To Trust Oneself
Crouched atop the One World Trade Center building, Brooklyn gazed out into the night, his eyes drawn to nothing in particular. His mind, however, had drifted back to the events of the past two nights. And as it did he could not help but smile.
Peter Parker, the Spider-Man, had taken him on both the most uneventful and eventful patrols of his life so far. He chuckled lightly to himself at that thought. It was an apt description. They were uneventful in the sense that he had not been shot at, punched, beaten, bruised, or scared someone off, yet eventful in that he had received a front row seat to seeing Spider-Man in action. It was not, however, the Spider-Man that YouTube and media outlets were familiar with. No, he was witness to the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.
Rather than bust up muggers or halt robberies, Brooklyn spent the first part of his evening watching. He watched as Spider-Man helped with anything and everything someone needed; from old ladies needing a helping hand to kids loosing their basketball on a nearby roof. Nothing was beneath the hero, and he did it all with smile.
It was still all so refreshing. And surreal, if Brooklyn was honest. His entire perspective on Spider-Man, on Peter, had shifted. That first time he had seen videos of Spider-Man led him to think of the hero as a great warrior. That rainy night when he actually met Spider-Man in person and learned he was just a teenager from Queens really grounded his view of the hero. But now, after having met up with the teen two nights in a row, having seen all of the good Spider-Man was doing beyond the crime fighting, his opinion on Peter had skyrocketed. And with that opinion came a term he had not thought of for months.
Kindred spirit. Brooklyn spoke the phrase to himself.
Once the term felt stale in his mouth, soured by a moment of pure naivety. Even months later Brooklyn still found his mind drifting back to the night of his first, and so far only motorcycle ride. The brawl with the biker gang, his encounter with Demona, his betrayal of Goliath's trust that nearly cost the Clan Leader his free will. All were still fresh memories. He felt his jaw tighten. After that night, Brooklyn doubted that he would ever find a kindred spirit in this new world.
And then he met Peter.
"Something on your mind, Brooklyn?" Goliath's baritone voice had broken the stillness of the night.
Startled, Brooklyn looked behind him as he stood up from the ledge.
"Oh… nothing Goliath." He stammered, having forgotten Goliath had joined him on patrol that evening. "Just uh… thinking about some things..."
Is Peter a kindred spirit?
The question rattled around Brooklyn's head, mixing itself into his thoughts on the teen. By all accounts, Peter seemed to fit the bill. He had been patient in their interactions, never prying too hard or asking personal questions. Peter had been accommodating and had shown him an entirely new perspective on what it meant to be a "protector". Peter had been far more trusting than he had been, having been the one to take that first step in building a rapport. If he had not done that, the "out" the teen had offered would have been easy to accept.
"Goliath," he looked to the lavender colored gargoyle, "how did you know that you could trust Elisa?"
Goliath's normally stern and stoic demeanor had shattered briefly, but he recovered quickly and crossed his arms.
"Where is this coming from?"
"Well, I was just thinking on what you had told us after that business with the Pack. You said we should still search for allies. For kindred spirits. How did you know Elisa was a 'kindred spirit'?"
The silence that had fallen between them was palpable. He watched as Goliath's eyes shifted around. It was subtle but it betrayed his contemplation on an answer.
"You have posed an interesting question." Goliath broke the silence with a sigh. It was not an exhausted sigh, or an angry one, but a thoughtful one. "My immediate answer was that she had saved my life. She had expertly lured those mercenaries away and then remained by my side throughout the day. That had made trusting her as easy as breathing…"
"But," Goliath picked up on the hung syllable, "upon reflection, that night had only been the final nudge. I believe I had known she was a kindred spirit from the first time we met. I just failed to realize it until she had saved my life. Does that answer your question?"
"I think so." Brooklyn nodded once. "But how did you know that was the right decision? Did you… have doubts?"
Again, Goliath seemed to weigh his words carefully.
"I did have some lingering doubts, but I pushed past them. I had made the decision to trust her, and while I can now say it was the right one, at the time it was simply the best one." His tone was all too familiar to Brooklyn. It was the same tone Goliath had used when he was teaching a lesson: calm, level, and nurturing.
