Chapter Management Edit Chapter
Chapter 6: Putting The Pieces Together
Peter Yawned and stretched, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings for a few moments before the sizzling of bacon caught his attention.
Jack Lawson called over cheerfully as he spotted his houseguest rise. "Morning Webb- Pete!"
Peter was confused for a moment before he remembered that he had told Lawson his civilian identity before he'd gone to sleep. He'd decided that that having Lawson call him 'Webber' when he saw him in the city, because that was the only name he knew him by was far from ideal. There were probably extremely few situations where that would, or could occur.
Peter though, was a man who'd had a psychic as a guide (which was a sore point at the moment) and had been trained, and often beaten, by a soldier from World War Two. That same soldier, Captain America, had spent decades frozen in a block of ice in the Arctic Circle, before it was hurled into the sea by the King of Atlantis. And that whole chain of events had been started because Johnny Storm had thought some bearded amnesiac he had run into in a bar, had reminded him of the Sub-Mariner. And he'd been right.
Peter shook his head. Sometimes his life was insane enough to give Wade Wilson a run for his money. What he said though as, "Morning, officer, I hope I haven't gotten a parking violation!" Peter grinned.
Lawson cringed. "Ah, jeez, Pete, save that for the bad guys, will ya?" He said that while handing Peter an older but still very functional laptop.
"What operating system is this?" Peter glanced over the unfamiliar splash screen and logos. All he knew was that it wasn't the Stark-built OS he was used to.
Lawson grinned, misunderstanding Peter's unfamiliarity with the laptop being due to it being a newer version. "I know, I never did like the changes they made to WayneOS Nine. Eight was much better."
"WayneOS, huh?" Peter nodded, figuring out the Operating System as he went. It was all familiar, but different in some ways. He'd seen the emblazoned Wayne logo all over the city, kind of brash, and far more obvious than Stark's logos. "Seems like this Wayne Industries owns the whole city."
"Pretty much." Lawson mumbled through a mouthful of breakfast.
"What can you tell me about its owner, Bruce Wayne?" Asked the displaced Peter Parker. "I mean, I know what the biographers have said, but-"
Lawson held up a hand and stopped Peter speaking, to give him the answer. "Well, you already know he's richer than Midas, and was orphaned at an early age. He's quite the philanthropist, and he's always been a friend to the city- heck, like I said, he pretty much owns the city."
Lawson's face wore a coy smile as he continued, "The man has an eye for female company; I remember a buddy of mine telling me something," Lawson paused for a moment, recounting the tale Sergeant Montoya had told him. "He once managed to make the Russian Ballet troupe cancel their Gotham tour, and absconded with them to the Philippines abroad his private yacht for two weeks. I guess money can get you nearly anything."
Peter grinned. "He's beginning to remind me of someone I know back home..."
"Okay," said Lawson, not really having any idea who that person would be. He shook his head and continued, "There is however something about him that doesn't ring true. He looks like a big likeable idiot, and at first glance it looks like his company's C.E.O. Lucius Fox does all the business for him. But I've seen Bruce Wayne do live interviews, and reporters who underestimate him tend to find themselves turned around, embarrassed with no idea how the hell it happened."
"Charisma," said Peter. "Anything else you can add?"
"Well, he was framed with a murder charge a while back, and he evaded the authorities for over a month. The guy's got connections."
"You think he might actually be Batman or something?" Peter's suspicions ran deeper as he half jokingly aired them.
Lawson broke out into peals of laughter, and he had to wipe his eyes clear as he answered, "Christ, no! That playboy ducks and dives away from trouble, gets bundled into a car and whipped off to Wayne manor or some other place. You'd never see Batman, and Bruce Wayne anywhere near each other."
Peter nodded, putting a mental jigsaw together in his mind. "What about by the law? Being a cop, you'd know, right?"
"Sure Pete," Lawson finished off his cup of coffee. "The guy's a straight arrow, a few parking tickets here and there, interfering with a crime scene or two, but that's Bruce Wayne for you. He was trying to help and got a little over enthusiastic. He is something of a trouble magnet though. He's been kidnapped twice."
"And the GCPD rescued him?"
"Batman did." Lawson responded dryly, having been on that operation.
Peter's eyes narrowed at that and after a moment he added, "I guess that would rule him out if he really was Batman."
Silence fell between the two men, and they finished breakfast. Peter pushed the laptop aside having finished what he'd been doing on it. "Thanks for the loan."
