Kneeling on one knee atop the pickup, Batman's black silhouette looked like a statue; no matter how violently Mac Gargan whipped the wheel, he didn't budge.
"Where is he? West 39th—get over there and shoot Dracula off that truck!"
In Scorpion's eyes, the elusive Batman was basically a vampire; he went ahead and used the name "Dracula."
Ratatat!
He didn't even need to say it—Kingpin's goons were already converging in their cars, leaning out with SMGs and pistols and spraying at Batman.
"Barbara, riot-control mode."
Perched on the roof, Batman spoke low.
At his word, six modified weapons rose from the Batmobile's hood—three left, three right—and thundered to life.
Guided by Oracle's aim, non-lethal rounds poured with surgical fury into every vehicle but the pickup, knocking guns from hands and tearing skin.
The pain made the gunmen clutch their wounds and scream. Batman ignored them. One hand, thanks to Parker's wall-crawl grip and the gauntlet's adhesion, stayed fused to the roof.
The other formed a fist and smashed the windshield.
One punch spiderwebbed the glass, caved it into a deep bowl, and pried its edge up where it met the roof.
Batman grabbed the lifted lip and ripped the whole pane free.
He started to reach in—ready to seize the wheel and drag Scorpion and Walker out—
Crack!
A bullet kissed past his palm.
With trained Spider-Sense, Batman had tracked the shot before it left the barrel. He didn't bother to dodge.
But he changed tactics in under a second.
"Barbara—grapnel brake. Hard stop."
Oracle reacted instantly.
A palm-sized claw spat from beneath the bat crest, bit into the pickup's frame—
—and the Batmobile slammed its brakes. The tether yanked; friction shrieked; the pickup wrenched from full tilt to dead stop.
The trucks halted—but inertia didn't. Scorpion and Walker launched forward, flew through the now-open windshield—
—and before they hit asphalt, twin Bat-Claws snagged them. One punch each, out cold.
…
On the roof of the shabby-outside, luxe-inside sixteen-story tower, Kingpin's usually gentle, paternal face was twisted.
Ten hulking fighters ringed him. Some had fists callused like stone, some had cable-thick legs, one held a knife. They outnumbered and outarmed any one man—yet eyes flickered and shins trembled.
A shout—then they rushed from every angle.
Kingpin's face warped into something tyrannical. Aside from a turn here or there, he didn't yield an inch. His fists—big as a normal man's head—creaked as he clenched.
Thud, thud, thud—
Like pummeling heavy bags, the "masters" were swatted one by one, sent skidding, coughing blood, clutching ribs and guts.
Ten men, ten punches. Kingpin's white suit was spotless; several lay unconscious.
Black Cat, Bullseye, and "Shrike" Shulman only stepped forward after Kingpin wiped his hands with a cloth.
"Kingpin—our people confirm Walker and Mac were taken by Batman. We don't yet know where."
Shulman spoke first.
Kingpin said nothing, just bored into Shulman's eyes until sweat beaded, then looked away.
"With Walker and Mac gone, I'm moving up the plan."
He tried to smooth his tone, but with two lieutenants missing, his words ground between his teeth:
"Tomorrow I formally join Oscorp's board, unite the other shareholders, and vote Norman Osborn out—seize absolute control as fast as possible."
"Then I'll control the underworld of New York—and of the world."
…
Meanwhile, down in Manhattan's subway, the Batmobile ghosted along the rails toward the abandoned City Hall station.
Until it became a Batcave, it would make a decent garage. Rushed as the build was, the car still had "stealth mode"—noise suppression to mask its passage.
Avoiding everyone, Oracle tied into the MTA to plot the best route. Batman checked the forearm console.
A Hell's Kitchen map glowed; a 16-story tower sat at its center, a pinprick of red blinking on it.
"From last night to now, Black Cat has stopped at this location four times, totaling twenty-five minutes.
"After eliminating other sites, there's a ninety percent chance this is Kingpin's base."
The tracker he'd tucked in Felicia's white fur collar had been pinging nonstop. Cross-referencing her trail let him flag the likely spot.
He retracted the console and looked at the unconscious Mac and Walker.
"Monday night, Anthony—the thug who forced the Zegen crew under Kingpin—told me one thing…
"The men who relay Kingpin's orders and run the turf grabs and illegal deals all share a trait: suits."
Walker and Mac were, indeed, in near-identical black suits.
"After Oscorp's B3 killings went public, Black Cat told me he was squeezing shareholders to force a buy.
"Judging by tonight's chaos, Walker and Mac's disappearance will rattle him. He'll accelerate his board play—maybe vote Norman out and take absolute control.
"As soon as tomorrow."
"Time to have Silver Sable contact the lawyer willing to take Kingpin's case."
One thread after another clicked into place. Batman had a bead on Kingpin's every move.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 50 Chapters Ahead of Others!