01. the new deal

❝ AND YOU SOMEHOW EXPECT ME TO TRUST THIS...
EMPLOYER WITHOUT ANY INFORMATION ON HIM.❞

Washington DC, 2014▹▹▹▹▹▹

There was another shitshow going on in the House.

That was all Emersyn knew as she took a deep breath and moved the steps of the exit from the Rayburn House Office Building, closing  the doors to the office building with a large sigh. Some idiot from the Midwest had decided to play puppet master with the stock market and it had come out, and her client had decided to have her help twist the story.

You couldn't really twist over 15 million dollars in Emersyn's opinion, but she wasn't sure that the Honorable Congressman Jack Osmut of Ohio thought so.

The past few days had proved her to be right (you really couldn't sweep that much money under the rug as a lucky guess of it all) and with only one House Ethics Committee investigation opened up underneath the congressman, Emersyn had to say it was a win. Sure, he would probably get a letter of reprimand from the opposing party, and maybe a slap on his wrist, but the people of Ohio would rally behind him and vote the congressman in again, if for no other reason than to stick it to the government. The man was a stronghold in the area, and there was no taking him down.

Giving a groan as Emersyn found herself walking towards the cab stand, really not wanting to bother with the Metro at 9PM at night, she found a wandering red taxi easily and sent him on their way to her home. A freezing cold one bedroom apartment with a broken heater awaited Emersyn in Adams Morgan, the only thing she could afford from the moderate pay that disgraced politicians in office and young and hungry politicians looking for a way to offer her.

She really should have moved to go to college in the Nation's Capital, but her stupid love of New York City (and a dying father who was truly doing his best to not do any more under the table deals) had left her moving to Washington DC  two years after the most landslide presidential election in a single party's favor in a century post law school.

I.e, see broken heater apartment and measly pay.

It had been a bit better closer to the midterms, with Emersyn being able to move to said broken heater apartment in Adams Morgan rather than the tiny shared studio apartment that she had found over in Downtown DC right over the rattling of the Metro Center subway station. But the reality was this– as good as she was at cover-ups and figuring out to spin situations, the debt from law school was suffocating and DC rent was not easy.

New York wasn't any better– and while she had offers from prestigious PR firms and law firms offering to add her to their retainer, she hadn't stayed. The amount of salary she would have made working for someone else would've had her couch surfing with friends from grad school for a solid year before she even got close to putting an offer on a broom closet inside of New York City.

So Emersyn had stumbled to DC with her own business, the place that was always crawling with controversies that needed to be handled or covered up, a place where the game that Emersyn loved to play was a part of the soul of the nation's capital. Was she working with congressmen that she would have loved to rip the throats out of for their political beliefs and backhanded ways of gaming the system? Absolutely. But was their pay enough of an incentive to stay? Also yes.

Morals were overrated anyways.

Or at least, that was what Emersyn had tried to tell herself. She wasn't as good as her classmates in law school that had gone to work for the DA's office or take on pro bono work. That wasn't the woman's style– and even if people tried to convince her that there truly was better work to be done, money talked a better game than the morals of others ever could.

The whispering shadows of Washington DC and the forever chess game of manipulation across an ever-changing landscape and game board was where Emersyn fit. The scum of the earth and those who were truly trying their best to contribute a modicum of hope in the city blended in a loud mush of people who truly made the city.

The historical backdrop of Washington DC was always the setting for something going wrong, and Emersyn was always in the eye of whatever PR hurricane was going on. It had been like that for the past few years, and she had found her way.

As those she knew in New York passed the bar, she was doing her first massive cover-up of a whistleblower's leak of a Congresswoman's past of not too kind actions and a DUI. When people were gaining internships for law firms that they would only dream of working at in law school, Emersyn was finding her way into the White House, tasked with navigating the nomination and confirmation of a new Supreme Court judge (that had hired her, the White House would not let her near the building any other time) who had a past of ruling in a certain way towards the rich and his inclination to be susceptible to bribes for cases.

Emersyn Cecil had built a name for herself, and it had led to a lot of buzz– but your name in the press meant nothing if your apartment was still freezing cold in February and the city boils into a sauna during the summers.

There were days even still where she found herself yearning for New York, to go back to the city that she knew like the back of her hand, but Emersyn normally threw herself into work before the homesickness consumed her. It was something normal, she tried to tell herself, and there truly wasn't anything left for her there– there hadn't been since 2L.

