Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Marvel, Respawn Entertainment, etc.
A happy Halloween to everyone and what I suspect will be a batshit election day to any Americans out there. I'm only going to stick my head out of my bunker to get next week's chapter out. Hopefully the country hasn't burned to the ground by then.
Blaze1992: You'll see exactly how the FBI is handled in this chapter, though I will say that Matt has nothing to do with it.
TyrTheFallen: If you've gotten to this point then you know that the Avengers do show up, just a bit late due to bad luck and maybe some meddling. As for the question about Matt's technology getting powercrept, I will say that such a thing won't happen is too unrealistic, which is a criteria I play with loosely as is, but let me explain why. Let's assume that Cooper's tech is from 100 years in the future compared to his current setting, it's probably much more, but this works. If I were to deliver a Challenger 2 with the LEP package back 100 years, or 1920, to the Royal Ordnance Factory (I'm going with this because the British had the most experience with Tanks at this point in history), that doesn't mean that they would be able to recreate a Challenger 2 for at least decades. The big boon for everyone else is that the playbook on how to counter a Titan would get out, now that Titans have been fought and destroyed by conventional, or conventional-ish forces.
Alright, this is Weight of Living Part 2, still by the same band, off the same album, Bad Blood. What is the relation between them? Besides the title...I have no idea. They don't sound that similar, at least to me, and they have no shared lyrical themes. So fuck if I know, I'm just trying to use a few different things, see what works, see what I like, and when the serious stuff comes back up I'll go back to my preferred metal and rock because it's my story and I can. Anyways, let's get on with it, there's not much else to say.
Power Without Question – Chapter 71: Weight of Living Part 2
It all crept up on you, in the night it got you
And plagued your mind, it plagues your mind
Every day that passes, faster than the last did
And you'll be old soon, you'll be old
Do you like the person you've become, or
Under the weight of living
You're under the weight of living
"I'm still not convinced about this guy," admitted Captain Watanabe as she looked at the picture of the man FBI thought was an accomplice in Octavius' plan, "I mean…look at him." Indeed, Peter Parker was quite possibly the least assuming looking man Yuri had ever seen. Brown hair and eyes, a few inches under six feet, 170 pounds with a medium build. "Nothing out of the ordinary in his background either. 23 years old, graduated from ESU with a Bachelor of Science degree 2 years ago. He's worked with Octavius for four years, first as an intern in college and then hired as an assistant upon graduation. No criminal record." While Yuri couldn't place it, she also thought she recognized his name from somewhere, but since she couldn't remember exactly what it was, she figured it wasn't that important.
Bureau was unconvinced and Special Agent Johnston countered quickly, "except he lost his parents at a young age, is currently unemployed, and was evicted from his apartment a month ago, with no new place of residence." Yuri gave the Special Agent a sideways glance, with the consecutive shitshows that had taken place in the city, there wasn't exactly an abundance of jobs or housing to go around. Still, the Feds wanted a Be On Look Out order, they got a BOLO order. "He's probably been staying with one of the other members of Octavius' cell. As soon as he's found, I want him brought here."
"And don't worry about it," assured Agent Johnston, "Special Agent Johnston and I will handle the interrogation." Looking over to Hill, the SHIELD Agent's displeasure was plain to see, even to the older FBI Agent. "Do either of you two have any objections?" asked the senior Bureau man, though his tone made it plain he was trying to deter Watanabe and Hill rather than open the floor to them.
"Yes, I do," interjected Hill, unfazed by the Bureau's bluster as she stepped forward. "We've already run a search on him in the crime system that didn't turn up anything. We couldn't even find an instance of him jaywalking. Forensics went through the computes we recovered, none of the ones in his office had anything relating to Octavius' scheme, or anything illegal for that matter. The ones that did had none of his fingerprints or DNA. What do you intend to charge him with?" she asked bluntly.
"We aren't charging him with anything," sneered Agent Johnston as he turned to Hill and crossed his arms, "at least not yet. But I promise you that he is involved in some way Hill. You SHIELD types are too trusting."
"And you Bureau types got the anti-terrorist playbook, don't you?" snapped Yuri, "and you're gonna run it step by fucking step." The Captain shook her head as both FBI men glared at her, "good God, you're going to drag that poor kid in here and run him over hot coals because, what, you can't possibly fathom that Octavius was working alone? I don't know if you've been paying attention, but good luck getting anything you might be able to force out of him to hold up in court, especially after what just happened with Sable International."
Agent Johnston finally snapped, striding forward and planting an accusing finger in Yuri's chest, "now listen here, Captain," spat the older FBI Agent, "you may think you're hot shit around here. But don't let that go to your head. You best learn your place before I put you in it," he threatened brashly as the two locked eyes. Even if Watanabe didn't back down, the senior FBI Agent took her silence as acceptance and gave a victorious, snake like grin as he stepped back and straightened his suit coat, "good to see we understand each other."
With that, the two FBI men turned and left, both Watanabe and Hill glaring daggers into their backs, along with every other NYPD cop who heard the exchange. Once they were out of earshot, the SHIELD woman said what everyone else was thinking, "Jesus, those guys are dicks."
With the sun setting, Cooper put his foot down, the twin turb V-8 behind him pushing the P1 across the Williamsburg Bridge and over the East River towards the rendezvous location Fury had sent him. The Marauder weaved Widowmaker through the traffic on the bridge and towards Williamsburg, east of Manhattan, before turning off the main road. Now relying on the GPS system of the McLaren to get him to where he needed to go as he ventured into a seemingly abandoned industrial area, fenced off from the rest, tagged and littered. But as the dark green P1 crept towards a gate, it automatically slid open, far too quietly and quickly to be authentic. Cautiously, Matt eased Widowmaker inside the complex, keeping his head on the swivel for anything out of place when he saw one of the buildings, doors open and lights on inside.
With one hand on the steering wheel, finger poised over the shift paddle that would put the car into reverse, and the other near the grip of his Smart Pistol, the Marauder entered the building, slowly nosing the car in as his eyes scanned the open space. The reception waiting for him was heavier than he was expecting, but not particularly unfriendly, even if they were intentionally waiting for him in such a way as to not be seen by any prying eyes peeking through the door. Once the car was through the door, it closed behind the P1 as the vehicle came to a stop and Cooper turned the car off before he opened the butterfly door. As the Marauder pulled himself up and out of the car, those waiting for him squared up to him. The eyepatch wearing Fury and red-haired Romanov were looking at him with a cold indifference, but both a suit and tie wearing Tony Stark and casually dressed Steve Rogers were both openly gawking at the low-slung car, but very differently. "Nice ride," complimented Stark while Matt shut the door, "good to see you're a man of taste."
