Chapter 12: My Back
"So, after the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, we now have a darkened Nightbringer?" Fisk, seated in his chair, asked Tombstone.
His eyes were fixed on the framed photograph on his coffee table. It showed a warm-faced woman and a sensible child—Vanessa and Richard, the two most important people in his world. He had pushed them away, and now all he cared about was bringing them back. Everything else was secondary. If a new hero appeared, as long as they didn't obstruct his plan, Fisk could ignore them. But he needed to know if this one would become an obstacle.
"Yes, Boss. But this one seems far more ruthless than the Spider-Man we knew. Everyone who has encountered him face-to-face is permanently disabled," Tombstone reported, having consolidated the available intelligence. No one had died from the attacker's actions, but permanent paralysis or a vegetative state was arguably worse than death.
"Put his affairs aside for now. What matters to me is neither a small factory being destroyed nor a few disabled assets."
Fisk picked up the photo frame, gently stroking it with a soft expression. It was a bizarre contrast to the cruelty in his voice.
Tombstone, a man equally indifferent to the lives of the lower ranks, understood. The only things that mattered were their careers and themselves.
"Understood, Boss." Tombstone nodded, knowing what his priority was: ignore the collateral damage the "Nightbringer" caused. The pursuit of the hero was secondary to Fisk's main goal.
Seeing Fisk look at him again from the corner of his eye, Tombstone bowed respectfully. "I'll take my leave." He walked out of the house, leaving the space filled with the memory of Fisk's lost family.
Fisk ignored him, eyes returning to the framed picture of Vanessa and his son. "Vanessa, Richard, I will bring you both back." It was hard to reconcile the tenderness of this expression with the ruthless crime lord.
Wayne, having just arrived at Fisk's residence in Brooklyn, watched this entire exchange.
He didn't care about Fisk's love for his family. A criminal who had directly or indirectly ruined countless lives didn't get to simply drag his loved ones back after losing them.
Pressing the control panel on his right arm, Wayne activated his enhanced vision. The house was no longer a normal residence. He could see that every surface had been reinforced and specially treated. Though this house was a monument to Fisk's past, he hadn't removed his defenses.
Sure enough, Wayne quickly detected a specialized elevator leading deep beneath the house. He knew whatever was hidden down there wasn't just Fisk Group documents; it would be the heart of his criminal empire.
"Well hidden."
Wayne observed Fisk one last time, still lost in mournful thought, but chose not to enter. Wayne needed a comprehensive plan to seize all evidence of Fisk's criminal activities at once.
He reflected the house structure in his mind and slipped away. He was satisfied with acquiring Fisk's address and floor plan. Sometimes, the Bat has to hunt in the daylight.
Wayne was leaving Brooklyn when he passed a back alley.
He stopped.
Sometimes, the people you try hardest to avoid appear in the most unexpected ways.
The scene resembled a crime scene. The "victim" was the Spider-Man Wayne had just worked with. The person dragging the victim was a teenager wearing a cheap, poorly fitting Spider-Man costume.
"Oh!"
The sudden sound from the fire escape startled the teenager. He subconsciously let go of the body he was dragging and raised his hands.
Poor Peter B. Parker tumbled straight down the rusty fire escape. Had he not been Spider-Man, the fall would have guaranteed him a spot in the ICU.
"I didn't kill him! He just fainted, I swear! I was just trying to take him home to check his injuries! I had no other intention!" The teenager, Miles Morales, quickly spoke, his words tumbling out at a frantic, rapid-fire pace that sounded almost like a hurried rap in his terror.
"Uh-huh."
Wayne didn't say anything, but the ambiguous sound was enough to confuse the kid.
"Uh-huh?" Miles tentatively repeated the sound, hoping this ominous, masked figure—a suspected superhero who looked incredibly dangerous—would clarify his meaning.
"What I said is absolutely true, you have to believe me!" Miles was genuinely frightened by Wayne's expressionless mask. He had been bitten by a radioactive spider, gained strange powers, witnessed Spider-Man fight the Green Goblin, and watched Spider-Man die. But he was still just a kid. He was terrified of the incomprehensible hero standing above him.
Miles tried to appear harmless. "Heh-heh."
"Oh, my back!" Peter B. Parker's groaning voice interrupted the frozen atmosphere between the two.
(End of Chapter)
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