Chapter 7
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Peter pulled on his collar that strangled him mercilessly. He was wearing a black suit over a white shirt with a red tie, it was more reminiscent of the clothing the lower members of the gang would wear to more formal events. Peter guessed that was the reason he was wearing it though, unlike when he met with Mr Negative when he was supposed to look stupid and attention-grabbing. The reason why he was supposed to look like a lower member of the gang now though was because of the hulking mass that sat on the opposite side of the limo. His father was a man built to intimidate, he was large, and his face was rough. Although Peter found it minorly entertaining to see his father wear a similar suit as he wore to Mr Negative's club. It was completely white with a red tie, not something someone would expect a murderer to wear. Of course, Peter would never say that to his father because his father would wear a floral Hawaiian shirt and short shorts and still scare most criminals to death. Actually, the thought of his dad in short shorts was terrifying able to send chills down Peter's spine.
Next to Peter sat Prowler in his full suit combat-ready checking the sharpness of his claws. The only thing that could be heard in the limo was the sound of New York's awful traffic and the whine of metal as Prowler pushed claw against claw. Peter wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, but he felt if he started acting… well like a teenager that he would be scolded. The atmosphere was so heavy that it was almost as suffocating as his collar. Of course, he knew why, though someone tried to kill him a few nights ago. Unsuccessfully of course as he was currently breathing, not through a lack of effort by his sandy killer.
Explaining to MJ that his dad as a CEO of a construction business made many enemies and that he had done some illegal things and got caught with the wrong people was difficult. Thankfully MJ didn't really have much experience with the world of CEO's and rich people problems. All he had to do was paint his father as a businessman who got involved in a little bit of crime to gain his success and MJ just nodded her head, not fully comprehending everything that happened last night. After that night she had moved into another friend's house deciding that stay with Peter while he was rich, she didn't like the potential death part of staying with him. At least he got his bed back from MJ even though it now smelt like strawberry mint. That sounded more like a terrible ice-cream flavour rather than deodorant but what did he know, it didn't smell completely awful.
Peter's thoughts though were interrupted by the limo coming to a stop. Outside the limo was a high end looking Italian restaurant which meant only one thing, his dad picked the venue. Typical of him to pick an Italian place, it was almost boarding fetish levels of obsession with the Italian mafia. The doors to the limo were opened for Peter, Prowler and Fisk by the divers. The three of them stepped outside feeling the cool New York breeze bite into his ears, lucky Prowler wearing his mask. Peter would rather be Spider-Man right now, but his father was against the idea. It looked more important for the Fisk crime family to appear strong after an assassination attempt than for Spider-Man to show up. It was no doubt that word would get out about Peter's near-death experience after a few days if it already hadn't to rival gangs. Thus, Peter had to appear stronger than ever. If Peter was able to capture and kill that sandy guy then if anything the Fisk crime family would look stronger than ever, unfortunately, the assassin got away. The last thing Peter needed was other gangs sending a variety of murders after him if they thought they could get away.
Peter and Prowler walked in Fisk's shadow as they walked into the Italian restaurant. The place was completely empty as seen with the chairs put up on the tables. His father must have rented the place most likely under the notion that this was an important Fisk construction meeting or some sort of other business things. There was only one table that didn't have the chairs stacked upon it. Naturally, it was the largest table in the centre of the room. Peter and Prowler walked toward the table behind Fisk which wasn't an issue due to the man's large size. They took their seats at the opposite side of the Table; Fisk took the king's spot sitting on the end of the table while Peter sat on the side next to him while Fisk stood beside his father. He was more of a bodyguard than an actual member of the meeting. The reason they remained at one side of the table was what sat over on the other side. It appears they weren't the first to arrive. Probably his father's doing, arriving fashionably late to his own meeting, MJ would be envious of his popularity tactics.
On the other side of the table sat a pale man, super pale. He wore the opposite of his father wearing a black suit over a black undershirt. Tombstone. The older man smiled brightly flashing his shark-like pearly white teeth at Peter, not his father but Peter. The attention from the almost immortal gangster was unsettling. What was more unsettling was the man standing behind the sitting crime lord, the assassin who tried killing him last night stood in a similar manner as Prowler acting as a bodyguard. It seems that Tombstone wasn't remotely interested in hiding his involvement in trying to kill Peter.