"I like to think I have it where it counts," returned Cooper with a grin behind his helmet as he shook the billionaire's hand, "let me know if you want to find out how much faster it is than those Audi's you drive. I'd be more than happy to oblige."
The Texan then turned to Captain America, who had an eyebrow raised as he looked down at the car, "you mean that this thing is faster than whatever he drives?" asked the supersoldier, struggling to fathom the possibility.
"Let me put it to you this way," began Cooper, "if we both started from a standstill at the same time, by the time that hits sixty," he said, pointing to one of the black SHIELD sedans before patting the roof of the McLaren, "I'll be pushing 110." Shaking his head, the man out of time looked it as he let out a low whistle as Matthew turned to the most imposing figure in the empty warehouse. "Long time, no see buddy," he greeted with a genuine smile as he looked up at the hulking from of BT-7274, looking like he had just walked off the assembly line.
The paint had been completely redone and was nearly perfect, even if the SRS Prowler had been replaced by his personal eye patch wearing skull emblem on the hatch below the blue eye, with the pin up painting of Felicia and rows of kill markers on either side, all looking equally pristine. Even the black paint had a shine on it, not the same as the silver hydraulic cylinders barely visible behind the armor, but it was there. "It has been twenty days, seventeen hours, and thirty-eight minutes since last recorded contact Major," returned the machine flatly, in his usual cool and certain monotone. But then there was an addendum with a bit more felling as the Titan added, "entirely too long."
Cooper nodded, that it had been indeed. "I'm sorry you missed all the fun BT. Could've used your help." The Vanguard's eye shifted a little as a short silence fell over the room before thoughts Matt really didn't want to dwell on were quickly pushed aside. "So, how'd Stark do? You feel good buddy?"
Amusingly, BT extended a hand and gave his Pilot a thumbs up, causing the rest of the room, even Black Widow, to crack a smile at the sight. "All systems are operating at optimal capacity Major," reported the Titan, eye spinning and zooming out as he looked at Stark. Even if the Vanguard's speech pattern was the same, Matthew could swear there was a hint of mirth in the mechanical monotone at the machine continued. "Anthony Stark did an admirable job; his work exceeded my expectations…considering his rate of alcohol consumption."
That remark caused the rest of the room to turn towards the Man of Iron as Romanov's smile got a touch wider, "and pray tell, BT," began the superspy, "what exactly is our resident genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist's rate of alcohol consumption?"
"I don't think anyone here's really interested…" began Stark as BT turned towards Cooper, who nodded slightly.
Taking that as a go ahead, the Titan cut Tony off and answered, "Anthony Stark consumed, on average, approximately 6 fluid ounces of hard liquor per day, three times the recommended limit." The reactions of the Avengers were golden, and Matt hoped BT was recording so he could show the others. Captain America's eyes looked like they were about to fall out of their sockets while Widow was still grinning deviously. But before Stark could offer a retort, the Titan continued, "equally concerning was his consumption of highly caffeinated beverages. On four separate occasions he consumed at least six such drinks during extended work shifts. Often these would occur through the night."
Now even the Director was shaking his head as he blew out a breath between clenched teeth, an amused Romanov watching Steve give the Master of Machines a thoroughly disappointed and disapproving look. Stark looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but also managed to appear totally unrepentant. "Setting a poor example, aren't we Stark? I thought you of all people would know better," said Romanov sweetly, though her eyes had the gleam of a predator toying with her prey.
She wasn't the only one who had words for the billionaire, "Tony…" began Rogers, taking a calm stance with arms across his chest like he was about to discipline an unruly child.
"Nuh uh, not gonna hear it from you gramps. Not when you wake up at 'oh-five-hundred hours' to do a 3 mile run. Doing dumb shit like that means you don't get to criticize my work habits," retorted the engineer. Though Rogers was clearly dumbfounded at how his habit could be worse and looked to Romanov for help, Stark didn't give him the opportunity to respond and continued, "but other than those…minor foibles, I can assure you all that I was a most gracious host to our massive mechanical friend."
"I recorded 27 different instances of Tony Stark inquiring as to the identity of the Black Cat," responded the Titan flatly and much to the amusement of everyone who wasn't Tony Stark. "Followed on 14 occasions by inquiries regarding him obtaining compromising photographs or video recordings of her performing…"
"I did no such thing!" asserted Stark before muttering, "that I can recall."
"Analysis indicates the likelihood of alcohol influencing your actions exceeds 98% in all of these instances," responded BT flatly. "I can provide the recordings of these occurrences for further review if required," reported the machine dutifully.
"Have you been talking with Jarvis? Wait, don't answer that," corrected Stark, "I don't wanna know." After the others had calmed down, Stark continued, "if you can all find it in your hearts to forgive a man his little quirks and curiosity, I can tell you what all was done to your Buddy Titan."
"Go right ahead," said Matt with a sweeping hand toward the Vanguard and stepping back.
"Alright then," began the Master of Machines as he straightened his suit jacket and stepped forwards, "I must say, this is some of my best work, if I may be so bold. I did do quite a bit, so I'll only hit the highlights. You'll be happy to hear that I used the spares your old Commander gave me where I could, but not before taking enough measurements to make more should you need them. Besides that, I made a few changes. Depleted uranium back plating to give a bit more armor protection, a few new missile types pulled from old Stark Industries stocks, including a multi independent targetable cluster repulsorlift warhead lifted from the Jericho missile. I even managed to tweak some old Stinger-Fs to fit in the tubes, cobbled on the seeker from the AIM-9X so you have some modern SAMs should you need them. Replaced the power packs on the Chain gun and Predator Cannon with ARC reactors so you'll never run out of juice and the guns'll never jam." Cooper hummed and nodded approvingly; he was never one to turn down more firepower.
