Holy crap in a box, I'm updating.
So this is the longest chapter I've ever done. Ever. Of any story. And I'm sorry if certain things dialogue wise aren't perfect to the game. I barely remember the dialogue... unless Joker is talking.
Also, I write this story under the impression that everyone reading it has played Arkham Origins. If you haven't, I hope you aren't too terribly lost.
By the wayski, I think I'm gonna hold of on pairings in this story. It just wouldn't work. Maybe next one, however!
Also, I wrote a Batman/Incredibles one-shot that needs some love. Go check it out!
Chapter II
Final Offer
Peter looked out at the scene before him.
He could tell the different gangs apart now. Black Mask's crew all wore dark clothing and skull masks on their heads. Penguin's men wore dark ski masks made up to look like penguin faces. Other criminals of the smaller gangs didn't bother to dress up in uniform.
Which suited Hammerhead's operations perfectly. He was planning on kicking off a bloody war this evening, and it was up to Spider-Man to stop it.
Right now, several guys were fighting over what seemed to be a shipment of drugs. The two factions fighting were Maroni men and South American mercenaries. Spidey frowned, but jumped into the fight before anyone got seriously hurt.
"Boys!" he called, getting a few of their attentions. "No need to fight! What say we settle our differences over a nice quiet game of golf, huh? Maybe two-hand touch football if you're still hyped up. Waddya say?"
"Get the freak!" one of Maroni's guys shouted.
"Oh, nice," Spider-Man said in a mock hurt voice. "I'm offended! You know, that actually is grounds for suit. You'll be hearing from my lawyer!" He punched the guy out. "Oops, assault and battery. Never mind, we're even."
"Who is this man?" one of the mercenaries asked, surprised at Spider-Man's agility.
"'Who are you, mysterious mask man?! Reveal yourself!'" he quoted. "Ah, good times. Well, not really, but the money was good."
There were a lot of guys, but fortunately they were busy fighting each other more than Spidey. By the time they figured out who was kicking their butts, there were only three guys left, two of Maroni's men, and one of the mercenaries.
And then there were none. Looking at his handiwork, Spider-Man felt the familiar buzz in the back of his neck. Glancing up, he noticed the crate of drugs they were fighting over.
At least, he thought they were drugs. But upon closer inspection, he saw that they were a compound more commonly used in labs. It was as of yet un-synthesized, but Peter's scientific mind could work out generally what the materials would do.
He heard a groan behind him. The last of the mercenaries was still conscious, and was crawling away.
"Uh, uh, uh," Spidey said, walking over to him and lifting him up. "I wanna know something. This crate… what's in it?"
"Eh… I will never talk… payaso," the mercenary said, panting heavily. Spidey brought his face closer to his mask, so that the man's vision was filled with the large, blank, white eyes.
"You know why they call me Spider-Man?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Because… spiders are one of mankind's worst phobias. Look it up. Now, knowing that… do you really want to know what I can do to you?"
There was a brief pause, in which the man's ragged breathing was the only sound. Spider-Man started to lift up his other hand.
"No!" the man screamed, flinching. "Por favor… please, I will talk! These crates… they are coming from Santa Prisca! A man called Bird is delivering them here to Gotham! Por favor, that is all I know!"
"Really?" Spider-Man said. "Who are you working for?"
"We serve Bane!" the mercenary moaned, and tears were falling down his cheeks. "I will be forever disgraced!"
"Don't worry," Spidey said consolingly. "I've been disgraced for years. Read the Daily Bugle. It's kinda fun after a while."
And with that, he slammed his forearm into the man's head, knocking him out.
"Wow," he said, and his breath was shaky. "That… actually worked. For the record, hombre, I had no idea what I was gonna do to you. I'm not the evil interrogator kind of guy."
But now he had a name. Two names. Bird… and Bane.
That's just something I'll have to keep my eye out for. I literally have no way of finding out important things in this city.
