Wings of Death Part Four: Gathering the Clutch
The engine of an obsidian stretch limousine rumbled as it pulled in front of the Library Hotel. The engine fell silent as the driver turned the motor off. With a barely audible click, the doors of the limousine opened and out stepped four black suited men, from both sides of the automobile.
Slowly, from the right side, an older man got out and stood hunched over, leaning heavily on a black walking cane. His face was sharp and angular, completely covered with wrinkles. A heavy trench coat covered his seemingly frail form. This was Silvio Manfredi. In an era long ago swept away by the currents of time, he was called Silvermane after his long, flowing silver hair, which had fallen out so long ago.
Once upon a time, the name Silvermane would make little old ladies faint, and little kids cry. But, once more, such things had long since passed. That did not mean, however, that Silvio was any less dangerous of a man. He still controlled much of the drug trade within New York and New England. Silvio still had a large number of willing soldiers that would not even flinch at the prospect of murdering an entire family.
"Mr. Silvio," came a deep, rough voice. "The meeting is on the third floor, room 300.003."
The elderly crime boss turned to the speaker, a six-foot, eleven inch tall, pinstripe-suited giant. The most interesting feature of this man was his large, perfectly flat head. "I am well aware of that information Hammerhead! Do not think me senile."
Hammerhead straightened up, with a look of shame and fear. "S-sorry sir. I-I just wanted to remind you." The flat-headed man said with a quavering voice.
"If I ever WANT reminding, I'll ask you to remind me. Now, come. I don't want to be late; they're serving shrimp cocktail." The hunched over man waddled away, with the black suited men flanking him. "Oh, and Hammerhead, put on your hat!"
Hammerhead stopped quickly, reached into his suit and pulled out a large fedora, its top flattened, and popped into down his head, fitting snugly on his odd cranium. The man hurried up to catch his boss.
Bryant Park- Exact Same Time
Tiny birds chirped their lovely little songs in the tree branches, serenading the people who sat beneath the thick mass of trees. The people sat on medium sized, metal benches, eating food, reading newspapers, and talking with friends.
The quartet (Peter, Gwen, MJ, and Harry) sat happily under one of the larger trees, which provided ample shade for them. Harry chuckled at a joke Mary Jane had just told, involving a snail, a turtle, and piggyback ride. Gwen held her head sleepily, and was leaning on Peter with a small grin. And Peter was much the shame as Harry.
"That was pretty good MJ." Peter complimented. "You would do good in stand-up."
"Thanks Pete, but I've always wanted to be model." The giggling red head said.
"I don't think I can really see you as a model." Harry said, sipping his cappuccino. "Maybe a supermodel."
"If you think that sad bit of flattery will get me to date you Harry Osborn, no so such luck!" MJ said in a very convincing Soup Nazi voice.
"You watch way to much Seinfeld." Gwen muttered, finally becoming fully awake. She sat up and yawned.
"And your roots are showing!" MJ countered.
Gwen gasped and her hands shot to her forehead. "Oh God! I can't believe its already washing out!" Gwen moaned.
"Mary Jane! That was totally uncalled for! You know how sensitive Gwen is about her hair." Peter shouted viciously at his friend, an angry scowl plastered on his face.
"Easy Tiger, I was just kidding! Your hair is fine Gwen." MJ said apologetically.
Gwen put her hands down all the while giving Mary Jane death glares. "That wasn't funny." She growled.
"Heh, why do you dye your hair Gwen?" Peter asked, truly curious.
His girlfriend sat up with a look of deep distaste. "I always got crap from guys because I was blonde. They always thought I was some cheap, stupid floozy. I just got totally fed up with it and I dyed my black. My dad wasn't too happy, but my mother put an end to his complaints. I'm pretty sure she had to go through the same crap I had to."
"Gwen, I swear I will never make another remake about your hair again." MJ said, patting her friend's hand gently.
"Thanks MJ." Gwen said softly. Gwen cleared her throat. "Have you guys been watching the news lately?" She asked. Gwen grunted, as the group shook their heads 'no'. "They've been covering that Spider-Man guy almost none stop!"
"Oh yeah!" MJ exclaimed. "Didn't they get a film of him fighting that bird guy?"
"Yup. He helped a lot of people too after the bird guy left. Spider-Man even saved my mom!"
"Really?" Peter asked, in heavily clocked sarcasm.
"Really. Though my mom says he tried to attacker, but you know how she is about different people." Gwen said, rolling her hand as a way to emphasize the word different.
"That sounds kinda weird." Harry said, putting down his cappuccino on the glass top table. "They didn't give this much coverage of the Fantastic Four when they came out. It lasted for about a week, and that was it!"
"I guess it's because he's not really into publicity." Peter suggested, not making eye contact with the others. "He probably didn't even want people to know about him."
