Rikers Island
Richard Fisk dusted off his suit and sighed softly as he was led to the visiting room by the police officer. He didn't have any desire to be here but his father's call had been urgent. He hadn't even been in jail for a full week yet and he was already crying for a visit. The walk to the visiting room was irritating and soon Richard grew to hate the sound of his own shoes as they walked down the concrete hallway. Finally, they made it to the visiting room and the officer looked at Richard and then to his father, Wilson. Richard nodded and the officer closed the door behind him as he stood outside, guarding them. Richard sat down in front of his father and crossed his legs, propping his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his head in his hand. He was attempting to look as bored as possible.
"You called?" Richard said. His father, larger than Richard had remembered him, growled under his breath.
"Of course I called, you smug little shit." he said. Wilson pursed his lips together and then sighed softly. "I'm sorry. I'm just extremely...stressed right now." Richard's eyes traced around the room and he chuckled to himself. A small, cramped room would make a big man stressed. Richard held his tongue. He didn't want to annoy his father anymore than his presence already warranted...not intentionally anyway.
"It's fine." Richard said waving his free hand. He then sighed. "The entire underworld is on edge now with you caught up by the feds. Couple of your underlings are on the verge of fighting for the top spot." Richard said. Wilson narrowed his eyes.
"And where are you in all of this?" he asked. Richard chuckled.
"Oh, Father. You know I'll fight for your precious Fisk Empire. It's my inheritance after all and somebody has to clean up the slop left behind." Wilson Fisk groaned and stood up from his chair and paced around the room. He banged his fist against the palm of his hand.
"If it wasn't for that damned Foswell..." Wilson said. Richard shook his head. Here his father went blaming everyone except himself for his shortcomings again...
"If you claim the name 'Kingpin', then the least you can be is absolutely untouchable." Richard said. Wilson cast his angry gaze down at his son. Richard didn't flinch at all.
"I don't need advice from a spoiled shit like you." Wilson said contemptuously. Richard furrowed his eyebrows.
"Then what the hell did you call me here for?" he asked. Wilson spun around as fast as his body would allow.
"Because I have orders for you, that's why. I want you to round up the Enforcers and get my city back under control. Then, I want you to-" Richard raised a hand and shook his head.
"Can't do that. The Enforcers are trying to take a part of New York for their own as well." Richard said. His father looked equally dumbfounded and enraged. Wilson Fisk's lips quivered and he growled.
"All the money I paid those motherfuckers and I couldn't earn their loyalty?!" he yelled. When the guard peeked inside the room, Fisk shooed him away and lowered his voice. "What the hell..." he said, quieter but no less angry.
"Money only earns loyalty when it's constantly coming, Father. You're in jail. None of your connections care about you now. Sure, you could probably attempt to get someone to pull some strings while you're inside, but with your charges...there's not much that can be done. Gang assault, robbery, bribery, money laundering, murder in the first degree, drug trafficking, attempted murder, criminal sale of controlled substances...the list goes on and on." Richard said. Wilson was fuming.
"Then what the hell do you suggest I do?" Wilson Fisk asked. Richard shrugged.
"The feds are going to be investigating all your extracurricular activities for a little bit. Two of your crimes were committed and confessed on video and audio. Unfortunately for you, while you may have made 'friends' because of your money, you failed to be a decent enough human being to have actual friends. Nobody is willing to put their neck out for you, Father." Richard replied. Wilson Fisk sat back down in his chair and sighed softly. Richard couldn't help but feel a small bit of sympathy for his father.
"Then it's over?" Wilson asked, softly. Richard sighed.
"This isn't California, Father. And these aren't your same 'friends'. You were clever enough to pay to have your records expunged before you decided to move your operations to New York. You would've been fine here as well, but-" Richard said. Wilson nodded his head and glared upwards.
"Spider-Man..." the foul hatred in his voice was palpable. Richard nodded.
"Yes, Spider-Man. You didn't realize this until it was too late, but the most powerful person in New York isn't you. It's him. And what did you tell me about making friends with powerful people?" Richard said. Wilson smiled distantly.
"Use powerful people to gain power." Wilson said. Richard nodded.