Seeing that the Major approved, Stark beamed, though even that managed to come off as somewhat arrogant, "and if you'll just turn around for me big guy, one last little thing," he beckoned as BT complied, "if you would all kindly direct your attention up to the top of the giant killer robot." Looking up, Matt could see a compartment of some kind affixed above the thrusters on BT's back, but before he could ask about its purpose, Stark called out again, "alright BT, show us what's behind door number 1!" At that, the compartment opened and a pair of drones emerged, blue contrails reminiscent of the repulsors that propelled the Iron Man suit behind them as they did a few aerobatic maneuvers before coming to a hovering halt at head height before the group. "Meet Huginn and Muninn," proclaimed Stark as Cooper examined the two small gray craft, each looking like small X-47 stealth drones with a wingspan of about two feet. Cooper could see where the wings would fold for easier storage as well as a few implements suspended beneath the streamlined bodies that their creator began to explain. "These two little guys can be your personal eyes in the sky, constantly talking to BT to give real time intelligence. If that isn't enough, they can drop sonar beacons to light up the area and designate targets for the Titan's weapons in addition to laser designators so they can guide any normal ordnance as well. Of course, you could always have them destroy whatever offends you themselves, each has a pair of CBU-97/B infra-red guided combined effect bomblets. When they're done, they can return and recharge at that station. The best part? They are 100% autonomous, and so smart they'll be doing what you want them to before you even know what you want them to do."
Cooper looked from one drone to the other, "I like 'em," he admitted honestly, "I like 'em a lot. You did a did a helluva job, above and beyond, thank you." With that, the two shook hands before Stark snapped his fingers and Huginn and Muninn flew back into their coop.
"Well you are very welcome, it's nice being appreciated, good change of pace…" said Stark, his eyes looking past Matthew as the Pilot turned around to find the other Avengers making efforts to look anywhere but at the billionaire, "don't you think so Romanov?"
"In your dreams Stark!" called back the Russian Operative as she held out her hand, into which Captain America deposited a ten-dollar bill he had just pulled from his wallet. "You just won't let that go, will you?"
"I'll let it go when you replace the bottle you smashed!" shouted back Iron Man, ignoring the fact that the Marauder was still between them, "it doesn't even have to be bourbon, I'd take a good Vodka, I know you have some stashed in your quarters somewhere." Romanov simply flipped Tony the bird as the billionaire shook his head, "try to have one celebratory drink with her when she was 'on duty' and it cost me a bottle of 44 year old bourbon."
"Ouch, you have my sympathies," said Matt, even if he was a whiskey man, "oh, and if the lady does ever want to make a sex tape I'll make sure you're the first to know." Giving the man a pat on the back and strolling towards BT before he could realize that Matt never said a thing about actually giving him said tape, the Marauder addressed the Titan. "Alright BT, I trust you can make your own way home from here, stay out of sight as much as you can. Sable International shouldn't shoot you, but I'd rather err on the side of caution. I gotta take the car back," said the Texan as he pointed over his shoulder at the McLaren.
"Affirmative Pilot," replied the Vanguard, "I will meet you at the rendezvous. And Major," said BT, "it is good to be back." Giving the Marauder a thumbs up once again, the Titan turned and strode towards the exit, floor shaking with each step for 40 ton machine took.
After watching the machine go, Cooper turned and made his way to the Widowmaker, pulling the door open when he heard someone approach, "before you go," said Fury as Matt turned to see the man produce an envelope from his trench coat and offer it to the Pilot. "Enjoy the show," encouraged the Executive Director with a small smirk as Matt took the parcel.
Opening it, he could see a pair of tickets and a slip for his dinner reservation inside, "thank you Director," replied the Major as she sat down inside the car, "I think I will." With that, the Marauder pulled down the door and brought the car back to life before heading back home.
In his eight years as Spider-Man, Peter had developed many different and varied opinions on the NYPD, from being chased by them in his early days to working side by side with them in taking down Fisk more recently. Though, mused the Queens Native as he looked around the interrogation room, he had never had to deal with the police like this. After finishing up the sale of Aunt May's house in Queens, he had taken the subway back as just plain old Peter Parker, plaid shirt and blue jeans meaning he hadn't attracted any attention, at least until he stepped off the train to find a pair of uniformed officers saying he was needed for 'questioning.' He tried to be calm, but knew he wasn't doing a very good job of showing it, but the low hum of his sixth sense prevented him from ever completely settling down.
So far as he knew, he wasn't being charged with anything, which explained why his hands were free and he was here alone without a lawyer, twiddling his thumbs and checking his watch as the wait dragged past the 25 minute mark. Finally, he heard the door opened and turned to see, instead of police officers, two suited men enter the room. The older man removed his sunglasses and looked down at Peter while the younger African American man opened the file folder he was carrying. "Are you Peter Parker?" asked the second, the man in question nodding before the younger one continued, "this is Agent Johnston, I'm Special Agent Johnston of the FBI, no relation. We want to ask you a few questions pertaining to Otto Octavius. Would that be alright?"
This was less than an honest request, with the glare coming down from Agent Johnston only reinforcing this notion as Peter gulped nervously before trying to calm himself and managing a firm nod. "Good," grunted the older FBI Agent, "start with Octavius, what was he like?" asked the suited man shortly.
"Well…" began Peter as he leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, "the Octavius I knew was kind and optimistic. I know he did all those things…he changed, but, to me at least, he always came off as gentle and forgiving."
Both men gave no reaction to his words, and before Peter could take a breath, Special Agent Johnston asked his next question. "And what was your relationship with Doctor Octavius?" asked the younger Bureau Special Agent, "he was a professor of yours at ESU and your employer following graduation, is that correct?"
Peter lifted an eyebrow, wondering why he was here if these two already seemed to know everything. "That's right," responded Parker as he tried to collect his thoughts, but Agent Johnston leaned in to apply more pressure to the lab assistant. "I worked for Octavius for just over a year, I leapt at the opportunity when he offered the job. A chance for a recent grad to work for one of the top scientists in the fields of electronics and robotics? That wasn't something I could pass up." Recalling these memories was tough, especially considering the man's current state, but Peter tried to keep a straight face. "And it was everything I could have hoped for, I learned so much from him, working on prosthetics mostly."
"The same prosthetics he would eventually use to terrorize the city?" asked Agent Johnston coldly, causing Peter to shrink in his seat as the FBI man's eyes narrowed, "answer the question Mr. Parker."
"That's correct," he admitted quietly, "but that was never their original intention. They were originally meant to replace traditional ones. But after we lost our grant money, we took the project in new directions, Otto was motivated by his degenerative disorder, but I hoped the arms would be used to help others," added Peter. "I don't think that'll ever happen now…" finished the Queens native sadly.
"Since you mention the grant," began Special Agent Johnston calmly as Peter lifted his chin to regard the man, "your employment officially ended when the grant was pulled, yet you still continued to work at Octavius industries. Why?"