"You should always strive to make the best decision you can make, Brooklyn. Some will be easier than others, and some will be more 'right' than others. In the end, it is your decision to make."
Goliath's words hit Brooklyn hard. At that moment he understood where his trepidation in fully embracing Peter had laid. He had doubted not just finding a kindred spirit in this new world, he had doubted himself. He had been doubting himself for months now.
That's why he could not provide the obvious answer to the question. Ever since he had inadvertently enslaved Goliath to Demona's twisted will, he had been doubting every choice he made. How could he ever be trusted to make a decision after failing so spectacularly? How could he ever trust his own decisions after the choice he had made that night. Sure it had all worked out in the end thanks to Elisa's quick thinking, but it had all been his fault.
It was obvious Peter was a kindred spirit, that he could be trusted. But Brooklyn could not admit it because he was petrified of making the wrong choice again. And so, he felt more comfortable in not making a choice at all.
"But what if I make the wrong decision?" Brooklyn lowered his head with a sigh.
He did not lift it until he felt Goliath's hand on his shoulder. And when he did, he met the Clan Leader's gaze.
"Just because you make a wrong decision does not mean you can never make a right decision. And if you do make a 'wrong' one, you can always correct it."
Goliath had put extra emphasis on the "always", squeezing Brooklyn's shoulder as he did. It was exactly what he needed to hear. He nodded once again.
"Come. We should return to our pa-" The jaunty, upbeat tune of a Nokia ringtone interrupted Goliath. Instinctively, Brooklyn had looked down to his pouch and pulled out his phone, but found that it was not the culprit.
It turned out to be Goliath's phone that was ringing. Brooklyn watched with an amused grin as the towering gargoyle, a fierce and imposing warrior, fiddled with the tiny cellphone he had pulled from his own pouch.
"It's Elisa," he said offhandedly as he tried to manipulate the buttons with his talons. "Now how do I pick- oh. It appears I have declined the call."
His attempt at laughing to himself slipped out as an audible yet subdued chuckle. Brooklyn quickly shut up when he caught Goliath's glare. Thankfully, his own phone began to ring, and he quickly answered it.
"Yo, Elisa, what's up?… Yeah he hung up on you… I'd say so… Put him on? Sure." He held the flip phone out to Goliath, who took it with an uneasy grip. Brooklyn often wondered if there was any way to get the clan leader a larger phone. Seeing him try to use these "human sized" flip phones was as amusing as it was painful.
"Greetings, Elisa. My apologies for hanging up on you. Did you need something?" There was a lengthy pause in Goliath's speech, punctuated by the occasional "mhmm" as Elisa spoke to him.
"Understood. We shall both make haste and meet the others there. Stay safe, Elisa." Goliath concluded the phone call by snapping the lid shut on the phone.
"What'd she want?" Brooklyn took the phone back from Goliath. "It sounded like she was with some other police officers when I spoke to her."
"Yes, she is. They are conducting a 'bust' on an apartment block in Hell's Kitchen. It is a suspected front for illegal arms dealing. She has asked if we could help keep an eye on the perimeter to ensure no one escapes past the police lines. Broadway and Lexington are already there, and we shall join them."
Brooklyn quirked a brow ridge, the gears in his head already turning. Any other time he would have gladly joined Goliath and the others. He yearned for working one on one with the Clan Leader, and always enjoyed assisting Elisa in her police work. But as he put his phone back into his pouch, his thoughts drifted back to Peter as his hand brushed against the communicator that Peter had given him a few nights prior. He had forgotten to give the communicator back to Peter, but had made sure to remove it from his ear before he got back to the Clock Tower. Upon being asked via text message if he wanted it back, Peter said he could always make more, and encouraged Brooklyn to keep it. After all, the teen reasoned, they'd be working together a lot more.
"Ya know, maybe I should continue on our patrol while you go and help."
"Brooklyn, I am not certain that is a wise course of action."
