Discontinuity
As Matt entered the offices of Nelson, Blake & Murdock this particular Wednesday morning he couldn't shake the feeling of the strange dream he'd had. It was one of those dreams where one had the feeling that something important was about to be revealed, except that the ending was usually ruined by the piercing sound of an alarm clock. Matt's dream had been about Spider-Man. It was odd to think of him as such when they had known each other for years, but for some reason his civilian name eluded him. The feeling of not being able to remember the name of his closest costumed accomplice was deeply disconcerting and Matt was considering the possibility that he might have suffered a serious concussion when his head had been pushed into a brick wall a couple of nights ago. Of course, there was also the chance that it was a brain tumor. At least a concussion would eventually wear off.
"Hey Matt, want some coffee? I was just getting some," Foggy said as he saw Matt coming in. He took a closer look at his partner and realized that even for someone who'd been pushed around harder than usual lately, physically and psychologically, Matt looked unusually distressed. "Did something happen?"
"I think something's wrong with my head," Matt replied. As he realized what Foggy must be thinking, he added, "More than usual, that is." He tried for something that he hoped would pass for a smile.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I've always considered your mental health to be impeccable." Foggy knew right away that his little joke wasn't working, and it was clear that Matt wasn't even listening.
"I can't remember Spider-Man's name." Matt sighed as he stashed his cane in the corner and took off his suit jacket. "I've known the guy for years, that's what's so scary about it. I've even met his aunt, believe it or not. I mean, he was at Karen's funeral! And yours too, I might add. With his wife! No, wait a minute... They're not married. For a minute there, I just thought… Oddly enough, I seem to remember her name! How crazy is that?"
"You're saying he was at my funeral? Wow, that suddenly sounds like such an odd sentence." Reminding himself that Matt hadn't brought this up to talk about his mock burial, he added, "So aside from the name, you know everything else about him?" Foggy could clearly remember all the news reports surrounding Spider-Man's recent unmasking, which happened while he was tucked away in witness protection as Everett Williams, but he couldn't quite remember his name. It struck him as a little odd, but he had other things on his mind at the time with Matt over in Europe chasing his supposed killers.
"Yes, everything! Although I guess my impressions of the guy are pretty similar whether he's in costume or not. When he's in his civvies his voice isn't muffled and he doesn't smell of spandex, but that's it. I just can't be sure… I mean, if I could see his face, would I remember it? Or would I have forgotten that too? It just feels like someone poked around in my head. I'm telling you, this is driving me nuts!"
"You know, I remember seeing him unmask on TV, but I can't seem to remember his name either. I mean, he was pretty generic looking too. I'm not sure I'd even recognize him on the street. Light brown hair, I think. Very neat."
"You realize that's not exactly helping, right?" Matt had started pacing back and forth in the front office. His sudden amnesia was really starting to get annoying.
"Hey, come back to my office," Foggy said while giving Matt a brotherly pat on the back before leading the way through one of the side doors toward his desk. "There's an easy way to solve this."
"What do you have in mind?" Matt was so caught up in his own frustration that he couldn't even anticipate what Foggy was about to suggest.
"Well, there's this thing out there called the Internet. Ever heard of it? It's been quite popular lately, for the last twelve years or so." Foggy sat down in front of his computer and double-clicked the Internet Explorer icon. Spider-Man had unmasked, and the news should be all over the web.
"Yes, I'm familiar with the Internet, thank you very much. What do you take me for? Captain America?" Matt felt a small knot in his throat, as he was suddenly reminded of the death of Steve Rogers. Another friend. One whose name he had no trouble at all remembering.
"Okay, here we go." Foggy started typing, adding, "Spider-Man unmasking, and… Enter. Okay, that should do it." It took only a second for a list of results to fill the screen. He clicked on the first one, expecting a quick solution to the problem. "Okay, Matt, I think I've got something here. It's a news report from the Daily Bugle." Foggy quickly scanned the information in front of him, growing more puzzled with each passing moment. Meanwhile, Matt had resumed his pacing back and forth on the other side of the desk.