"Because I still thought our work would help others. You have to believe me when I say that I had no idea what Octavius was planning. And even then, having one of the most respected minds in not one, but two fields, be willing to give a glowing letter of recommendation when I looked for a new job seemed like something that would be useful." Of course, Peter had never gotten that far and that would never happen now, but it wasn't a complete lie.
"Even after you were evicted?" asked Special Agent Johnston, Peter nodding slowly, "how come?"
"A friend let me crash at his place," answered Peter, perhaps a little too quickly.
His slight slip up didn't go unnoticed, "with whom, and where exactly?" responded the junior man.
"Oh, I uh…" sputtered Peter, "I don't think he would be particularly happy if I blabbed about that."
"Why?" questioned the older man harshly, "he have something to hide?"
"No, nothing like that," assured Peter with a small chuckle, "it's just that he's a Republican."
That caused the senior Bureau man to slam his hand down on the table, "you think I'm playing around kid? If you want to even think about getting a job as a scientist then you better start cooperating. I want this guys name, his address, and his associates when I get back, or you won't even be able to get a job at that miserable excuse of a newspaper you used to work at," snarled the older man before he stood up straight and fixed his suit jacket. "I want you to think about that next time you try and quip like you're goddamned Spider-Man. I await your decision Mr. Parker."
With that, the Bureau man put his sunglasses back on and led his subordinate out of the interrogation room, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts once more.
"Now we wait," announced Special Agent Johnston confidently as Yuri and Hill eyed the pair of FBI agents coldly upon their return to Observation, "in about…twenty minutes? He'll come to his senses and we'll have everyone else related to this entire debacle," assured the man confidently.
"Keep an eye on him," ordered Agent Johnston, "I'm going to make a call, have our lawyers draw up some aiding a terrorist charges to convince him to talk if he still refuses." With that, Yuri and Hill were left mercifully alone.
Watanabe was even more unsettled by the grilling the young Peter Parker had been given, but her mind kept going to back to one thing the Agents had said. "I'm going to go grab a coffee," announced the Captain suddenly, "you want one?"
Hill gave Yuri an odd look, but didn't question her, "two sugars please," she answered after a brief moment.
With that, the NYPD Captain nodded and departed, a hunch leading her, not to the break room and its coffee maker, but towards a colleague. Heading up stairs, she wove through the working floor towards a certain cubicle. "Hey Sharp," said Yuri as she knocked on the wall of his cubicle, "can you help me out really fast?"
"Sure Captain," answered the office's resident Spider-Man fan, "what can I do for you?"
"You still have your Bugle front pages?" she asked. The detective had quite a collection of the ones featuring the Webhead prominently, and as the FBI agent's words about Parker working at a newspaper repeated in her head, Yuri had to check. Sharp nodded curiously, "can I have a look at one?" Watanabe asked.
"Yeah, here, let me find you a good one," said Sharp as he wheeled his chair to a cabinet and pulled it open, thumbing through the contents, "ah! Here we go," the Detective declared as he produced a newspaper from his collection. "This is the first time Spider-Man took on Electro, look at that picture on the front page there!" he said happily.
The picture was good, but that wasn't the part of the front page that Yuri was looking at, instead she was looking at the credit for the picture printed in small print below it. Photo courtesy of P. Parker. "Mind if I borrow this for a bit?"
Sharp meandered for a moment, but that indecision ended as Yuri's face tightened. "As long as I get it back," responded the detective finally, Yuri gave a curt nod and spun on her heel and leaving as Sharp added, "take care of it please!" he asked as Watanabe retraced her steps back downstairs.
Newspaper in hand, her mind was going warp speed as she tried to put all the pieces together, slowly but surely arranging them in a way that her mind said was ridiculous and made no sense, but her gut kept saying was correct. Going with her gut, the Captain opened the door back into Observation and was greeted with Hill, who was looking expectantly at Yuri. "Yeah, shit, we were outta coffee," lied Watanabe, completely forgetting about that until she was already back. Moving to the controls for the cameras and microphones monitoring the Interrogation Room, she deftly switched them all off, "I'm just going to save everything we already have, why don't we run down to Starbucks really quickly? Those FBI assholes will take their sweet time anyway."
Hill raised an eyebrow, but didn't offer any opposition, "sure, I'll go wait in the motor pool." With that, the SHIELD Agent left, leaving Yuri alone in Observation. Taking a breath, she stepped back from the controls and looked down at the newspaper in her hand and shaking her head at the absurdity of what she was about to do. Still, that didn't stop her as she exited Observation, but instead of turning right to head towards the motor pool, she went left and opened the door into the Interrogation Room.
As soon as Hill heard the sound of the second door being opened, she looked out from around the corner and saw the back of the NYPD Captain head into the Interrogation room. Now knowing for certain that something was up, the SHIELD Agent moved quickly but quietly back into the Observation room, eyes focused on the one way glass, catching the last bit of Parker's surprised expression at the sight of the Police Captain, with a hint of…was that recognition? Now thoroughly intrigued, Hill sat at the controls and enabled the microphone, but made sure to leave the recording off as she heard the first exchange. "Peter Parker, I'm Captain Watanabe, NYPD," introduced the woman before she sat down in the chair across from the man, "I have a few questions for you."
"Lemme guess, you want to know something about Octavius?" asked Parker half sarcastically, though his voice was different, like he was trying to mask something from the Captain.
But Yuri shook her head, "no, I'm not asking about him," she said as she placed the newspaper down and slid it across to him, "I'm asking about you."
"Me?" asked Parker, his voice still off as he tensed ever so slightly before forcing an uneasy chuckle, "why would you want to ask about me? Those FBI guys already seemed to know everything already." Oddly, he clammed up again, and Hill noticed a few other differences in his behavior, Parker was much less chatty now, and unlike with the FBI guys, he was actively avoiding looking Yuri in the eye.
"No, I don't think they know everything," asserted Yuri firmly as she tapped her finger on the newspaper, "that's you, isn't it?" she asked.
Parker noticeably stiffened as he looked down at the photo, "I uh…don't know what you mean." At least Hill knew that he hadn't been lying to the FBI. Judging from what she had just seen, he was an absolutely atrocious liar.
Watanabe cocked her head, "you mean you didn't take this picture?" asked the Captain as the young man blanched, "your name is right there."
"Oh that, yeah," he replied with a chuckle in something closer to his normal voice before it suddenly deepened again for some reason, "I thought you meant the headline. I would never write something like that," he assured quickly.