"Think about it. It sounds like the situation is pretty much handled. They'll have all hands on deck for the bust, and you, Broadway, and Lexington can easily cover the perimeter." Brooklyn kept his tone subdued. Last thing he wanted to do was make Goliath suspicious to his true intention. "If I continue our patrol, I might be able to help someone we otherwise would have been unable to."
Goliath's brow furrowed in thought as another bout of silence fell between them.
"Your logic is sound." Goliath acquiesced with a nod. "Continue our patrol, and return to the Clock Tower before dawn."
"And send a text every hour?" Brooklyn smirked, knowing the rule would hold true.
"And send a text every hour." The Clan Leader matched Brooklyn's smirk with a subtle one of his own. "And, stay safe."
"Same to you, Goliath." Brooklyn and Goliath clasped each other's forearms in a firm shake.
Then, in one fluid motion, Goliath turned to the ledge. He unfurled his wings and lept off into the night sky, gliding off towards the west.
Once Goliath was out of sight, Brooklyn pulled the flip phone from his pouch. He scrolled down to Peter's name in the contact list and pressed the call button.
"Hey, Pete. You still up?"
Peter often wondered where he enjoyed lounging the most during his patrols. It varied from borough to borough, of course, and it often depended on the time of day. If he had stayed out long enough to see the sunrise, he would swing on over to the Chrysler Building, post up on the southeast falcon, and greet the new day. During midday he enjoyed eating some lunch around the Met if he was in Manhattan, or Queen's Plaza if he was in his own backyard. Evenings were a toss up, and it was usually close to wherever he could grab a bite to eat; so either home or Mr. Delmar's grocery. Sunsets, of course, were viewed from a top the One World Trade Center building. He always wanted to try out the Eyrie Building. That castle at the top always tempted him with a visit. But seeing as it was the private residence of David Xanatos, a man second only to Mr. Stark in power and wealth, he would rather not get written up for a breaking and entering.
On these late nights, when he was out past midnight but it was not yet the early morning hours, Peter found the Brooklyn Bridge offered the best respite. The soft, droning hum of those cars still out at this hour. The soothing breeze that came in off the bay. The smell of the salt water that lapped at the stone. The delicious extra large sausage and green pepper pizzas he had bought from Grimaldi's Pizzeria.
Yeah, he thought to himself as he finished off one of the slices. This is the best spot for a late night rest.
And it was about to get better.
"Your heart rate is elevated again, Peter." Karen chimed in through his masks audio system. Peter had it on just enough to hear her and still chow down on the pizza.
"Excited and nervous!" He finished off the slice he had be nursing.
The call from Brooklyn had come at an inopportune moment, as he was deep in a pizza fueled jam out session to Bad Reputation, air guitar and everything. He might have missed it if not for Karen's vigilance. She had cut the music off when it was clear he was not paying attention. When he did pick up, he was delighted to hear that Brooklyn was looking to meet up again.
"I think things have been going really well with him." Peter added as he went in for another slice of pizza, the box half empty now. "He's wanted to meetup for three nights in a row now. Must mean I'm doing something right… right?"
"You are doing great, Peter." Karen reassured.
Peter smiled at Karen's reassurance, but a part of him wondered if that was entirely true. He was in uncharted territory. As far as he could tell he was the first human to have ever befriended a gargoyle. The online sleuthing he had done turned up little information on the creatures. A few scattered tenth century accounts and some thesis's by a historian named Lennox MacDuff on said accounts was all he could come up with. Talk of actual gargoyles, a species of humanoid flying creatures, was non-existent. He was not expecting to find a "being friends with a mythical creature" guide, but something, anything more substantial would be better than what he had right now: a big heaping pile of assumptions and guesswork.
He quickly realized that the only way he was going to get some answers would be asking Brooklyn. And that was probably the one thing he thought he should not be doing. He did not want to pepper the gargoyle with a stream of annoying personal questions. There were plenty to be had, but Peter felt that asking them would push Brooklyn away.
