Bab 8: Chapter 8: Hunting the Spider.

In the cold night air of Gotham, one of the Falcone stronghold stood like a fortress. It was a dimly lit warehouse on the city's outskirts, surrounded by industrial silence, with the faint smell of gasoline and damp concrete lingering in the air. Inside, chaos reigned as Spider-Man tore through the building. The once neat stacks of cash now burned in crackling flames, casting an eerie glow across the room, and the crates of drugs lay smashed, their contents scattered and destroyed.

Spider-Man, his black-and-white armored suit glistening in the firelight, moved with lethal precision. His glowing crimson Ark Reactor pulsed beneath his chest as he delivered bone-crunching blows to Falcone's thugs, sending them crashing into walls and crates. The thugs screamed, clutching broken limbs, as they cowered from the monster in their midst. One by one, they fell, leaving only fear in their wake. Spider-Man's mechanical legs, four sharp, spider-like appendages, sprouted from his back, their metallic points gleaming in the flickering light.

"Please, man! We didn't do nothin'!" one thug begged, crawling backward. His voice shook, eyes wide with terror.

"You work for Falcone," Spider-Man's voice was cold, cutting through the noise like a blade. "You helped ruin this city. You don't get to plead innocence now." With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, wrapping the thug in thick, unbreakable strands. The man screamed as Spider-Man lifted him effortlessly into the air, suspending him from the ceiling like a trapped insect.

Outside, rows of GCPD cars lined the street. The red and blue lights of their sirens bathed the building in flashing color, giving the scene an otherworldly glow. The sound of blaring sirens and radio chatter filled the air. Officers, dressed in full SWAT gear, prepared for the raid, rifles in hand. The tension was palpable.

An expensive car, new and shiny black 1998 Cadillac DeVille, clearly a bribe from the Falcone family, pulled up to the scene. Commissioner Gillian Loeb stepped out, his round face grim and flushed, adjusting the sleeves of his tailored overcoat. His eyes scanned the warehouse with disdain as Bullock approached, chewing on his toothpick.

"Commissioner," Bullock greeted, tipping his signature hat. "You're just in time. We're about to bag ourselves a big one. Spider-Man's inside. Got him cornered."

Loeb's beady eyes narrowed skeptically. "You sure he's in there? I don't want another screw-up on this one, Bullock. You know who we're dealing with."

Bullock smirked. "Oh, he's in there alright. Chopper pilot spotted him on the top floor. He's been tearing the place apart."

Loeb nodded, his face hardening. "Good. Then let's put this freak down."

Inside the building, the SWAT team had moved in, silently breaching the lower floors. Their boots crunched against the debris-strewn floor as they advanced cautiously through the warehouse. Flashlights cut through the darkness as the team fanned out, searching for any sign of the vigilante.

"He's somewhere up there," the squad leader whispered into his radio, his voice tight with tension.

Suddenly, a metallic thud echoed through the rafters. A SWAT officer turned his head just in time to see a shadow drop from the ceiling, landing in the midst of the group. Before they could react, Spider-Man's mechanical spider legs struck, the sharp appendages smashing through weapons and knocking the rifles from their hands. A controlled repulsor blast followed, sending three officers flying backward into a wall, their bodies crumpling to the floor. Webs shot out next, ensnaring another officer, pinning him to the ground as he struggled helplessly.

Panic spread through the remaining officers. "Where is he?!" one of them shouted, his voice cracking in fear.

From the shadows, Spider-Man's sinister voice echoed. "You thought I wouldn't know you were coming? This is my city now. I don't answer to scum like you or your paymasters."

A SWAT officer, shaking, fired his rifle blindly into the darkness. The bullets struck Spider-Man's armored chest, sparking off the dark elf metal with a metallic hiss. He didn't flinch, the bullets were as harmless as raindrops against his indestructible suit.

"Pathetic, just like the lot you are," Spider-Man sneered as his eerie compound bug like eye glows in harsh blood red as he emerged from the shadows, his glowing eyes fixed on the officer. "You should know by now that's not going to work."

The officer, trembling, dropped his weapon and backed away, but it was too late. Spider-Man's shocker gauntlet ignited, and with a swift punch, a concussive blast knocked the officer out cold, sending him sprawling across the ground.

In the chaos, the SWAT team tried to regroup, but they were outmatched. One by one, Spider-Man picked them off, attacking from the shadows. He moved like a ghost, appearing and disappearing before they could react. The harsh metallic clang of his armored boots is the only way they could spot him as if mocking them. His spider-like legs pierced through their weapons, disarming them with ease. Webs flew in every direction, pinning the officers to walls and ceilings, leaving them tangled and helpless. Cries of fear echoed through the warehouse.