"It goes against Machiavellian principles, of course, but in this case, it would've saved your ass. You made enemies of the wrong person and friends with the weak of heart. Instead of trying to have Spider-Man killed, you should've had Spider-Man work for you. Everyone is malleable with enough money, Father. At least you seemed to know that much." Richard said. He then stood up, fixed his suit and patted his father on the shoulder. "I'll pay a visit to the Enforcers and Mr. Foswell and see what I can do for the remnants of your ruined, little empire. In the meantime, you might as well get comfortable. You should see if you can get a pretty room set up as your cell instead of this squalor." Richard said.
Wilson Fisk looked up at his son with an odd mix of pride and disgust. "How did you become such a conniving bastard?" he asked. Richard Fisk smiled as he stood up and went towards the door. He turned back towards his father and chuckled softly.
"What can I say, Father? I was born to be a schemer."
Parker Residence, Forest Hills, Queens
Peter loved snow days. Partially because he got to stay at home away from the mindless fools at school but mostly because Mary Jane always found a way to come over to his house and spend the day with him. Aunt Mae never minded. She was actually thrilled to have another female in the house. The two of them often had entire conversations before Mary Jane would even come to Peter's room, which meant Peter would have to stand in a corner, awkwardly waiting. When Mary Jane finally did make it to his room, they watched an endless barrage of good and then shitty movies, old cartoons and documentaries. Peter smirked when he realized that he was helping Mary Jane discover her nerdy side.
After the initial joy of having Mary Jane over had decreased, Peter opened his laptop and went to the Daily Bugle website and saw the story that Ben Urich wrote about the Kingpin and his investigation into his identity. Skimming through, Peter smiled and chuckled at some obvious at Jameson that probably drove the tyrannical Spider-Man loather into a rage. Peter also noticed only minor praise of Spider-Man. He frowned. Was Urich honestly going to take all of the credit? Probably. Wasn't like Peter could go out in public and claim that he was present at the scene. He already had suspicions that Urich might have a clue who he was. Peter just hoped that Urich didn't make discovering Spider-Man's identity an obsession like bringing down the Kingpin had been.
"I think you should change it." Mary Jane said randomly. Peter came out of his thoughts and turned from his computer and look over at his girlfriend. She was holding his costume in her hand and looking at it disapprovingly. Peter raised an eyebrow.
"Change my costume?" Mary Jane stared at him.
"No, your gender." she said dryly. Peter's mouth dropped and he stared with confusion.
"Wait, what?" he asked. Mary Jane rolled her eyes.
"Of course your costume, slowpoke." she said. Peter breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to her and playfully snatched his costume away before holding it up next to him.
"But it's the Spider-Man costume. If I change it, people will think I'm an impostor."
"Until you do your crazy, spider super-heroics."
"Anybody could do my crazy, spider super-heroics."
"Not unless they were bitten by a radioactive spider." Mary Jane smirked. Peter laughed and threw his hands up.
"That's not even what happened!" Mary Jane giggled.
"I know where you got your 'stick 'em' powers, tiger." she said. Peter smiled. She was using one of his phrases again and she called him "tiger". Peter slunk over towards her and climbed on top of his bed. Mary Jane smiled as he closed in on her and Peter kissed her softly. He then laid down on his bed and Mary Jane laid next to him. Mary Jane made a circle around his chest. Peter felt a titillating shudder crawl up his spine. Desperately, Peter wanted to divert Mary Jane's attention away from seducing him. His aunt was home and he had gotten the closest he wanted to get to crossing over into the "realm of adulthood" as his aunt once called it.
"Flash asked me a couple of days ago to try and help him get Felicia." Peter said. At the mention of Felicia's name, Mary Jane stiffened and Peter grimaced as she looked up at him. She then looked away and shrugged.
"They'd make a decent couple. The hoe that tries to steal boyfriends and the asshole that can't keep his pants zipped up. Match made in Heaven." Mary Jane said. He had a mind to defend Felicia but to do so would be both pointless and dangerous, especially considering that what Mary Jane said was technically true, regardless of her harshness. Besides, arguing in favor of another girl would probably be the button that set MJ off. Peter was ready to try and take the conversation into another place but the smell of dinner being prepared piqued his interest.