"Pfft! Come on Pete! Why else would someone dress up in a costume and run around in public? He just wants to get famous." Harry countered.
"If he wanted to get famous, he'd stay for a photo-op with the press. The most they've been able to get is a few blurry photos and that crappy little home movie." Gwen said, agreeing with her boyfriend. "I think it's great that there isn't another one of those Superheroes that are so caught up in their own ego they don't stop to help the little guy."
"I agree with you there." Harry nodded. "The Avengers are essentially the Governments super powered lap-dogs. The only thing, that they handle are the occasional terrorist group or errant killing machine made by who-else? The good ol' US of A! They weren't even a mention of the Governments interest in super powered people until Canada revealed Alpha Flight and Xavier started the X-Men. Excluding Captain America of course, but that was under very different circumstances."
"Wow Harry!" MJ exclaimed. "I never new you were so into politics! This is a whole new side to you."
"Nay not really it's, just, something I, read on the internet." Harry said.
"Really? Where'd you read that? It sounds interesting." Peter asked his long time friend.
"Oh I found it on I also found these two really great stories that I loved." Harry said, finishing his cappuccino.
"Where at?" MJ asked him.
"The first one was at fanfiction(dot)net/s/4108545/1/Danny(underscore)Phantom(underscore)Unlimited and the second, was at fanfiction(dot)net/s/3479225/1/Superman(underscore)Unlimited. They are both very interesting and entertaining tales that just seemed to be getting ignored. Sure they may not be everyone's cup of tea, but why not just take a peek at them and tell the author what you think of two projects he has slaved over for so long?" Harry finished, leaning back calmly.
"Yeah. Why shouldn't someone look at them?" Peter said slowly.
Suddenly, a man dressed in a red and black suit, similar to Peter's "extra-curricular activities" uniform. On his back was strapped to long katana's in a cross-shaped manner. His belt was loaded down with grenades, ammo clips and pouches containing most likely, more ammo. On his right calf, a heavy-duty combat knife was sheathed and tied firmly.
"FOR THOSE OF YOU KEEPING SCORE AT HOME, THAT WAS A BLATANT PLUG!" He screamed at the top of his lungs with his back to the quartet.
"Excuse me, but who are you?" Mary Jane asked the strange man.
"Why little lady, my name's Deadpool the !W&#)C(!45& Merc With a Mouth!" Deadpool exclaimed rather madly. "Hey, did I just get -#!+( censored? Come on this is fanfic! I should get more leeway! I always get, censored by Marvel! I don't even get a freaking MAX print! I deserve it more then the &)(!-+ Squadron Supreme or The Punisher! I mean come on even the Rawhide Kid got his own mini-series in MAX! Which was really just one long, poorly written gay joke! And further mor-"
Deadpool suddenly vanished, probably completely obliterated by a lightning bolt that struck down from the heavens, leaving not even a scorch mark on the pavement were Deadpool once stood. Peter, Gwen, MJ, and Harry immediately went back to talking as if the whole thing never happened.
"I have more respect for the X-Men then the Fantastic Four. All they do is go to Hollywood premiers and big parties. The X-Men on the other hand actually work for something. Just last week, they busted a Mutant slave trade in Genosha. They've really helped push Mutant Right Bills through Congress and the Senate." Harry rolled his head, making a cracking-popping noise.
"Ewe, what was that about?" Gwen asked, repulsed by the sound.
"I haven't been sleeping on my neck right I think. I've been having these freaky nightmares too." Harry said nonchalantly.
"W-what about? Spiders or something?" Peter asked curiously.
"Spiders? No. Its nothing really." Harry said.
"Come on tell us!" MJ said in an almost threatening tone. "If you don't, me and Gwen, will rip it out of you."
"All right, all right, yessh! All it is, is, that I hear weird voices and can't move. That's it, so just chillax." Harry groaned.
"Sounds like sleep-paralysis." Peter said, leaning forward on the table.
"Sleep wha?"
"Sleep-paralysis. It occurs during the R.E.M. cycle of sleep in which dreams occur. Whenever the body enters R.E.M., the brain secretes a chemical that paralysis muscle movement to prevent the body from acting out the dream and possibly injuring itself." Peter explained. "R.E.M. is also a time during which most parts of the brain responsible for memories, human form recognition, and smell become active again. The inner ear will also vibrate, causing you to hear strange noises during a dream that seem to be more in your head, then in the dreamscape. Sufferers of sleep-paralysis also have visions of strange, humanoid creatures surrounding them, or in their room. Many believe that those who report Alien abduction are actually suffering form sleep-paralysis. In other words, Alien abduction's are most likely really bad dreams. "
"Peter, as your friend, you watch WAY to much Discovery Channel." Harry said, shaking his head.
"Its either Discovery Channel, CNN or Lifetime! Not a lot of viewing options." Peter barked bitterly.
