Chapitre 3: CH3: Check…
I figured out that something was wrong about my universe a week after I realized what universe I was in. The Avengers, as a team, had been formed pretty much right after Captain America was born.
Um, I mean 'born' in the 'superhero origin' sense of the word. Not at the actual birth of Steve Rogers.
Not the point. The point is that the Avengers started way sooner, and that was just a drop of water in the bucket.
By the time I hit puberty, Carol Danvers had already gone through five supersuits (no relation), the Avengers had disbanded after the second Ant-Man's death, and the Inhumans had built a fucking Lego tower in the god damned Hudson River.
So, it was clear that what little I recalled about Marvel's insane timelines and multiple events wasn't going to be much help.
Some things that I remembered came to pass (Scott Lang's death, Daredevil's identity getting revealed, etcetera…) but not in the order they should have.
So, keeping things in a line in my head would do me no good. I had to remember individuals individually, and not for what they did with/to each other.
So, the question was, what did I do about a Wilson Fisk that came into the game far later than his fat ass had any right to?
Honestly, I didn't know jack about the guy, even before I took to the internet and found even less. Wilson Fisk came in one day and started a big media company. It was an instant success and he got filthy stinking rich pretty much overnight.
The only thing I got out of looking him up was knowledge of how much brown was on the collective noses of New York citizens. He was praised as an economical genius by practically everyone.
There were pictures of him shaking hands with Tony Stark after a merger between their companies, so the Avengers were either chewing the Idiot Ball or doing things covertly.
(Iron Man's identity as Tony Stark was public, by the way.)
I heard the front door opening and sighed, before closing my laptop and walking out of my bedroom. I headed for the kitchen as my mum made her way to the dining room, yelling at her phone all the way.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT HE SAYS, YOU TELL HIM THAT EITHER HE GETS THE PAPERWORK OR SO HELP ME GOD– hey Jake –I WILL RAIN DOWN MY FURY UPON HIS SKINNY ASS!"
Humming to myself, I put the pan with oil on the fire, and got the frozen Chinese rolls ready next to me as I the oil heated up.
After I got half a dozen prepared and mum got a glass of water for her sore throat, the door opened again and dad entered, laughing loudly.
"Now, now, I think you'll find that we can both benefit from this deal!" he aimed the phone away to talk to me. "Couldn't you let your mother cook? You should be setting the table."
"She was busy threatening to rain down her fury. I'll set the table when I'm done."
"Right," he went back to his phone. "Hey, listen, how about you give me a call in half an hour, okay? I'm about to have dinner with my family."
"Listen, Randy," mum said from the table. "I'm going to eat dinner with my husband and my son. If you don't have the paperwork on my desk by the time I call you back, you're going to be out of a job so fast you'll get whiplash!"
I put down three plates, three glasses full of water, a basket full of Chinese rolls, and a bottle of soy sauce May got me the weekend before.
We ate in silence, for a while, before I decided I should give it a try.
"So, how're things with you guys?"
Immediately, the conversation went to hell.
"Terrible! You have no idea what a pain the governor is being about that bill I'm trying to push!"
"What bill?"
"The bill!" she said, as if I would suddenly understand if she yelled the exact same thing. "You know; the one with the X-Gene detectors in schools?"
"Ah, yeah, you never mentioned that to me." I took a sip of water.
"What do you mean I never mentioned it? I've been working on it since May!"
"The last time we had dinner together was April."
"Oh, right," she blinked, before going back to activist mode. "Well, it's very important! Students and teachers deserve to know if they have a ticking time bomb in their classroom!"
"Right. How about you, dad? Did anything interesting happen lately?"
"You bet! I'm this close to closing a deal with Fisk Incorporated." He said, putting his fingers half an inch apart.
"Good for you," I nodded, before taking a bite out of my roll. Maybe I should try and talk him out of it?
Nah, he wouldn't listen to me.
Dinner was finished without further conversation, and they immediately headed out, to work or to meet friends, talking into their phones on the way out.
Rolling my eyes, I cleaned the table, washed the dishes, and suited up.
I had to meet up with some friends.
/breakline\\\
I stood upside-down on the underside of a bridge, while James, Ace and Duke all gave me what info they got their hands on.
"Alright, this is good," I muttered, inspecting the list of names and addresses I got. "With this, I can start getting rid of Fisk's hold on the criminal side of things."
I jumped down and smiled at my informant team. "You guys are the best. I still think I should be paying you for this stuff."
"Nah, man," James punched my shoulder playfully. "After Murdock hung his red tights, no one was looking after Hell's Kitchen. This is our way of thanking you."