Yuri 'hmmed' as she leaned back and looked him over, "do you trust me?" she asked suddenly. Parker flinched and remained silent, clearly struggling with some internal conflict he hadn't been before as Watanabe asked him again, "do you?"
"Yes Yuri, I trust you," returned Parker.
"Good," replied the Captain, "then trust me when I say that there is nobody behind that glass and that the cameras aren't running." Parker seemed to calm down at the prospect of it just being him and Yuri, another layer to the mystery that was unfolding before Hill's eyes. Parker nodded slowly before Yuri continued, "and I'll trust you when you tell me how you knew my first name when I never gave it," said the Captain calmly, but with a firm certainty in her words.
"It's uh…on your badge," tried Parker, though from the way the Captain tilted her head to look at him like he was an idiot, it was clear she didn't believe that for a second.
Reaching down to her belt, Watanabe produced her badge and held it up, "you mean this badge? The on my belt and behind my jacket, out of sight, and doesn't even have my name on the outside?" After a few seconds of no reply, Yuri sighed and put back her shield, "and when you give your answer, please don't do it in your 'Spider-Cop' voice, it's really starting to get on my nerves."
"What?" exclaimed Parker, "I'm sorry, I don't understand…"
"The Marauder was right, you are a stubborn bastard Spider-Man," deadpanned Watanabe, cutting off Parker's rambling with a declaration that had Hill's eyes wide in surprise, though she wasn't so shocked to not notice how Parker tensed for a split second before forcing himself to relax and look confused. Yuri, meanwhile, remained perfectly calm, "I know it's you. You have the same height and build, similar voice, and as soon as he was back, Spider-Man knew Octavius was responsible and everything about him, almost as if he had known him for years," rattled of Watanabe before she reached out and grabbed one of his forearms, twisting it so the bottom of his wrist was facing upwards, allowing Hill a clear view of the odd red device attached to the bracelet he wore, "and I've seen these damn things enough to know what they are. Go ahead, press that button and prove me wrong."
Squinting, Hill could make out the small black pad at the base of Parker's palm, his two inside fingers curling back into a familiar gesture before he finally relented, "you're not wrong Yuri. I am Spider-Man." When he said that, the Captain let his arm go, even if it was now clear that she wasn't really the one holding onto it in the first place as he slumped back, "god, that feels weird to say…" he muttered lowly. "You gotta believe me Yuri…I did everything I could, I…"
"I know," said the Captain calmly, cutting him off, "the FBI thinks Octavius had a cell, that you were involved in his crazy scheme somehow." Parker looked genuinely worried, but Yuri waved him off, "they're full of hot air, they don't have anything concrete to pin on you unless you talk. Still, after seeing that, you couldn't lie your way out of a wet paper bag, so I'm going to get you out of here before they come back. Hopefully, they'll finally get the hint and fuck off."
"Woah, language," chided Parker, Yuri clearly rolling her eyes at him, "you must really not like these guys."
"Let me put it this way," began the Captain as she stood up, "given the choice, I'd rather be partnered with Spider-Cop." The pair shared a laugh at the joke they shared as Yuri stood and pulled out her phone, "I'm going to go make some calls about getting you released, you just sit tight…and not on the ceiling."
With that, Yuri left the Interrogation Room as Hill raised a finger and keyed her earpiece while she simultaneously dialed a number on her phone. When the call was answered, the SHIELD Agent began without preamble. "Director Fury, this is Agent Hill. There's been a development…"
True to her word, Yuri had returned fifteen minutes later and ushered Peter out of the interrogation room and escorted him through the halls of the Chinatown Precinct. It was odd to think that the Police Captain now knew his alter ego, but he was surprisingly comfortable with the development. Not that he had much of a choice, not after he bungled the discussion with her so badly. She put a lot of trust in him and she was deserving of his trust in return, especially considering she was going to go to bat for him against the pair of FBI Agents.
Even if she was projecting her usual confident and commanding demeanor, it was clear to the Webhead that she was trying to get him out of the building before the FBI Agents realized it, and as they exited out the front door, it looked like they had made it. Just as Peter was about to open his mouth and spit out a parting quip, his sixth sense warbled as a vitriol filled voice hissed behind the Queens Native. "What the hell do you think you're doing Watanabe?" asked Agent Johnston as he stormed up and got right in Yuri's face, "this punk is my investigation. Hands. Off."
"Not anymore Johnston," retorted Yuri, unfazed by the overbearing Bureau Agent, "I just got off the phone with the Commissioner, I've been ordered to let him go. We don't have anything on him, and the DA doesn't want to deal with a false imprisonment suit. Either you show me some hard evidence right now or you get the hell out of my precinct." The two locked eyes for a few moments before a new voice broke the stalemate.
"Director Fury concurs," announced a stern faced brunette woman in a tactical suit with the SHIELD bird emblem on her shoulder, com link in her ear, and pistol in it's holster as she stepped forward and addressed the FBI Agent, "SHIELD views the investigation into Peter Parker as an effort not worth pursing considering the complete lack of evidence thus far. With the investigation concluding there is no reason to continue to hold Mr. Parker, his release should be effected immediately."
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed Special Agent Johnston pull a cellphone from his pocket and look down at it with a worried look before he pressed the device to his ear before the Webslinger's attention was refocused on Agent Johnston. "He is the suspect in an FBI investigation. It's not within your purview to say what happens to him," spat the Bureau man. "As long as I am on the case," began the older Agent before firmly asserting, "I dictate what happens to him, and I say he remains in custody."
Behind the Agent, the Special Agent finished his phone call and pocketed his phone before clearing his throat, getting the attention of the rest of those gathered. "Assistant Director Smith just called," revealed the junior FBI man, and Agent Johnston's face drained of color, "we've been recalled to the office for reassignment, effective immediately." The older man snarled before accepting the reality and stormed off, still fuming as the more composed Special Agent addressed Yuri and the SHIELD Agent, "thank you both for your cooperation and assistance," he said in tones so practiced Peter could easily imagine the man saying them in a mirror. After that, he turned to Peter, who straightened. "The Federal Bureau of Investigation sincerely apologizes for any inconvenience we might have caused you Mr. Parker. Good day." With that, the FBI Special Agent placed a pair of sunglasses over his face and spun on his heel to follow his superior.
Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, Peter turned to Yuri, "so much for inter-agency cooperation, huh?" he quipped, drawing a chuckle from the two women. "Well if that's all…" he began.
