Author’s Note: Realized rather belatedly that I never went over Dynamo’s first real meeting with Matt Murdock. Here it is.

The brownstone was non-descript, but it was only a block or two down from the Bronx’s District Court and government buildings, so location, location, location. Nelson and Murdock was done in old-style script on the sign hanging out front.

Given the number of suits and business outfits around, I was probably underdressed for the area, but that just made them dismiss me as anyone of importance.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

The living room had naturally been converted into a waiting area. The offices were probably on the second floor, converted from bedrooms.

An attractive blonde woman was serving as the secretary or legal assistant, Karen Page was the name on her desk.

“Hello, may I help you?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow at my jeans and jean vest over t-shirt attire.

My Mask swam across my face, lightning sparked between the white eyes on it as my hair grew a foot longer and spread out behind me. She blinked as a second later it faded away, and I was back to looking normal.

“Dynamo. Lunch appointment with Mr. Murdock.”

She looked down at her calendar. “Oh, Dyna. Yes...”

She was a bit flustered, but pressed a button, and was about to call up when Matt shouted down from above, “Is that Dyna? Send her up, Karen!”

She started to rise, but I just waved her down, stepping over to the side of the stairs, and barely flexing my legs, leapt all the way up to the top of the stairs, swung over the railing, and was on the second floor.

She sort of made a sound as she sat back down.

The short fellow standing there drinking his coffee would have spontaneously spilled it if I hadn’t grabbed his hand and held it level. He stuttered and stared at me in shock, then at his coffee, gaping.

“Hey, Foggy.” Matt poked his head, complete with dark glasses, around the corner. “This is Dynamo. She’s gotten some press recently. You may have heard of her?”

“Oh! Oh, right!” I let go his coffee, he stared at it a moment before tossing the rest of it back. “Uh, thank you?” he said, as I glided towards Murdock’s office.

“You’re welcome!” I waved over my head, sliding inside before Murdock closed the door.

---

“You could have been a little more circumspect,” Murdock grumbled as I sat down in an old leather chair. Still comfy, however. With smoothness not befitting a blind man, he reclaimed his own seat behind his desk.

“I’m not going to hide from them. Besides, this is probably going to be the start of a lot of dealings with superheroes, so they should get comfortable with it.”

“Really? How’s that?” Murdock asked, curious now.

“Dr. Richards has been a bit unhappy with his attorneys, and especially the somewhat unique needs of him being Powered, along with his associates. When I put your name out there as someone who might be more familiar with Powered lifestyles and needs, noting your moral leanings and accomplishments, he asked me if you might be willing to accept a retainer for legal work.” I paused significantly. “There would be a lot of contract and patent law involved, and some rather significant sums of money.”

He had good self-control, but I could tell he was surprised. “There’s currently only myself and Foggy here. Would we be capable of taking on that kind of a load?” he had to ask. “Dr. Richards’ accomplishments are quite well-known.”

“Would you like me to set you up with an appointment where you could go over the needs and details? Dr. Richards is a fantastically intelligent and understanding man, along with having very high moral codes. Meeting a lawyer who shares similar values, I’m sure he would be inclined to help you out. More to the point...” I pulled out a sheet of paper and flipped it through the air to him.

He nabbed it, set it down, and ran his fingers across it deftly. “Who are these?” he asked alertly.

“Those are the names of some other prominent and non-published clients of Alderstein and Associates.”

He paused as he completed the list. “Please inform Dr. Richards that I will unequivocally accept a retainer from him. I can have additional lawyers and legal assistants hired within the month.”

“I can add some mystical acumen to vetting any new hires for you,” I offered him, making him pause.

“That... would be extraordinarily helpful, if it works?” he conceded after a moment.

“Oh, it will.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Then, I thank you. If I may ask, where did you get this list?”

“I entered their offices after hours, picked a number of locks meant to keep out wandering children, and read a great number of things that they probably didn’t want random passers-by putting their eyes on.”

His mouth worked for a moment at that. “You know, I’m not your lawyer yet,” he warned me.

“You were my lawyer as soon as you invited me here. I’ll give you your consideration on a permanent and ongoing basis whenever you want me to.”

He steepled his fingers as he looked at me, I crackled a pulse at him, and he pulled a long face as he sighed. “I suppose that is true. Pro bono work seems to have gotten me the potential of a six-digit retainer fee.”

“Seven. I saw the bills.” He flinched despite himself, probably resisting the urge to run out there, grab Nelson, and start doing a jig in the corridor. “Let me be plain and say that I believe in good things happening to good people, Mr. Murdock.”

His hands fell to the desk in front of him. “You are a hopeless idealist, Miss Dynamo,” he said softly.

“Only around hopeless idealists, Mr. Murdock. You should see me around total bastards.”

“I heard that you put all three of the Enforcers in traction,” he chuckled wryly. “Alright, then. I suppose it is time for mutual consideration. What do you want me to do for you?”

“Are we talking short or long-term?”

