Chapter 11: The Destination of the Tombstone
Even on a quiet street at night, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground, followed by painful wails, was conspicuous enough to draw onlookers.
A silent community peeked out of their windows to see the commotion. Kingpin's agents, blending into the small crowd, saw the incapacitated man—one of their own—and immediately turned away with indifference.
Clearly, they were being targeted. But by whom? Spider-Man was dead. Who had the courage now? Those small-time heroes who sometimes teamed up with the wall-crawler?
Regardless of the identity of the attacker, the incident had to be reported.
"Boss, we have a brother who was thrown from the roof. He's not dead, but he's disabled," the minion assigned to monitor the Parker residence reported immediately.
No one heard the response on the other end, but the minion looked back at the disabled man with cold pity. His fate was sealed, one way or another.
The Spider-People inside Aunt May's house heard the commotion just as clearly. They wanted to rush out, but Spider-Man Noir, the only detective among them, held them back.
"Spies are everywhere. If we go out, we'll confirm their suspicions and walk right into their hands," Noir warned.
All they could do was wait.
The reporting thug, having dealt with superheroes before, knew that the plainclothes freaks usually left quickly after making a dramatic statement. He walked cautiously to the corner and waited.
Wayne, however, was not concerned with the thug he had just crippled. He quietly waited for the person he really wanted to see to appear. He knew his information—a vague "high-end apartment in Manhattan"—was insufficient. The current situation had to be distressing enough for a superior to investigate personally.
Like a ghost, Wayne shadowed the surviving thug from a distance, close enough to track, but far enough to remain undetectable. He knew that the moment the boss showed up, he would be there.
Wayne's hunch was right. The sudden car crash, the factory attack yesterday, and now a crippled guard at the very site where Spider-Man's family lived—the boss needed to check on the situation personally.
The sudden emergence of an unknown masked hero attacking their strongholds was alarming.
A vehicle appeared on the street, driving without disguise. The harsh brake slam left black marks on the asphalt, instantly betraying the driver's inner rage.
"I hope the news I hear next is good news," a tall, gray-suited man growled, stepping out of the driver's seat. He immediately turned on his subordinates.
This was Tombstone.
"Sorry, Boss," the minion who had called Tombstone immediately stood up and admitted his fault. "There were too many people, we couldn't intervene." The noise had drawn all the neighbors out, and the police and ambulance were already on the way. Their priority was escaping before they got caught.
Tombstone took a deep, shaky breath, fighting for control. He knew that killing in public was disastrous. But things were going terribly.
"Did anyone see who did this? Huh?" Tombstone suppressed his fury, trying to keep his voice level.
The thugs looked at each other, then bowed their heads, bracing for the inevitable explosion.
"You mean to tell me you didn't even see who attacked them?" Tombstone genuinely regretted assigning these morons as lookouts.
He glanced at the flashing red and blue police lights closing in. He shoved his anger down.
"Listen. Once those two are in the hospital, I don't care how you do it, you handle them. Otherwise, I'll handle you." Tombstone slid back into his car.
As he closed the door, a small black spot, nearly invisible, affixed itself to the trunk of his car.
Tombstone had hoped to find some information about the masked attacker, but his men had nothing. The factory men had called the attacker a "bat moving at night," leaving no trace. The only slightly useful information came from the man Wayne had disabled: he wore a pitch-black battle suit and a cloak like bat wings.
Compared to Spider-Man, this attacker was clearly more ruthless.
"Do you think you're Batman?" Tombstone spat, squeezing the steering wheel. The feeling of being provoked was unbearable.
Wayne, hidden high above, watched the small red dot move across the map displayed on his arm armor. Tombstone would certainly report to Fisk. A small-time attack wouldn't warrant this much surveillance, but Fisk would want to know if anyone was trying to avenge Spider-Man.
Fisk had no idea that someone was eyeing his entire empire.
The car stopped. Tombstone, contrary to Wayne's guess, didn't head to an affluent Manhattan or Long Island location. He stopped in Brooklyn.
Given Fisk's well-known obsession with Vanessa and his son in this universe, Brooklyn was likely the site of his "warm family home."
Wayne moved his neck, the Bat ready for a confrontation.
(End of Chapter)
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