"But, if you wanna be a pal and give us some cash, we won't say-"
"Ace!"
"-yes, because we are nice people and awesome informants that need no reward for our services." I always admired Ace's ability to improvise.
"Well, you're half right," muttered Duke. He offered me a joint he just finished rolling up, but I declined politely.
For the last week, the trio had proved to be valuable informants and fun people to hang out with, even if I usually did so briefly.
James was a tall, well-built African-American man, with a head shaved and a short beard that made him look tough; and puppy eyes that made him look vulnerable despite the beard and the muscles. Plus, he had a tattoo of Donald Duck on his bicep. This couldn't be said enough.
Ace was a skinny pale girl, who usually wore her dirty blonde hair in dreadlocks. She had a relaxed demeanor and posture that hid the sharp look in her eyes. I'd yet to see her without a ratty old red hoodie that she seemed to carry everywhere, even if it was just tied to her waist.
"Well, if a Tupperware full of cookies ends up webbed next to your window, don't be too shocked." I said. I looked over the list again. "How do you even get all this stuff?"
"I'm a bartender," James said, pointing at himself with his thumb, before turning it to Ace, "Blondie here has friends everywhere-"
"I'm popular!"
"And Duke…" He trailed off and turned to stare at the man in question. So did Ace and I.
Duke stared back, pulled the joint from his lips, and muttered, "I have my ways."
"Right, Duke is magical." James finished.
"Well, I guess I'll see you guys later." I put on my hood and gave a two finger salute, setting a web line with the other hand, before jumping away.
I decided to make my first visit to one Vito Buccelatti, who was in charge of gathering protection money from certain neighborhoods, including Hell's Kitchen.
Least I could do to pay the guys back, right?
/breakline\\\
It took me about two months before I finished Fisk's little criminal empire.
And with 'finished', I mean that I managed to get everyone to hide until he sent someone bad enough to kill me.
"You know," I groan, still shaky on my feet and leaning on a wall. "I think you got better since the last time I fought you, Shocker."
"Thanks, same to you." He replied, webbed up from neck to toe on the wall. "You definitely broke something with that last punch."
"Sorry, I was kinda dizzy from the blast you hit me and couldn't control myself that well." My legs gave up the ghost, and I fell on my ass into a sitting position. "So, Fisk sent you, right?"
"Well, I don't know anyone by the name of Fisk, but the guy that sent me was fat, ugly, bald, and had the initials W.F."
"Hm, did he by chance call himself 'Kingpin'?"
"He did indeed call himself that."
"What a douche," I chuckled.
"I know, right?"
Groaning, I forced myself to stand up again. Slightly less shaky, I nodded at Shocker and swung away.
Honestly, the truth is that I know he sent my pineapple-colored friendly enemy as a test of sorts. He knows I'm a fighter, and he knows I beat Electro in an environment I controlled after losing to him in one I didn't.
He needed to know how I worked, how I fought, all that stuff.
He probably stuck cameras in the place Shocker ambushed me, and was having the video analyzed to find someone that could beat me or at the very least match me.
Now; the question is who can do that?
/breakline\\\
"Ugh," I rolled my shoulder to try and loosen it up. "Have I ever mentioned to you how much I despise Physical Education?"
"Yeah, but you always change the reason, so I'm gonna let you monologue."
"Well, for starters, the name ruins a perfectly good word by pairing it with one that takes anything good out of it. Besides that, it's totally inconsiderate to vigilantes!"
"Yes, I'm sure that's a common complaint in PTA meetings." Peter said, rolling his eyes as we walked into the coffee shop. "Martha is always going on about how her 'little Billy is always made to run even if he was beating up the Shocker the night before'."
"That was the worse fake woman's voice ever. Of all time."
"Bite me, Jake."
We ordered our drinks (latte for Peter, red tea for me) and continued our conversation in lowered voices.
"So, speaking of which, how did the fight go?"
"I won."
"That's great!"
"Well, I'm 97% sure that it was recorded so Kingpin could find someone that could beat me."
"That's bad."
"Indeed."
Our drinks arrived and I took a sip of mine. Peter stared at his latte.
"What's eating at you?"
"… Are you sure about The Plan? It's really dangerous, and you can't even know it'll work."
"I am sure and I do know it will."
"And how, exactly, do you know that?"
I stared at my mug, trying to think of a justification. When I failed to come up with something, I plastered a cocky grin on my face.
"Tell you what, I'll bet you five bucks that my plan will go off without a hitch."
Peter raised an eyebrow, and then put it down with the other one to frown as he examined my words for any loopholes. He knew I never made a bet without leaving some kind of loophole, unless I was absolutely sure I'd win.
