Phone a Friend

December 07, 2015:

Matt, under the heavy influence of sedatives, has a mission for Foggy.

Titans HQ / Hell's Kitchen


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

3:10 AM

Foggy's cell phone goes off in the middle of the night. That's usually only one of two things: Marci Stahl from yesteryear is ringing for a late night soiree, or something bad has happened. When the screen reads 'RESTRICTED', it's one of two things. The police or the hospital.

Well, usually.

Marci is his first thought, which is why he lets it ring (he's vowed NEVER AGAIN, again), until he looks at the screen. And groans, and slides his thumb over the "answer" option, sitting up. "Hello?" It's his private cell phone, so he doesn't bother with professional greetings. He's also about half awake and is pretty sure something crawled down his throat and died there. The urge to answer with "what now, Matt" is strong. He resists. For now.

"Foggy," Matt doesn't announce his name since he's sure the room he's in is being bugged. Even if the Titans have been great, nursed him back to health, and…wait? Bugged? Well, he's paranoid.

"I'm going to need your help," come Matt's slow, measured words.

Of course you do, Matt. "Please tell me you're not in jail," he responds, rubbing his eyes. The slow, calm nature of Matt's voice has Foggy on edge. That probably means whatever he's going to ask is going to be terrible. Where the hell did he leave the bottle of antacids?

"No. Luckily not. But I am however in a hospital bed. I had him, Foggy. I had him and I lost him. And in the process I got shot."

Matt's words are matter of fact and near emotionless.

"And I need you to clean up the mess for me."

There is a long pause. This is because Foggy has hit the mute button in order to yell the obscenities he really /wants/ to Matt to hear but knows better. Afer a moment, he can be heard again. "Let me get this straight," he says, forcing his foice into a calm, cold tone. "You want me to enter a crime scene where you were acting as an illegal vigilante so I can tamper with evidence, thus also obstructing the course of justice. I just want to be clear here. Of what you're asking me."

He stops for a moment again, water can be heard as he splashes water on his face, and picks the phone up again. "You know, if you said you needed a kidney, that would be fine. I could deal with that. Kidney. Piece of a liver, my life's savings-" he starts listing things off. "But this, Matt. I'm going to assume you're on very heavy painkillers and are not entirely aware of what you're asking me to do."

"What other option do I have? They have my DNA from the time of the accident. If they run that blood…" Matt's voice trails, as he's beginning to second guess this idea. Perhaps it's the massive amount of blood.

Or the painkillers he's on. Mixed with his ultrasensitive sensory suite, Matt is high as a fing kite right now.

"Yes," he responds after a long pause.

"Do you really think someone's going to run the sample against whatever database holds juvenile accident victims in the early 90s?" There's a thump-thump of books being set down and paper being flipped though. "Medical records are confidential, even for crime victims," he points out. "Look, I know you're really paranoid about this, but unless your DNA and identity have ever been entered into a database of offenders. Unless this specifically has a connection to your accident- even then…"
"And what if there's evidence from the shooter? I clean that up, I'm covering for him, too. I spent six hours with the Larsen family yesterday, at the funeral home. Please don't ask me to do this to them."

Matt takes a long time to respond. Perhaps Foggy will think he's fallen asleep, or more likely that his words have knocked some sense into his friend. In actuality, Matt is busy 'feeling' the vibrations emanating off the lights, tickling his cheeks like the feathers from an angel. An angel playing a harp. On a cloud.

After way too long, Matt finally responds, "So you're saying no, right?"

"Thank you for spending time with the Larsens."

"Where are you, Matt, what hospital?" He hasn't said no yet. Or yes. Just a lot of begging Matt /not/ to ask him of it.

"The Titans. They saved me. Heroes by the name of Vorpal, Changeling, and Hawkeye," Matt murmurs. "Younger one. The girl, not the other one." He makes a hand wave motion that Foggy can not actually see.

He sits up with a wince and looks around. He has no idea where the hell he is.

"Well, what do they do when they bleed all over a crime scene?" he asks, and he sighs. "Where was it that the shooting took place? As an advocate for the Larsens, I have reason to be following anything related to this case closely." Still not a no. Or a yes. Frankly, he really isn't sure what he's going to do, yet. "Give me more details than 'I was shot.'"

"I first smelled him east of the Empire State Building."

That's a weird way to begin a sentence, Matt.

"I followed it east by rooftop. Got stronger and stronger the closer I got to Mutant Town. But the building wasn't actually in Mutant Town. It was just west. Kirby Towers. I'm not sure the room number. 4th floor up. Corner apartment."

"So, on top of evidence tampering and obstructing justice, you're asking me to break and enter," Foggy replies. "How long ago was this? It's possible the scene's already sealed. Let me look into it. Or hire someone to look into it," he says. "Just… focus on not getting shot /again/ in the meantime?"

"I think I'm in about the safest place in the world at the moment," Matt responds. He reaches out with his senses, but can't pick up so much as a heartbeat.

"Let me know what you find."

"I'll do what I can. I can't promise that I'm going to break the law for you." Pause. "Any further than I already have." Yes, that jab was specifically aimed at Matt's Catholic Guilt Solar Plexus.

"I know."

The dip in Matt's voice sort of says it all. It's sad and knowing and fully admitting. This is, after all, why he didn't let Foggy know about this sort of thing in the first place.

And yet, now here he is, calling him in the middle of the night to drag him in further. He most likely will not be breaking into an apartment with a bottle of ammonia, but he will do what he can from the /legal/ side of things. Making sure anything beyond Matt's blood type isn't on record anywhere from the accident, for one. And as the Larsen's lawyer/advocate, getting every detail he can about the shooting. And other vague things regarding litigation that are totally helpful. Really.

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