"Heh, I got five hundred different channels." Harry gloated.
"I got five hundred channels naa naa naa." Said Peter mockingly.
Adrian snorted from atop his roost across form the Library Hotel. His helmet still had the spider-web crack from when that freak had sucker punched him. If Adrian ever saw him again, he'd…Huff. Blasted Kingpin had tied his arms in the matter.
He was to kill Fisk's rivals and nothing more. But if Spider-Man got in his way again well… A wicked smile spread on the assassin's lips.
Adrian had overheard that big oaf telling Silvermane what room and floor the meeting was going to be on. Huh! How stupid could someone be? The Vulture spread his wings and coiled his legs.
With a mighty shove-off The Vulture took to the air where his thrusters automatically became active and flew him quickly across to the Library Hotel. The supervillain leaned back and shut off his jets with a short flexing of a muscle. Quickly, The Vulture latched onto the side of the hotel, roughly where the room would be.
His powerful talons dug into the dense sides securing a hold for him. With his right hand, Vulture opened a small side compartment on his right leg. He reached in and pulled out a small circular object. Tiny spokes jutted out from the bottom edges of the object.
Vulture gently placed the object against the rough wall of the hotel. With a small pop, a strong adhesive fastened the object in place. He double tapped the center of the circle, which popped up. In big red digital numbers, 59 appeared on its surface, and began to rapidly countdown.
Vulture pushed himself from the wall a good four yards. He flapped his wings and activated his thrusters on a low setting to allow him to hover in place. Then, as the clock hit double zero's…Boom.
Library Hotel-Room 300.003
Silvio looked about the large ornate conference room with well-concealed disgust. All around him were his enemies sitting so confidently and smugly. Their eyes displayed what truly lay in their souls. Sadists, psychos, and the lot claiming power that was not theirs by struggle or blood right.
What power did they have? Hired Mutant freaks genetic anomalies that occurred in one out of a million children if that many. It caused the afflicted to develop a strange appearance of unnatural abilities. Recently there had been a Mutant baby boom around the world. They were worse then the q and the n put together.
Some damn hippies and liberal claimed that Mutants were the next step human evolution. Silvio didn't buy that s one bit. Mutants were a plague that should be wiped out!
People would call Silvio a hypocrite because he kept Hammerhead, a clear non-human, as an employee. The only thing not human about him was his titanium plated skull and freakish levels of pain tolerance.
Silvio "Silvermane" Manfredi sat down in a comfortable armchair positioned near the door. His bodyguards formed up around him, ready to shot anyone that got to close unexpectedly, or pulled a weapon.
"Welcome my comrades!" exclaimed Herbert Landon from the back of the large, satin covered room. Herbert Landon was a moderately handsome Caucasian male with small blue eyes and parted light brown hair. Herbert stood at six foot nothing in a blue power-suit.
Landon was a close associate (aka educated thug) of Roxxon Oil, a large petroleum corporation that was known for its, rather…less than PC business practices shall we say. Roxxon had a number of other dummy companies that they used to cover up the fact that they hand their sticky little fingers in several other illegal fields.
"We have gathered here for obvious reasons. Now is an opportune time for us to muster our forces and strike at a common enemy: The Kingpin of Crime! His forces are severely weakened from strategic strikes that Mr. Silvermane and I have been launching against him for the past four months." Herbert took an offered hors d'oeurve from a waiter holding a silver platter.
He and Silvermane? He and Silvermane? Bah! Only Silvermane had been attacking. Landon was to busy sleeping in his cushy little home supplied by Roxxon. Silvio felt a burning hot sensation of rage at Herbert Landon shoot through his body.
He would have to be taken care off. But not now, later. When the Kingpin topples to the ground, there will be a massive void in power that these…heathens would clamber to fill, resulting in a large-scale gang war. Silvio would stay by the wayside of course. His forces were not strong enough for such a conflict.
Silvio Manfredi would wait till the end, saving his strength, plotting, gathering, his, forces. Only then, after the dust settled, and the last few weakened survivors remained, would Silvermane strike and take it all for himself.
"With unintentional help from the mysterious Dare Devil operating in Hell's Kitchen, Kingpin has had little time to retaliate against us. An inside man has informed me that the Kingpin will be making an unexpected trip to Greece soon." Herbert coughed into his fist. "That is where my men come in. When Kingpin arrives at the airport, a specially selected ops team will strike and whip out Kingpin and his entourage.
"What I have gathered us here for now, is to divide the territory equally among after is dead." Herbert unfurled a large map of the continental United States on the large table he stood before. The entire East Coast-excluding Florida-was highlighted lime green. "Gather around if you will so that we may get this task out of the way."
"Pfft! Let me guess, you're going to take all the rich business areas and all the rest of us will be left will crappy little areas to work with." Roberto "Blackie" Draco scoffed, leaning against the right wall.