"Anytime," Lawson smiled standing from the table and pulling his police jacket from the back of the chair. "Why the sudden interest in Wayne?"
"Just curious about the man and his business empire; and I think they are a good place to start."
It was still early when Peter stepped out into this strange new city, walking down the busy city streets towards the centre of Gotham, and the monolithic looking Wayne Enterprises building.
As he went, he took in the feel of his newfound environs, allowing himself to become a part of it's ebb and flow. From what he'd already experienced, along with what he'd read, he concluded that the city lived on a knife edge. The odds were stacked against law enforcement and the existence of Batman barely kept the odds even. There were even debates online about whether or not he made things worse, by encouraging the likes of the Joker to terrorise Gotham City.
"Threat or menace, huh?" He muttered, recalling the many times that Jameson had made similar accusations about him. Sighing, he strode on, deftly threading his way through bustling morning streets.
It was about forty minutes later when he arrived at Wayne Enterprises, pausing just outside the main entrance to his destination, to take in the whole architecture of the building with awe.
"Here for a job interview are you?" The voice sounded aged and experienced, and made Peter turn, to see a well dressed, silver haired black man studying him intensely. If eyes were windows to the soul, then this man's soul ran deep.
"Yes," replied Peter, "I'm here to talk to a mister Lucius Fox. Do you know him?"
"Yes," he chuckled, "I've known him my entire life."
Peter looked at him, then his eyes widened and he extended his hand, "Pleased to meet you Mister Fox, I have a feeling I'm your Nine O'Clock."
"Nine Thirty actually, Mister Parker." Lucius said in a tone that almost reminded Peter of Robbie Robertson. "And I'll just add that so far it's going well. Out of towners nearly always ask me if I can help them find myself."
"Maybe they were all Buddhists?"
Lucius chuckled at that, and then motioned towards the entrance with the Wayne Enterprises logo emblazoned above. "This way Mister Parker."
Peter was about to reply, but froze. Sounds, smells and sights seemed to slow down all around him as his mind buzzed. Even as his Spider Sense activated, he was already locking in on the cause. It took him mere microseconds to react to the shot that had been fired before even the bullet or sound had reached them. The target; The man whose hand he was shaking.
Without wasting time Peter thrust the older man down as the shot zinged past just an inch from where Lucius's head had just been. As he hit the ground, the pavement slab just behind him shattered from the impact of the high-powered round, sending chaff and stone dust up into the air.
The sound of the shot was just a second behind the impact, as Peter pulled Lucius up and towards the building entrance. "Get inside, sir!"
As Peter pushed the man through the large glass doors, security guards started reacting and shielding them as an alarm blared out. Lucius had been expecting a second shot, but none came, which told the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises that the shooter knew a thing or two about the makeup of the building. All the glass was impervious to most types of shot and could withstand concussive impacts up to that of a missile high tensile glass had been based on a formula of his own work, though he doubted it would stop someone determined enough. It never had in the past.
"Are you okay Mr. Fox?" Peter asked the older man.
"I'm good, no injuries Mr. Parker." Lucius began. "Are you alright?"
Upon a lack of response he turned, to see that his nine thirty appointment had vanished.
Spider-Man hurtled through the Gotham air, a red and blue blur as he scanned the rooftops, working out the possible vectors and vantage points that could have been used. It didn't hurt that he was familiar with the skills and tactics of a certain sociopathic former Marine.
His Spider Sense continued to guide him, as he perched on the side of a wall. He leapt away, spinning through the air to his next vantage point, closing the distance between himself and his quarry. There were only so many viable angles for a sniper and the hero was capable of working all of them out, cross correlating them and correcting his course to compensate: All at the same time.
After his failed shot, Deadshot could pack and be gone in under a minute, a part of his skill set that marked him as one of the best in the world. The fact that he'd missed his target was of some concern for the assassin; what he did was summed up in his chosen alias and he never missed.
Until now.
He hoisted his pack as he hopped over the side of the building and onto the fire escape with a reverberating clang. As he landed a white strand of something latched on to his rifle pack, and before he could react the bag was pulled from him, nearly sending the sniper sprawling.
Deadshot recovered quickly, and his eye's didn't have far to follow his erstwhile bag as it dangled before him, held by a red and blue suited kook with a web pattern all over his costume.