He glanced up, and saw a radio broadcasting tower a little ways off. Emblazoned on the side were the letters GCR.
Hey, maybe I can rig up some radio bugs to plant on the towers, intercept important frequencies? Like, the police radio, and whoever's using long-range communication?
He moved toward the building, but stopped when he heard gunshots. He froze, trying to pin down where they were coming from. His head slowly turned, seeing…
An old, decrepit ocean-liner, with the name Final Offer emblazoned on the side. The distant echo of the firearms was coming from the interior. Spidey's sense of hearing was slightly amplified than normal humans.
Sounds like trouble. Probably none of my business. But then again, most of the stuff I get up to is.
Spidey shot a web toward the ship, going to investigate. The GCR Tower could wait.
Inside the ship, Batman was dealing with the source of the main arms trade in Gotham City.
Which basically meant he was shutting down Penguin's operations. Once he had tracked down "Loose Lips" in JezebelPlaza, and after a rough interrogation session, he had learned that Oswald Cobblepot based his operations on this seemingly abandoned ocean-liner. A quick deal with the guards outside and inside proved otherwise.
Now he was heading for the boiler deck, where there were apparently cage fights going down.
He observed the scene before him. Several men were in the center of the boiler deck, surrounded by cheering spectators. The fighting was getting brutal, but nothing yet on the level that Batman was used to. It was time to shut it down.
Batman dropped down into the center of the deck, and everyone began shouting louder for a brief second before the sounds died away.
"Where's Cobblepot?" he asked loudly, his voice dark and commanding. Up top, he noticed Tracey, one of Cobblepot's assistants, gazing down.
"Well, well, well… the Dark Knight. Mister Cobblepot's not expecting you right now. But someone else is."
"I don't have time for this," Batman said. He knew that she would know where her boss was, but unfortunately, he was in no position to question her effectively. "Tell me where he is and I won't hurt you."
At that moment, the cheering erupted again, but it wasn't for Batman. Jumping down in the boiler deck, Lester Buchinsky, better known as the Electrocutioner, charged up his suit.
"Looks like I'm gonna be collecting that bounty," he said in an uncultured accent. "I'm gonna kill you… jumpstart your heart… and then kill you again."
He was making a grand show, and the men around them were loving it. His electricity seemed to focus itself in his gloves, which must have been shock-proof. Batman observed him for a minute.
CRACK.
Electrocutioner was lying on the floor, his eyes closed, blood trickling out of his mouth. Batman had barely noticed the impact through his armored gauntlet. One knock-out punch was all that was needed.
The crowd around him fell deadly silent. He looked up at them all.
"Where is Cobblepot?" he repeated loudly.
Spider-Man cautiously traversed through the interior of the Final Offer.
The sounds of activity were always just ahead of him, but as he entered the next room, it was always empty. Until the bodies started showing up.
In nearly every room he entered, unconscious men were strewn around. He checked the pulses on a few of them, satisfying himself that they were still alive. But the brutality with which they had been dispatched made him wince.
Who did this? Is he still in the ship?
Something shiny caught his eye. He walked over to the corner of the room, which was the gun shop. On the ground was what looked like a metal boomerang. It was shaped like…
That looks like a bat.
Peter felt his heart beat faster, his pulse quickening. Here, at last. He was about to meet the Batman.
Maybe. Or maybe he'll beat the crap out of me. More likely.
What Peter had discovered about the ship was that it belonged to Oswald Cobblepot, the man who had put the price on his head. He wanted a few words with him.
At that moment, his spider-sense went off. He ducked instinctively.
A sword swung the empty space his head had been a second before. Spidey spun around, ready to face…
"Deadpool?!" he exclaimed, shocked. The man before him, who was wearing armor that looked similar to Wade Wilson's gear, growled angrily.
"I'm not Wade, dammit!" he said, stepping forward. "I'm Deathstroke! How hard is it to tell us apart?"
Now, upon closer inspection, Spider-Man saw that this man wore black and grey armor, highlighted by accents of orange, and his mask was a metal plate divided in half, the one half orange with an eye-hole, the other solid black.