Satisfied when he found none, he smiled and shook my hand.
Then he handed me a pen drive, and we got serious again.
It was time to put my plan in motion.
The Kingpin's downfall would begin that night.
/breakline\\\
Fisk Incorporated's main building was a perfectly white skyscraper. It was taller than it had any reason to be. Personally, I suspect Fisk got it to compensate for the fact that he hasn't seen his family jewels in years.
My Spider-Man suit 2.0 was basically the same as the old one, except that it had front and back pockets (discreet ones, with hidden zippers), cameras on my mask lenses, and wireless headphones stuck to the inside of my mask.
"You ready, Spider-Man?" Peter asked from his basement.
"Ready, Mission Control," I replied from the roof of a small-ish building in front of Fisk Inc.'s building.
"Start on my signal," I heard him pressing some keys on his laptop's keyboard; then taking a deep breath.
"I'll be fine."
"I know," he let out a heavy sigh and pressed a final key. "Go."
I went.
Using two web lines to slingshot myself (that trick never got old) forward and upwards, I used a third line to control my landing and make sure I didn't crash through a window just yet.
I opened the nearest bathroom window and entered the building. Fortunately, it was the men's bathroom.
I was in no hurry to be labeled a pervert.
I crawled on the roof, making as little noise as possible and avoiding night guards. Eventually, I reached the stairs, and I got to do something stupidly awesome.
Moments later, I reached the top of the building by slingshotting myself three times up the emergency stairs. I barely resisted the urge to whoop.
Chuckling, I stopped in front of the door. It was made so it could only be opened from the inside. I'd have to use all my cunning to get through this obstacle- pfff nah!
I punched the door open. Immediately, alarms started going off through the building.
"That's gonna get annoying fast," I thought out loud, walking calmly past Fisk's secretary's desk. I kicked open the doors to his office, and jumped onto his chair, doing a double-flip in mid-air just because I could.
"Now then, Mister Fisk," I opened a pocket, pulled the pen drive, and closed it, "Bring your secrets to daddy."
I was just about to turn on the computer when my Spidey Sense suddenly started ringing. I had a split second to move my hand before a card embedded itself right where it just was.
"Hm, am I fighting an X-man?" I muttered, before jumping onto the ceiling to avoid the ten cards that stuck themselves where I just was.
Shots so fast even Spidey Sense has trouble keeping up and I can't even tell where they come from, improbable weapon usage, and…
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! I gotta admit! It's been a while since someone dodged one of my shots!"
… Psychotic tendencies, awesome, I was up against Bullseye.
"Hello there," I said, trying to look around the dark room and finding nothing. For a second, I got a glimpse of what it was like to be Electro and have to fight me. I didn't like it. "Are you aware that you are infringing in someone else's trademark weaponry? There's this really sexy guy in the X-Men, Gambit? He does the same thing you're doing, but cooler because his cards explode."
"I can throw more than cards, if you're disappointed." I jumped away to a different part of the ceiling a second before a potted plant hit me right where I just was.
The creepy thing isn't just the deadly aim; it's that he can throw anything with the exact same unnatural precision. If I were anyone else, I'd be a skewered spider in the hands of that psychopath.
Then I heard the crackling of energy behind me and I saw the room light up.
Without looking behind me, I sighed. "Hello, Electro."
"Spider-Man," he greeted.
"You're mad about the locker?"
I jumped down just in time to not get fried, and then jumped forward to avoid three cards, a stapler, and a chunk of drywall.
"I'm mad about the locker," Electro confirmed, before shooting another bolt of lightning at me that I dodged.
This wasn't going to work. Whenever I moved out of the way of one of Electro's attacks, Bullseye was there to kill me.
It was time to use the oldest trick in the book against villain team-ups.
I used to webs to slingshot me onto Electro's chest, where I punched him on the face.
"What are you-?" he shouted, but I interrupted.
"Sorry, next time, don't team up with a psycho," I back-flipped out of his chest just in time to avoid five razor-sharp cards that ended up in Electro's chest instead.
I would apologize to him later.
This wouldn't have been much of an improvement, since I still had a psycho that could weaponize anything attacking me from the shadows; except that this time I saw where they came from. Trusting my luck for once, I shot a web into a shadow and pulled.
I fished a black-leotard wearing psychopath that looked extremely surprised right before I finished spinning mid-air by landing a kick on his face.
He slumped to the ground, but I wasn't convinced he wasn't faking it, so I kicked him in the head again to be sure.
Suddenly, the lights came on, and I turned to find Wilson Fisk standing there, white suit, white shirt, white tie, white pants, white shoes, and red flower on his lapel.
