Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 742 Fair Competition (Second Update)

"Hello, this is Nelson Murdoch Law Firm. I'm sorry, it's not business hours now. If you need anything, you can come tomorrow morning..." A somewhat flustered female voice answered the phone, as if she had knocked over a cup of hot tea, knocked over documents on the table, and even the sound of her sniffling could be clearly heard. The long silence on the late-night call made Karen Page uneasy. She stammered softly, "Hello..."

"Are you blonde?" came a strange question from the other end of the phone.

"Yes, yes, may I ask..." I was startled by the voice on the other end of the phone.

"I knew you were blond." The voice suddenly became cheerful. "Tell Murdoch I have a document for him."

"document?"

"Yes, it's the document we agreed on." Salomon shoved a thick stack of files into the mailbox of the dilapidated apartment where Nelson Murdoch's law firm was located. The old metal box creaked and groaned, barely able to support his weight. "I've also included another file; I'm sure he'll be interested in it too."

"May I ask what it's about? And who are you?"

"I'm Salomon Damonette. I'm bringing Wilson Fisk's criminal record, which Matt asked me to collect. This is just a catalog; there are too many actual files. Another one is a record of abuse of young boys by the Irish Catholic Church in New York, you know, these things never get a proper trial. I heard Matt Murdoch grew up in the Irish Catholic Church, so I thought he might be interested in this kind of thing too."

The sorcerer finally lost his temper and punched the apartment mailbox before shoving two thick files inside. Karen Page was startled by the loud noise from downstairs—she had tracked down Wilson Fisk's mother to the nursing home and uncovered the truth about Fisk's childhood patricide. She hadn't told anyone, fearing Wilson Fisk might send people after her.

"What are you afraid of?"

"No..." Karen Page sniffed, "it was just a cockroach."

"This apartment is so damp, I should carry insecticide with me. You can't imagine what I found in the law firm's mailbox." Like the other apartments in Hell's Kitchen, this apartment was old and dilapidated, so it wouldn't be surprising to find anything there.

"Are you downstairs right now? Actually, I'm still at the law firm. You can bring the stuff up," Karen Page asked. She opened a drawer and took out her small handgun. She knew she was taking a risk, but the person on the other end of the phone seemed to know Matt Murdoch well, so she figured she might as well trust him. "Stop messing with that old mailbox. We haven't used it in ages."

"Damn it! Sorry I spoke French."

"Are you British?" After a while, Karen Page heard footsteps in the corridor, and she quietly tightened her grip on the gun in her hand.

"You could say that. If your stereotype is correct, I'd like a cup of hot tea." Salomon hung up the phone and knocked on the door. A blonde woman who looked somewhat flustered opened the door. The sorcerer never hesitated to smile at someone who appeared vulnerable. "I'm sorry," he smiled, "it took a while to pry open the old mailbox."

“It’s alright.” Karen Page forced a smile, trying to conceal the pistol behind her back. She had initially been startled by Salomon’s astonishing height, but the young man’s charm quickly disarmed her. She immediately realized she had overreacted and began to apologize for her attitude. Perhaps it was his exquisite evening gown and the rose brooch the witch used to assert her dominance, but Salomon looked dazzling, completely out of place in the neighborhood, utterly devoid of the pervasive sinful atmosphere of Hell’s Kitchen. “No tea, would you like a coffee?”

"I'd better not. I feel guilty every time I drink coffee."

"Are you standing up for coffee pickers in the Third World?" She slowly backed away from the desk that had probably been changed hands many times, carefully concealing the pistol. She didn't want anyone to see her illegally possessing a gun.

"No way!" Salomon's eyes widened. "I just think you guys don't have good coffee here. Matt's practically starving. I bet his most expensive suit was a gift from me!"

It must be said that Salomon was very good at building rapport, especially through sarcasm and irony. Karen Page, unsurprisingly, was amused. But the atmosphere quickly became awkward; the two strangers really didn't have much to talk about, but Page wanted to ask more questions.

"How do you know Matthew?" She took the two files, tightly wrapped in thick leather file folders. Out of politeness, she didn't intend to open them for the moment. This could also be interpreted as her remaining wary of Salomon, not wanting to lose the opportunity to fight back if necessary. She knew she had to maintain this vigilance recently, and silently apologized to Salomon for it. Even so, she slowly lowered her guard and remained unmoved by Salomon's act of pulling up a chair and sitting down.

He seemed to want to tell a very long story.

“When I was a teenager, I met him in an alley in Hell's Kitchen. It was Christmas, and a bunch of thugs surrounded me, trying to get something from me to do drugs.” Karen Page raised an eyebrow. She began to suspect that this young man's story was similar to her own, that they had met because of Matt’s help. “Then I beat those idiots up, and Matt happened to be walking by and asked me to throw away the thugs’ drugs and guns.” Salomon shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about the potential consequences of this sudden plot twist. “I did it; I didn’t need those things anyway.”

"What about these two files?"

"The dossier on Wilson Fisk is what we agreed on long ago, as for the other one... I must guarantee fairness."

"What do you mean?" Karen Page asked, utterly confused. "What fairness?"

Salomon shrugged, offering no reply. Wilson Fisk had proven his worth with his life, surviving the pursuit of the two shadow creatures summoned by Salomon, and for that, Salomon had to keep his promise and buy him some time. He knew, of course, that his behavior, akin to that of an ancient Roman nobleman watching a gladiatorial contest, and his masterful intimidation skills, had incurred Wilson Fisk's resentment, but as always, he didn't care about the thoughts of a crime boss. Wilson Fisk had survived this long entirely because of Vanessa's bond with Athena, not because of his worth.

"Justice for the victims." He changed his tune. "You must know about the Catholic Church sexual assault case, right? It's been making quite a stir lately, and I think Matt would want to take on a case like that to build up the law firm's reputation."

"I think... he's a Catholic."

“Would he really ignore a case just to avoid disgracing his faith? I don’t think he’s that kind of person.” The sorcerer spread his hands. Karen Page shook her head; in her opinion, Matt Murdoch wasn’t that kind of person. It seemed the young man was genuinely looking out for Matt, trying to help Nelson Murdoch’s law firm gain business. “I’ve already given his phone number to the victim. If he can get a few priests to jail, you can buy a new printer, I guarantee it.”

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(End of this chapter)