"And? Come on, what does it say?" Matt had still not given up trying to remember the name on his own, through sheer force of will, but it felt desperately out of grasp and part of him was scared that he wouldn't remember the name even as it was read to him.
"You're not going to believe this, Matt. There's no name. And the picture is completely out-of-focus. How can they even use a picture like that?" Foggy went back to the search results, and clicked the next link on the page.
"You're kidding me, right? They run a story about his unmasking, and don't actually reveal his identity anywhere?" Matt couldn't believe how lucky some people were. He had been exposed in the tabloids without even stepping forward, and here Spider-Man goes and pulls his mask off at a press conference and no one seems interested in learning anything about him.
"They're all the same… This is insane." Foggy shook his head. He had clicked on three or four different links and still had nothing to show for it. "There's no name, and all the pictures are bad."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Matt stopped pacing and sat down on one of the chairs across from Foggy.
"Cover-up?"
"Something like that, yeah. Still doesn't explain why I don't remember though."
"Hey, let's try something else. Let's go to trusty old YouTube." This felt like a good lead. There had been a press conference and almost everything televised ended up on YouTube one way or another. That was especially true for a story this big.
"Good thinking, Foggy. I'm impressed." Matt shot him a smile.
"Well, thank you. Okay, here we go." Foggy typed the same query into the YouTube search bar. Again, there were a number of hits. He clicked the first one, which loaded immediately. Once more, he was completely puzzled. The video was out of focus and there was no sound. He looked up at Matt, who had certainly expected to hear something at this point, and found that his look mirrored his own.
"Is it still loading?" Matt knew Foggy had clicked on a link, but there was no sound to indicate that a movie was playing.
"No… It's playing, it's just muted."
"Well, turn it on then."
"No, I'm saying that there's no sound in the file. There's a video playing, but it doesn't have a soundtrack." Foggy watched the film clip on the screen, finding that it had a strange quality to it. It was hazy and indistinct.
"But you see him talking?"
"Yeah, sort of… At first, I thought it was just out of focus, but I realize that it's like I'm having a hard time seeing him. Like there's something in my head."
"Can't you read his lips or something? Get his name?"
Foggy gave Matt a surprised and slightly amused look. "I could certainly try, but not all of us have special powers, you know." Foggy went on to the next video from the press conference and found that this one didn't have any sound either. He tried to decipher what the somewhat indistinct figure was saying, but noticed that he covered his mouth at the exact time he said his name. He wasn't sure he would have figured it out anyway, but that slight move made it impossible. "Well, that's it then. He covers his mouth the exact moment he speaks his name."
"You're kidding me."
"I wish I were, believe me. There's definitely something going on here."
"So it's not just me then. I should probably make some phone calls, someone has to know what's going on." Matt got back up and headed for his own office as he heard Foggy follow behind him.
"Don't you have him on file? Like an email address or something?" By now, Foggy was as caught up in this mystery as Matt was.
"Yeah, that's what I wanted to check first. I'm pretty sure I should have something on him." Matt sat down in front of his own computer and turned it on with one hand while putting the ear piece in with the other. He was convinced he had Spider-Man's email address somewhere. He was even quite sure that he had sent him an email not too long ago.
Foggy pulled out a chair and sat down next to Matt while they waited for the computer to start up. "How about written records?"
"Yeah, I have an address book right here." Matt opened the top drawer and took out a rather large spiral bound book, opened it up and put it on his desk. He sighed as he realized that if he couldn't find Spider-Man's true identity on his computer, he was going to have to go through the whole thing. For all he knew, his name could be anything from Adam Anderson to Zeke Zane.
Foggy took a sip of his rather stale coffee as he noticed Matt open up his email. He had forty new messages. He figured that Matt either didn't check it very often or he was more popular than he imagined. "Any Viagra adds?"
"Hey, don't look!"
"I'm not! I'm just making conversation. It's nothing to be ashamed of, we all get them."