"This is insane!" one officer screamed into his radio. "We need backup! He's not human! He's a monster!"

Outside, Bullock and Commissioner Loeb stood near their cars, listening to the chaos unfolding on the radio. The frantic calls for backup echoed through the static. "Monster… four giant spiders… legs… it's got us pinned… send help!"

Loeb's face twisted in frustration. "What the hell is happening in there?!" he shouted.

"Sounds like your plan's going to hell, Commissioner," Bullock muttered, spitting out his toothpick.

Back inside, Spider-Man stood amidst the fallen SWAT team, his arms crossed as he surveyed the wreckage. He glanced down at the unconscious officers strewn across the floor, bound in webs or knocked senseless. He made sure not to kill any of them. After all, corrupt or not, some of them were just doing their jobs. But his message had been sent.

With a final glance at the terrified officers still conscious, Spider-Man's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Tell your bosses. Warn them. Because I'll be visiting their place one by one."

Without another word, he shot a web toward the ceiling and vanished into the shadows, leaving the SWAT team broken, bound, and utterly defeated.

The next day, Viktor sat at the long, elegant dining table in his Gotham mansion. Dimly lit chandeliers hung overhead, casting a soft glow on the dark mahogany and ornate decor that adorned the room. His black-and-silver suit jacket lay neatly draped over the back of his chair as he quietly finished his meal. The sound of his cutlery was the only thing that broke the silence, except for the occasional flicker of the fireplace. His mansion was a sprawling, fortress-like estate, perched atop the dark cliffs overlooking Gotham's harbor—a stark contrast to the chaos of the city below.

Just as Viktor took a sip of wine, his phone rang. He set down the glass with a small smile, JARVIS his AI, informed him of sudden call from his companies HQ.

"Yes?" Viktor answered smoothly, his voice deep and commanding.

The voice on the other end was nervous but professional. "Mr. Frost, this is Samuel from the New York HQ. We've just been contacted by the U.S. military. They're offering to purchase Game Station consoles or at least the board and processing chips. It's a big order."

Viktor leaned back in his chair, chuckling quietly to himself. "Game Stations, hmm?" He paused for a moment, staring into the fire as a memory from his previous world surfaced. He vividly remembered reading how, in his previous world, the U.S. military bought up PS2 consoles to build supercomputers, specifically to make a PS2 Cluster. It's where Seventy PS2 units or more are networked together, where they can provided a 0.5 teraflops of computing power, a staggering feat during that time.

He smiled slyly. "Tell them I have something far superior to offer them." This is a good opportunity for Frost industries to step in to the top. Although the internet bubble has helped his company skyrocket to what it is now, he knew that there will be a huge decline soon. So, to better secure his place he needs a contract with the military. This will be just one of the many things he can offer them.

The next day, Viktor arrived at Frost Industries' New York headquarters. It must be mentioned that Gotham is quite close to New York, traveling by car would take around 1-2 hours, depending on traffic and if by air, it would only take roughly 30-45 minutes for a private jet or helicopter to travel the distance.

The main HQ's building was a sleek, modern skyscraper towering above the busy streets of Manhattan. Glass windows reflected the surrounding skyline, giving the headquarters a futuristic feel compared to Gotham's grim, archaic structures. Making it stand out like a sore thumb, Frost Industries had intentionally kept a small branch in Gotham to avoid the future turmoil of criminally insane villains, chaos, and the never-ending crime made it an unstable place for large-scale operations.

Viktor stepped into the grand lobby, his tailored black suit and red tie making him appear every bit the calculating and formidable businessman he was. Employees scurried around, typing on computers or holding hushed conversations. The polished marble floors and high ceilings created an atmosphere of wealth and sophistication, designed to impress anyone who entered.

He moved swiftly, taking the elevator to the upper floor where the meeting would take place. As the doors opened, he was greeted by a small team of military representatives, all dressed in crisp green uniforms adorned with medals and ribbons. Standing among them was General Wade Eiling, a high-ranking official notorious for his ties to Lex Luthor and his underhanded dealings. His square jaw and grizzled features, combined with his stern demeanor, showed that this was a man used to getting what he wanted. Eiling's reputation preceded him—he had a sharp eye for technology and always kept one foot in the world of Gotham's criminal elite.

"General Eiling," Viktor greeted him with a smile, extending his hand. "I wasn't expecting someone of your stature to come."