"Good evening, Kingpin and Kingpin Junior." Tombstone happily greeted, he seemed to be in a remarkably good mood. "I'm sure you're quite familiar with my associate Sandman." He gestured to the large man next to him. Sandman shifted uncomfortably under the attention brought to him. His father was currently sending the man a death stare that William struggled to not turn away from.
"We're familiar, we are still finding sand around the house," Fisk spoke clearly and strongly. "I will admit I am impressed Tombstone; I didn't think a relic like you was capable of putting a leash around such a dog. I always assumed that you and your 'gang' would just hide out in your casino as the world passes you by watching slowly as you become obsolete. I suppose you can teach an old dog new tricks." If Tombstone was offended by his father calling him old and inferior, he certainly didn't show it. In fact, Tombstone let out a quiet laugh to himself.
"I suppose I have seen the benefits of these new gangs, so power-hungry. I remember the days of drive byes and classic intimidation. Now it seems every gang has at least one suicidal kid wearing tights. I was… unappreciative of the change until I myself gained powers of myself." Tombstone looked meaningfully at his skin; he hated his albinism with a passion. It was a weakness. A weakness he had corrected through chemicals to gain the power of slightly stronger strength and invulnerability. "I always thought that it didn't matter if a person could shoot fire out of their hands or read your thoughts because they would die to a bullet either way. But people aren't born fairly, and neither are superpowers. I suppose I have you to thank for the idea of acquiring super-powered enforcers. Spider-Man and Prowler is quite the combo."
"I do not care for your opinions on new gang strategies or superpowers." Wilson Fisk interrupted Tombstone. The albino man didn't seem bothered by Fisk's annoyance and chose to continue anyway.
"Oh, but Fisk it is important. While these new gangs with their super villains and revolutionary technology while powerful truly know nothing about crime. Sure, they rob a bank or two but that isn't a crime, that's moronic. These new gangs rise and fall like the sun. They don't understand how crime works. They think that their powers make them immortal, even I know such an achievement is impossible for a mere mortal like us." Peter thought it was ironic that the man who could shrug off bullets like flies was the one to talk about the impossibility of immortality. "They rob banks or hold cities hostage with their powers, but we older gang know that fighting heroes will often end up in failure. If you kill one, then the rest will crawl out like coach roaches. That or the hero you killed will be revived with some miracle serum. That's why I admire you. You're middle ground between these new and old gangs. You have super-powered fighters for you capable of killing any competition with vicious efficiency while you remain to the old gangs' tactics. Drug deals, 'protection' taxes and smuggling. Not these attention-grabbing displays of power then will assure superhero interference."
"I didn't invite you here for you to jerk me off." Tombstone let out a louder laugh this time.
"Of course not, you want to know why I tried to kill this cute little boy here." Tombstone clicked his fingers. The sound of shoes tapping against the floor approached the table. Prowler was immediately on guard his claws came up in an instant to kill however this surprise guest was. Peter was the first to recognise her. Black Cat, he could tell by the white hair and green, emerald eyes. Although instead of her black suit she instead wore a maid outfit. No, not the super perverted kind, a regular one. A normal length skirt and atop the didn't strangle her chest but despite the modest outfit, she looked like she was one rude comment from killing everyone in this room. Her cheeks were red from embarrassment and her knuckles turned white clenching hard on the whiskey bottle she was carrying. She also held a bucket of ice and whisky glasses.
"But first I am quite parched, I hope you'll excuse the dramatic flair. I just couldn't help myself." Peter could almost feel the anger coming from his father. It was one thing to bring a bodyguard to a crime meeting, that was common sense, but to bring a surprise guest in the middle of one intentionally trying to catch him off guard was just rude. Although, it wasn't like his father to not offer beverages during a meeting with a fellow crime lord. This wasn't the first time Peter had sat through one of his father's negotiations but generally, his father was more hospitable. Fisk wasn't meeting with a fellow crime lord though; he didn't want to talk to Tombstone. He wanted to kill him. Of course, he couldn't though. Not because there was honour among thieves but because a crime lord's word was important. If Fisk killed even a single person during a meeting among crime lords, then sure he would have effectively taken out the head of a gang, but all other gangs would never trust him. Worse they might try to band together to kill him, someone who didn't follow the same laws of crime that they did was an outlier and the only thing that could unite gangs is to take out another gang.