He swung his blade, and this time Spider-Man had to dodge a few times in quick succession. This man, Deathstroke, was fast, too fast. He was also highly skilled, and he wasn't giving Spider-Man an opportunity to land any blows of his own.
"Are you related?" Spidey asked between moves. He managed to place his hands on Deathstroke's chest, shoving him back a few steps. "Because you clearly know him."
"Yes, I know him," Deathstroke said, flipping his sword in a back-handed grip. "I believe he's after the bounty as well. Although, I expected more of a challenge from you. The famous Spider-Man."
"You haven't got me yet," Spider-Man observed, although his mind was thinking quickly, digesting this new information.
Deadpool's in Gotham. That is either a good thing or a bad thing. Considering he's after the bounty, probably a bad thing.
"Perhaps the Bat will be more of a fight," Deathstroke said, attacking Spider-Man again. "This is nothing more than practice."
"Easiest fifty mil you ever made," Spidey quipped, but realized that in this close-quarters environment, he was outmatched. Deathstroke was clearly more experienced and highly trained, and Spider-Man was only able to keep one step ahead of him thanks to his spider-sense.
"Hey, you wanna talk about this?" Spider-Man asked, leaping up to the ceiling. Deathstroke pulled out a pistol and started shooting at him. "Hey! No guns! That's cheating!"
"Not bad," Deathstroke said grudgingly, dropping his sidearm as Spider-Man descended on him. "Maybe you have some potential after all."
"Potential?" Spider-Man repeated. "Dude, I've been doing this for a long time. I know I gots skillz. And that's skills with a 'z.'"
"You're young," Deathstroke said, carrying on the conversation even though his attempts to kill Spider-Man were doubled. "I almost wonder what you did to piss off Cobblepot."
"Something about, oh I dunno… my very existence," Spidey grumbled.
Once again, he shoved Deathstroke back. They both paused, both of them out of breath. Deathstroke reached behind him, pulling out his second sword. But to Spider-Man's surprise, he threw it hilt first at Spidey.
"Uh, what?" he said, completely thrown. Deathstroke nodded at the blade in his hand.
"Let's do this properly," he said. "You may have talent, possibly experience, but no training. It's painfully obvious. I can't take the bounty this way."
"Well, that's nice of you," Spidey said, his confusion compounded by the fact that he had no idea what kind of man Deathstroke was. "Why not leave the bounty completely?"
"Right foot forward," Deathstroke said, raising his sword to shoulder height, holding his arm forward. "You attack."
Spider-Man, unsure of where this was going, obeyed. He swung the sword, trying to get a feel for using the weapon. It was light and comfortable in his hand, and he swung it with ease. Deathstroke blocked every one of his attacks, which were a little wild, but not once did he try to counterattack.
"Not bad," he said again. "You're clearly not used to weapons. Think of the sword as an extension of your arm. Don't let your guard down. If you open yourself up too much, move toward where you hit, get out of the way."
Spider-Man attacked again, keeping all this in mind, putting his doubt and confusion out of his mind. This time, his attacks were more precise. Deathstroke still blocked all of them, but his skill was hampered by Spider-Man's growing speed with the blade. Finally, Spider-Man thrust forward, and he realized that he opened himself up way too much. Deathstroke stabbed forward, aiming for his ribs. Spidey rolled with his momentum, turning on the spot where he landed, and swept Deathstroke's legs out from under him.
"Very good!" Deathstroke said, impressed. "One error… you didn't finish me."
Spider-Man realized that with Deathstroke on the ground, he could have stabbed the sword downwards, and ending the fight permanently. He glanced at the sword in his hands, and then dropped it.
"Not my style," he said, and he felt his hands shaking. "I have too many things to do, and fighting you is not very high on my list. So, if you'll excuse me…"
Deathstroke raised his sword, but this time, Spidey shot a web at him. Surprised by the strange substance, Deathstroke dropped his guard. Spider-Man leapt up and brought his fist crashing down into his temple.
