, one God only knew where. Mother missing since before they were out of diapers. Paget still tried to provide for them. He found work underground, mostly. Off the book fights in shady bars.
It didn’t pay great, but fighting seldom did. That’s why, his son told them, he got mixed up with a criminal element. For a little while there, he was an enforcer.
“But he never did anything bad,” his son insisted, heart pounding steadily, determinedly. He was so used to people blaming his father, he was defensive by default. “He made a mistake. He tried to get out. That’s when the trouble started.”
Paget told them about the trouble himself. They’d talked to him while he was still in holding, before they’d even taken the case. “They had me and a couple of other guys watching these two business types. They were helping to funnel money. Turns out, they were skimming some off the top. It was- Yeah, those two.” Paget paused and leaned across the table, tapping the pictures in the open folder Foggy was poring over. “A business woman and her… accountant? Secretary? Some squirrelly guy with glasses.”
“And what happened to them?” Matt asked.
“The short version? They told us everything. And then they died.” Paget took a deep breath. “They didn’t deserve it, and I sure as Hell didn’t kill ‘em.” Paget spoke with a conviction echoed in his pulse. “My boss burned their bodies- But you knew that already.”
“How about you go back and we hear the long version?” suggested Foggy, and Paget did.
The whole time, Matt could hear the shifting and minute sighs from his best friend. Matt accepted the case anyway. He knew the incredulous look he was getting once Paget had been escorted from the room. “You don’t think we should represent him.”
“I think he’s a criminal.”
“But not a murderer,” said Matt, a statement Foggy didn’t challenge. “He was looking out for his kids and got mixed up with the wrong people.”
Foggy tapped his pen on the table. They sat in silence for a god twenty seconds. Foggy started to say something several times before he actually did. “Is this a super power thing or are you saying this from personal experience?”
“Both?”
Whether his bias mattered to Foggy, Matt really couldn’t say. Regardless, his friend wasn’t going to fault him for it. “Not that it matters, since you already took the case, but… fine. Everyone deserves a lawyer.” Foggy slid his chair back and stood to leave. “Criminals especially.”
The case became one of very few they were working on. All things considered, despite its serious nature, it was surprisingly straight forward. They worked out a deal for Paget that took into consideration his situation and safety. Paget was mostly agreeable about it all. They were hammering out the final details when things took a sudden turn. Paget didn’t show.
“Not even a message?” Matt asked Karen, fingers on his watch.
“Yes, Matt. As your secretary, I’m just hoarding all your messages and telling no one,” she teased, but then Foggy looked in her direction. Her tone switched to a sympathetic one. “Do you want me to call the son?”
“Sure,” said Matt, distracted. He could tell by how unconcerned they were that they thought Paget had skipped town on them. As much as Matt felt for Paget, maybe they were right. Something had seemed off about the guy, but that was to be expected. Maybe he’d gotten cold feet at the last minute. “Wait.”
Karen stopped dialing.
“I’ll go check on him first.”
“We’ll go,” Foggy corrected.
“You don’t think-” Karen began.
“We’ll call you,” Matt interrupted. He was worried. He couldn’t help it. It was unlikely the people Paget worked for had waited until now to do anything to him, but an oddly childlike part of Matt was worried all the same.
Paget lived in a duplex, only accessible via a cramped side street. Matt could smell rotting trash and body odor. Not far off, glass was breaking, a car alarm sounding. Things were still and, comparatively, silent around the duplex. “Foggy…”
“I am so not waiting outside.”
“Fair enough.” Matt gripped his cane a little tighter. His thoughts were so fixed on running through worst case scenarios, it startled him a bit when Foggy squeezed his shoulder.
“Chill out, buddy. Don’t make this personal.”
Matt forced an appreciate smile and, shoulder-to-shoulder, they walked to the door. Foggy knocked. Before anyone answered, Matt heard noises inside. He smelled Paget’s cheap aftershave and exhaled a breathe he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The door opened. “We should probably talk,” said Paget, wearily. He was sweating and holding something… A metal bat.
“Expecting company?” asked Foggy.
Paget gave a mirthless laugh, hefting the bat and laying it across his shoulder. “Can’t be too careful.”
Matt didn’t sense anyone else around, no immediate threats. Still, though- “If you have reason to believe you’re in danger-”
“Let’s not talk about this out here, yeah?” Paget stepped to one side to let them come in. Matt was less than three steps through the door when he noticed, too late, the bat swinging toward the back of his head.