When the Smoke Clears

Chapter 10

Another rainstorm had just passed through the city, leaving a cool night and a pleasant breeze in its wake. Karen sat on the sofa in Matt's apartment, a half-empty beer and an abandoned carton of takeout on the coffee table in front of her. Her heels lay on the floor by the couch, along with the purse she'd forgotten to hang on the hook by the front door. The knee-length charcoal dress she'd had on since morning still adorned her figure. She sat with her legs curled beneath her, computer resting on her lap. Her eyes scanned the screen as she listened to water drip from the open window to her right. In the distance, the muted sounds of the city created a heartbeat backdrop, a steady rhythm to breathe to.

She'd been afraid of all that noise, once upon a time. When she first moved to Hell's Kitchen, Karen was shell-shocked by all the hustle and bustle, a far cry from slow-paced life in small town Vermont. Over time, though, she'd grown accustomed to it; even came to love it. Now, she felt like she needed it. Ever since she came back from the Snap, the quiet had been... difficult for her. It reminded her too much of the empty space that lived in her head, the time between when she disappeared and when she returned. It was a maddening black hole that would have driven her insane ten times over if not for the plethora of distractions the city offered.

She was immersed in one of those distractions now. The furrow etched in her brow had been there since she started looking into the invitation she received that morning. The event seemed legit. It, or at least something similar, had been running on an annual basis for several years now. It was a charity auction Karen suspected was more for the tax write-offs than any actual interest in helping others, but at least some proceeds made it to the non-profits. She'd never heard of the event, personally, but something still nagged at her about the invitation. Something that seemed almost-familiar.

She decided to switch her focus to the location. She was sure she'd never heard of the Levesque, but she looked it up anyway. It was a fancy, high rise hotel-slash-business-center in Manhattan, whose website touted its "dedication to excellence" in serving the community. With an exaggerated eye roll, Karen leaned forward to grab her beer and took a healthy swig. In her experience, places like that were only dedicated to serving themselves.

She browsed photos of the building. It was nice inside, to say the least. The layout seemed vaguely familiar, but so many of these high-rises were fashioned after each other, it was hard to take much stock in any similarities. With no luck on the inside, she shifted her search to the surrounding area. A street view photo of the block popped up, and that's when Karen realized what was familiar. It was address, the area. She'd definitely seen it before. In fact, she'd been there, years ago. She realized the Levesque was the exact building Fisk stayed in when he was released from Ryker.

Except he'd sold it, she discovered after some more internet sleuthing. Four years ago, apparently. Before he was convicted and sent to prison... again. Now, it belonged to a company by the name of Bishop Security: Founded by the late Derek Bishop; now owned by his wife, Eleanor.

"E..." Karen muttered.

She reached for the invitation beside her. Flipping it over, she reread the message on the back. A shudder ran down her spine. This couldn't have been a coincidence. Fisk sold one of his properties to these Bishop people, and now one of them was sending her letters? Was this the forward thinker Dex was talking about? And if so, why the invite, why now? Why send Dex after her at all?

Karen suddenly found herself with too many pieces to the puzzle. Instead of falling into place, they only complicated the already-jumbled image she was trying to make sense of. Maybe Dex was lying. Maybe Fisk really was behind all this, whatever "this" was. Maybe this was all part of some elaborate plan to exact the justice he so vehemently thought Karen deserved, along with anyone else who ever crossed him; made him feel weak. Maybe he wanted to take back his city; his power.