.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

DEVIL'S ADVOCATE!

i. "how about you leave me the fuck alone?"

    THERE WERE SOME DAYS WHEN, sick and tired of the godforsaken city's shit, Silvia Flores had to laugh at how aptly named Hell's Kitchen was. Unbeknownst to many, the city possessed a shadow; an exact replica lurking underneath sprawling concrete, festering in alleyways and derelict buildings. 

    She had stopped believing in the monsters under the bed too early – the product of a childhood swiftly taken with the pull of a trigger – and had instead learned the truth.

    Goodness was forced to stay in the shadows, while monsters, true monsters made their home in the light.

    Corruption was the city's mistress, using its inhabitants before discarding them like broken dolls. She sat at the tables of politicians and businessmen alike, whispering in their ears, honeyed words dripping with poison. Money was her religion and her lifeblood, singing in her veins as the people of New York suffered. 

    Silvia had seen it firsthand; the misery that festered beneath the surface, taking and taking until a bloodless husk remained. No matter the case; kidnappings and murders, disappearances and infidelities, she was familiar with each and every one. 

    Time spent as a private investigator had not been kind, apparent in every jagged piece of her. Dull brown eyes wreathed in violet, bruise-like shadows; bones hollowed-out by a poisonous mixture of hopelessness and permanent exhaustion. 

    Exposure to the city's sins would do that to you, without a doubt, and Silvia felt them all. She would find herself thrown back to those moments, lying awake at night as they played like a torturous reel in her mind's eye.

    The woman found slit open from slender neck to navel, pupils dialated yet unseeing. The elderly gentleman who had died in a home invasion, found rotting and alone in his empty apartment, fingertips lost to the appetites of rats. The young girl snatched from the street on her way to school, used and discarded in an alleyway with a constellation of purple bruises winding around her cold neck. 

    Blood was spilled, lives were lost; sorrow's sweet symphony played for all to hear. 

    Violent crimes were harrowing, each one leaving a dark imprint against the crimson corridors of her heart, but the shattered remains left behind were so much worse. Families and friends of victims often crossed Silvia's threshold, seeking retribution for the ones they had lost. While the dead had left this mortal coil, souls shedding the heavy burden of flesh to be transformed into something new, their loved ones had remained, drowning in grief and searching for an answer. 

    It was her vocation and her penance, to help them in vengeance, in closure.

    After all, if God had damned her with these malevolent gifts, she might as well use them for good. 

– ¤ –

    "So, about your wife's location, Mr. Hart," Silvia said, soft voice barely audible over the dull hum of the fan. Looking over her client's shoulder, her gaze was instead fixed on the contraption's stuttering path as it fought to complete another rotation.

    Whir-thud-click, whir-thud-click.

    The sound was slowly drilling into her skull, but turning it off wasn't an option; the cramped office lacked air conditioning, and only one of the grimy windows could open without shedding panes of glass. To put it lightly, the place was a shithole, but it was the only premises where Silvia could afford to pay rent and afford a hot meal. Thank god for the small luxuries of living in New York. 

    Whir-thud-click, whir-thud-screech. 

    Well, that was new, she thought with a grimace, gloved hands curling into fists in her lap. She half-expected it to give up the ghost completely and explode. If she didn't remember to fix the damn thing soon, it would probably end up in flames... or in a shattered heap on the office floor. Whichever broke first, the fan or her temper. 

    "Yes?" Hart asked, pointedly examining the gold watch glimmering on his wrist. The usual bite of impatience in his tone was, somehow, more pronounced. "My wife? What about her?"

    Silvia cleared her throat, shuffling through the mess of papers that littered her desk before unearthing a battered case file. "There have been a couple of new developments since we last spoke... I may have a lead." 

    Hart's eyes glinted, almost imperceptible but enough to send a chill down her spine. It was reminiscent of a shark, scenting fresh blood before the true frenzy began. He leaned forward hungrily, the weak facade of concern crumbling in his eagerness. 

    "Your wife was spotted in the airport the day she left," she said, the lies rolling off her tongue with ease. "My source says she was with a man who-" 

    Hart cut across her, his cool words turning savage. "I knew it! I knew the little slut was cheating on me!" He ran a hand through his hair, triumphant malice twisting his handsome features, voice dropping to a self-inclined whisper. "I always knew she was a little whore, right from the day I married her."