That caught him a bit off-guard. “Short-term, for now?”

“Serve as my liaison with SHIELD in establishing a valid civilian identity, as far as it goes. I need a legal identity to get paid in something other than cash, and to pay taxes.”

“I imagine there will be difficulties in some areas, like, oh, place of birth and date of birth and birth name and the like?” he asked fatalistically.

“Problems they will be understanding about and forgiving of, since doing so means they can call me up and ask for favors in a civil manner.”

“Ah, yes, blackmail for higher causes. Any particular name you’re looking at?” he inquired.

“I thought Dyna Morgan Ouilette would be suitably misleading and annoying.”

He made a face. “In English, that...”

“In Human, it doesn’t.”

He considered that, lifted his eyebrows, and just sighed, picking up a pencil and a legal pad. “Well, what other artificial information shall we supply them?”

------

His fists came in with power and speed, and excellent form. I slapped them away negligently, let a few bounce off me deliberately doing no harm, letting him know that he didn’t have to hold back, as he wasn’t going to harm me unless I let him.

“You need more work on grappling techniques,” I informed him, grabbing his arm, spinning him around, over, and down, and suddenly he was on his face, my arm wrapping his legs and holding his arm behind him helplessly. “The Hand techniques you are using are focused on striking as supplements to weapon strikes and one-hit kills or crippling. That’s fine for mooks, but against a professional it’s going to get you in trouble.

“I’m not a pro grappler. You need a better teacher.” I let him go, and he bounced back to his feet lightly. The basement gym was part file storage, part work-out area to blow off some steam, although Foggy never used it.

“Your strength and speed are completely beyond human,” he pointed out.

“My training and recognition of martial techniques comes from before they were dumped on me,” I replied, as he started coming in again, and I flicked some blows back at him, adjusting my speed so he could barely dodge. “Your teachers taught you decent martial technique, and nothing more. It’s time you stepped beyond.”

“It feels like I’m hitting a rubber tire or something,” he muttered, stepping in and pounding a dozen punches up and down my midsection as I let him, before he hopped away from a gentle push. “Fighting superhumans is ridiculous...”

“Not to hammer the point overmuch, but it’s totally possible for you to get your punches up to the point where you can hurt me easily. Once your Core is open, some pretty radical things become possible for you.”

He finally put his hands down. “That is something that will take time, however, right?”

“If you are worried about Hell’s Kitchen while you are away, I can put it into my patrol routes, and I imagine a week or two of instruction from you will give me the basic familiarity to build on.”

“How long do you think this would take?” he asked, almost despite himself.

“Six months, give or take on how smart you are.” I reached forward to flick his forehead before he could draw back. “Best lawyer in the city. Not dumb.”

“Six months...” He’d been trained for longer than that. “Where will I have to go?”

“Somewhere in the Tribes. They aren’t against teaching Good men, although they’ll probably wonder who taught you your style.”

He was quiet as he started to walk over to the side to grab a towel, and I just waved my hand and cleaned him up and cooled him off at the same time. He paused, sniffed at himself, and turned to look at me in consideration.

“That part of your Pact, too?” he asked curiously.

“Totally not.”

“Well, what would it take to open up my Core like you said?”

“First, your ki.” I held up a finger. “This is going to feel like I stuck a red-hot poker into your guts.”

He grimaced, but wasn’t afraid. “Circumventing years of sitting around contemplating my navel and trying to manipulate my inner energy?” he had to say.

“That’s the one.” He took a deep breath as I put a finger on his chest, followed his breath down and into him, tracing the point where oxygen in the bloodstream met where food was converted into energy, and they swirled together into the place where ki was born.

Right There.

My own ki drove into that point in his body, and split it open.

To his credit, he didn’t scream, but he did drop instantly. Basically having a touchpoint of where your mind/body/soul link pop open tends to do that to people.

“Yeah, pretty taut, that one. That’s a sign of impressive mental ability combined with high physical conditioning. Good for you!” I gave him a thumbs-up as he sat there on the floor on all fours, knowing he had 360 vision. “Now, what you should be feeling is a gelling sensation, kind of like a jelly donut is gathering around the hole I just poked in you. That’s your Ki Pool, where you put all your ki.

“There’s a whole lot of stuff you can do with ki, but not nearly as much as you can do with psi... but happily, the two things work together pretty damn well, so there’s that.” I popped my knuckles cheerfully. “Now that you’ve had fun getting your ki open, you ready for the really painful one?”

“Anyone tell you that you can be very annoying?” he asked me in half-gasps.

“Not really. They tend to be wanting stuff from me, and then I give them even more stuff, and they tend to find me more confusing than annoying.”

Despite himself, he huffed out a laugh. “The gifts you come bearing have so many teeth...”

“They really do, inside and out.”

“You never mentioned your long-term plans.”

“You were getting overwhelmed with the short-term stuff. You come back all buffed up and able to put me through a wall, we’ll talk long-term.”