Roberto was average sized with shoulder length hair and discolored emerald eyes. He was the boss of the Black Dragon gang. The Black Dragons controlled a small portion of the genetic arms trade.
"I am a fair man Draco!" Herbert growled back. "There is enough area to be equally distributed among all of us."
"How can we take your word for that rich b-" Blackie never finished his sentence as he was engulfed by flame and brick.
Those gathered were thrown to the floor by the concussive force of the bomb. Smoke filled the room, suffocating them. Pieces of concrete shrapnel slashed and bludgeoned an unfortunate few, killing most of the bodyguards.
Hammerhead had used his body to shield Silvermane from harm, resulting in his suit being torn and gashed from the deadly pieces of concrete.
"Get off me you oaf!" Silvio shouted at his slowwitted employee.
The enhanced human rolled off his elderly charge shamefully. "S-sorry sir! W-what was that?"
"A bomb you moron!" half groaned-half shouted Sessile Monroe, a small crime lord in both power and stature.
"Heheheheheh." Came a cold nasally voice. "That blast was much stronger then I excepted. Fisk really knows his suppliers."
From the thick cloud of dust and debris stepped The Vulture, his black and green suit powder gray.
"Fisk? You work for the Kingpin then?" demanded Silvio.
"My! You really are a smart one old man!" Vulture said mockingly.
"Die you freak!" Sessile cried. He quickly reached into his pin strip suit and pulled out a small handgun. This move was, copied by the three remaining bodyguards unsure whether their employers were still alive or not.
Before nary a round could be fired, a pain screeching filled their ears. They dropped their weapons and clutched their pounding heads.
Vulture lowered his out stretched arms, chuckling evilly too himself. "Sonic disrupters. Kills your don't it?"
With lightning quick moves, Adrian had pulled his arms horizontally across his chest, forcing the feathered wings to spread. With the same speed, he slashed out with his arms, letting four deadly feather blades fly from his wings.
The projectiles tore into the remaining bodyguards, save Hammerhead. Blood poured from the deep wounds and they fell limp on the floor.
Hammerhead glared at the murderer. He charged and pulled his flat-topped head back, preparing for a bone crushing head-butt.
Adrian silently laughed at the fool who charged at him. The assassin leapt over Hammerhead seconds before he would have hit. Hammerhead stopped and stood unsteadily.
With unholy joy, Adrian lashed out with his right arm and buried one of his metal talons in Hammerhead's brain stem with a sickening squelch and spurt of crimson liquid. He ripped his blood soaked claw from Hammerheads neck and with his other hand, reached around Hammerhead's thick neck and slit it open. Finally, he delivered a powerful kick to the base of his spine, ripping at the flesh with the deadly talons on his feet.
Hammerheads lifeless body stumbled four feet from the force of the kick and went tumbling out of the gapping hole in the wall without a scream, without cry, without a sound. Hammerhead's body crashed down on the parking lot, splitting bone and devastating useless organs.
Vulture turned about and surveyed the remaining pray. All were paralyzed with fear at the sight of such a brutal display of bloodlust and power. God, this was the life!
"So, shall we get this show on the road?" Adrian Toomes spread his arms and legs, a vicious, inhuman snarl hidin behind his mask.
Bryant Park
The park patrons looked on in shock at what had transpired. All anyone had heard was a loud explosion. They had looked for its source with a great sense of fear. They saw a smoking hole in the side of a building. For many, memories of a day forever burned in their collective psyches came flowing back like a raging river.
There were screams as they saw a body fall from like a limp rag doll from the building. Some ran others ran to see it closer. However, one person, not quite a man, yet not a child gazed up with a sense of duty.
Peter doubled over, covering his mouth with both hands. "Gulp! I feel like I'm going to puke! Gotta go!" Peter muttered sickly before abandoning his friends.
"Peter!" MJ called as Peter disappeared in the panicking crowd.
"Don't worry about, I'm going to call my dad!" Gwen said and pulled out her cell phone and punched speed dial. "Dad! There's been an accident at Bryant Park. No, no, I'm fine but a building next to the park was blown up! You need to get down here quick! I'll stay put, don't worry." Gwen turned off her phone and bit her lip.
Harry was shaking with fear, uncertain as to what to do. The sound of the blast, the smell of smoke, all of it was almost surreal to the young Osborn. It dragged back so many memories that he thought were, dead and buried.
Harry sank to his knees. His pupils dilated, his breathing became irregular, turning to short gasps of air. "M-m-mommyyy…"
"Huh? Harry OH MY GOD!" MJ squealed. Harry had fallen over, his body quaking violently as if he was having a mild seizure. "Gwen! Call an ambulance!"
