Author's Note: New Chapter's here.
Thank you for your reviews! And I hope this chapter suffices you for a while. Nice reviews might produce more! *winks* Oh and feel free to PM if you have ideas.
Let's read!
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At Your Mercy: Chapter 9
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7:10 a.m.
Click.
"With respect to the family this News Channel along with every single New Yorker dismays this morning latest report. However the truth persists." The man's frown deepened. "George Stacy, Captain of the Police Department since the last ten years was shot this afternoon as he mobilized agents to the beforehand informed report of the attack on the center of the city, he was injured moments before Spider-man appeared, as testifiers say, 'out of the blue' and began damaging public property and almost injuring at least twenty unities at the other side of the city." The reporter rifled through some papers quickly.
"Captain Stacy was shot at 4:52 to be precise. Local viewers said they saw a red blurred silhouette allocated in the twentieth floor of a close building. Police men agreed with it, saying it came and left like a ghost." A pause. The man turned to look the camera directly. "Whilst the well-trained police men called and awaited for the Ambulance, they were confirmed minutes later of the interference of the Spider-man in the attack on the center of the city. They took the barely conscious Captain Stacy to the van and at the Hospital he was treated by two abdominal wounds and one on his shoulder, the doctors confirmed this and they gave their comments, we quote: 'The bullets wounds were precise, clean perforations. Not alike any normal street killer could've done it.'"
"The attack ended. Captain Stacy was send to urgent surgery with an alarming blood loss. Thankfully hours later he woke up, barely conscious, but conscious enough to name Jean DeWolff as Interim Captain of the Police until new say." A photo appeared, DeWolff saluting next to Stacy. "DeWolff lost no time. Since the minute she stepped from the hospital she proceed the search for the currently only suspect—"
"The most amazing and unluckiest Spider-man the world has ever seen." Sing-sang Peter as he fake white-blank cheerfulness. He bit the inside of his cheek at the sudden anger that was beginning to creep on his skin. How could they do this? To Captain Stacy? After everything he'd done for this city's safety! Anger rose from the tip of his chest. Flushing his face somewhat, he wanted to…
"Pardon?" said Aunt May with a smile as she entered the living room through the kitchen's threshold, a dish on her hand, a smile on her face.
"Oh. Nothing Aunt May." Peter stood up hastily when heard her voice. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, and smiled wearily. "Just some news reports…" he trailed off, not needing to explain the already known facts, and involuntarily his face twisted in a dark grimace. An idea sorted from his mind, he opened his mouth, not quite verbalizing it right away. "Aunt May have you. . . I mean, called… I mean." He stammered not knowing how to ask it.
"…Gwen, you mean, son?" Aunt May finished for him with her own sadness mirrored in her face.
"Yeah." He replied in a beat.
"No, darling. I haven't. I'd tried, but, they aren't answering, neither of them are." She sighed. "I just hope George ends up all right after this. Such wounds aren't an easy go." Her sentence ended with a punctuated shake of her head. She re-entered the kitchen allowing Peter the time to wince slightly as he ever-so-slowly rubbed his arm in painful remembrance. You bet it does, He thought with a quiet, sharp drew in of breath.
"Anyway, Aunt May?" Peter called hesitantly. "I think I'll go now." He said, hoping she won't notice him at all.
May stopped what she was doing. No luck. "No breakfast? But . . . it's just about ready, Peter. You can wait some more minutes." There was her protective and devoting tone. Her concerned face…
And ladies and gentleman, that's how guilty is born!
"I'm not hungry Aunt May." Peter replied taking the time to adjust the messenger bag, his eyes not meeting hers. He craned his neck to direct his voice as he swiveled on his heels. "I'm really not, I swear, I just… lunch will suffice." He finished lamely, saying the truth, half the truth. He didn't mention the fact where his stomach might not resist so much after the tiredness he felt. It was as if his whole body converted into this big, giant, sore bruise.
He literally ached everywhere.
"I—" Aunt May sighed softly. "I'll pass you this one." She looked up from her glasses. "But be sure we'll discuss more intently when you get back home, gentleman." She added too. "And be home at nine. No negotiations." She finished when he opened his mouth.
Peter relented with slump shoulders. "Okay." He replied.
"Okay. Have a good day, my boy." Aunt May leaned in and kiss his forehead.
A tentative smile crossed his features. Maybe, he could hope too.