Black Cat came up to the table placing whiskey glasses before Peter, Fisk and Tombstone trying her best to hide her blush of embarrassment. Tombstone kept his shit-eating grin while his father simply pretended, she didn't even exist. Pouring the whiskey and placing ice in each glass. When it came to Peter's turn Black Cat kept her eyes down, not out of fear as she did with the two crime lords but because it was one thing for adults to see her in a maid outfit, but it was another for someone her age too. Under his breathe Peter whispered a silent thank you, he wasn't really a whiskey on the rocks man. Peter was a bit of a child as he preferred alcohol that tasted sweet like soft drink mixers with vodka. Even though he was only sixteen it wasn't very professional for Peter to be drinking soft drinks during a drug deal. Black Cat slightly turned her head to look at Peter when he uttered a silent thank you, her green eyes stared deeply into his own. Peter slightly blushed. Ugh, he had MJ walking around in basically underwear for the last couple of days but a girl in a maid outfit makes eye contact with him and suddenly his ears go red. Curse your hormones and curse you Black Cat, why didn't she say she was part of Tombstone's gang.
"You were explaining why you thought it was a good idea to kill my son." Fisk coldly stated, he took a sip of the whiskey only after he watched Tombstone drink from his own watching how much he drank at once. If tombstone drank unprofessionally quickly then there might be poison in the ice, but Tombstone took his time savouring the liquid that burned the throat of Peter.
"Well, you can't really blame me. After all, for the last couple of months, you've been wandering around in my territory. You can't be shocked that I would do the same."
"I never killed any of your gang members."
"No of course not, you merely sold drugs to my dealers and pushed your territory into mine."
"You can't blame me for your poor business. Your drugs are a one-off high, they are cheap and dangerous even for drug standards. It's not my fault your dealers saw more potential in drugs that had actual quality and would get people addicted rather than killing them." Fisk quickly countered.
"Perhaps." Tombstone merely shrugged. "But you stole business that belonged to me. You understand I had to save face." Fisk snorted. Tombstone had lost all his pride months ago when he was annexed by smaller gangs. Sure, Kingpin was a little more open about his take over, but Tombstone had been losing turf to smaller gangs for a long time.
"So, you tried to murder my son?"
"An overreaction on my part. Your son takes after you well though. Sandman told me of your fight, not just a good engineer but a capable fighter. Maybe I should try to find a few of my one night stands to see if I have any hidden little bastards like you. How would you like to make a few suits for me?"
"I would rather castrate myself with a rusty spoon." Peter venomously hissed.
"Well can't blame a guy for trying."
"Unless it's for attempted murder." Kingpin chimed in. "Which brings me to the topic of what we are going to do about it, you've crossed a line Tombstone."
"So have you Kingpin, you took my turf. But I am willing to let bygones be bygones. I won't bother your gang if you don't bother mine. You can keep the territory you've stolen but not an inch further. I'll play nice and keep your darling little boy and gang out of my crosshairs." Peter mused over the deal Tombstone proposed. It was, anticlimactic. Peter expected all-out war or at least millions of dollars being thrown around, rather Peter witnessed an 'I'll leave you alone if you leave me alone.
"Kingpin you are the ideal middle ground between these new and old gangs. I was to set in my ways of the old ways but now I see the benefit in these new superhumans. A war between us would be the worst-case scenario for both of us. We are both successful gangs and war between us would only allow smaller gangs to rise to power while we rip each other to shreds."
"You overestimate your power; you belong to a dying age. You should be in a retirement home rather than the streets. If we come to war, there won't be any power struggles and the only gangs that rise to power are the gangs that fight over your dead territory as I watch in mild amusement. Do you think this Sandman will protect you? He couldn't even kill a normal sixteen-year-old boy, what is he going to do against my own super-humans?" Tombstone opened his mouth to argue but Kingpin spoke first. "Everyone out now." Peter looked to his father in confusion. This was the first his dad had ever done this, but his father merely gave Peter a nod. Well, his father was quite literally the boss. Peter stood up from his chair taking his leave with Prowler following the boy.