Unaware of what was transpiring among his friends, Peter swung out from between two building a sort distance away, garbed as The Amazing Spider-Man. Behind milky white screens his eyes were narrowed and focused.
He had hated running away from them like that, but Peter needed to see anyone needed help, or at the very least, find out what was going on!
With a soft thump, Spider-Man landed in the damaged hotel room. The thing that caught his attention immediately was the sight of the lanky mad man, The Vulture standing over a pile of slashed corpses.
Blood dripped off his tri-clawed in thick, gooey globs to the floor. A bald man lay huddled on the floor before the maniac, trembling in fear.
"P-please, don't h-hurt me!" Silvermane stuttered. His air of superiority evaporated along with his pride and dignity.
"Hehehehe! You really are pathetic old man! Stand up and die like a man you wuss!" Vulture pulled up his bloody gauntlets, prepared to kill the elderly man.
Spider-Man leapt at Vulture, fueled by memories of his late Uncle Ben. He snapped out his leg, hitting his enemy in the ribs and sending him flying involuntarily into the opposite wall.
The super powered teen knelt down next to Silvermane. "Sir, you need to get out of here now!"
"I-I can't walk. H-he broke my leg!" Silvio said.
The webbed hero felt the hairs on his neck stand up as a familiar tingling sensation forced its way into his head. He twisted to his side to see the bird themed villain thrusting his right claw at him.
With speed and agility far beyond those of a normal man, Spider-Man ducked under the surly fatal attack and dealt a one-two punch to Toomes' gut and quickly followed up with a powerful uppercut that caused the jet-black mask to crack further.
Adrian Toomes aka The Vulture lifted into the air and crashed back against the wall with a painful sounding crack.
"Sorry birdie your not going to get me that easily! Sir, I'm going to get you out of here." Spider-Man scooped up the injured old man as gently as he could. "Hold on tight!"
Spider-Man exclaimed as he ran to the opening in the wall. He jumped off into the open air, making Silvio Manfredi tighten his grip around the red and black suited heroes neck.
"Gak!" Spidey protested. "Don't worry man I got cha!" With his free hand, Spider-Man shot a web line to the other building and spread his legs wide to offer more wind resistance and thusly slow the approach. This did not help to calm Mr. Manfredi who continued to grow closer to a severe heart attack.
As the distance between the two and the building diminished, Peter Parker stuck out both his legs and landed surprisingly gently against the rough wall. Casting a downward glance, he could see a small selection of SWAT, NYPD, and Emergency Medical Personnel had gathered below and were ogling up at him.
Taking a deep breath, Peter tried something new. Relaxing the tension built in his fingertips and toes, he began to slide down the side of the building at a moderate pace.
Once at the bottom, Spider-Man rushed over to the gathered people and handed the elderly crime boss over to the EMP. "He's got a broken leg and possibly some internal injures. I'd check his heart, doesn't seem handle web slinging that well. And don't bother with people on that floor, they're all dead."
He looked around at the stupefied looking men and women. "What? You guys act like you've never seen a teen with spider powers!" Peter said with a painfully obvious amount of sarcasm.
Unexpectedly, George Stacy stepped out and confronted the disguised Peter. "Hold up son! What's going on here?" He demanded in his trademark gruff and gravelly voice.
"Mr. Stacy!" the fifteen year-old slipped.
"What? How the hell did you know my last name?"
"Um…The internet?" He offered weakly.
"Right. Kid, I want answers now! He doesn't look to hot to start talkin' but you do!"
"GGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!
The terrifying war cry of The Vulture cut the air like a knife as he came to from being knocked unconscious by the web-covered hero.
"Uh…that would be my cue get out of here!" Spider-Man turned around and broke into a short sprint before swing upward and onward into the air.
One of the cops raised his gun and cried, "Come back here!"
George forced the overzealous police officer's gun down. "Don't shoot him! He's not the bad guy here! Look!" Sergeant Stacy pointed up to a truly bizarre sight. A man had actually flown out of the gaping hole in the hotel and was chasing the costumed teenager away from the police.
"SWAT team, pursue those but DO NOT fire upon them! I repeat, DO NOT fire upon them! You two medics, follow along in case bystanders get injured. All the rest of you, into the building with me! Move it people!" George Stacy order, tumbling over in his mind a little piece of interest.
Spider-Man's world seemed to flow in slow motion. The prickling pain in his neck and head grew steadily worse as The Vulture continued to grow closer and closer. He huffed and puffed as he moved his arms as fast as they could go, shooting out web line after web line.
"You little shit!" Screamed Adrian. "You really fucked my job! Do you have any idea how hard it will be to get to the old man now that the cops are with him?"
"I have a vague idea, huh…what was your name again? Crazy Bird? Giant Loon? Multi-Colored Moron?" Spider-Man landed on a rooftop, ready to engage the murderer in combat.