The force of the blow broke his mask off, as well as causing the mercenary to black out. Spider-Man looked down at the man, studying his features.
He was an older man, with snow white hair and goatee, although his face was not very lined. Over the eye which had been covered by the black half of the mask was an eye-patch, much like Nick Fury's.
He's half blind. That… is really cool.
Peter studied his features. He had seen Deadpool without his mask once, but the crazed mercenary's face was so scarred and mutilated by his cancer that he couldn't see much resemblance. But Deathstroke obviously knew Deadpool, enough to call him by his first name.
Spider-Man webbed Deathstroke up, turning to head farther into the ship. The encounter had given him much to think about. It was true, he didn't have much training. But he didn't like how easy it was for him to wield that deadly sword.
I don't kill people. I won't kill people. Part of my promise to Uncle Ben.
As he ran ahead, he heard the overhead speakers. Orders, messages, and announcements had been broadcast throughout the night, specifically about the flooding in Decks 3 and 4. But now his ears perked up.
"Oi, I've got a message for the Batman. From your pal, Electrocutioner. Back on 'is feet 'e is. And 'e says that you may 'ave won this round, but the fight is far from over. Better watch yourself, Batman."
"Should have tied Buchinsky up," Batman muttered.
"Well, if I may make a suggestion…" Alfred said over his com, "you may want to think about ways of preparing for his next attack."
"I'm not worried about confronting him," Batman said, crawling through the vents, winding his way slowly to Penguin's office. "His gloves should put out a high electro-magnetic signal. See if you can isolate the signal, Alfred."
"Will do, sir."
Batman heard the com click off, and kept going. Soon he found himself in the bar, and then in the theater. Up above, he could see a glass screen, and Tracey was on the other side of it.
"Well, aren't you a persistent pain in me bottle?" she said sardonically. "You won't get much farther. You might as well go home."
Batman sighed, seeing the three thugs assembled in front of him. They weren't proving so much a challenge as a hindrance.
Spider-Man hadn't gone far when he soon realized he was lost.
"Great," he said aloud. "I need a roadmap. Or directions. Or a GPS. Something."
He glanced around. The room he was in looked the same as every other room he had been in so far. Except…
In the corner something was glowing with an artificial light. He walked over to it, investigating.
It was a glowing green data-pack. It was raw coding, but he noticed it all converged at a certain point. There was a play button at the top. He pressed it.
A voice began speaking, a voice Spider-Man didn't recognize. It was an older man, arrogant and proud.
"Have you heard anything from Black Mask?"
Another voice responded, younger, deeper, and more vicious.
"Not yet, Commissioner. He hasn't been in contact for the past few days."
"Of all the… doesn't Sionis realize he needs to keep us updated on his situation? The last thing we need is to bust one of his operations, and vice versa."
"I wouldn't worry about that, Commissioner."
"Oh, you wouldn't, would you Brandon?"
"I think our new Captain is more of a problem, actually."
"Gordon. Yeah, you have a point. What kind of a man doesn't want the kind of money we're making?"
"Idealist? Either or, he's causing problems. If you want…"
"No, Brandon. The last thing we need is someone making the connection between James Gordon's death and SWAT. No, I'll have Sionis do something. As soon as he returns my calls!"
The recording ended. Spider-Man crouched there, feeling hollow.
He may have been new in Gotham, but he knew the names already. They were the first thing he had done his utmost to find out, the key players.
Commissioner… that must have been Loeb. But he was dead now. And Brandon… the leader of the SWAT team, a particularly sadistic man. Roman Sionis was the Black Mask, one of the major crime lords in Gotham, someone who was so obviously an evil man that Spidey wondered why no one had gone after him.
And then he realized why. The Gotham City Police Department was bought and paid for. Gift wrapped for anyone with the right money.