"If you say so. Unlike you, I would never dream of actually opening them." Matt worked his way through the menus until he remembered that he had all his contacts saved in a separate text file. "I've got a complete list of all contacts here somewhere. I'll just print everything, it's faster"
Within a couple of minutes, Matt was busy scanning through ten Braille embossed pages of names in search of anything that would stand out. Nothing did. The people on the list were either clients, business associates or random acquaintances. He knew for a fact that none of them could be Spider-Man. Someone must have tampered with his computer. The same someone who had apparently tampered with his head and the entire Internet. Hard copies were not as easy to tamper with, however, and Matt reached for the book on his desk. He went through it, desperately looking for the name that would unlock his memory and make everything right again. When he got to the letter 'S,' he finally found a clue. The top of the page had a Braille imprint that read Spider-Man, with no additional information, and he quickly felt the handwriting further down. But his growing excitement was suddenly replaced by bewilderment as he realized he couldn't read it. It was covered with something thick. What was it? It smelled like some form of acrylic paint. The smell wasn't very strong though, so it couldn't be fresh. "Foggy?"
"Yeah?" Foggy had spent the last few minutes staring absent-mindedly out the window while trying to search his own brain for clues to Spider-Man's identity, and he quickly spun his chair back around.
"What does this look like to you?" Matt held out his book.
"Looks like someone painted over something."
"Yeah, that's what it looks like to me too." Matt turned the page over and tried to see if he could feel the imprints on the other side, but only found more hardened goo. "Hold it against the light, see if you can read it."
Foggy turned on the desk lamp and held the page under it. There was nothing. "Sorry, I can't see anything. Maybe we should try to scrape it off."
"Yeah, it's either that or I'm going to have to go out to Queens tonight and try to sniff him out."
"So he lives in Queens?"
"Yeah, that much I know. Like I said, I know everything except his name or where he works. Anything that would lead me to his identity is just gone."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. A man neither of them had ever met before entered, without waiting for them to invite him in.
"Excuse me," Matt said, "do you have an appointment? You can't just walk in here."
"Okay, guys, here's the deal. It's obvious to me that you aren't going to give up until you find what you're looking for, so I'm going to let you in on a little secret."
Foggy just stared at the mystery guy and glanced over at Matt who looked completely puzzled. "Who are you?"
"It doesn't matter who I am," the man replied, "just listen. Spider-Man's real name is Peter Parker and you, Matt, have known that for years. But would you please just keep it to yourselves, and don't tell anyone. Especially not the Avengers. Sure it'll be weird with all of them suddenly not knowing who he is, considering he's been on the team for quite some time now, but let Bendis worry about that."
"Who's Bendis?" Matt and Foggy asked in unison.
"Yeah, that's kind of a long story. I'd tell you, but I don't want to have to break the fourth wall more than I need to. All I'm asking is that you please let this go. Just drop the whole thing. The past is past, so don't look back – look forward! What you're experiencing now is a slight continuity ripple effect. You'll get over it."
"Who are you?" Matt asked, "and what do you know about all this?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. I've said too much already. Let's just say there's some magic involved. And that, gentlemen, is the beauty of magic. You don't have to explain it." With that, he walked out the door and out of their lives.
"Well, that was weird," Foggy said as he pondered the strange conversation that had just taken place. "So, does the name Peter Parker ring a bell?"
"It doesn't. It must have been completely erased from my mind. And what the heck is a continuity ripple effect? That guy has obviously been watching too much Star Trek." Matt still had the feeling that he knew Spider-Man, but that he didn't really know him.
"Hey, I resent that. You can never watch too much Star Trek." Foggy hadn't watched a lot of Star Trek since college, but his inner Trekkie would never die. Or was it "Trekker" these days? He wasn't sure.
"Whatever you say." Matt smiled and shook his head. His first order of business, before he got on with the rest of his day, was to have Dakota track down this Peter Parker fellow. With all the information Matt actually did have on him, that would at least narrow down the search. After that, he'd let his nose do the rest. "Anyway, I need to get in touch with him. I don't know how else to shake this weird feeling."