But of course, it wasn't. "There is one more thing Mr. Parker," said the stern-faced SHIELD woman, "SHIELD requests you make your way to the offices of Octavius Industries to take possession of your personal belongings sometime today."
"Uh, yeah, sure," he replied, trying to get a read on the woman, but couldn't get anything other than the same vibe Felicia always gave him that she was hiding something, "I can do that."
When Peter arrived outside Octavius Industries, he was surprised to see that there wasn't anyone waiting for him, there wasn't even any sign of police or SHIELD or anybody around the building. Heading through the front door, Peter struggled to recall how to get to the lab from the ground floor since he had gotten so used to coming in through the roof. After a few wrong turns and a bit of wandering, he eventually found the stairwell up to the lab and pulled his card and slid it over the scanner, thankful that he got a green light back as the door unlatched and was slowly pushed open. "Uh hello," he called out as he entered the darkened lab, "I'm Peter Parker, I'm here to pick up my stuff." Slowly walking inside, he looked around for anything amiss, hitting the light switch to illuminate the lab, noting that a lot of the equipment was gone, many of the shelves and tables were barren, it was almost sad to see.
Similarly, Peter felt a sense of forlorn sadness considering this might be his last time at the lab. As he turned to reminisce a bit, he failed to notice a figure emerge from his office behind him. "So nice to finally meet you," began the man in a deep, commanding tone as Peter whirled around to see a African American man in his early fifties, eyepatch covering his left eye, and a trench coat draped over his imposing frame, step forward with a hand extended. Gaping dumbly, Peter finally grasped the offered hand as the man looked down at him sternly, "Spider-Man."
Peter's eyes widened as he suddenly stepped back, but the man remained perfectly calm as Peter's mouth bobbed open and closed when recognition finally set in. "You're Nick Fury," managed Peter, Matt's description of the man had been spot on, and that realization led Peter to another conclusion, "I wasn't asked here to pick up my stuff, was I?"
Fury shook his head, "no, you weren't," he admitted, "you were told to come here because I have a proposition for you," revealed the Executive Director.
"Oh, I'm taking a break from…well my other job, for a while," admitted Peter.
But Fury was undeterred by this, "I'm not asking for Spider-Man's help Mr. Parker," he explained, "I'm asking for yours," he said as he planted a finger on the Queens Native's chest.
Peter raised an eyebrow, "Mine?"
Nodding, Fury explained, "yes, yours. I want SHIELD to work with extraordinary people, not just in terms of super powers, but what you have up here too," explained the spook as he tapped his temple. "My people have looked over those arms and were very impressed, if you had any hand in their design or construction then there is definitely a future for you."
"Are you…" began Peter as he replayed the Director's words to make sure he had heard correctly, "are you offering me a job Mr. Fury?" asked the Webehead in shock. He could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect, SHIELD resources, maybe working with people like Tony Stark and Bruce Banner?
But Fury shrugged indifferently, "if that's what you'd prefer," replied the man as he reached into his trench coat and produced a handful of papers, "but I had something else in mind." Handing the papers to Peter, the Webhead began to flip through them. They appeared to be some sort of legal documents that the science major couldn't hope to fathom, but he didn't have to. "What you're holding is the documentation that will make you the new sole owner of Octavius Industries, at that point SHIELD would be willing to contract with you on various projects."
Peter looked up at the Director, "like what?" he asked curiously.
"I'll show you," replied Fury as he turned and beckoned Peter to go into what had been the Wallcrawler's office, "if you accept then this would be the first thing I'd have you work on."
Peter's jaw dropped at the sight, "that's…Iron Man armor. Why do you need me to work on Iron Man armor?" asked the scientist as he walked around the suit, assembled and on a stand so that it looked Peter eye to eye lens while the Queens Native examined it closer.
"Because it's technically War Machine armor," corrected Fury, "back before the plug was pulled on the project it was used by SHIELD to conduct various missions. But with the formation of the Avengers, the War Machine program was deemed surplus to requirements, the suits mothballed, and personnel transferred." Peter nodded but waited patiently for Fury to explain the rest of the story. "Now, I'm restarting the program, quietly. That means that I need someone outside the agency, meaning like you, to overhaul and refit the armor. This one in particular is almost a decade old and was demilitarized when it was mothballed, so it needs to be rearmed too."
Now the Director turned to cast a one-eyed glance at Peter, who was still trying to process everything. "I…I can't do this," he admitted.
"Sure, you can," retorted Fury, "you seem like a smart kid, I'm sure you can figure it out."
"No, no, no. I mean…I can't make weapons. Not the kind you want," replied Peter tersely, "the ones I made by accident already got enough people killed."
But Fury was undeterred, "you think I'm going to use this thing in the same way Octavius used the arms? Mr. Parker, I do not have the luxury of petty revenge plots, every day innocent men, women, and children are killed and this suit," he asserted, pointing at the grey armor, "will help save those people. Your work will help save those people."
Peter was silent as he pondered the words, the arguments he had with Matt about this exact thing came back to him. But Fury didn't remain quiet for long, "if you want to help people, you can do it with the money you'll get from this. You'll have your own company to run as you see fit." But the Webhead didn't respond, not entirely convinced by that, and Fury sighed before playing his last card. "You still want to help Octavius, don't you?" asked the Director knowingly, "now, you can't do that, but if you agree to this, I'll see to it that he gets the help he needs. Medical, psychological, whatever it may be, he'll get it."
"You…you would do that?" uttered Peter in disbelief, "why? What's it to you?"
"Absolutely nothing," replied Fury bluntly, "Octavius is another criminal Spider-Man locked up. But you, Mr. Parker, are something, and if this is what it takes to make this deal happen then so be it." Peter wasn't sure how to feel about that as Fury extended his hand, and with it, Peter's best chance to fulfill his promise to help his mentor. That was something Peter couldn't reject so easily and so, with some reluctance, he shook the hand in agreement. "I look forward to working with you in the future Mr. Parker," said Fury with what almost sounded like genuine sincerity before he withdrew a business card and handed it to Peter. Looking down at the card for a corporate attorney by the name of Jennifer Walters, Parker heard Fury explain, "give her a call to take care of all the paperwork. And while you're at it, I'd recommend a name change."