"Something smells delicious." Peter said. Mary Jane poked his side.
"You're fat." she remarked. Peter feigned an appalled expression.
"Why I never!" he said with a horrible British accent. "I'll have you know I have the physique of an Olympic athlete."
"And the appetite of seven Sumo wrestlers. Seriously, no wonder Aunt Mae has to make such large meals." Mary Jane said with a small laugh. Peter shook his head.
"My metabolism is just fast. I wonder if it's because of my powers." Peter muttered.
"That's possible. Your body does have to perform at a higher level now."
"That is true." Peter said as his stomach growled. "All I know is that I'm hungry." Peter almost whined. Mary Jane shook her head and hit Peter in his arm.
"Quit being a baby." she laughed. Peter distinctly heard the setting down of plates and rose from his bed. MJ eyed him then followed him down the steps to the kitchen. Aunt Mae had only placed a few plates down and Peter rushed to her side to help her.
"Let me get that, Aunt Mae." Peter said, grabbing two giant ceramic bowls. One filled with steamed red potatoes and the other with collard greens. Peter tried not to salivate all over the food. Mary Jane helped as well and seeing that her work was done, Aunt Mae sat down and waited for Peter and MJ to set the food down. When they were done, the two teens sat down.
Aunt Mae smiled and reached for their hands. After she said the grace, she began to fill everyone's plate with food and Peter watched in anticipation as the food piled up. As he sat his food in front of him, he prepared to eat to his heart's content.
Itis in 3, 2, 1...
Gravesend Bay, Old Warehouse
Fancy Dan exhaled a puff of smoke and sighed. He loved and hated this fucking warehouse. Gravesend Bay had developed a horrible reputation over the past couple of years. Nobody came around here if they wanted to avoid getting a bullet popped into their ass cheeks. Kingpin had known this when he set up his imports to come from here and now that the pigs had got to him, this little warehouse would be his temporary base of operations now. This little jagged, dilapidated warehouse.
"Everybody's here that's gonna show, Danny." Montana said. Fancy Dan turned and faced the room full of mooks and wannabe gangsters. He smirked. These eager shits wouldn't even know what hit them. Fancy Dan threw his cigarette aside and stepped forward. Ox and Montana stood at his side.
"Alright, listen up!" the diminutive man. "Since you received our open invitation to join our little family, there's three things I want you to know. One, we are heading into a city-wide war. Two, how you act during this war will determine whether or not we accept you into our ranks and three-" Fancy Dan heard the door to the warehouse slide open and the clicking of shoe soles on the ground. Turning, Fancy Dan's jaw dropped. It was Richard Fisk.
"Dantel Caricato." the redheaded man said as he slowly walked forward. Fancy Dan's expression fell as he saw that the intruder was accompanied by a group of armed men. His wannabe recruits outnumbered them greatly but against automatic weapons, they didn't stand a chance.
"So, you're the new head of the 'Fisk Empire', huh? " Fancy Dan said gruffly, attempting to save face. Ox and Montana shifted uncomfortably. Richard Fisk shrugged his shoulders.
"It would seem like it. Unfortunately, Father is a tad indisposed, no doubt thanks to his loyal Enforcers." Richard's words stank of venomous sarcasm. Fancy Dan knew exactly what he was implying.
"Look, Rick, if this about your babbo getting caught up with feds, I can assure of one thing. The Enforcers didn't have anything to do with it." Fancy Dan said. Richard Fisk nodded.
"Sure, sure...but how does the personal bodyguard of a crime boss not get indicted? From my understanding, you three weren't even present at the building when Father was caught." Richard Fisk said. Fancy Dan glanced back at Ox and Montana, then looked back to Richard.
"We were here. Kingpin told us he had another shipment coming in." Fancy Dan said. A lie. One that Richard Fisk easily saw through.
"Odd. My father may not be the cleanest, or smartest, criminal...but even he wouldn't use a known illegal drug import zone. In fact, after the fiasco here last time, he cut off his connect until he had dealt with the vexing, costumed duo." Richard Fisk said. Fancy Dan gulped. It was true that the Enforcers had been away from the building and they had been here at Gravesend Bay...but conducting their own business. Fancy Dan had no idea that that particular night would be the one Kingpin went down. Besides, the Kingpin had called The Hand. Had they failed at their job?