Sandman and Black Cat looked at Tombstone with curious gazes, but he waved his hand telling them to go. What was Kingpin going to do to him? The man couldn't be hurt by bullets or knives. Kingpin was physically strong but not even he could hurt Tombstone's everything proof body. When the two were alone Tombstone spoke first. "What's the deal, Fisk?"
"My deal is you tried to kill my son."
"Seriously?" Tombstone didn't understand the big deal. Peter may have just been a child and Kingpin's son, but it wasn't like Peter's hands were clean, the boy has taken part in just as much crime as some of his newer gangsters. Death was common in their line of work, and no one should be surprised when someone doesn't turn up again.
"Seriously." Wilson Fisk spoke with strong certainty. "I am going to destroy the only thing you hold dear and do death a favour and end your miserable life. It's about time you old men learn that the world has changed and only those capable of change can survive."
"You are so arrogant, and you will lead your gang to ruin. Don't you understand? Even if by some miracle you beat me your gang will be so weak afterwards other gangs will feast on you like vultures. Do you really want war just for some child? A child I can kill. I am offering you an out, you take this deal of neutrality and I'll leave you and your gang alone. If you come at me, I promise you I'll be taking one of those with me. Despite all these newer gangs taking my turf you of all people should know what I'm capable of. You were a newer gang during the golden age before those wretched heroes showed up, you remember my empire."
"I also remember it falling just as well, you claim that I am arrogant for starting a war for my son. No, I'm just pissed. I let your gang hang onto those threads you call an 'empire' out of pity for an old man who's no longer in his prime. Your Sandman won't protect you and neither will that invulnerability you pride yourself on."
"So, it's war then?"
"No. This is going to be a slaughter."
Dr Connors sat in his office; he was extremely giggly right now. He couldn't help it he was so happy that all his hard work had paid off. No longer would he have to face the injustices of one hand, the cruel consistent jokes. NO, HE DOESN'T NEED A HAND! It was funny the first time he heard it as a kid but eventually, hearing the same lame joke just wasn't funny anymore. All that was about to change, he was going to be rewarded with money, fame and awards. The first person that didn't just make a regenerative serum that could heal wounds but was actually capable of growing full limbs.
Dr Connors picked up the small green serum in his hand, examining it with fascination. To imagine that this small dosage could improve so many lives. Dr Osborn himself took his serum and examined it to make sure it was safe for human trials. Of course, there was no guarantee of its safety or symptoms but Connors himself made it. He knew every single chemical and reaction that took place like the back of his singular hand. It should be completely safe for humans, chances are it would do nothing as it was made for bunnies, not humans but after a few more months it should work for the human genome too. Dr Connors just couldn't help it. He knew what he was going to do was most likely achieve nothing, but he was just too excited. He wanted to be the first to regenerate a limb and waiting for human trials while accepted would just take too long. There were just so many paper trails to follow and legal issues to deal with.
Curt picked a syringe loading the serum into the syringe. It should be okay to waste one serum, he had so many after all his experiments and it was massed produced. Turns out lots of people had pet bunnies that have been injured and needed to regrow limbs, it was incredible how much some people would pay not to put down their pets. Curt put the syringe up to his armless shoulder, taking a few deep breaths. It was safe, Curt knew it was. He knew every small detail about the serum at worst all it will do is just not work. He had nothing to worry about after all Dr Osborn took this sample and made sure it was safe himself. It was going to be fine everything was going to be fine. Pushing the syringe deep into his body he let the serum flow through his bloodstream. It was painful at first but exciting at the same time.
After a few minutes of waiting and leg tapping, Curt felt nothing happen, as he suspected the serum didn't change anything. Not surprising bunnies and humans just weren't close enough to be genetically compatible. Curt shrugged, well all he would have to do was wait for human trials to become available. That was the proper procedure and what was meant to be done. Dr Connors went to exit the room, but he stopped halfway to the door. This room was cold… really cold. Curt held his only hand to his eyes. God, he felt like he was going to throw up. Colours swirled around like he was on the worst trip of his life. What was happening? It should have been safe. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SAFE! What happened! What did he do…? No, his math was perfect, he didn't do anything.
"What did you do Norman." Dr- no. The Lizard hissed.
And done. Hoped you enjoyed the chapter.