It was safe to say that Matthew was quite surprised when Peter called him and told him that he needed a crash course on guns. Still, that hadn't stopped the Texan from taking to the task with enthusiasm, inviting his friend over so he could educate him on one of his favorite subjects. Which was why he was leading the Webslinger downstairs to his armory and trying to figure out if Peter knew anything about firearms other than that getting shot by them hurt. "So, what exactly are you looking for here?" asked the Texan as they entered the vast armory and started to walk amongst the shelves and lockers. "You wanting to get something for yourself or is this just a research type deal?"
"Uh…bit of both?" replied Peter as the Pilot turned and gave his friend a deadpan look since he had just given the least helpful answer possible. "I mean…I have to rearm a set of Iron Man armor for Nick Fury, so whatever you think would work best for that is what I need." Matt nodded and the gears in his mind began to turn as he pondered the question of just how he would outfit an Iron Man suit. As different possibilities filled his mind, Peter spoke up, "so, do you have something you think would work?" he asked.
Matt couldn't help but laugh aloud, "for such a smart guy, you can be a real dumbass sometimes dude," replied the Texan as he pointed around the pair at the vast array of armaments that surrounded them, "I think I can find something that'll work. Wait over there by BT and give me a few minutes." Peter nodded and did as he what he was told, leaving the Marauder free to grab a bunch of weapons from his personal collection, making several trips to where Peter was waiting and depositing his picks before he felt satisfied he had everything. "Alright, here we go, starting from the bottom, this is a MP9, in 9mm parabellum, and it packs a punch, especially considering how small it is." Setting it down on the table, the Texan picked up the next one, an olive drab SMG, "then you got this, the CBJ-MS, blowback operated, bit more punch out over a greater range, chews through armor like Fisk does Kit Kats."
Peter nodded, but Matt could tell he was struggling to keep up as he moved to the next weapon on the table, "this is a personal favorite, the Dillon Aero M134D Minigun that can spit out up to 6,000 rounds per minute and will make mincemeat of anything you put in front of it. You'd have to use the suit to provide the power to it, but this is a great gun, tons of firepower and frighteningly reliable." Judging from the expression on his face, Matthew guessed his friend was trying to figure out how a gun could be 'frighteningly reliable' while the Texan moved onto the next weapon. "Now onto a few of my own toys," he began, hefting his next two weapons. "This baby offers an explosive kick, this is the belt fed, 40mm Multi Grenade Launcher, or MGL. Great for light vehicles or if someone is dug in deep. While this one here is better for slightly heavier armor, this is an Anti-Titan Sidewinder, in particular one of the older ones with the 30mm rockets."
Putting the pair of explosive options down, the Major moved to the last weapon he had brought out, "but if you need to kill something even bigger, you need something like this: the Charge Rifle. It'll slice through three inches of steel like a hot knife through butter out to a range in excess of 2000 yards. If I had to, I would think this thing could punch through the armor of that Iron Man suit."
Putting the weapon down, Matt stepped back so Peter could have a look at the arrayed guns, grenade launchers, and directed energy weapons before finally looking up at his friend. "So…which one do we use?" he asked.
Matt just shook his head, "isn't it obvious?" he asked, though judging by the blank look his Wallcrawling friend gave him, it wasn't. Sighing, Cooper answered his own question, "we use all of them."
Silver Sablinova watched the suited man scrutinize her credentials carefully as two fully armed soldiers stared back at the mercenary through the reflective black goggles that covered their eyes. "All is in order," replied the suited man in Russian as he returned her identification and stepped aside, "you may proceed." At once, the two soldiers stepped aside, snapping to attention as their assault rifles were brought across their chests.
"My thanks," replied the Symkarian in the same language as she proceeded through the last of the many checkpoints between the building entrance and her destination. But considering where she was and her purpose for being there, Sablinova wasn't perturbed. Striding confidently through the halls of the Moscow Kremlin, the woman proceeded past yet more FSO agents at the door of her destination, opening it to reveal a somewhat older styled sitting room, a far cry from the sleek and modern home of New York's Mayor. The ex-FSB officer turned President of the Russian Federation seemingly preferred antique carved wooden chairs and tables, along with illumination coming as much from the wood burning fireplace as the oil burning lamps.
In a contrast to her Officer's Dress Uniform, the President wore a finely tailored suit that did little to hide his imposing figure, despite the fact that he was scarcely taller than the Symkarian. "Ms. Sablinova," greeted the President as she offered her hand, "I do apologize for the inconveniences for the sake of security, but it is an unfortunate necessity." After the two shook hands, the Russian gestured to the ornate chairs, "but let us talk business, please, sit." The chairs were entirely too large, Sablinova suspected this was a deliberate ploy to reminder her that she was a small fish in a big pond, which she was acutely aware of as the President spoke again. "I will admit that your request caused quite a stir in the Cabinet when it arrived. Myself? I am intrigued." The President chuckled lowly, "I remember you when you were very little," he explained, holding his hand to show an approximate height, "your father and I crossed paths…many times over the years."
"Which was why you were one of his groomsmen," responded Sablinova politely.
The Russian smiled fondly at the memory and laughed, "indeed I was. The Sablinova family did know how to throw a good party." Sablinova gave a sad smile at the memories of those ornate balls and galas, and the mood quickly turned somber once more. "I am sorry about what happened to your family, but I must know…are they the reason for your request?"
"They are," revealed Sablinova, "I intend to reclaim Symkaria, and I intend to do so by force if it is required, and I believe it shall. Which is why Sable International is fielding new types of equipment and expanding its capabilities in preparation for this undertaking. When this rearmament is complete, then the entire force will be committed to this goal."
Listening silently, the President's expression gave away nothing, "a gamble," said the Russian lowly, "but I do agree that it is one worth taking." Sable held in a sigh of relief as the man continued, "and this rearmament is presumably the reason you have sent us this…" he said as he picked up a sheet of paper from the table next to his chair, "extensive list of items you wish to purchase. Along with similar lists to the Ukraine, France, and your new corporate partners in the United States," added the President as Sablinova remained calm, not surprised the former FSB officer had turned to his intelligence services. "Though do tell, what caused you to undertake such an effort?"
The Mercenary sucked in a breath, "Sable International's operations in Manhattan made clear several shortcomings in our capabilities. Our lack of armored vehicles and heavy fire support nearly proved to be our undoing at the hands of the IMC, and we were totally reliant on the Americans for their air power." Nodding towards the papers the President had, the Symkarian added, "these are shortcoming that I am seeking to correct."
With an uncomfortably knowing gleam in his eye, the Russian nodded before he asked, "and is that where you got the money to finance these purchases? I was not aware that the terms of your contract were so lucrative." Sablinova tense subtly in her seat, fingers curing around the armrest as the ex-FSB officer fixed her with a piercing gaze.
