Dinner passed in a quite friendly and cheerful atmosphere. At least my worries about the "fake" photos evaporated. After all, I'm not forcing Jameson to buy them. After accepting my relatives' congratulations on my first paycheck, which brought back memories, I said I'd go for a walk and wouldn't be back until late, so they shouldn't wait.
I'm still amazed that Ben and May trust their nephew—meaning me—so much, and let me go who knows where, who knows for how long. Once again, I can only thank myself before the "merger." After all, that Peter was a responsible young man, albeit withdrawn and distant from everyone except his family, but that's in the past.
Having descended to the basement before today's operation, I prepare to don my uniform. I have the suit, the web shooters, the cartridges, and all the other equipment. Donning my mask, I fly out of the basement as if from a submarine's torpedo bay, and energetically clinging to the nearest roof, I fly toward the city center.
As Hammerhead said, there's a bosses' meeting at the docks today. I've been preparing all week. I checked the equipment, stocked up on webs, organized extra training in abandoned buildings and evening flyovers. I even washed my suit. And here I am, all dressed up, preparing for serious business.
The gangster said there's a business meeting planned between two bosses, and by New York standards, the security there will be equivalent to the army of a hypothetical Third World dictator. And I'm not kidding. At such negotiations, they prefer to flex their muscles, which means they'll be heavily staffed.
Having reached the required warehouse in about twenty minutes, I set up an ambush and indulged in thought. I should probably mount the camera on the ceiling; it would give me a better view of what was happening.
I wonder if I film myself beating the crap out of crime bosses, will Jonah still call me a threat? Although what am I talking about? Of course he will. My thoughts were interrupted by the unexpected roar of engines. There were at least twenty cars heading towards the warehouse.
Clinging to the nearest pole, I swing onto the warehouse roof. The outside windows are up and there are no guards. So, what if... I close my eyes and try to focus on my spider-sense. And bingo! I sense danger. So it's a trap and they're waiting for me. The only question is, will I be scared?
There are so many gangsters there, plus the leaders; their capture could cause a major uproar in New York's frenetic criminal underworld and weaken the gangs. So, I need to act now. I set up a new camera and hung it on the eaves under the roof. Then grabbed hold of the doorframe and began to descend headfirst into the warehouse.
The lights were very dim. Suddenly, every light in the room lit up, and it seemed like gangsters were crawling out of every box, trying to get a hold of poor Spider.
"Hey, kid, we've been waiting for you," said a man in a cowboy hat and with... an electric lasso?
***************************
A few kilometers from the warehouse where Peter is located.
The meeting at a new location, especially one so abrupt, surprised Wilson Fisk, but as always, the Kingpin showed no emotion, especially in front of his partner/rival Lincoln Thompson, aka Big Boss, or, for those in the know, Tombstone. In reality, "Big Boss" is a nickname Lincoln gave himself, seeking to distance himself from his past as the chief executioner of Silvio Manfredi, for whom he worked for many years and whom, according to rumors, he himself sent to prison in order to take his place in the southwestern territories of New York.
"Mr. Fisk, it's good to see you," Tombstone greeted his colleague calmly and completely neutrally.
"Same here, Mr. Thompson, although I feel a little fatigued due to the sudden change of route," the Big Man said, also quite good-naturedly, but with a certain hint of meaning.
"I understand your confusion, Wilson. You see, perhaps you've already been informed of the problem that caused this meeting."
"The goods in our warehouses were lost and seized by the police because your people were incompetent and failed to provide adequate security."
Only the clenched fist of his fingers revealed Big Boss's true attitude to what had been said. "It was precisely because of the ONE responsible for this that the meeting place was changed."
"Ah yes, New York's new 'night avenger.' Initially, I thought it was my old adversary Daredevil, but it's someone new and more dangerous, since, according to Wesley, he was able to deal with Shocker and the other soldiers so quickly."
"Exactly. As you can see, my second-in-command, Joseph Lorenzini" Tombstone gestured to Hammerhead, who stood to his right, "has been released from custody. He had to pay a pretty penny for it. But he shared some interesting information with our new friend."
"So why is Mister Chatterbox still on your right, and not in concrete boots at the bottom of the Hudson?" Fisk asked casually. Hammerhead winced slightly.
"To tell you the truth, I thought about it. But only two factors stopped me from making that decision. First, Hammerhead was loyal to me and had served me faithfully for many years. After all, who wouldn't stumble when they're hanging twenty stories up in the air from a man punching through concrete with his hands?"
"And second?"
"And second, the advantage that can be gained from situations like this. As we speak, Wilson, a squad of extremely dangerous mercenaries is awaiting our 'avenger' at the old location. So, you could say the problem is solved."
"Very clever, Mr. Lincoln, I'm impressed."
"Thank you. Shall we discuss business?"
********************************
[The Docklands. Peter Parker/Spider-Man.]
Okay, now this is interesting.
"Um, sorry, guys, maybe I got the wrong address. Is this where the New York crime bosses meet? Because, no offense, but you don't look much alike."
The cowboy jumped off the crate. To his right, a thinner, but seemingly very agile guy did the same. To his left, a large and muscular, three-meter-tall man jumped down, raising dust.
"You hit the nail on the head, kid, but alas, it's only us here," the cowboy confirmed my fears, spitting out a toothpick.
"So who are you and your partners? By the way, cool mustache," I turn to the burly guy, after the guy in the hat.
"Many people know us as the Bruisers. I'm Montana, this is Fancy Dan, and on the left is Bull. Sorry, kid, but you angered some very influential people, so they sent us."
"And this army around me?"
"A small contribution from our employer, to enhance the success of the operation."
Wow, that criminal whose shipments I shut down clearly has his sights set on me, because it feels like the entire population of China has gathered here.
"Fine, there's not much choice anyway," I shrug and, jumping sharply, shoot a web at the nearest bandit. Spinning the loser around, I launch him into the nearest crowd of underlings. And there really are a lot of them here.
"Shoot the jerk," the thug shouts. Immediately, a barrage of gunfire erupts, which I only manage to dodge thanks to my inhuman reflexes. Another dodge is interrupted by a sudden blow to the side, sending me crashing into some crates. The projectile that interrupted my pirouettes turned out to be "Fancy Dan."
Someone tried to grab my leg, but my instincts kicked in just in time. I jump back, landing on the wall. That someone turned out to be Bull.
Montana, however, stepped into the center of the room, like the star of this warehouse. "Boy, you only have two options: surrender or run. Thugs always get the job done."
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