"ARRAGH! I am The Vulture! Die you little bastard!" The Vulture swooped down at a sharp angle from above our fair hero.
He struck out with deadly talons capable of flaying flesh from bone with little effort. Spider-Man back flipped away from striking range easily. "To slow bird brain!" He insulted.
Vulture settled on the flat rooftop, every single muscle urging him to jump and kill his enemy. "Do you think you're funny you little snot bag? Huh? Do ya?"
"Funny enough for your intellect!" Spider-Man exclaimed. The truth was, he either made bad jokes and puns, or just wet his little tights when fighting.
Peter jump kicked at The Vulture, excepting to hear the crack of his faceplate as it shattered from the force of the blow, and the heavy thump of his body slamming against the buildings roof.
What he hadn't expected was for the far more experienced fighter to side step to the right and grab the back his leg and use his own momentum against him to throw him away. In
Spidey's flight, his shoulder clipped the rooftop exit/entrance, sending waves of tear jerking pain through his body.
He skipped across the roof, sending more pain coursing through his young form before he slammed to a stop against the raised edge of the building. A rather disturbing cracking sound came from Spider-Man's other shoulder.
Spider-Man rolled onto his side, moaning and groaning and trying his hardest not to break out a series of choice swear words that would make a sailor blush. The worst part was that he was in too much pain to notice his spider-sense blaring on high as Adrian angrily stalked over to his huddled form.
The fifteen year old was yanked up into the air by the back of his neck. The Vulture's blood caked talons gripped him in a chokehold, cutting off airflow and blood to his brain. The young superhero struggled vainly in The Vultures vice-like grasp.
"Still alive? I'll fix that." Vulture slammed Spider-Man against the side of the rooftop access repeatedly with bone jarring force. Peter began to taste a sickly, metallic fluid building up in his mouth.
Blood. He realized to his absolute horror. My blood. Oh my God, I could die. No. No. "NO!" Spider-Man cried and lashed out with a furious left jab at Adrian's protected face. The chances that the blow would actually connect were slim at best given Adrian's greater arm length Peter would have no chance of hitting him. However, Adrian had pulled his arm back to slam Peter back into the wall again. Still, the blow would not have hit if not for the elongated helmet.
There was a sudden cracking noise, followed by the sound of breaking glass. The Vulture's jet-black facemask exploded into a million little fragments. The Vulture reeled backward back, unintentionally letting go of Spider-Man. Fragments of his mask were imbedded in his face. Blood poured from his cheeks and forehead on a steady stream of crimson.
Spider-Man got his first look at the man behind the mask. His face was narrow and thin, almost skeleton like. His eyes were small and beaded. His nose, unsurprisingly, was like a deformed bird beak.
"You little..! That hurt!" Screamed Vulture.
KA-CRACK!
The wooden door suddenly broke out as the SWAT team flooded out. They raised their assault rifles at the two combatants.
"Freeze both of you!" Order one of the Special Weapons And Tactics team, member.
"Ah come on! I'm the good guy! He's the homicidal killer! How have you not noticed this?" Spider-Man asked frustrated.
"I have no patience for this!" The Vulture cried before bounding over the side of the building much to the shock of the gathered. Then, there was a blur shooting up into the air. The Vulture flew away.
"Look, you can either arrest me, or let me go and catch that psycho! He didn't just kill those guys in the hotel, but a whole lot of people last Friday, remember? So if he gets away, anymore deaths are on your heads!" Spider-Man warned. The SWAT Team lowered their weapons, letting the teen hero go.
Under his mask, Spider-Man smiled. He turned around and jumped as far as he could off the roof. The incredible jump landed him clear on the side of the street and almost side-by-side with the escaping maniac.
"You're not getting away this time!" Spider-Man latched the end of a web line onto Vulture ankle, which became tight as he continued to fly away. Every once of Spider-Man's strength went into keeping hold of the web line. His sticking ability kept his feet on the ground, giving him more of an advantage in this game of tug and war.
The bird suited man jerked to a sudden stop. "What the hell? Again with this? Fine I'll jus-WAH!" Adrian was pulled from the air, with great force by Peter. Mere moments before he would have hit Spider-Man, the costumed youth jumped up and kicked down with both legs as his enemy passed under him.
Like two similarly charged magnets, the two shot apart. The Vulture smashed into the rooftop, while Spider-Man was forced into the air by his own attack.
Spider-Man fired down a single strand of web next to Vultures head and pulled up on the elastic web silk, causing him to rapidly descend toward his target with his arm pulled back for a bone breaking punch.
This was not to be however, as The Vulture rolled to the left, making the meddling brats fist hit the hard rough roof. A small crater formed around Peter's fist, making him swear in pain.
The Vulture had rolled over on his chest and pushed himself onto all fours after dodging what most likely, have been the finishing blow. The Vulture struck Peter in the face with a weak backhand, which still had enough force to make him reel in pain and shock.