Dakota couldn't find an address for a Peter Parker matching the rest of the information Matt had given her, but she did find the address for the person who was probably his aunt. While Matt had a distinct memory of this Peter person having his own apartment, he decided that it was a good place to start. He grabbed a cab out to Queens, dumped his civvies in an alley and set up shop on a roof top across the street. He had what could possibly stretch into several hours of surveillance ahead of him, but there was little else he could do except to stay put. The cops in Hell's Kitchen chose to look the other way whenever he made an appearance, but there was no guarantee that the local authorities in this borough would be as forgiving of his presence.
One hour and one interrupted robbery later, he noticed a guy approaching on what sounded and moved like a bicycle. As the wind blew in his direction, Matt picked up the scent of Spider-Man being whoever he was when he wasn't being Spider-Man. Unless he had actually taken up riding a bike in costume, which seemed unlikely. Peter Parker… The name still sounded strange to him. Matt hoped that this feeling of artificial unfamiliarity would lift as soon as he got up close and personal. He jumped off the building back into the stench of full garbage cans and changed back into his suit. He didn't want to get spotted in costume this far away from the Kitchen with the new law in place, and it was not good superhero practice to show up at the home of a fellow costume while wearing one.
As Matt crossed the street, closing in on Peter as he was getting the locks on his bike, he noticed the guy quickly turn around. There was a definite spike in his heart rate, and a loud gasp. "So, can we go some place and talk?"
"Oh my God! You know who I am?" Peter looked at Matt with a an expression of complete disbelief. For the last couple of days he had spent a lot of time contemplating the fact that no one seemed to remember him unmasking, and while part of him knew full and well that his secret identity was safe, not everything about that made perfect sense. He wasn't sure why he should be surprised that Matt Murdock, also known as Daredevil, would remember him, but things had seemed a little off lately.
Matt smiled. "I get the feeling we've had this conversation before. Don't you?"
"Yes, I remember. But, no… I never told you who I was. Or did I?" Peter's head started hurting, and a wave of mild nausea came over him as half-formed memories of events that may or may not have happened filled his mind.
"That's where you're wrong. You did tell me, or rather, I told you. Costumes don't work on me, remember?" Matt suddenly felt that a handshake seemed in order, and put his hand out. Peter took it. "I don't know what's going on here, but let's start over. I'm Matt Murdock."
"Peter Parker." Peter slowly shook the man's hand. This was such an odd feeling. They knew each other, Peter was sure of that. And he could clearly remember knowing almost everything there was to know about Matt, but he couldn't quite remember how he knew. Matt should obviously know him too, but no one else seemed to. "You want to grab some dinner?"
"Sure, my treat," Matt said, remembering that Spider-Man – Peter, apparently – was always strapped for cash. "So are there any good restaurants back this way, " he added nodding towards the opposite side of the street from where the aromas of at least half a dozen different restaurants filled the air.
"Yeah, they're okay." Peter looked around, still trying to get his bearings, and suddenly remembered that he should tell Aunt May that he was going out. "Can you just wait right here? I'm going to go tell my aunt that I'm home."
"Sure," Matt replied, finding it slightly odd that Peter seemed to live with his aunt. He could have sworn Peter had his own apartment. He even seemed to remember that Mary Jane had lived there too. Matt listened as Peter walked up the steps to the front door and unlocked it. He greeted the woman inside and made a quick comment about finishing some errands. She must have picked up on his white lie, because she suddenly appeared on the porch.
"Good evening, Mrs. Parker," Matt said, now that a confrontation was inevitable. "I'm Matt Murdock. I believe we've met." He made his way to the front steps and put his hand out.
"Yes, I believe we have." May Parker looked at him closely as she shook his hand. It had been a while, but she remembered him.
"Well, I was in the neighborhood and I just wondered if I could borrow your nephew here for an hour."