    Silvia said nothing, biting the soft inner flesh of her cheek to keep quiet until she tasted blood. Swallowing the taste of metal and salt, she nodded stiffly, face a mask of impassivity. "As I was saying, your wife was spotted boarding a plane at JFK airport with a man who appeared to be travelling with her."

    More lies, believed without a second thought. If there was one thing she had learned during her career, it was that nothing was easier to manipulate than the foolish jealousies of men. 

    "And where were they going?" He demanded, leaning even closer until Silvia thought he would topple out of his seat. She inched her chair backwards, fighting the urge to shove him away. 

    "It looks like they're headed to Florida, although I'll need more time to look into it." The words were pointed, a polite rephrasing of 'this session is over, get the fuck out of my office.'

    Hart thankfully took the hint, plucking an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve before getting to his feet. He produced a slip of paper from one pocket, lazily dropping the cheque onto the case file as though it were a scrap of rubbish. 

    Following him to the door, Silvia watched with petty satisfaction as he struggled with the rusty hinges; the ghost of a smirk crossing her face as her rich and reputable client grappled with an inanimate object. 

    "Try turning the handle the other way, maybe," she suggested, crossing her arms across her chest. "And lean on the door when you're turning it- no- not like that-"

    With an irritated grunt, Hart brought his shoulder against the peeling paint, and Silvia watched as a few flakes of paint freed themselves from the wood and fell to the carpet. The door, defeated, stuttered open with a series of creaks as her client half-fell through it, a thin sheen of sweat glittering on his forehead. 

    "Oh, and Ms. Flores," he cleared his throat, brushing off the front of his suit. "If you find out anything else, don't hesitate to contact my assistant."

    "Of course, you can count on me," Silvia called after his retreating figure, ensuring he had gotten into the elevator before shutting the door with a snap. "You seedy little asshole."

    Pressing her back against the door, she let herself slip for a second. Weary bones begging to rest, she slowly took in a breath, lungs expanding until she thought they would burst. Interacting with clients was always a struggle, even on the rare good days, but Hart was a different case altogether. 

    The thought of being in the same room as him for too long made her feel physically ill, stomach knotting and roiling as he sat across from her, the scent of his cologne pungent in its decadence. 

    It hadn't taken her long to figure out his true intentions, poison masked by his charade as the ever-so concerned husband. All it had taken was a few moments alone with the sorry excuse for evidence Hart had provided, plus the gaudy tie-pin she had filched from him under the pretense of hanging up his jacket. 

    Black gloves lying like a dead animal on the desk, Silvia had brought the bare skin of her index finger against the gleaming golden tie-pin. The metal had made contact with her exposed flesh, so cold it burned, before the real shock came. 

    The echoes hit her slowly at first, then all at once. It was as though an electrical current was running through the tiny object, carrying almost enough energy to be fatal, draining the air from her lungs. Eyes wide and vacant, Silvia had seen everything, the bloody contents of Hart's life spilled before her. 

    The scenes were blurred and indistinct, seen through a fogged mirror, but that did little to diminish their intensity. In one, Mrs. Hart's face swam into view, pretty face stained in angry hues of blues and purples. In another she was crying, bleeding from a deep gash on her forehead as broken glass glittered at her feet, in her hair. 

    The woman's terror and pain, mingled with the monstrous rage of her husband had left Silvia reeling, fingernails digging into the desk's wooden edge as her starved lungs filled with air once more. 

    Mrs. Hart hadn't been unfaithful, nor had she run away for another man. Unbeknownst to her husband, she was staying with a friend on the West coast. The wounds on her skin would heal, but Silvia knew the woman had more scars to bear beneath the surface. Scars that she would carry for the rest of her life. 

    Still, she was far away from her monster of a husband, and Silvia planned to keep it that way. 

    Was taking his payment in exchange for bullshit leads unethical? Probably. But she had bills to pay, and the rich dickhead wouldn't miss a couple hundred dollars here or there. As far as karma went, he deserved a hell of a lot worse.

    She hoped whatever he deserved, it would find him soon. 

    Shaking her head, Silvia's gaze was drawn to the office door as a silhouette became visible through the frosted glass. She waited for the inevitable knock; two polite taps on the chipped paint drawing her from her seat in a heartbeat. For her, one client in a day was an achievement, but two? Two was a new record.