The insane assassin shifted his weight to the right side of his lanky body and pushed away, sending himself into a rapid spin over his pained enemy. When he landed on all fours again, he sprung up like a striking cobra and delivered a painful kick to Spider-Man's gut. Spider-Man was lifted up by six inches by the powerful blow before dropping back down, like, a stone.
Quickly, Adrian grabbed Spider-Man by his arm and jerked him up. Still holding his arm, The Vulture grabbed him by his triceps and twisted his hip into Spider-Mans chest. Using this as leverage, The Vulture lifted Spider-Man onto his back and threw him off the building.
The red and black, garbed hero slam against the other building, knocking the air out of his lungs. With a mist of pain shrouding his mind, he was unaware that he had fallen from the wall and rapidly approaching the ground. An impact, he would most likely, not survive in his current state.
His spider-sense snapped him back to reality with a sensation akin to being stabbed in the brain stem by a dull, rusted butter knife. He put every bit of his reflexes into one move. Spider-Man grabbed onto the bottom ladder of a fire escape and held on as hard as he could.
Gravity kept pulling Spider-Man downward, even though he had effectively stopped his descent, the speed he was falling, and his own body worked against him as his shoulder was pulled out if its socket with a sickening pop, and the ladder gave way, ripping itself free of the corroded blots that held it on to the fire escape.
Spider-Man hit the ground hard on his dislocated shoulder, seconds before the heavy ladder impacted his legs. He pushed the ladder of weakly and with some difficulty, stood up, clutching his arm.
He looked up at the Vulture who stood at the edge of the building, looking down at the injured hero. Blood dripped down from his cut face, twisted in anger. "What do I have to do to kill you? I'm going to rip out your intestines and strewn them out over the city!"
Spider-Man broke into a run down the ally, shouting behind him, "Didn't you use that line already? Get some new material jerk wad!" Spider-Man ducked down one of the branching paths between buildings. Ten feet down it he stopped and turned around.
"Please God, let this work because I don't have the strength left to fight!"
Adrian jumped from the roof, using his back mounted jets to slow his decent. The alleyway was far too narrow to fly. Vulture landed running after his target, blood pumping to his legs, and arms.
Titanium talons clicked and clacked furiously on the moist concrete path, echoing through the tall, odd smelling ally. He shot down the path he had seen Spider-Man take. His eyes narrowed. There stood the pest that had plagued him, some seventy-odd feet away slumped on the ground.
"You're mine kid!" The Vulture screamed. The Vulture jumped with his arms out stretched. His jets came to life and pushed him forward for a powered leap, which would carry him all the way to the other side of the ally.
His vision, colored red, he did not see thin strands of silver reflected in the dim light. He did not see the large, tangled mass spread before him. He did however feel himself hit it. The thick but almost invisible mass of webbing flexed outward as Adrian Toomes slammed against. Some of the anchoring threads connected to the walls snapped away, but not enough to endanger the integrity of the whole.
Adrian screamed and cursed when the web snapped back with him still snared in its sticky strands. He twisted and struggled within the organic net, ripping it further from the walls and ground, and continued to entangle himself more and more. Finally, the web snapped from its holding places on the walls and, with Adrian trapped quite secularly in it.
The Vulture was not in comfortable position. In his struggling, he had got his right arm stuck behind his head, his left arm poking the side of his right eye after wrapping around his head and over lapping his right arm. Both of his wings were thoroughly torn and damaged by his own doings. His left leg was forced straight out in front of him while his right leg was pulled back.
The position of his arms were making it exceptionally difficult too breathe as they were pushing his head down into his chest, similar to but not to the intensity of how crucifixion caused severe difficulty in breathing, leading to eventual lung collapse.
Spider-Man stood up on shaky legs and shuffled over to the fallen villain. "Finally! You were a lot more annoying to beet than the average punk with a gun! And now, I am going to put my arm back in its socket while I am still on the tail end, of my adrenalin high." Spider-Man grabbed his right arm, which hung like cooked spaghetti noodles. With a deep breath, he shoved his arm upward and inward with a popping sound.
He stood there for a few seconds stalk still. Then…
"GGGGGAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
"What the Hell was that!?" J. Johan Jameson shouted from his office in the Daily Bugle building. The cigar that was firmly clamped in-between his jaws (To Hell with no smoking signs!) had nearly fallen out of his mouth from the sudden, shocking shout.
Robby Robison, the assistant chief editor of the quote nationally recognized newspaper unquote, shrugged. "A dying bird?" He suggested in jest.
"Hahaha, very funny Roberts. Reminds me, we haven't gotten any decent pictures of that Spider-Freak have we?"
"No one has Jonah." Robbie said scratching his nose. "Just to hard to get a good picture of him, unlike the other Heroes."
