After a thirty-minute recess, the congressional committee members and military representatives—who had previously maintained a fierce, unyielding attitude—suddenly turned amiable.
Of course, this amiability did not mean they had agreed to Prescott's demands. They had simply learned to stall.
They sent a representative to negotiate with Tony Stark, claiming they needed more time to consider before giving him an answer. During this period, they promised, they would not interfere with Tony Stark's personal affairs in any way.
Stark didn't care.
As long as this swarm of flies stopped buzzing around him all day, they could drag it out for a year, a decade, or until he was in his coffin for all he cared.
Stark Industries' cash flow was enough to maintain ten Mark-series suits. The obstacles from Congress were, at best, a minor, fuzzy nuisance.
"Mr. Stark, you have an excellent lawyer," a congressional committee member said as the session adjourned, stopping specifically to address him.
"Of course," Tony Stark replied. "Though I think it would be better to give that compliment directly to the man himself."
The committee member smiled noncommittally at Tony's words. He did not approach Lance Prescott but left with his colleagues.
Lance packed up his stack of documents, picked up his cane, and walked to Stark's side.
"Do you still not understand, Mr. Stark?" he said. "They believe someone of my class is not worthy of conversing with big shots like them. Forced communication in court is one thing. Daily life is quite another."
"Wow," Tony Stark said. "That doesn't align with the American belief that everyone is created equal."
"That is equality in America," Lance replied. "All for one, one for all."
Tony Stark turned to look at him. "Sometimes you don't sound like a lawyer reeking of copper and greed. You sound like a cynical philosopher."
"And sometimes you don't sound like a cunning, mature entrepreneur," Lance shot back. "You sound like a petulant little girl."
"Lance Prescott!"
Tony Stark hadn't expected such a harsh jab. He turned to glare at him.
Lance realized a beat too late what he'd said and raised a hand in a perfunctory gesture of surrender.
Tony Stark complained indignantly, "Have you forgotten I haven't paid your final check yet?"
"Isn't that why I'm apologizing?" Lance replied with a shrug.
"You're done for," Tony Stark threatened, his bark far worse than his bite. "I'm going to have Pepper write one less zero on your check."
"I'm so scared," Lance said, smiling.
...
In the days that followed, Lance found a rhythm operating simultaneously between the Marvel universe and the DC world.
In Gotham he continued to feed the boy—Killer Croc—who lived in the sewers and whose face was beginning to show scales. Now the child was bold enough to move his nest to the alley next to the law firm.
Whenever a Gothamite wanted to exercise their naturally simple nature and refused to pay for services, Lance would kindly teach them a lesson.
It seemed he would soon have his own little pet—no, adopted son. Lance thought happily.
Of course, he did not neglect Hell's Kitchen either.
It was a pity no business had come knocking there yet.
Instead, he was becoming increasingly integrated with the criminals of Hell's Kitchen—in every sense of the word.
But it was only natural: in the Marvel universe, when you get close to criminals, superheroes come knocking.
On a slightly chilly night in Manhattan, Lance sat behind the desk in his law firm office, calculating ways to open new revenue streams and cut expenses, trying to find something to occupy himself.
Harassing Tony Stark further seemed like a decent option.
Although he hadn't nominally won the last lawsuit, he had still extracted a little gadget from Iron Man.
A slightly stiff smart butler—a castrated version of JARVIS.
It instantly satisfied Prescott's possessiveness over JARVIS, if only a little.
One advantage this smart butler had over JARVIS was that it could reside in any object. Clearly the computing power supporting it was not massive server data but something else.
Lance had not yet figured out what.
At that moment the smart butler, which he had named No. 1, resided in the obsidian earring in his right ear.
Yes, for the sake of this smart butler, Lance Prescott had even gone and gotten his ears pierced.
He had originally wanted No. 1 to live in his cane, but after Batman had kicked the cane away during their fight, he worried it would happen again. Better to keep No. 1 somewhere more personal.
After acquiring No. 1, Prescott's desire to win lawsuits for Tony Stark grew even stronger.
After all, the man's wool was far too easy to shear.
On an ordinary night in Manhattan, just as Lance Prescott prepared to close up and rest, No. 1 issued a prompt.
"Sir." The calm electronic voice came from the earring. "Someone is approaching."
Immediately afterward the door made a crisp sound.
Lance turned his head and saw a tall man in a red bodysuit standing at the door in the dim light.
Daredevil? Lance Prescott raised his eyebrows, looked the man up and down, and reached his conclusion.
He was no longer in a hurry to close the door. Instead he stood, used the coffee machine to brew two cups of rich, oily coffee, dumped out the grounds, and placed both cups on the coffee table in the reception area.
"Stopping by at this hour seems a bit late, doesn't it?" he continued.
"Do you know me, Lawyer Prescott?" Daredevil asked.
"Of course," Lance Prescott said, smiling. "After all, Daredevil is very famous in Hell's Kitchen."
"But you only just moved here."
"Since you've already come to my door, you should also know that since I moved here I've acquired a fair number of well-informed… friends."
Lance Prescott picked up his cup and took a sip, then controlled himself not to frown as the sour, astringent taste of cheap beans exploded at the root of his tongue.
He set the cup down calmly, folded his hands on the table.
"However, I am more familiar with your other identity, Lawyer Matt Murdock. Would you like some coffee, Lawyer?"
After receiving the refusal, Lance Prescott shrugged.
"After all, we are not only neighbors now, but also business competitors. I visited your firm last time, but it's a pity you weren't there. I'm actually quite pleased you came to see me today."
Daredevil was clearly shocked. He hadn't expected the other man to know his true identity.
The obvious shock amused Lance Prescott.
"Let me think."
He raised a hand to tap his temple, recalling.
"Graduated from Columbia University, a smooth-sailing life, decent middle-class status. The life you have now is what many Americans dream of. Yet you choose to put on this suit at night and wallow in the sewage of Hell's Kitchen. Helping the victims of gangs, the poor people who have been framed, the ants who can't even afford legal fees…"
"Good heavens," Lance Prescott concluded. "I should start calling you Saint Murdock."
____
12 Adv Chaps:Patreon.com/CorruptElf