"He's not in any legal trouble, is he?" May looked at Peter, who in turn looked like he was working hard at making himself invisible.
"No, not at all, I just wanted to catch up. I don't know if Peter ever told you, but he and I kept in touch." Matt couldn't help but feel a little amused as he noticed Peter sweating profusely next to him. Apparently, not even his aunt seemed to know about his double life, which struck Matt as odd considering the unmasking had aired on TV. Then again, everything about this day had been odd from start to finish.
"Uhm, well… We should go. I'll be back soon, Aunt May." Peter looked at his aunt who still had a rather confused expression on her face and then turned around and headed back out onto the street. Matt followed and the two of them walked in silence towards the busier commercial street a couple of blocks away.
"Okay, so we have two Chinese restaurants, one Thai, two Italian, a McDonald's and a Domino's Pizza. Am I right?" Matt stopped at the nearest street corner on the other side of the alley they had just passed through, and decided to let Peter pick the place.
"Yeah." Peter looked at him and shook his head a little. "How do you even do that stuff?"
"Says the guy who can climb walls. Are any of them good?"
"La Cucina is okay."
"Which one is that?"
"The one on the right." Peter walked over to the nearest cross-walk and pushed the button. "Is that okay with you?"
"Absolutely. I'm not getting any indication that they should get their license revoked if that's what you're asking."
Peter smiled at him. "I was actually wondering if maybe you preferred something else, though I take it you're not much for fast food, huh?"
"No, I'm kind of a snob that way." The light had turned and Matt followed Peter across the street. There was such a strange feeling of unfamiliarity between them, and Peter wasn't even cracking jokes. Maybe because his head had probably been messed with in worse ways than his own, and he was just now starting to realize it. "Hey, are you okay?"
"I honestly don't know, Matt. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not."
They found a booth near the window and placed their orders with a waitress that smelled of sweat and wet dog hair to Matt and looked like an over-the-hill prostitute to Peter.
"So why do you know about me when nobody else does?" Peter still couldn't wrap his brain around all the weirdness that had been going on lately, and Matt's im promptu visit had sent his head spinning.
"Didn't we go over this already? I told you, costumes don't work on me. You might as well be naked constantly."
"Oh, man, I never thought about that. Everyone must look naked to you, right? Okay, I'm suddenly feeling a little awkward over here."
Matt sighed. "I can't believe this… First of all, it doesn't work like that, and secondly, I think you're missing the point here. You should be asking yourself why I had to come out here, just to make sure you were who I thought you were when we've known each other for years. And why doesn't anybody know your name? I've asked half the people I've run into today and countless others on the phone if they remember anything about who was under the mask at that famous, but apparently easily forgotten, press conference. And guess what? No one has a clue!" Matt waited for some kind of response, but Peter didn't say anything. The guy who usually wouldn't shut up if you paid him was apparently speechless. "Say something."
"I'm thinking." Peter started drumming his fingers against the table, but he quickly stopped when Matt gave him an annoyed look. "I'm thinking that the past is past, and that I should just look forward."
"Excuse me?! What does that mean?" Matt could almost hear the little gears in Peter's head slowly turning. Someone got to him, he was sure of that. But who would do something like that?
"I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to say." Peter's head started spinning again. There was something about thinking about the past that made his head hurt. Was he going insane?
"So you're saying that you don't find it the least bit strange that your aunt, who I'm sure owns a television set and reads the newspaper on a semi-regular basis wouldn't remember seeing your face and hearing your name?"
"Yes, it does seem kind of strange doesn't it?" It was strange. Peter knew that; just as he knew that no one remembering was even stranger.
"And why are you still living with her by the way? What happened with MJ and the apartment?"
"MJ and I broke up."
"Why? When?"
"I don't remember why. It was a while back."
"You broke up with your girlfriend and you don't remember why?" At this point, Matt was sure that someone had messed around with people's heads, and Peter Parker's was the most screwed up of all.