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5:59 a.m.
Click.
The rain fell from the sky in pools of water over her. Black Cat found herself leaping between the slippery slopes of roofs. She waxed herself swiftly as she hurled, finally stopping at last. Her eyes shone mischievously. The night's inky darkness mirrored her stare.
"The Empire State Building, huh." Rumbled the cat burglar as she leaned against one of the closest wet perches of the perpendicular roof, she had her knees bended to the side, ready to fight anything and everyone on her way. That was the idea. "Consider yourself rob already." She smirked self-assuredly.
…
"Billy, are you sure you can with those?" asked Martha Connors as she smiled fondly at her son. "You sure?"
"Absolutely Mom, common it's just a little box!" replied back exclaiming Billy Connors. He turned on his heels, humming a song he heard on the radio the other day. Without stopping he spun the box, squinting his eyes in the dark trying to decipher the name where he needed to get things from. "Oh, it's says . . . the … Mental?" Billy shuddered. "Okay, maybe it wasn't the best of ideas. That place's creepy" he muttered.
"Woah!" Billy stumbled to the ground, the empty box fell a meter across from him.
"What?" blinked the boy as he knitted his eyebrows together, confused as to why he fell out of the blue. Suddenly, he froze. There was a rope on the floor, and attached to it was—
"Shhhh," The woman in black leather whispered sweetly. Her hand reaching to cup his cheek, before he could yell, the woman had her hand on his mouth. "You can yell now." She said as she pulled something from her belt.
…
Curt and Martha Connors rushed frantically from the Main lab as they heard their son scream. "It came from the mental!" Martha exclaimed, face flushed in fear.
Curt Connors shook his head once they arrived. "Billy! Billy!"
"Don't worry," they both turned to the strange female voice. In a spun, she had Billy Connors between a knife and her body. "He seems to be fine . . . so far." Sing-sang the woman in black leather.
"What do you want?" Connors asked instantly.
"The codes from this" She gestured to the electronic locks from the doors.
"What? I can't! Some of them are wanted criminals!" Curt Connors bellowed angrily. "You can't be serious." The doctor shook his head feverishly in denial. "I won't, I can't, there's—"
"Very well then," the knife inched closer to Billy's throat. "So, he dies." She shrugged nonchalantly.
"Wait!" yelled simultaneously the Connors. "I'll give them! I'll give them to you . . . just . . . don't hurt him." Begged Martha Connors tearfully.
Martha Connors stepped forward. One for one, with trembling digits, she pressed the well-known codes to free those who shouldn't see daylight again for fear they'll seek for the dark all over again. They weren't ready. Maybe never will be.
The doors split open.
Black Cat gestured and Martha, albeit reluctantly, deactivated their inhibitors from their powers. Somehow freedom managed to smell rotten in the air.
Every shadow on sight dashed out of its hidden when the Electro flared lightings of electricity from his now-bare hands. Jameson was shaking his head feverishly at the light. And Eddie Brock had his mouth curved downward.
"Well, it's a pleasure to see you sweethearts." Black Cat said, a tentative smile curled from her mouth. "Although there's no time for proper introductions. We're running on a timing."
She turned toward the exit. "Let's go"
"Why should we?" Electro spoke out loud, anger sipping from his words. "Why should I? I don't need to follow you! I don't give a damn on why you freed me or who-the-hell you did it for. But I'm sure I can make my own way through!" As to make his point clear, electricity suddenly splayed from his hands once again.
Black Cat didn't waver.
"Do it then." The Black Cat said, her tone steady, a smirk trespassing her features. "Just listen when I tell you the path I'll show you and the one you'll be leaving through will have very different ends. A high security jail may be in yours." She purred the last part, inching closer to Electro and the rest.
"What about us?" Eddie Brock paced headfirst. His eyes roaming everything.
Black Cat smirked lasted long enough. "My boss has a promise for you, us, come with me and you'll find out."
The villains exchanged meaningful glances.
Reluctant in faith but assure in hope.
They followed her.
The curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?
Curt and Martha hugged Billy tightly and they watch them go silently, bodies cornered together. Before they crossed the exit, though, Black Cat craned her neck and said. "Go ahead and call the police—" Seeing their expression she added. "And don't worry my boss is not interested in killing people . . . let's say . . . casually." Her hair was flip as the door flew open by a kick of Jameson. The last thing they saw was her narrowed, beautiful eyes and the sound of screeching wheels. Of course, they'll mug the rented van.