"Hey buddy," Spider-Man started, "I think you dropped this." It was a terrible quip, and Spider-Man knew it as the shooter's eyes briefly flicked between the bag and the displaced hero.
In a swift motion that Spider-Man almost missed, the shooter somehow had two unusual looking guns in his hands, and began firing at him. Peter was almost disappointed, but he wasn't above a bit of morning exercise in an alternate universe (not that he had any choice).
The bullets from the machine guns tore into the brickwork of the building he was on, kicking up dust and mortar as Spider-Man leaped away from the wall; spinning as he fell through the air between the buildings, he threw the bag at the under hanging lip of the roof opposite, and a little web fluid later it was secured there.
Deadshot cursed, and wasted no time as he darted down the fire escape one floor, before vaulting over the railing and leaping between the two buildings (over an alleyway many storeys below). He covered the drop expertly and braced as he smashed through the window opposite.
He dusted himself off and took in the apartment hallway he'd crashed into. As he started to move, something tugged on his back. Before he could properly react he found himself pulled back through the window and up over the roof of the previous building, tumbling as he landed.
He stood up, turning and raising his arms at his red and blue foe, who landed a dozen metres away on top of a roof vent. The figure even had the gall to wave at him cheerily. "Hey!"
"Hi..." Deadshot's trigger fingers twitched as he responded.
"Look, I don't want to infringe on your second amendment rights or anything, and I'm sure you have a good reason to shoot Mr Fox. But listen, I wanna level with you. That's not g-"
Deadshot snorted as he listened to the chatty voice from under the mask and fired, blinking as his shots sparked against metal, peppering dents where the bug eyed freak had just been.
"-onna happen on my watch, You see I've never agreed with fox hunting!" Spider-Man landed on the tiered roof above and just behind the assassin.
"Shut up freak!" Deadshot turned to fire at Spider-Man's new location as he leapt into the air.
Spider-Man's webbing snagged their targets perfectly, and as he somersaulted over his quarry, yanked the man and his wrist mounted weapons to the floor, hard.
"We all have off days, it's nothing to beat yourself up over!" Spider-Man fired off a succession of web-lines, weaving a steely silk prison around the villain and securing him to the roof. "See how roof less I can be?"
Deadshot craned his head to look at his captor. "So you are GCPD's Webber. Then it's true that Batman's missing."
"How would I know? I've never met the guy. And besides I'm new here." Spider-Man hopped onto a ledge and he crouched facing the marksman.
The gardens, steps, fountains, and pavements that marked the grounds just outside the front of Wayne Enterprise's central skyscraper (one of the tallest and very deliberately centralised buildings in Gotham) was a swarm of cops and police sirens in the morning light. Officer Jack Lawson had not long been on duty when the alarms were tripped, which called probably half the downtown police force to the building.
It was just his luck that he'd had to've been one of the first on scene. It meant he'd spent the last half hour cordoning off the scene and gathering witnesses. Not to mention interviewing the top man himself. Not Wayne of course, that Playboy was probably off in some safe cave somewhere, but the standing C.E.O. Lucius Fox.
Lawson stood in the sunlight just outside the building as he watched Police Chief MacKenzie 'Hardback' Bock approach.
The man who stood in for Commissioner Gordon during his off hours seemed to falter and come to a dead stop staring upwards with a bemused expression on his face. "What in the hells of Arkham?!"
"Sir?!" Lawson followed his gaze to see the struggling form of Deadshot secured to the facing side of the building, covered in a viscous webbing that was becoming a familiar sight to him. "Out the door for five minutes..." He muttered.
Lawson could see a large shoulder bag with a sheet of paper webbed to it dangling below the captive. He couldn't read it all from here, but he could make out the largest word inscribed on it: 'Evidence'.
"Lawson!" MacKenzie barked as he came abreast of the Officer. "Take that man into custody."
It was a few minutes later as cops and the fire service were retrieving Deadshot that Peter chose to approach the pair of Officers that were now stood in the lobby of the building. As he came within ten feet, Bock said without turning, "No closer please, this is an ongoing investigation."
"Yes, I know, I was here for an appointment when it happened. I was hoping to find out when I could speak to Mister Fox. And give you my witness statement."
Bock and Lawson turned to face the man; and both had very different facial expressions (for reasons that Peter knew very well in Lawson's case), as the Police Chief nodded. "Best if we conducted our business outside mister..?"
"Parker; Peter Parker."