"What happened to The Hand? Didn't Kingpin hire them to handle them?" Fancy Dan inquired. Richard raised his head and rubbed his naked chin.
"Indeed, he did. You needn't worry about the money lost. I'll be refunded at least partway. Also, The Head of the Hand handles failures within his group, personally. A fact that I admire." Richard Fisk said. He then sighed as he rested his hands in his pocket. "I'll cut to the chase, gentlemen. You're all out." The Enforcers all stared forward in shocked silence until Montana spoke up.
"The hell you say?" he exclaimed.
"You. Are. Out." Richard repeated slowly. "Was that easier for you to understand? You aren't getting paid by the 'Fisk Empire' anymore." Richard said. Fancy Dan narrowed his eyes.
"That it? You just came to tell us we're unemployed?" Fancy Dan said. Richard shrugged nonchalantly.
"No, not exactly. There's also something else. You three are pretty capable as a team so...I'm not going to risk you being hired by anyone else." Richard Fisk's gunmen stepped forward beside him and aimed their weapons straight at Fancy Dan and his partners. Dan raised his hands.
"Whoa, whoa, what the fuck?!" he cried out. He then threw a distraught, desperate gaze at Richard. "Hey, Rick! C'mon! Give us another chance, amico!" Fancy Dan shouted. Richard shook his head.
"Sorry, Dantel. It's time I clean house." Richard said as he raised his hand and then dropped it. "Fire." The last thing that Fancy Dan heard was the clicking of rifles and the barrage of bullets ricocheting into his body...
Manhattan, New York
Oh my God, I am so full... Peter thought as he sluggishly swung from building to building. Going on patrol right after eating four plates of food was a horrible decision. Every time Peter swung downwards, his stomach lurched and he'd be goddamned if he threw up in his mask. He hoped that his food would digest soon. He had a lot of ground to cover around the city before he returned home. Just because there was snow that covered Lower Manhattan didn't mean that criminals would be deterred if they wanted to take action. Peter also wanted to keep a look out for any brave dealers on the corner.
Peter zoned out as he swung, his body instinctively dropping into the motion as he thought. Taking down the Kingpin had been a great accomplishment to him, but he couldn't help but fear that somehow, he'd make it out of prison. The man had major connections if his choice of assassins showed any kind of indication. He had brought in imports of drugs from God knows where, amassed an enormous fortune and escaped from any sort of justice, until now. Peter honestly couldn't believe that the police had intentionally avoided going after him. Urich had mentioned a certain Lieutenant George Stacy when they talked. Maybe Peter had to have a conversation with him. Then again, following a police lieutenant to his house and questioning him in the manner he had done to Urich would really put a foul taste in the mouth of the law.
Peter wondered how he could possibly get the police to accept him. He never waited around long enough for them to show up and take the criminals he captured in his webs into custody. Peter couldn't exactly be everywhere and he needed to be sure that the police could handle their end. He did have a life outside of being Spider-Man, no matter how shallow it was. Peter just didn't know how he should go about it. The most contact he had had with the police was when he first, officially showed up as Spider-Man and battled the Lizard...and ended up in an alley with deep gouges in his ribs. And that was before he had gotten hit by Harry's car.
I miss Harry. I should go by ESU one day and see him. Provided, he doesn't act like he doesn't know me...which he might. Peter sighed and swung to the top of a building and landed on the roof. He looked around the city and watched as the cars passed below him on the street. From here, he could see the bright lights of Times Square illuminated in the dark and snowy night.
"Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Webs." a voice purred. Peter nearly jumped out of his suit and whirled around to see the amused face of Felicia behind him. Her emerald green eyes flickered with laughter as Peter stared forward, speechless. How the hell was she able to sneak past his spider-sense? Usually, his brain would've been vibrating like a giant phone until he couldn't see. Why wasn't it doing now? Did he subconsciously not recognize Felicia as a threat?
If my subconscious was Mary Jane, it would've definitely buzzed. Peter thought with a sad laugh. "Uh...how'd you find me?" Peter asked. Felicia smiled and pointed to her nose.