And then she was gone.
Curt Connors rummaged his pocket quickly, fishing it out he eyed the phone on his hand. Martha glanced between him and it, as she began to warn he called.
"Police Department." A shudder and a breath. "I'll like to report a breakthrough in the Empire State Research Building."
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7:55 a.m.
Click.
"Hey, little birdie." Exclaimed the Hammerhead from the inside of his jail. "Yeah, I'm speaking to you, idiot." He added, seeing as the man was yet to speak. His fist connected with his mattress. "Hey!" He shouted, trying and failing to get the attention of the guard outside his prison—the one who was serving his morning meal.
"Insulting a guard would only lead you to isolation." The blank-faced guard replied in a monotone voice. He was far from used to these insults. "Aggression and violence to any close object to you would lead for your meals to be shorten out." He added when he heard a plastic bottle connecting with the glass.
Hammerhead shrugged, eyeing his knuckles, tilting his head to the right. His gaze glazed over, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed the wristwatch on the man's hand.
"Hey." Hammerhead tried one last time to call the man. Just as he slide close his eyes. "Open your eyes and see." He seethed.
"I told you—" The man craned his neck, just in time for his eyes to be burn. He screamed in tearing pain. The lights, every bulb, every lamp, every gleaming dot of light suddenly beamed as clear sunlight, a buzzing kind of sound resounded in the dense site, blaring rays of eye-blinding light pulsed brighter per second. The guard shielded his eyes, squeezing them shut, and a hand flying to touch them, to assure himself they were there. A shriek of confusion escaped his mouth.
"That's it." Hammerhead chuckled as the man fell to the ground, pulling his hair. "Didn't I try to warn you boy?" He said arrogantly. "Open the doors and it'll stop."
"It won't!" said the guard hoarsely. "You won't!" He said through watered eyes.
"Of course, it will." Promised the Hammerhead with a terse smile. "When have I ever lied in my life?"
The fool complied.
The slaughter began.
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6:26 a.m.
Click.
"You're close, Bench." The Head Scientist assured through his earpiece. His voice sounded distorted by static. "Very close."
"How much close?" Bench questioned as he was led through an old, unused, and pretty much narrowed belowground railroad line. It looked almost like a subway place. Difference only in the whole emptiness and creepy, old stuff and all.
"Close enough to say that this job will be over soon enough for you to get back and waste your money senselessly!" exclaimed gleefully the Head Scientist. "Just imagine it! A beach, a girl and the soft glow of the sun on your face. What else should a man want?" The man concluded through his earpiece. Bench heard the dreamily sigh of the doctor through it.
"U-hu." Bench mumbled distractedly, but his motivation did spike up at the comment. Soon. His eyes started searching for the description the doctor told him as he walked through the site.
Goosebumps. His skin was paled with them. A sudden panic rose on his throat when an alarm blasted on his ear. "Doc?" He called, fear thick.
"It's nothing to worry, Bench." The Head Scientist replied to his unsaid question. He could imagine the doctor waving his hand in dismissal. "It's just a plain, pre-programmed alarm warning us that the subject is close."
"Warning?" Bench echoed. Instantly, he came to a sudden halt. "How come 'warning us'? You said there was no risk in this!"
"Tsk, tsk Bench." The laugh on the Head Scientist sounded nothing but dry this time. "Every labor has his own sense of risk, don't you knew it as a crewman of illicit cargo ships?" The Scientist half-teased, half-implied through the line.
"Of course I know it!" Bench was screaming in fear now. "But it's different! This is an unknown place, with a fucking unknown damn thing! How can't I—" The next sentence died on his lips.
There it was.
"…Doc?" Bench whispered, face fear-stricken. "I-I can see it. I think…" He stopped mid-sentence. The thing, the subject, the whatever, started to move forward. It was, if he wasn't mistaken, though, you could call him crazy, the thing was, sort of, eyeing him.
"Open the case." The Head Scientist was stammering too. "Open it like I taught you to!" he ordered frantically. He heard awe on his voice. Of course he'll be fascinated, he knew scientists will one day blow the Earth or something.
"Right." Bench muttered lowly. Slowly, he bended, his hand retracting behind his back for the suitcase the Head Scientist gave him to lock the creature. 'He could tend to be messy' the man had said. 'Nothing much'.
