Chapter Text
Y/N L/N had found herself in New York- well, more specifically, Y/N L/N had found herself in Hell’s Kitchen. It had always been a dream of hers to live in New York but it wasn’t anything like the romanticised daydream she’d created in her head. Her apartment was tiny. Her neighbours were loud and unwelcoming. The two jobs and dog-walking venture she held were just about enough to pay rent, bills and leave her enough to buy food and clothes. There was no space for fun in her life, no chance to explore the city of her dreams or chase after aspirations. She worked and then slept and then worked some more.
To say she was tired was an understatement.
Even her healing factor didn’t help, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She was one unpleasant customer away from packing her apartment up and catching the first plane back home to England.
That was until Wilson Fisk sat down in her section.
The imposing figure sat gracefully in the comparatively small booth and his associate, a smaller but still quite a large man didn’t look any comfier. With one touch Y/N could know all of their thoughts, motives, future movements but she was running on autopilot. She thought nothing of the men, nor questioned their presence at the run-down diner. Upon looking back she should have thought about why. The expensive-looking suits they wore, the way they held themselves and the fact they were keeping tabs on her movements all should have been met with at least one question: why?
Noticing the men’s gaze fixed upon her co-worker, the cook warned Y/N about the two men, hoping to at least give her the heads up. She thanked the cook but thought nothing of it. Due to her mutation, Y/N’s eyes would often glaze over, turning her irises a bright blue, often to the point of glowing. Usually, it would just be if she was using her powers but sometimes, if she wasn’t paying attention, they would appear. Her healing factor was working overtime to make up for how tired she was- so she assumed it was that.
Throughout their stay, they were nothing if not perfect customers even left a sizable tip.
The two men came in on her next shift too, at the same booth. But this time they engaged in conversation. And the only reason she listened to them was that they were well-mannered and big tippers.
“Hello… Y/N,” The bigger guy started, looking down to check her name tag (although he already knew her name) “I am Wilson Fisk and this is my associate Hymie. I would like to talk to you about your… abilities.”
The guy was intimidating, to say the least. But Y/N knew better than to admit to having powers. How to be a Mutant 101.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She replied, refilling their glasses and smiling as politely as she could. She tried to walk away but Fisk stopped her, trying his best not to make any contact with her skin.
“I will have to insist that you hear us out,” His voice was low so that only she could hear him and he was getting close to her, however, there was no anger in his eyes. “We have done our research, Y/N. We know about you.”
At this discovery, she gulped. For a second she contemplated running away but that would have been useless, Fisk’s companion looked more than capable of catching her if she made a run for it.
“What do you want to talk about?” She asked, weighing up her options in her head. If she ran, she would be caught. If she ignored them, they had the opportunity to out her to the public, who weren’t very fond of mutants, to say the least. If she listened to them perhaps she could talk her way out of it, or at least hedge her bets in making it out alive.
“We are interested in using your powers to help rebuild this city to its former glory. You would be helping me when requested and in return, I will cover your living expenses and buy your clothes and such. Given that you will be available to me at any given moment, with two guaranteed free days each month,” he looked so sure of himself, so powerful. His words held purpose, even when he was just talking about a small proposition.
Y/N never worked well under pressure and even worse when she had to make a decision. She felt Fisk’s eyes on her, peering into her soul. It was a foreign feeling, usually, she was the one searching people's souls.
She could quit her jobs, she could have the life she always dreamt of; all she had to do was accept this offer being handed to her on a silver platter, simple. Right?
“What would the work entail? Who even are you? How did you find me?” She asked, hoping to gain some clarity on the whole ordeal.
“My name is Wilson Fisk. You will just be gathering basic intel. We ask that you use your powers to aid us gain information from certain clientele. Perhaps sometimes we could ask you to persuade some of the less agreeable ones. And I have many people who work for me,” He said with a small smile after.
That didn’t sound too bad and luckily Y/N’s mutations essentially made her a human lie detector. He was telling the truth.
“I must insist you consider my offer, I wouldn’t want to do anything unpleasant to convince you,” He was now leaning over Y/N, a subtle threat to not do anything to make him unhappy.
It seemed her options were more limited than she initially thought.
“So when do I start?” She asked, laughing to ease the tension.
Fisk sat back down and smiled, almost painfully.
“A car will pick you up in the morning, please have everything you need ready.”
Y/N nodded and left to pack up her apartment, waving goodbye to the cook and her other co-workers. She almost stopped to ask how he’d know where her apartment was but she stopped herself ‘he has many people who work for him’. She shivered knowing someone could have been keeping tabs on her at home and she hadn’t noticed.
Walking into her apartment she lamented about how she was leaving. Her life was going to change forever. It was a rare opportunity, one she wasn’t sure was good or not. Not yet at least.
Packing was more difficult when she had a time limit, especially one so short. The hardest part was deciding what to take and what to leave. How many clothes from her limited closet would make it? The tailored suit that Wilson wore seemed to be made from unicorn hair when compared to Y/N’s hand-me-downs and leggings. Wilson promised a new wardrobe, so when would she really ever get to wear this stuff? But if Y/N was one thing, she was sentimental.
That was the top she wore when she moved into this apartment; those socks were from her grandmother, she wore them the day she found out her brother was due another child; this was the skirt she wore when her powers kicked in and her first love, Dean, saved her from any abuse from the onlookers.
So, she hunted down one of her biggest suitcases and stuffed all her clothes into it.
Next was her bits and bobs. Then her devices. And lastly, she packed away photographs and valuables.
After she had finished she sat on her couch, taking in the empty room. She couldn’t help but lament on how she was finally getting the life she had dreamed of for years… and how quickly she could pack up years of her life.
Laying in bed that night, Y/N struggled to fall asleep. First, she was nervous. Then, she was impatient.