"I kind of smelled you. Still wearing the same body spray, huh?" she purred. Peter narrowed his eyes. He definitely had to change his body spray now. But he couldn't. It was his favorite, especially since Mary Jane loved it. Sacrifices had to be made.
"Yeah..." Peter replied sheepishly. He then shook his head. "So, how have you been?" Peter asked as Felicia came forward and sat beside him.
"I'm alright, I suppose. Fat Fisk is in prison right now and facing either life or the death penalty, so I can't complain too much." Felicia replied with a shrug. Peter rubbed his head.
"You really think he'll actually be convicted? I mean, the guy does have connections..." Peter said. Felicia looked up thoughtfully.
"Who knows? He probably will. Our justice system is a giant middle finger to society at times, but the evidence is there." she said. Peter nodded.
"Unless he makes it disappear, which might happen." Peter said.
"The only thing Fisk's been able to make disappear is a bucket full of fried chicken or a box of donuts." Felicia laughed.
"Stop, you're making me nauseous." Peter replied with a chuckle. The very thought of food, especially envisioning Wilson Fisk eating donuts and a buck of chicken was making him feel a little sick. Felicia edged closer to him and tugged at his cheek.
"Aaaw, Mr. Webs squeamish?" Felicia said in a mocking, babyish voice. Peter playfully slapped her hand away.
"No, not at all. I've seen and fought things that'll make your skin crawl." Peter said. Felicia looked interested and Peter grinned. "For one, I fought Flash once." Peter said.
"Who?" Felicia asked.
"Uh...big, dumb, blonde jock. Really dumb." Peter replied. "Is the Alpha male dumbs in a group of Betas." Felicia then nodded and pointed at Peter as if her description actually made sense to her.
"I know who you're talking about. That boy's been staring at me ever since I came to New Midtown. Like, Christ alive, I'd rather the ravenous wolves talk to me than stare." Felicia said, shaking her head. Peter chuckled.
"Well, funny thing is...he actually does want to talk to you. He just doesn't know exactly how to approach you." Peter said. Felicia laughed, a rather scornful one.
"What, Mr. Badass Lady's Man can't figure out how to come to lil' ole me?" Felicia replied sarcastically, waving her hand dismissively. "Whatever." she then looked over at Peter as if she just realized something. "How do you know this anyway? Do your spider powers combo come with a side of telepathy?" Felicia asked. Peter shrugged.
"No...but he did tell me he liked you. I haven't a damn clue why Flash would tell me that. I don't really care about his romantic life." Peter said. Felicia narrowed her eyes and Peter felt like he was being scanned. Could Felicia tell if he was lying? Thankfully, it seemed like she couldn't. Either that or she just happened to want to go along with Peter's story.
"Well, there are three things wrong with Flash trying to talk to me." Felicia said. "One, Flash is a dog. I haven't been at New Midtown for very long but I've already heard through the little birds that fly around the school about how many girls Flash has tried to talk to or had sex with. Not exactly my cup of tea."
Peter nodded. That was very understandable. He had known Flash since they were in elementary school and even then, he had been the object of female affection. Instead of being a chaste, responsible hero, Flash had instead decided to exploit female affection to gain what he wanted. Peter didn't understand the appeal of having multiple women, although he didn't mind having a couple of admirers. Just so long as they weren't obsessively stalking him.
"Two," Felicia continued. "Flash is an idiot. I don't know if it's the multiple blows to the head from football or the combination of weed and liquor, but the guy is slow. I need someone with a sharp mind that can respond to my sarcastic little quips." Felicia said. Peter nodded again as he awaited Felicia's third point. A chill started to crawl up Peter's spine and it wasn't because of the arctic winds blowing above the New York skyline. Felicia was creeping close again.
"And finally, three," Peter gulped as Felicia grabbed at the neck of his mask as began to lift it. The frigid air blasted his neck, chin, and lips as Felicia slowly rolled his mask upwards until it was directly under his nose. Peter knew exactly what was coming. He didn't need his spider-sense to tell that the situation was growing more and more dangerous. "I've only got eyes for you, Mr. Webs." Felicia purred.