It made him sick. Even in New York, the police had the excuse of being ignorant of Wilson Fisk, or Fredrick Foswell, or any of the major bosses. Not so in Gotham.
There's that guy… Gordon. He seems decent. Everyone hates him, so he must be doing something right.
But then his attention returned to the data-pack itself. Someone had recorded this conversation. For what? Blackmail?
And they hid it here. Is this it? Is it Penguin's?
Spider-Man resolved to ask him, in addition to asking him about the bounty.
"Black Mask! Put a price on my head! Where is he?!"
Batman slammed Cobblepot's head into the floor again. He spluttered, gasping for breath.
"Y'think I keep tabs on every geezer wif' a grudge?! You're not a popular bloke in this town!"
It had taken little trouble to corner the Penguin. What had surprised Batman was finding him interrogating(torturing) Alberto Falcone, the son of the arms dealer, Carmine. Now the bloodied Alberto was lying on the floor, panting, while Penguin's enforcers lay unconscious and his other assistant, Candy, was huddled against the wall.
"WHERE IS HE?!" Batman bellowed, picking the dwarf up and holding him high in the air, punching him several times for good effect.
"D… dunno… I don… don't know…" Penguin gasped, choking. Batman punched him again. "Gah! Lacey Towers! There… there was a murder…"
"Who was murdered!?" Batman yelled, but at the moment, something snagged him around the ankle, tripping him up, and pulling him out of the door.
The boiler deck lay just outside, and Batman felt himself being strung up high above the floor, his grip on Penguin long lost.
"At last," came a voice, distorted and high-pitched. "I almost thought I'd never find you."
Batman glanced down, and quickly flipped himself up, slicing at the cable suspending him with a batarang.
He glided to the boiler deck floor. He looked up.
Standing in front of him was a man, clad in chain mail and an orange hood and cloak. Under that hood was the face of a monster. A goblin.
"Hobgoblin," Batman growled.
"I had to leave my glider outside!" Hobgoblin said, throwing his arms up. "Can you believe it? But I wasn't content to just sit and wait for you to come out. Not when I saw Deathstroke go in after you."
"Deathstroke?" Batman repeated, but then resumed his battle-ready stance. "It doesn't matter. You don't have your glider, which means you're mine."
"On the contrary, Batman," Hobgoblin said, wagging a finger, while with the other hand he reached into a bag at his side. "I still have a few toys to play with."
Batman charged, and Hobgoblin threw orange balls at him. He ducked, noticing that they were in the form of pumpkins.
They exploded on top of him. His armor bore the brunt of the explosion.
"Dear, or dear," Hobgoblin said, laughing hysterically. Batman began to engage him in close quarter combat.
It soon became apparent that Hobgoblin was a metahuman, because he was stronger than Batman, as well as faster. His reflexes weren't as honed, but that hardly mattered, as his armor could take the force of Batman's blows. As Batman dodged his attacks, he noticed how he stood.
He has no extensive combat training.
Batman ducked low, sweeping Hobgoblin's legs out from under him. As he went down, Batman leapt on top of him.
"Afraid not!" Hobgoblin screeched, throwing some more pumpkin bombs in Batman's face. This time, they dispersed a gas that quickly disoriented the Dark Knight.
As Batman stumbled back, Hobgoblin pulled a gadget out of his bag. He fired it at Batman.
He felt a thud in his armor, and as his vision cleared, he saw that it was some kind of remote claw, which then fired again, latching onto an explosive canister.
Knowing there was no time to lose, Batman grabbed the canister as it hurtled toward him, intercepting it, and redirecting it toward Hobgoblin.
"Eh?" he asked, seeing it coming. "No!"
The canister exploded, knocking the Hobgoblin on his back. As he was rising, Batman leapt through the smoke, punching him hard on the jaw.
Hobgoblin went down, and this time, didn't rise again. Batman stood there, getting his breath back. When he had returned to normal breathing, he inspected the gadget still in Hobgoblin's hand.