Honestly, I always had a hard time being intimidated when he was fictional, what with how cartoonish his obesity seemed. Here though, I found that he seemed larger-than- HAHAHAHA I CAN'T FINISH THAT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE!
Oh man, don't get me wrong, I'm not body-shaming or anything, but this motherfucker was like a cartoon come to life! He was a fucking balloon with a head!
I couldn't help myself, and a few snickers escaped me.
"Is something funny?" he asked, and my smile dropped. For a terrible second, I feared that he had figured out my plan. He had the smile of someone that knew everything he needed to ensure his victory and comfort for a long time.
"You know, I almost admire your abilities. You started a few months ago, and you almost managed to cripple my empire.
"But you are a mere child, while I am New York's Kingpin of Crime. When Shocker ambushed you, you failed to realize the fight was being filmed. I measured you to find someone capable of defeating you."
"Is that so? How'd that work out for you?" I asked, thanking Loki for my poker face.
(I asked him later, and he wasn't responsible for it, but it still felt appropriate to thank him whenever it got me out of trouble.)
"Better thank you think," he sneered at me like I was something he stepped on. "I had a back-up plan in case you defeated my two enforcers."
He pointed behind him, to the security camera that recorded the whole fight.
"Smile for the camera, Spider-Man."
I stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be happening.
Fisk sat at his desk and turned on his computer, resting his head on one hand as he looked at me smugly.
"I see you realize what I'll do. Soon, I'll release the video of you breaking into my tower, attempting to steal and being fought off by my two hired guards. Granted, it'll take some editing, but I think it'll be worth it, don't you?
"You were a hindrance for a while, I'll grant you that. But no one gets in the way of Wilson Fisk for long. I'll still have this city in the palm of my hand by the end of the year. And there's nothing you or anyone else can-"
"YOU ACTUALLY FELL FOR IT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING WENT AND CONFESSED! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He soon stopped talking when he realized I wasn't wide-eyed out of fear.
"What are you laughing about, you imbecile?"
"The pen drive was a distraction, you idiot," I smiled cruelly at him from under my mask. "I had access to your computers since before I even entered the building."
I opened a pocket and pulled out my smartphone. "You gotta love wireless technology, eh? Just stand in front of a building while your genius friend hacks his way in, and it's done."
"Then why…?" Fisk started, confused, before horrible clarity showed itself on his face. "No."
"I see you figured it out," I gestured towards his computer's screen, and he watches helplessly as the security footage is displayed live for everyone with internet access to see. "Smile for the camera, Kingpin. You just confessed to being the head of a criminal empire on live television… Or the millennial equivalent of live television, at least."
I chuckle as he stares in despair at his screen. I hop on his desk and lean over to look at the video. "You know, I really hope it got my good side. It does record things in the dark, right? It'd be pretty useless otherwise."
With a roar, Fisk tried to wring my neck, but I jumped back and made a 'no-no' gesture with a finger.
"I wouldn't waste time doing that, Willie! Tell me, how long do you think you have before the police get here? Better question: how long until the Avengers do? There were three masked fellas involved in this, you know."
He glared at me, all his power removed in a second. "I'll destroy you for this. I'll tear you apart, you and everyone you love."
I laughed, long and hard, before I suddenly stopped and looked him dead in the eye.
"No. You are going to run. You're going to take your suits, you're going to take your empire, and you're going to take your stupid fucking lapel flower. Then, you are going get the fuck out of your stupid tower of compensation, and you're going to take a nice long trip to anywhere but here."
I used a web to drag him forward until he was eye level with me, and growled, "Now get the fuck out of my city."
He tried to leave with dignity, but when he was halfway out of his office, we heard police sirens, and he had to run as fast as his fat little legs could take him.
Still chuckling at the sight, I turned and found that Bullseye was gone. In his place was a note that read as such:
"You've got style, kid. I'm going to enjoy killing you next time I pass through New York. Love, Bullseye."
I rolled my eyes and grumbled. "I wait all puberty to get a love letter, and my first one comes from a psychopath from the wrong gender."
Shrugging, I walk out of the office, break a window, and swing away.
I had just had my first major victory, and that deserved a feast of celebration.
/breakline\\\
"I propose a toast; to success!" I called, glass raised in the air. "Cheers!"
"Cheers!" Peter, Ben, and a rather confused May replied.
"What did you succeed in, sweetheart?" asked May after we all took a drink.
"Nothing important. I just like the idea."
As I ate my favorite meal, surrounded by my favorite people and as they talked animatedly, I thought to myself that this is what a home should be.
I hid a smile behind a glass of water and thought that, whatever happened next, it'd be worth it to make sure these people were safe.
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