Chapter Text
Karen Page. That’s the name on the wanted posters the Taskforce ordered Felipe to put up in his shop window and behind the register a few weeks ago. He’s become very accustomed to seeing her face everywhere, on lampposts and billboards and pasted all over the city. He’s pretty sure he sees her face more than his own grandkids, and he tries to see them as regularly as he can these days, even when his arthritis plays up and makes it impossible to go to the park and run around with them like he used to.
Not that he would feel comfortable doing that with the state of the city nowadays. It doesn’t feel recognisable to him anymore as the same New York he moved to over 50 years ago as a young boy, in pursuit of a better life. No. He never would have imagined that there’d be martial law and curfews, men patrolling the streets and arresting anyone who breathes a word of support for vigilantes or, worse, dares to critique the Mayor’s heavy-handed policies against them.
He double checks the cash in the register, puts the last few items on the shelves and opens up for the day.
But instead of his regular customers, the first people through the door are Taskforce officers, who barge in and immediately start throwing their weight around.
“Hey you, we got reports of this woman being seen round here. You seen her?” The first officer demands, pointing at the wanted poster behind the register.
Three other AVTF officers flank him, looking equally menacing in their uniforms. Felipe sizes up his options, and chooses his words carefully.
“I haven’t seen anyone who looks like that round here.”
“Sure you haven’t!” one of the AVTF officers scoffs, his hand resting on his gun, trigger finger twitching. “You seriously telling me you ain’t seen anyone acting suspicious in the last few days?”
Well.
There is a woman who comes into his shop every so often. She always pays in cash, never lingers too long or buys very much, and there’s no consistency to when she comes. Sometimes it’s just before the curfew starts, other times it’s earlier in the day.
Now, this woman’s hair is red, not like the blonde in the picture of Karen Page, though it’s very fuzzy and pixelated and low quality, and his eyesight is not what it used to be, so he obviously can’t be 100% sure that she’s the same person, even if her eyes are the same colour and her nose is the same shape.
She always wears similar clothes. Dark hoodies and sunglasses, nothing that stands out, as though she’s trying to blend in and escape notice.
He can’t say that it’s particularly effective, but then, Felipe has always been very observant, especially when it comes to his customers. He remembers with a shudder what it was like to have very little, to struggle for money and meals and to rely on the kindness and charity of strangers for basic necessities that his parents, God bless them, couldn’t afford to provide even though they worked and worked and sacrificed so much for him and his sisters.
So he makes sure that all the neighbourhood kids know they can come to him for help with anything, from homework problems to hunger and everything in between. He provides food and warm drinks for the homeless people who sometimes pass by. He discreetly throws in extras and discounts for people who he knows need it, tries his best to help out where he can, makes sure to repay all those favours that got him to where he is now. He knows his customers and he looks after them.
“I told you, I haven’t seen anything.” He repeats calmly, even though his insides are churning and his legs are shaking with adrenaline. These guys do not mess around. Everyone’s heard the stories, the reports of people disappearing are all over social media, and Felipe does not want to be one of them.
"You better not be lying!"
"I'm not, officer." He denies.
True to form, the first guy nods, and the other AVTF officers start knocking boxes and packets off the shelves with their batons, sending them flying everywhere. “You sure? There have been sightings round here, and you know that aiding a vigilante is a very serious offence.” The first guy says threateningly as he steps a little closer.
“Yes sir, I’m sure. If I do, you’ll be the first ones to know, I swear!” Felipe lies, holding his hands up in fake surrender. His heart is pounding like crazy as he watches them wreck all his hard work, but he’ll never sell her out to them. Not when she’s one of the few people standing up against Fisk’s rule.
“That better be true.” Another one of the AVTF shitheads pipes up as he swipes across the shelf with the canned foods, which clatter to the floor. “Or we’ll do much worse than this.” He gestures towards all his meticulously shelved stock which now lies dumped all over the floor. It will take hours to put everything right. Bastards.
He bites his tongue before the insults he really wants to say fly out of his mouth and land him in more hot water, and nods.
“See you later” the officer laughs.
One of them grabs a couple of boxes on the way out and takes them without paying. They tread all over the packets on the floor, bursting a couple of them open with the force of their boots. The door slams shut, and the impact disturbs a few more precariously unbalanced boxes, which crash to the floor.
He surveys the damage and sighs, fetches a broom and resigns himself to the tedious process of cleaning up the destruction the Taskforce left in their wake. They did this to hurt him, to intimidate him, and it’s terrifying that they can get away with it at the Mayor’s behest.
Quietly seething with rage, he begins to pick everything up and put it back. It’s laborious and time consuming, and for someone of his age, it does his aching joints no good whatsoever.
As he sweeps, the bell on the door jingles.
“Are you okay?”
It’s a woman’s voice, concerned and horrified. He looks up, and it’s her. Karen Page, in his shop. Suddenly he’s so scared for her, for what they might do if they catch her here.
“Taskforce.” He says quietly, glancing at the door as though merely mentioning them might summon them. “They’re looking for you.” He adds. “You might want to stay away from here for a while, it's not safe.”
She nods solemnly. “I saw... I was hiding across the street" she adds. I’m sorry they did this.”
“Don’t be.” He says. “Did you come in for something?"
Karen hesitates by the door.
“Please” Felipe says. “Tell me what you came in here for."
She observes him closely, and bites her lip as she thinks. “Do you need help with any of this?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I got it covered. Do you need help?” A small, genuine smile crosses her lips, and she moves away from the door. “I... came for snacks, bottles of water, cleaning supplies and bandages… if you have any.”
“Take whatever you need, please.” He says. “Anything to help the fight, you know?”
“Oh, no, I-” she says. “I have some cash here” she says, rummaging in her pockets and taking out wad of folded up bills, but Felipe shakes his head and waves it away. “I don’t want your money” he protests.
"They were asking me about you. I didn't tell them I've seen you." Felipe offers as reassurance, then he lowers his voice. "I would never. It's okay. You’re helping him, aren’t you? Daredevil…I want to help you"
She nods. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
"Someone's got to stand up to them, and if I can play my part to help you do that, then..." He trails off.
Karen picks up a box and hands it to him. "I want to help you too. Least I can do to repay you."
So Felipe locks the door while he helps her to gather the supplies that she needs and she helps him to clean up the place. They talk in hushed voices as they work, and he realises that he could make things less dangerous for her by providing supplies on a more regular basis. It's too risky to exchange contact details, but they figure out a time and place for him to drop more supplies for the Resistance which hopefully won’t attract any attention from the AVTF.
In the weeks that follow, the Taskforce raids continue.
The next time they come demanding to see his surveillance footage after more Daredevil sightings, Felipe earns a busted lip and a bloodied nose for not giving them what they want to hear. They seem not to appreciate his sincere apologies that his CCTV isn't working properly, he could have sworn it was...
He continues to leave a bag of supplies stashed on the roof of his building whenever a drop is arranged, despite the risk to his personal safety.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night he hears footsteps on the roof, or he catches a glimpse of a shadow with horns going past the window, and he smiles to himself, knowing that he’s helping Daredevil and Karen Page in his own small way.