Peter felt Felicia's hands cup his face as she pulled him closer. He felt her warm breath as she exhaled softly as she closed in on his mouth. Part of him was about to just let it happen. Felicia was mere millimeters away from him now. There wasn't anyone here. It was just them. Nobody would know. But he would. Peter turned his head at the last second and Felicia's lips grazed against his cheek. When Peter looked back up at her, he could see the stunned expression on her face. Peter shook his head.
"I can't." he said. Felicia frowned.
"What do you mean?" her voice was confused and hurt and Peter felt his own heart reach out to her. He had never done anything like this before. Never in his life had two females been interested in him and now he had to choose, no, he had made his choice.
"I can't do this with you. I mean, you're beautiful, intelligent, funny, powerful and independent...but I can't be with you." Peter said. Felicia inhaled sharply.
"Why not? Is it because of her?" Felicia spat scornfully. Peter was conflicted even now, not of his feelings, but in delivering this news to Felicia. How should he tell her? How would he tell her? That was the real question. Peter sighed. He really had no option. He had to deliver the blunt truth.
"Yes, it is. Mary Jane is my girlfriend, Felicia. I love her. Not kiddie, high school love. Love, like, 'I'd rather be with her than even be Spider-Man' love." Peter said. Felicia just shook her head.
"You said it yourself, Peter. You think I'm beautiful, intelligent, funny, powerful, and independent. We fought gangs and assassins together. We took down Fisk." Felicia said. She was growing desperate now, Peter could tell from her tone. "I could help you in ways that she couldn't. We would be happy together. You wouldn't have to worry about not spending time with me when you're being Spider-Man because I'd always be by your side! What does Mary Jane have that I don't!?" Felicia shouted.
Peter knew she was angry and hurt. He could feel her pain ebbing off of her. Peter had to admit that Felicia was a rare beauty. She was brazen and bold with a mind to pursue whatever she wanted. But, Peter hadn't fallen in love with her at first sight. Felicia was an amazing fighter and she had been instrumental in the takedown of Wilson Fisk, no matter how temporary it would or wouldn't be. He had enjoyed her company as well. But he had never been in her presence and felt like he was in heaven. Felicia was intelligent and actually hilarious, but Peter knew that her brash personality wouldn't gain her any favors with his aunt, the center of his world. But in the end, what did Mary Jane have that Felicia lacked?
Peter knew that there was only one answer to this.
"My heart." Peter replied. Felicia stared forward, dumbfounded and blank. Peter thought he saw a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Felicia quickly snapped out of her stupor and blinked. Before Peter could say any other word in consolation, Felicia rose to her feet and ran away before leaping from the top of the building. Peter bounded towards the edge to look and check on her and saw Felica swinging away on her grappling hook. Within a few seconds, she was gone. When he could see her no longer, Peter hung his head and sighed.
What the hell have I done...
Harlem, New York
Frederick Foswell sat in his newly refurbished office and sighed as he sat back and watched his television with his inner circle. The four of them were watching a boxing match that Foswell had fought when he was a younger man. He laughed as his friends exclaimed at the blows and exchanges.
"Goddamn. You almost took the boy's head off, bruh!" one man yelled. Another man laughed as the young Foswell started to get more and more punches in on his opponent.
"Damn, Lonnie's right. He really fuckin' him up." another man exclaimed.
"He's really bloody, dude." a third man spoke. The second man turned to him and snickered.
"You scared of a little blood, Macendale?" he said with a grin. The man known as Lonnie shook his head.
"Aye, Alan, leave little man alone." he said with a small chuckle. "No wonder people 'round here call you 'Mister Fear'. Always messing with a motherfucker." Lonnie said. Alan shrugged his shoulders and sat back.
"Just want to make sure I live up to my nickname." he said with a wide grin. Foswell looked over at the three men he considered brothers and sucked his teeth.
"So ya'll gonna just talk all through my fight video after you begged me to turn this shit on? That's how we actin' now?" he said. Lonnie laughed and was about to speak but everybody in the room froze. It was a gunshot. Foswell quickly reached underneath his desk and grabbed his favorite red and black Mossberg 930. The others in the room drew their guns and Foswell crept over to his television and turned it off. Macendale walked over to the window and peeked out of the blinds.