    The door creaked open to reveal a horribly familiar face, mouth already curving upwards in its trademark jovial grin. 

    "Silvia! Long time no see, huh?"

    "Hello, Foggy." She said wearily, fighting the urge to close the door in his face, carry on with her day before she got dragged into whatever chaos he was involved in now. 

    A pause, punctuated by the broken splutterings of the fan behind her. 

    "So..." Foggy asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet awkwardly. "Can I come in?"

    "Couldn't you have just said this in a phone call?" 

    "I mean, I could have, but I thought, why deny you the privilege of seeing my gorgeous face?" He gave a nonchalant shrug. 

    Silvia said nothing, raising one eyebrow as he withered slightly under her gaze. 

    "Okay, okay, I probably should have called," His words were cautious, testing the waters. "But you would've declined it." 

    The worst thing was, he wasn't even wrong, not in the slightest. The truth was, she had a knack for pushing people away; forcing them out of the picture before they could see the worst parts of her, the hazardous mess behind the curtains. The words she had ingrained into her own mind years before resurfaced, a creed she had been living by since she was nine years old. 

    Distance is your saviour. 

    Silvia sighed, internally counting to ten before opening the door fully. "Fuck's sake," she muttered, settling back behind her desk as he took the worn leather seat opposite. 

    Idly toying with the strap on his satchel, Foggy looked around, nodding at the decrepit office as though he were viewing abstract art. "Nice place. Very uh... homey." 

    "You were always an awful liar, Nelson." 

    "I mean it!" He spluttered, a flush creeping from underneath his collar. "We're only settling into our place now, it's like cardboard box central over there! It's a garbage dump compared to here, I sw-" 

    Silvia held up her hands in a gently placating gesture, cutting him off. "Foggy, it's fine, really. I know how depressing this place is," She took a sip of the coffee stranded amidst the desk clutter, grimacing as the stone-cold liquid filled her mouth. Lovely. "Anyway, what exactly did you come here for?"

    "You must hear a lot of interesting things along the grapevine working here," he said, leaning forward, voice lowering to a murmur. "Does the name Union Allied ring any bells?" 

    She frowned. "That's uh, a construction company, right? I've seen the name on signs around the city, sure." 

    "Well, we have a client who seems to have gotten on the wrong side of them, but M-" he caught himself before continuing. "Uh, my partner and I haven't been able to get any dirt on them. Nothing!" 

    "Foggy, please," Silvia sighed. "I'm not an idiot, okay? I know you and Matt-" her mouth twisted as the name passed her lips, as though she had tasted something bitter. "-are working together. You don't have to do all this cloak and dagger shit."

    "Sorry, Vi," he said, suddenly sheepish, the old nickname from their college days hitting her with a pang. "I know you two haven't been on the best of terms since you last spoke." 

    Well, that was the understatement of the century.

    "If you don't want to join the case, I'll completely understand," He said gently. "But you're the only person I'm certain we can trust to help investigate it."

    Silvia's lips parted slightly, surprise replacing the careful neutrality she tried so hard to maintain. She had forgotten how unabashedly likeable he was, managing to remain good-naturedly in the periphery of her life, despite her inability to maintain friendships. 

    Her next words were impulsive, blurted out before her brain had any real say in the matter. "Fine, I'll do it." As soon as they left her mouth she froze, and if Foggy hadn't been sitting there she would have hit herself on the forehead for her own stupidity. 

    Why the fuck did I say that? she thought desperately, watching as Foggy broke into a wide smile.

    "Wait, really?" He asked, relief clear as day in his voice. "This is awesome, I told Matt we could count on you!" 

    Silvia nodded, making an effort to plaster a smile on her face as the severity of her promise washed over her in sickening waves.

    Oh fuck, what have I done?

author's note!

hello! my mock exams are over (i am,,,so tired) and i promised an update when they were done so :)

as you can tell silvia and matt hate each other's guts bc enemies to lovers excellence (when i tell you these bitches are gonna scrap–)

also foggy and silvia my loves <3 they're literally this dynamic and you can't convince me otherwise

like? it's literally them your honour.

anyway i hoped you liked this!! please comment bc my motivation depends on the validation of others 😀

as always thank you to my love Jackieshalom for listening to my ideas and being a fellow member of the matt and silvia fan club, ily <3

— ¤ —