Nothing much.
Just as the creature saw the small reflection of the silvered suitcase. It threw itself to him. Bench cowered immediately, he heard the voice of the scientist on his ear, yelling at him. In that moment he felt more anger and fear than he had ever in his whole life. All wrap in the throat-closing idea of his death.
The black thing hurled to him.
Bench threw open the suitcase and yanked close with eyes closed tightly. His fingers were trembling, inch for inch his eyes merely opened. He sense his heart still on his chest, his arms, his legs, no harm on his body and . . . . as he looked around he saw nothing else.
He heard a muffled thud kind of sound.
Curving his head, his hand reaching he saw, he saw the suitcase moving. It was moving.
The thing was moving.
"Okay," Breathed Bench. "Last work I do at land." He tapped his earpiece. "Doc, you there? . . . I, I have it." He said with a sigh of relief and disgust. "I have it. What do I do now?" He heard the stumbling of the creature inside the suitcase. He contained a shudder.
"Up to the surface." Replied the Head Scientist. The happy tone of his voice back. "Time's ready."
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7:25 a.m.
Click.
"I must say your welcome, I guess." Eddie Brock said, half-snarling at the woman next to him. Quite the woman next to him.
The woman smiled without demur. "Oh boy, there's no need to thank me." She said, her eyelashes fluttering almost shyly, if he knew. "Although, I'll ask you to call me Black Cat instead of you guessing what my name is."
The Black Cat purred the last part.
"Black Cat?" Brock repeated, tasting the name on his mouth. A sense of remembrance dawned on him abruptly. Images were flipped through his mind. Numerous fights, a mouth, a kiss, some villains, even more fights and, at the end, for a second longer he saw the full-extended image of Spider-man smiling behind his mask at something Cat said—The Black Cat.
"Brock?" Black Cat called. Cocking an eyebrow as she turned to him slightly.
As he was about to answer, somebody else spoke out loud. They turned their eyes to see a man leaning against a railing above them.
"Gentlemen and lady!" The man with white hair in front of them welcomed with shine. "I welcomed you to the Silvermane family." His smile quirked upward. His eyes doing a quick scan of everybody and everyone. "Let's get this done for once right. I won't accept failure in your first mission." His smile was forced, his cheeks up. "Prove yourself to me and I'll reward you fairly enough."
Just as he spoke a set of choppers of an helicopter roared to life. "The mission's simple enough. Rescue one of our most memorable members from this family. Bring her in soundly safe and you won't have to worry for your pay for one second."
The villains looked skeptical. They turned and stared at each other. Finally, Electro stepped forward. "We agree." He replied and muttered "Sort of."
Silvermane smiled tersely.
Eddie Brock saw out of the corner of his eye Silvermane approached the Black Cat.
"I knew you wouldn't fail me." Silvermane echoed. "How could you?" He whispered in her ear.
"Yes. How could I?" The Black-leather covered woman said to him. "I'm the Black Cat after all, aren't I?" She leaned closer to his ear as she rumbled it.
Silverman chuckled. "Yes. I know that. I just . . . I'll say I was expecting some minor errors from your past to try and, shall we say, proclaim you?"
Her nails had the immediate urge to surge.
A smile curved on her slim lips.
"No man will proclaim me." Black Cat purred softly, leaning forward. Her eyes peered behind his back toward the hatch. Silvermane's did too. "I can't made them wait any longer, darling. Time's ticking."
"You won't and, true, time's ticking" Silvermane amused out loud as he gave his back to her. "I'll expect you to bring my second best girl back."
"I will." She promised as she left. "I always finish my works."
Time was ticking.
Plans were unraveling.
"Heroes will fall." Black Cat thought as the Helicopter sore into the bright sky.
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8: 00 a.m.
Click.
The bell rang just as he arrived. He'd opted for a plain, casual strolling through the New York City to help him ease his mind. Walking did help until some degree - the unmeasurable degree of sanity. He knew from the moment he'd started to hear his name being whispered and yelled by every human being littering the place, he knew things were just beginning to end. He needed time to sit and, really, allow himself to think.
But just as he took one step onward, his Spider-sense buzzed wildly, before he had time to react, the distant explosion came.
His head turned to it.
Although, the ear-splitting sound in front of him distract him more.
In dawning he knew - time was the last thing he had.
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Author's Note: Review! Tell me what you think so far. Good? Bad?