"There's a limo sitting outside...looks like the ones Fisk uses." Macendale said. Foswell's breath stopped. Had Wilson gotten out of jail that fast?
"We need to get the hell out of here." Foswell said. Everyone turned to him and stared skeptically.
"We running from Fisk? Why?" Alan asked. Foswell shook his head.
"Just get the fuck outside and get in my car. Come on!" Foswell said. Hearing the urgency in his voice, the three men finally conceded and headed out to the back lot of the building. Foswell's heart was racing. He thought that he'd have a few months before Wilson even had a chance to get out. They couldn't possibly have had a hearing on his case this fast. Foswell and his inner circle climbed down the steps quickly and made it to the back lot unscathed. Almost as soon as they did however, the sound of gunfire sailed into the air.
Foswell ducked behind a dumpster with Lonnie behind him. Macendale and Alan were closest to the car and Foswell urged them forward with his hand. He refused to die in an alley behind his building. Foswell popped up and the first shot he took blasted one of Fisk's men in the chest and blew him backwards. Lonnie stood next to him and fired several shots from his pistol into the group of men rushing forward, taking two down with amazing accuracy.
Foswell heard the revving of his car's engine and moved over towards it, giving himself and Lonnie some covering fire with his shotgun. Foswell dove into the back seat and Lonnie followed behind him. The car was getting riddled with bullets and Foswell thanked God that he had installed bulletproof tires onto his car.
"Drive, goddamn it, drive!" Foswell yelled. Macendale turned the car around and sped through the alley straight towards the group of men shooting at them. The windshield was shot out and Macendale ducked just in time to avoid gunfire. There was a giant thud as a body banged against the hood of Foswell's car. Soon, Macendale had driven the car out onto the street, drifting wildly as he merged into traffic, eliciting angry honks and jeers from the other drivers.
"Yeah, fuck you too, bitch!" Macendale yelled back. Foswell held his chest and sighed as he tucked his weapon down onto the floor. Lonnie turned towards him and his face was stern and undoubtedly full of questions.
"Now..." he said. "You gonna tell us what the f-" a giant, armored truck ran into the side of the car and Foswell's body rocketed upward onto the roof. The car flipped and Foswell went with it. He heard the sound of the windows breaking and his brothers yelling as the broken glass ripped into their flesh. The car seemed to roll for an eternity before it finally stopped. All Foswell could see was read and he tasted blood and glass in his mouth. His hands were ripped apart and he couldn't feel his arms. But he refused to be stuck in the car. Foswell heard the faint moaning of Alan in the passenger seat. His face was pressed the airbag and blood dripped slowly from his head.
Lonnie and Macendale didn't seem to be breathing. Foswell realized with horror as he attempted to move his friend out of the way that his neck was broken and his face scared. Foswell began to tear up. Lonnie had been his closest friend since they were children and now he was gone. Foswell sobbed as he pushed his way forward and crawled through the broken window. Shards of glass pressed against his stomach and leg until Foswell was out the car. He panted softly and looked around. The streets seemed to be empty all of the sudden. Foswell clenched his lip as he pulled forward. He would recover. He had to recover. He hoped someone had called the paramedics. They would come get his brothers and then they'd hunt down whoever did this.
Foswell heard the clicking of heels as they approached and looked up. A redheaded man casually sashayed up to the wreckage and looked around at it.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." he said with a twisted face of faux sympathy. "It really didn't have to be this messy." he sighed and pulled a rose-colored Beretta 96 from his belt and twirled it in his finger. Foswell spat blood from his mouth and then his eyes widened. It was him. Richard Fisk.
"Oh...my God." Foswell wheezed. The redheaded man giggled and crouched down next to Foswell.
"You realize who I am, do you?" he whispered as he then stood up and pointed his gun at Foswell's head. Foswell gulped, a mixture of blood, mucus and saliva. "You made a mess and mockery of the Fisk Empire. Like I told an old friend of mine earlier...it's time to clean house." With that, he pulled the trigger and Foswell's entire world faded to black.
Next, Gang Wars, Part 2