Peter was jolted back to reality when his bowl of pasta was put in front of him. He stabbed at it with a fork a few times before taking his first bite. "Something happened to me. My life feels all wrong."
"I bet it does." Matt took a whiff of his food. It was promising, but he suddenly didn't feel much like eating. He was starting to think that maybe it was a mistake of him to show up. That maybe, no matter what had happened to Peter, he would have been better off not knowing.
"I mean, look at me! I'm in my mid-twenties, I think… I'm single, don't have a steady job, and I live with my aunt. I'm too old for this stuff. And you're right, something is up." Peter took another couple of bites of his pasta and searched his mind for something that would make for a good comparison to what he was actually feeling. "You know, it's like that movie" Peter said, as he suddenly remembered that he was probably talking to the wrong guy. "Nevermind, you wouldn't know."
"Try me."
"The one with Jim Carrey, when he's raised in a television studio."
"Oh, The Truman Show?"
"Yeah, that's the one. You know about it?"
"Sure, I've seen it. Well, not technically, but yes, I know it."
"Huh… Well, I'm just saying that weird things seem to happen to me, and not everything adds up. I've had people come back from the dead and I've been my own clone! That just can't be normal. It's like there's this big puppet master out there pulling the strings. I'm not even sure what's real anymore, like I can't trust my own memories."
"So how are things working out with the Avengers? They don't know who you are either?"
"No, they don't. But they never knew."
"Peter, please! You don't seriously believe that, do you? How could they not know? Do you keep the mask on for all your meetings? Is that what you're saying?" While Matt's own memories had started coming back, it was clear to him that Peter was only half-willing to see the bigger picture. He readily acknowledged that things didn't make sense but didn't seem ready to question too much of it for fear of what that might do to him.
"Matt, I can't do this right now. This is already too much. I need some time to figure this out." Peter held up his plate and looked for the waitress, "Can I get this to go, please?" The woman came up to their table and took his food.
"Okay. I understand. I'm just saying that something must have happened to change things. We both know that this is a crazy world, and that there are entities and beings out there that have powers that lie beyond what either one of us can imagine. But trust me when I say this: You got screwed. You're not even acting like yourself anymore."
Peter got up from the table. "Thanks for dinner. I'll see you around, okay?" He needed desperately to get away from all of Matt's questions. They were all valid, he knew that, and he had had similar thoughts himself lately, but thinking too long and hard about them was not something he wanted to do. He would have to, eventually, but now was not the time.
"Sure, Peter. Just promise me one thing: Never stop looking for the puppet master." Matt heard the jingle of the bell at the front door as Peter opened it.
"Okay, I won't. And thanks for looking out for me." Peter left the restaurant and started heading back home. At least there was something to look forward to in all this insanity: Aunt May's wheat cakes. The thought of them were almost enough to make everything feel right again. Wheat cakes. What more could anyone ask for?
Back at the restaurant Matt finished his meal, and asked for the check. He threw a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the table and went back outside. He quickly hailed a cab and spent the ride back to Manhattan thinking about whether his little talk with Peter Parker had really accomplished anything. It hadn't been enough to see him again and get his name for the second time. Things had changed between them. Peter seemed different to him, and the whole experience felt oddly hollow. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, taking in the telltale sounds of Times Square in the distance. He was almost home. Getting a couple of hours of late-night action seemed like a good idea to give himself something else to think about. And at least there was some comfort in knowing that he didn't have a brain tumor.
"Okay, sir," the driver said as the car came to a stop, "this is it. And that'll be eighteen sixty." His passenger gave him twenty-five dollars.
"Keep the change." It was a pretty big tip, but Matt liked to reward the drivers who didn't make the stupid mistake of trying to lie to him about the fare. Honesty wasn't as common as people thought.
"Thank you sir. Do you need some help?"
Matt smiled and shook his head. "No thanks. This is my neighborhood. I'll be fine." He got out of the car and returned to his own life. It wasn't a perfect life, but at least it made sense. Not everyone was so fortunate.