He loved glass. The way it felt when he tossed a brick through a window, the sound of it shattering and the tinkling noises it made when it hit the ground, the look of the jagged pieces left in the frame and the broken shards glittering on the ground, like the twinkling of earth-bound stars. He grinned as lifted up the second brick from the pile next to him, appreciating the heft of it and the rough feeling on the palm of his hand. Bouncing it a couple of times in his palm he took careful aim and lobbed it just right, appreciating the beauty of its perfect trajectory right before it smashed into the window of Gary Callahan's campaign office, right next to one he had broken just seconds before.
Taking a drag from the cigarette clenched between his teeth, he gazed up at his work, the moonlight glinting off his trademark glasses. He could hear sirens wailing in the distance but knew he was properly shielded from sight by the construction equipment of the rooftop he was on and would be able to make a timely exit if need be. Besides, with the level of crime in the city and the gross incompetence of the police force, he knew he had plenty of time to finish.
Bricks number three to nine smashed the majority of the remaining windows. Still no cops and nobody had stirred in the surrounding buildings, they knew better than to get involved in anything that didn't directly effect them. The last brick, the one he felt was particularly brick-y, he saved for the re-election billboard with that smug bastard, The Smiler's, ever beaming face on it. If what the brick had done to his picture on the electronic billboard could be replicated on his actual face then he would definitely have been smiling closed mouthed thenceforth.
He pulled a can of neon yellow spray paint from the satchel by his feet. Time for the pièce de résistance.
---
Gaping. Gawking. Ogling. Rubbernecking. Whatever you called, there was a whole lot of it going on in front of The Smiler's campaign quarters. Spider glared at them as he tried to make his way through the crowd, throwing elbows left and right and possibly crushing a small chihuahua beneath his feet. You'd think the fuckers had never seen a political statement before. Maybe the graphic caricature of Callahan sodomizing Lady Liberty on the burning American flag was a bit crude but he wasn't going to go to art school for those cocksuckers. Most of them seemed to see what he was getting at, anyway. He could see frantic scurrying through the ruins of the windows.
He laughed; a huge, startling sound, which sent passerby scurrying away from him as fast as their fast food addled legs could carry them. The fact that he looked like (and probably was) a deranged madman didn't help matters much, either. He didn't give a shit about those cunts, but he was going to save them, even if he had to kill every last one of them to do so.
Callahan shouldn't have fucked with Spider.
This was war.
And Spider loved a good war.