But the memories and aching feeling for New York couldn't keep Emersyn lost in her thoughts for too long. While this crisis had passed, there were probably about three or four more small cases that would send mail to her office tomorrow. She would have to hold out for another big case like the one that she had finished two days ago.

It wasn't long before the cab fare was paid and her keys were slamming into the lock of her apartment door, the crisp cold air of a late evening making Emersyn even more anxious to get inside so she could bundle up with the blankets she had hoarded in bed. The door to her apartment took a few thuds and slams of the knob (she really did have to try and tell her landlord about that) before she got it open.

Placing her bag on the small table she had next to the entrance of her apartment, leaving her keys in the small container she left for them, Emersyn sighed as she slipped out of her heeled boots, kicking them to the side of her hallway with a resounding thud. Walking down out of her small entranceway, Emersyn flicked on the lights to see a man in a neatly pressed suit sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck–"

"Miss Emersyn Cecil." The man seemed to sit up straighter, his large steel rimmed glasses not disguising the stark blue eyes that bore into her soul.  He seemed rigid, as if this was something that had been built into him, always expecting something to occur that he would have to react to. "My apologies for frightening you. Your landlord seemed more than content to let me in, I figured he would have told you that there was someone expecting you."

"No. No, my landlord would not do something like that." Emersyn looked at the man strangely, surprised at his attitude that someone like her landlord would give her the smallest of respects. The man wouldn't even fix her heating, and there was no way that he would let him in. "My landlord did not let you in, which means that you snuck into here. My home."

"You do also have it listed as your office."

"Downstairs. Not this address. Which means that you're trying to do whatever it is under the table and secret, seeing as it's far past working hours and you're lingering in my apartment in the pitch dark." Emersyn placed her hand behind her back, feeling the familiar press of her gun against her. "So I'm going to ask you this one time, because I do not respond well to blackmail. Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" She asked, immediately noticing that the man had already clocked she had a weapon seemingly unconcerned about it at all.

"My apologies again. I should have introduced myself. My name is James Wesley, and I'm here to hire your services, not to blackmail you or threaten you in any way. My apologies if it came across that way, it is never our intention to frighten potential talent." Wesley stood up from where he sat on the sofa, taking care to button up his blazer before continuing, grabbing a file of papers from the coffee table he had left them on. "My employer is very interested in your services, especially given your reputation within the realm of politics."

"Yeah, I can be very useful given  certain situations." Emersyn gave a terse nod, removing her hand from where it rested on the handle of her gun, hands moving to cross against her chest. It was odd, especially with the circumstances being that the man had all but broken into her house (legally or illegally). "And your employer is...."

"Only revealed if you accept the position."

"I'm not so trusting of you. For all I know, you're trying to hire me for Thaddeus Ross or some other corrupt politician that I don't even go as far to help. All of DC is always knocking at my door, but there are some lines even I don't cross." The woman raised an eyebrow at the well-dressed and composed man, seeing the familiar lump of a piece hidden inside of his attire. "And DC knows better than to enter into my house. My office is just down below, as you mentioned, if you want to continue this conversation."

"Ah, yes." Wesley nodded, realizing that he had not gotten to that particular caveat of the situation of her potential future employment. "That might be why this seems so strange. My employer isn't one all too familiar with the scene here in the nation's capital. Your work wouldn't be located here in DC."

"I can't travel for work."

"And I understand that. This wouldn't be traveling. This would be a fully funded relocation. And before you say no, allow me to explain the job. You would be working in New York, particularly your hometown of Hell's Kitchen, working with a new prominent figure who is focused on assisting your part of the city." The man saw Emersyn's eyes twinge with a hint of curiosity at the mention of her hometown, and that was when Wesley had a feeling that his gamble to spend a few days outside of the chaos of New York, with the man in the mask on his and his employer's trail, had been worth it. "He has been living his life mostly quietly, but has decided to come forward to help rejuvenate Hell's Kitchen."

"Funny. Can't imagine that's going over well for him." Emersyn gave a sharp laugh, shaking her head at the idea of anyone even trying to bring about a sliver of change inside of the Kitchen. "The people of Hell's Kitchen want their city to stay exactly the same as they remember it being from the day they were born."

"Yes, that is one way to say that we are expecting backlash." Wesley moved towards the woman, the file in his hand being offered out to Emersyn as he spoke, who stared at it as he did so. "Which is why we would like to bring you onto our retainer. Permanently. We would help you relocate back to New York City, and offer you a salary that provides incentive for uprooting your entire life here."