"Heroes? Bah! Menaces, all of 'em! The Avengers, Fantastic Four, the X-Men, all menaces to society! You want a real hero, look at my son, the astronaut! He's a real American hero, not like that Spider-Freak! And by God, I want pictures of him! Expose the truth about him! I got it! We put up a reward form photographs of. Good ones, not crappy little cell phone pictures! Always blurry and half-assed looking pieces of crap!"
"Still haven't figured out your camera phone?"
"Shut up!"
George Stacy shook his head as more body bags past him. Each and everyone, of the people in that room had been gutted and butchered. The guy that did this was almost as bad as Cletus Cassidy. Almost.
"Hey! What's that up there?"
George looked at the man who had shouted and saw him pointing up at the sky. He looked and saw that kid from before, swinging on what seemed to be thin, silvery rope. Trailing from behind him, tied up in a nice little bundle was what George guessed to be the same man that had flown out of the room earlier.
He swung in low and the police and now gathered media parted for fear of being hit by this mysterious superhero. At the bottom of his swing arc, which was roughly four feet from the ground he dropped his package, which hit the ground hard, before he began to ascend away.
The red and black clothed man let go of the rope and flew through the air for but a few short seconds before another rope actually shot from his hand and continued away.
Spider-Man landed on a rooftop some distance away from where he had dropped The Vulture. Pidgins had flown away in panic when he landed and then collapsed with a thud. His entire body was screaming with pain and agony. Spider-Man found himself barely able to draw a breath.
He could feel warmth grow around the side of his head. Ever so slowly, he sat up, feeling pain charge in his nerves once more. Ever so carefully, the mask hero pulled his head covering away. When the fabric touched his bottom lip, he winced in minor pain, and when it slid all the way past where the warm spot had originated, a sharp pain racked his mind, nearly making his pass out.
With the mask finally off, Spider-Man, no, Peter touched the side if his head. He moaned quietly and pulled away his hand. Peter's gloved fingers were slick with blood. Crap. He'd really been messed up.
He was probably bleeding elsewhere as well. How could be explain this away to Aunt May? Peter would have to tell her. Peter had always intended to from the start but he…he couldn't think of a way to explain it all.
Oh God, his friends! It might be easier to tell them! Especially Gwen, Peter could tell her anything and she could keep it a secret. That was one of the things he found attractive about her; she was cute and sexy, yet level headed and loyal. A quality that is very hard to come by in this day and age.
Ah, Peter felt like he was about to puke, made worse by the fact that he would have to tell Aunt May everything.
Suddenly, there was a heavy thump, like someone jumping onto the rooftop, from behind Peter. He scrambled to put his mask back on not noticing his spider-sense was silent.
"What happened to you?" Came a deep, grating male voice. The speaker walked around to Peter's front and Peter tried to get up and get away, but half way up, he collapsed…right into the mans arms.
"Fuck, You're going to bleed to death. Wound's, all over you, bleeding badly at some places. I know someone that can patch you up pretty well. Might save your life. And after that, me and you are going to have a long talk." The man slung Peter's arm over his neck and picked him up.
"Who…who are you?" Peter queried weakly.
"Call me Dare Devil."
"V-viva la Dues ex Machina." Peter groaned, fighting his hardest not black out.
Whew! Almost eighteen pages! Though not nearly the largest I've ever written, I was rather challenged with this chapter, trying to make everything go right and have a big, climatic battle between The Vulture and Spider-Man.
Please give me feed back and checkout the stories that I plugged ever so blatantly!
Whoa, whoa, whoa! You plugged? Please I was the one doing all the talking in this !?&-poor excuse for literature!
Oh, high Deadpool.
Don't high me! My dialogue sucked! Come on, "Little lady?" really? God you suck! I want my (!- cookie and discount card for the Nasty Kitty!
All right here's your precious cookie!
Yippy! Crunch, Mow where's ma paas to the Crunch, 'Asty 'Itty?
All right, I'll still need to do a few more things befor-
WHAT!? Oh come the & on man! Do you realize how crappy my life has gotten over at Marvel man? I got my kicked by freakin' Hulkling and Wichan-
Both of whom you noted as looking and I quote, "more nubile".
had my best friend blown up saving my worthless , which I am really hoping they decide to pull a Superman and bring him back to life. And to top it all off, you keep (#& censoring me!
All right, how about this, two cookies and the pass to the Nasty Kitty once this is all said and done.
Chocolate chip?
Chocolate chip.
All right. See ya, I got a job to decapitate a guy's topiary over in California. I think I might castrate Tom Cruise while I'm there/ Don't need him breeding again..
In full agreement from this guy. Hey, shoot him in the kneecaps, and you get three cookies.
Done.
Well, on with the teaser for the next chapter, Wings of Death Part Five: Cleaning Out the Cage.