A lie, no matter how small, was not likely to do her any good, and it was not as if she held no cards. The Russian economy was in a poor state, and the injection of cash the offered transaction would provide was not something that could be easily brushed off. Sablinova had other options if the President refused her offer, the Russians were the most convenient, but she had willing partners in the French arms industry, as well as other options in Israel and Sweden, and Fury could potentially be persuaded to give her an in with the massive American Military Industrial Complex. "This venture is being supported with monetary and intelligence support from the Americans," she revealed calmly, carefully scrutinizing the ex FSB officer to see if his expression changed.
Unsurprisingly, it did not, "and are you satisfied with this arrangement?" asked the Russian curiously.
"I am," she said before nodding towards the papers once again, "as you can see, they have been very generous with their contributions." The President chuckled lowly as he looked down at the figures, and the vast number of zeroes at the numbers at the bottom, "but if the Russian Federation is willing to make a similar offer I would be willing to consider it."
It was not a serious offer, and they both knew it, the Russian economy was not in a position to finance a war, but the offer was genuine, and it was a subtle way for her to indicate that, while Sablinova was leaning on the Americans, she was not beholden to them. "Which American, exactly? CIA?" guessed the Russian.
Sablinova shook her head, "Director Nicholas Fury of SHIELD."
"I see," replied the ex-FSB in acknowledgement, "I had quite the file on Fury during my time in the Federal Security Service. The Colonel is a shrewd and capable man, I am not surprised he would be the one behind this." A silence fell between them as the President reached over and opened the bottle of vodka that had been sitting on the table, pouring two glasses, "I trust his judgement, if he believes you are capable of this undertaking, then I am willing to authorize this transaction as well as provide your efforts every possible diplomatic aid."
"Thank you, Mr. President," replied Silver, she was not looking forward to playing the political game that would enable her to legitimize her rule when she made it to that point, but another permanent member of the UN Security Council in her corner was not something she would balk at. Still, a favor given is a favor earned, "I will not forget the aid Russia has contributed to this endeavor, and I hope that this cooperation will continue into the future, should this endeavor be as successful as I believe it shall be."
The President offered Sablinova one of the glasses he had poured and raised his own, "to your success," he said as the Mercenary mirrored the gesture and the two downed the strong drinks, thus completing the informal agreement. "Though, if I may, I would like to offer a piece of advice," began the Russian as Silver nodded, "be weary of Fury. I do not believe that he has told you everything."
He had fallen so far, so fast, with his body beginning to degrade, Otto was half walking and half dragged by a pair of Sable Troopers through the halls of the RAFT. With his arms removed, it was a struggle to perform even basic tasks without assistance. As one of the cell doors opened, Doctor Otto Octavius, the man who had brought the broken open the RAFT and brought the city to its knees merely two weeks ago was now casually tossed into a simple cell, deemed not even worthy of anything more than that.
One of the world's great minds, now confined to a four by teen foot cell, with its cracked concrete walls, inch thick excuse of a mattress over a cold metal bed, and a similarly metallic toilet took up a corner of the pitiful space. Slowly pushing himself up with shaky arms, the Doctor looked at the solid steel door that was thicker than the mattress he was sitting on and had automatically sealed shut, confining him to the cell.
But already, his mind was hard at work to ensure that this would not be the final chapter of Otto Octavius.
Cooper's Logbook – War Machine Program
Years before I got here and after Iron Man came onto the scene, his appearance, followed closely by Spider-Man and a few other 'enhanced' individuals, sparked an interest among many government and military groups in matching their incredible abilities. While they all failed in their own programs initially, the United States Air Force got a boon when Colonel James Rhodes acquired one of Tony Starks first suits, the Mark II Iron Man armor, and brought it to Edwards AFB. The USAF's sole control of that suit, soon upgraded to become the original 'War Machine' armor, did not last long, and SHIELD quickly wound up in possession of the armor. Boldly, Director Fury wanted to expand the program beyond the sole original suit, and contracted four of the top Defense Contractors outside Stark Industries to examine the original and develop their own from it.
Each company created two suits, and these eight production models were used by various SHIELD Agents for various trials, including field tests while the original was returned to James Rhodes. The suits that SHIELD kept are all slightly different from the ones made by the other companies, with Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Northrop Grumman, and General Dynamics all successfully delivering working models. All of them were used to some extent, though exactly what remains classified, until the formation of the Avengers, at which point the entire program was unceremoniously ended.
Only now it seems that Fury wants to bring it back, at least somewhat. The suit that he gave Peter and I to tool up is a General Dynamics model, generally regarded as the least impressive statistically, but it was the most reliable and well sorted of the four variants. Indeed, it has proven surprisingly easy to get to grips with, especially for two men experienced with modern technology and combat equipment respectively. Even if the suit is outpaced in almost every aspect by Tony Stark's more modern suits, by the time we're done with it the suit should be a formidable system for whatever lucky SOB gets to use it.
Closing Notes: So I tried to keep this chapter dense and concise, because things will probably slow down somewhat here. Yes, I had fun writing Agent Johnston and Special Agent Johnston, I know that many of you wanted something probably a bit more explosive, but I went with the character development direction instead. I am concerned about how everyone will take Peter's choice to agree to work for Fury, even if he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. I wanted to at least give him a good motivation for doing that, hopefully you all agree. Now, he won't just work for Fury, he will go back to doing...science and stuff (any ideas?) once he's done with this project. This will move towards something I've been building to for a while, and it allows me to have Matt quote Justin Hammer and talk about guns.
We also get the return of BT with a few new toys, so he will be around for the DLC, but don't expect to see him before Turf Wars, he's really not subtle enough to participate in the Heist. Similarly, Silver Sable will be busy as you might expect, and yes, I am going to greatly enjoy myself when I get to writing tank battles and dogfights during the Symkarian Civil War chapters. I'm trying to add a bit of a geopolitical angle to it, nothing really 'partisan' because this is a dumb fiction story, I'm not trying to make a statement. So while the Russian President is obviously Vladimir Putin, I went with that solely because he is a character, and only history will be able to tell if he'll be considered a hero or villain. Similarly, the quip about Cooper being a Republican is meant to be a silly joke, he's a gun nut from Texas after all, don't take it to mean any more than that.
That really slow stuff starts next chapter, where Peter and Matt get to count themselves among The Luckiest.
Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.