Eiling grasped his hand firmly, his eyes locking onto Viktor's with a calculating gaze. "I had a gut feeling, Frost. Something told me you were going to offer something better than what we had in mind."

"Your gut serves you well," Viktor replied, the faintest hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Come. Let's discuss what I've prepared."

The military representatives where led into Frost Industries' high-tech conference room, surrounded by walls lined with holographic displays showcasing the company's latest innovations. The room was dimly lit, with a glowing central table providing a futuristic ambiance. Seated around it were military officials, all dressed in formal attire, their expressions serious and intent.

At the head of the table stood Viktor Frost, still as composed as ever. He looked out over the group, his icy blue eyes sharp with confidence. On the table before him sat a holographic model of the PlayStation-like device they had initially contacted Frost Industries about, now labeled merely "Game Station."

General Eiling was the first to speak. "Mr. Frost, we've been informed that your company is willing to sell us the processing chips from your Game Stations for our... upcoming projects. But now, I hear you've got something more in mind?"

The general's tone was gruff, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Beside him, a younger representative, a thin man with glasses, cleared his throat and added, "We assumed you'd just provide us with the chips for our systems. Why the change in offer?"

Viktor raised an eyebrow and smirked, leaning against the table. His calculating blue eyes, glimmers strikingly in the low light, giving him a commanding presence. "Let's cut through the formalities, gentlemen," he began, his voice smooth and commanding. "When you reached out to me about buying the Game Stations, it was obvious what you had in mind. You were planning to use the processors to build a network… likely a makeshift supercomputer to handle advanced operations possibly a guiding system. "

The representatives exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Viktor's insight. General Eiling remained silent, watching Viktor closely.

"I know the limitations of those chips," Viktor continued, waving his hand dismissively at the holographic display of the Game Station. "And so do you. Getting them might be cheap but it's tech is build for the purpose of gaming, entertainment, but for military-grade systems? Precision-guided weapons? It would be ineffective and would only limit the system you're building. That's why I'm offering you something else entirely. Something far superior."

The room dimmed further as Viktor gestured to the screens, and a new holographic image emerged a sleek, advanced supercomputer. It was unlike anything the military officials had ever seen. The display flickered, showing detailed schematics and projections, numbers flashing at impossible speeds.

"This," Viktor said, stepping aside so they could all see, "is what you really need. A supercomputer capable of reaching petaflop-level processing power. It's not just a cluster of processors, it's a complete system, custom-built with 128-bit quantum cores. It can process real-time data faster than any network of Game Stations you could piece together or anything you might be using for that matter. And for your guiding systems?" Viktor's voice dropped into a lower, more intense register. "It's perfect. Real-time calculations, adaptive responses, environmental tracking. It'll handle anything you throw at it."

The younger representative adjusted his glasses, visibly impressed. "This... this is far more advanced than what we expected and more so compared to our current systems. We thought you were just upgrading the chips."

Viktor smiled coldly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I don't deal in half measures. When you want something done right, you can come to me. I might even offer you more something in the future."

General Eiling's eyes narrowed, but a hint of satisfaction crossed his features. "You knew exactly what we were planning with those chips. We never even mentioned it."

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly. "It's quite obvious really, what would someone from the military would buy a gaming console for and lots of them. I don't think you will just give them off to entertain your men. Now, I imagine this is exactly the kind of system you were hoping for, isn't it?"

Eiling leaned forward, his gruff demeanor softening slightly. "I've seen a lot of pitches in my day, but this is... unexpected." He glanced at his team, then back at Viktor. "We came here expecting to negotiate for some chips and a few processors. But what you're offering changes everything. What's the price tag on something like this?"

Viktor didn't miss a beat. "Fifty million dollars. Upfront. In return, you get exclusivity for this tech, and I get priority on any future defense contracts related to this system. It's a small price to pay for the security and efficiency this machine will bring."

Eiling leaned back in his chair, exchanging glances with his team. After a long pause, he nodded. "You've got yourself a deal, Frost. This system could revolutionize our operations."

The younger representative quickly pulled out a contract, which Viktor signed with ease. As the military officials prepared to leave, General Eiling paused at the door, turning back to Viktor with a knowing smile. "You're a perceptive man, Frost. Might even be too bright, but I think that's exactly what we need right now."

Viktor nodded once, his eyes glinting like ice. "That's what I'm counting on."

As the military personnel filed out of the room, Viktor turned back to the holographic display. He deactivated it with a wave of his hand, the room going dark again. A satisfied smile crept onto his face. He had just sold the military something far more powerful than they'd ever imagined and they had no idea what else he had in store.