"And how much would this salary be?"

"Check the folder," The man raised the folder he was extending out to Emersyn, who hesitated another moment before taking it from his hands. "This should give you an idea of what my employer is willing to pay for your assistance and expertise."

The folder had a number larger than anything Emersyn would have expected. Like zeroes in places where she normally saw nothing, large. Snapping the folder shut, her decision seemingly halfway made just by the salary, the woman raised an eyebrow at Mr. Wesley, who was standing there already expecting an answer.

"Mr. Wesley, there is no possible way that your employer is clean with that large of a salary." Emersyn took a deep breath in as she tried to tell herself not to immediately jump to accept without understanding what she was working on. "I have to know, what am I getting into? Is it something like a manipulation of corporation numbers behind the scenes, extortion, some small drug selling business–"

"My employer is entirely clean, I assure you."  James Wesley cocked his head in mild annoyance, his jaw ticking with irritation. "I understand that you have your reservations, but I have heard things about you, Miss Cecil. Things that would make you a valuable enough asset to pay you what we believe you're worth."

He paused for a moment, seeming to assess the situation in front of him for a moment before taking a sharp breath. "But if you don't want to take the job, we will happily take it to someone else who would be able to accept the position and leave for New York within the hour." That caused Emersyn to look up from where she was folding through the file again, seeing some small bits and pieces of information about the man she was (potentially) being hired to appear.

"No. Not necessary." Emersyn gave a harsh smile, her words biting through clenched teeth as she held onto the folder of information in front of her, crossing her arms. "I can accept the job. It would be stupid for me to turn down a clean client for that amount of money."

"Wonderful." Mr. Wesley clapped his hands as he reached into his pocket, grabbing a phone as he sent off what appeared to be a text to someone. Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled out a pen, watching Emersyn take it with a sharp acceptance. "Just sign that contract inside of the folder I gave you, and my employer will have hired your services."

Looking down at the folder for a moment, last thoughts of hesitation crossing Emersyn's mind, the woman took a breath as she brought the folder with the contract over to the small table where she had laid her keys and purse. She exhaled a deep breath as she opened the pen and signed the contract, hearing Mr. Wesley move towards her and where she stood in the doorway.

"I suppose this is for you." Emersyn turned and handed the man his contract, which he inspected for a moment before placing it into the small briefcase that he had brought with him. She gave a terse smile as he moved past her, opening the door out into her apartment building's doorway.

"Miss Cecil, your services are in use starting tomorrow. We will request that you be back in New York by the end of tomorrow." James Wesley stepped out of Emersyn's apartment, turning sharply to discuss further details with the woman. "Your items will move  in three  days, and my employer will handle accommodating your move into one of the apartments within one of his properties that he owns. We will handle moving all of your personal belongings to your new apartment. I do hope a two bedroom apartment is alright."

"Uh–" Emersyn turned to look at the apartment around her, somewhat shocked at how rapidly this was unfolding, and how her life was rapidly shifting within the span of an evening. Her head spun, but she knew that there was some game with this new client, one that implied that he did not operate in any other way but his own. "I suppose so. There's not much of a choice for me, is there?"

Mr. Wesley smiled, realizing that Emersyn was understanding how the game of his employer worked. "No there is not. My employer is hoping to go public by the end of the week with his plans to assist Hell's Kitchen and his arrival into the prominence of New York." Reaching into the inside of his suit again, Mr. Wesley handed a card to Emersyn, watching her lean against the doorframe to shut the door behind him as soon as the conversation ended.

"Welcome to Fisk Industries."

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okay wow i actually hate it!!! thanks brain!!!

i really despise writing first chapters and man... this one kind of... stinks (i promise my writing isn't always just like chunky and inconsistent like this!!) it's mainly a set up to the rest of the story but it still needed to be done, because we're jumping in right in the smack middle of season one (as we can all tell!) and fisk is about to go public which means our girl is needed!

the next few chapters will be more fun i promise because we're jumping right into the middle of the action (who the FUCK needs context) since we're in the middle of s1... we will learn things along the way together of course , and maybe even matthew will show up! what a treat<33

all of my ramblings about how much i hate writing first chapters aside, hopefully everyone here is excited for the rest of the story! the writing isn't as *poetic* as the summary but hopefully it has you just interested enough to stick around < 3

thank you so much for reading you guys and i will see you all in the next one!

(gif by sanktham )