Lost Stars - A Post No Way Home Story

Logical

Chaos ruled the streets. Peter went out on patrol far too late into the night for him to properly function the next day, and it was only with the grace of coffee that he did not fall asleep at work. A shift of nearly 9 hours with a lack of sleep was not to be recommended. As they were named, the tracksuit mafia were up to no good once more, but they weren't doing anything. It was all paperless. Peter watched from afar, watching their transactions that would never appear and be linked to Wilson Fisk. But he took note of it, recorded it on the phone when it could, and then later, he'd upload it on a thumb drive and e-mail it to the one cop Foggy said he could trust.

Outside of that, a store was robbed here and there, a lost teenager with an empty phone, and a bag stolen – all in a good night's work. But the tracksuit mafia stayed in his periphery vision. Nothing is aleatory now that Peter knew that it ran deep. Peter fought monsters, but sometimes, the monsters were the ones disguised as humans.

And through all of that, the trial weighed on his mind.

Being in the briefing room of Nelson, Murdock, and Page reminded Peter of his court case. All that felt so far away now, and the situation never escalated to an actual trial simply because of magic.

As a prep, Foggy put Peter in the hot seat. Everything the public knew about Matt Murdock – when he first fought Wilson Fisk, what happened at the Church – Peter absorbed the information like a sponge. He was good at that. Some may say it was photographic memory, but partially it was more that someone's life depended on it.

Matt had a little more muscle on him than Peter, but they had the same stature and size. It felt foreign on his skin, like an imposter trying to take someone's life. Technically, he was – Peter would be Daredevil. He would walk into that courtroom and speak for Matt, and Matt would be free.

There was no proof that Matt was Daredevil, which should have warranted Matt's release on its own. But Wilson Fisk had his ways, and with a little bit of bribery, he was to appear in court by noon of the next day. If all trials were that fast...

Foggy paced the lobby the next morning. Peter observed from the outside. There was a media circus out there, vans and cameras, flashing lights, and every single chitter chatter reached his ears, but Peter needed to focus.

"Can Matt pull a Ted Bundy and represent himself?" Foggy asked himself but shook his head. "No, that's not the comparison I want happening... gosh, where is Peter?"

"He'll be fine," Karen whispered to him. "He can't show up with us."

"Right, right, right," Foggy muttered under his feet.

The courtroom filled to the brim. Spectators, media, the jury...

What was the accusation again? Peter frowned. A media circus for something that could have been a closed hearing. Wilson Fisk wanted a show. He wanted to end his biggest enemy once and for all.

And while Peter had no qualms with Wilson Fisk, by the ticking hour, he recognized the threat he could become. Anything a corrupt mayor does will reflect in the streets; it will reflect in the way people treat each other.

Matt sauntered in, looking lost. He did not wear his glasses, which normally shrouded his eyes in mystery. The guards walked – no dragged – him in. His eyes looked around. What was Matt looking for?

Then, it landed on Peter.

Matt located him, and it was at that moment Peter felt his heart racing against his chest.

"Is the defendant ready for trial?"

They'd planted Matt in a seat.

"Yes."