He studied the remote claw, and saw its usefulness, especially since he know had to get back up to Penguin's office. He fired it up, creating a line with which he could get up to the balcony.
But the door was locked. On the massive screen behind him, he heard laughing.
"Oh, sorry, Batman. Afraid I ain't gonna be able to continue our little chat. 'Ave a Merry Christmas… and piss off."
The image of Penguin, Tracey and Candy on either side on him, sitting on the couch, recovering from his wounds, caused Batman to clench his fist in anger. But it was no use.
"Alfred?" he said as the screen blacked out. "I've questioned Penguin. Apparently there's been a murder at LaceyTowers. Isn't that one of Sionis's safehouses?"
"I believe so, sir," Alfred replied. "I'm accessing the police files now. Hold on…it says here… that Roman Sionis is the victim."
"Black Mask, dead?" Batman said incredulously. "I'm going to go check it out. Meantime, call the GCPD. Tell them Hobgoblin's tied up and waiting in the Final Offer, as well as Penguin's illegal arms."
"Another anonymous tip, sir? Very well, then."
No sooner had Penguin sat back to relax with his assistants did he feel a pull on his collar.
Once again, he was suspended above the ground. This time, he was strung up by some stick substance that attached him to the ceiling. And on the ceiling…
"Hey, that was easy!" Spider-Man said lightly. "Ladies, if you excuse us…" He shot some more web, preventing Candy and Tracey in particular from moving.
"Bloody 'ell!" Penguin yelled, struggling. Spidey smacked him lightly on his nose.
"Language," he said, grasping his hair to turn Cobblepot's face toward his own. "I have a few questions for you. Starting with, am I really worth fifty million bucks? Seriously? For that kinda bank, I woulda just left Gotham."
"You messed up a major operation I 'ad going!" Penguin yelled. "I was about to ruin Wayne! And then you showed up!"
"Wayne… oh yeah, Wayne Tech. The place you were robbing. Or, what were you doing?"
"None of your bloody business!" Penguin shouted, waving his short arms around frantically. "Let me down!"
"If you insist," Spider-Man said, letting go of the web. Penguin fell to the floor in a crash. In an instant, Spider-Man was on top of him, turning him over.
"Come on, dude," Spidey said. "It's gonna be a long night, and I have better places to be. What about this?"
He held up the data-pack. Penguin's eyes clouded in confusion.
"Never seen that before in my life," he said, and he sounded truthful. "What is it?"
"Something I found on your ship," he said. "Wondered if you could tell me-,"
"WHAT!?" Penguin bellowed. "Someone's been planting stuff on me boat! The bastards! I'll kill 'em all!"
"Okay, not yours," Spidey said hastily. "All I needed to know. So hey… no chance you can call off the bounty, huh?"
"Not a chance in hell," Penguin growled. "Let me go!"
"Fine."
Spider-Man straightened up. As he walked out the door, he shot another web at Cobblepot.
"What the-?"
It stuck him to the wall. He struggled, but he couldn't get down.
"Great!" he screamed. "Brilliant! First the Bat, now you…!"
"Whoa, wait," Spidey said, his hand on the door. "Did you say the Bat?"
"'Ow do you think I got these bloody bruises!" Penguin demanded, and Spidey indeed saw the swelling purple marks. "'E was 'ere not half a minute ago!"
Spider-Man stood there, frozen. Finally, his brain digested this information, and he threw the door open.
He wasn't prepared to see Hobgoblin tied up in strong cable on the boiler deck floor.
"Kingsley?" he said in shock. "Roderick Kingsley? In Gotham? Oh… and he's out."
There was only one answer. Batman. It had to be the Batman.
Yeah, so... is it just me, or did Deathstroke get like, no love in the game? He's there for literally three scenes and a fight. That's it. I honestly thought he'd be more crucial to the story, considering you get to play him in DLC(which is amazing, btdubs). But yeah, sorry for making his fight with Spidey. I just kinda wanted to shake things up a bit.
And as always, please review!