While there had been progress, such as the two sharing their first fist bump, Peter felt like he was in limbo with the gargoyle. Yesterday evening, when they had met for a third time, was filled with conversation. They talked more about their favorite bands, about their favorite foods, favorite video games, and argued over what the best pizza topping was. But all of that felt like it was surface level, like the type of small talk you would have at a party. It was all ice breakers, but the ice still had not broken between them.
It was plain to see that Brooklyn was playing everything close to his chest. So was Peter. He had still not talked in detail about Ned or M.J. or Aunt May. And Brooklyn had only made a few more mentions of his "brothers". That was something that had really enraptured the teen. So many questions came from that tidbit of information, but asking those questions was a daunting decision.
Should he ask questions, or should he wait for Brooklyn to tell him of his own accord? Baby steps was the name of the game right now. Peter knew he had to be patient with the gargoyle. But doing so was just so damn difficult!
"I am detecting a heat signature approaching from the west. It is Brooklyn." Karen chimed in.
Mid chew, Peter sat up from the ledge of the southernmost tower of the Brooklyn Bridge and turned west. The lenses on his mask zoomed in effortlessly as Peter squinted at the approaching figure. Sure enough, it was Brooklyn. He was unmistakable against the backdrop of Manhattan's towering skyscrapers.
"Alright, Peter. Just keep it cool. He'll talk when he's ready." He tried to reassure himself, but the nagging doubts still lingered as the gargoyle came in for a landing.
Although, maybe a little nudge wouldn't hurt...
"Yo, Pete!" Brooklyn waved as he landed a few feet away from Peter
"Evenin' Brooklyn. Wait, it's like 3am. Good Morning!" Peter returned the wave with a smile, having removed his mask. The teen's hair was an utter mess, and his face reminded Brooklyn of Elisa's as she neared the end of her night shift. But despite the exhaustion, Peter seemed just as happy to see Brooklyn as he was to see the teenaged hero.
"Good Morning." Brooklyn chuckled as he approached, extending his hand for a fist bump. "Have to say, I was a bit surprised you were still awake."
"Saturday night, dude." Peter continued to smile as he bumped Brooklyn's fist. "I can stay out as long as I want. Want some pizza?"
Brooklyn's eyes, and nose, were drawn to a large grease stained box of pizza that was precariously perched on a safety railing behind Peter. It looked like it was going to fall at any moment, but his keen eyes spied the glisten of webbing on the boxes underside.
"I could go for a slice." He smiled, reaching past Peter and opening the lid.
Sausage and green peppers. A smirk formed on his beak.
"Well," he added as he picked out a slice, folded it lengthwise, and took a bite, "it's no Hawaiian pizza. But it'll do."
"Dude, stop!" The teen groaned, throwing up his hands. "I still cannot believe you like pineapple on pizza."
"Sweet and salty, Pete. Sweet and salty." He put on his best shit eating grin as he took another bite. Peter's reaction to Broadway's desert pizza was going to be priceless.
He took to leaning against a support railing on the tower, gazing momentarily over to his namesake borough before looking back to Peter. The teen had also grabbed a slice and joined Brooklyn on the railing.
"Lookin' a little tired there. Busy night?" Brooklyn's voice was laced with good-natured teasing. He had spied Peter stifling a yawn in between bites.
"Pretty busy, yeah. Helped find a lost cat, patched flat tire, walked a really drunk guy back home… oh! I even stopped a group of guys from going at each other over a basketball game." Brooklyn smiled as Peter recounted the nights events, the teen's enthusiasm as infectious as ever.
"Tell ya what though," Peter added, looking over to Brooklyn, "my bed's gonna feel real good once I get home. The late nights are always great, but man does it get exhausting!"
The two shared a laugh. Seeing as he turned to stone at sun rise, Brooklyn had never really understood what it felt like to be sleepy. But he definitely knew what being exhausted was like, and did sympathize with the teenaged hero.
"Boy do I hear that. I remember my first night in Manhattan. My wings felt like they were going to fall off." Brooklyn nodded. "Does your Aunt mind you staying out this late?"
"Eh, she'll be fine. After I sleep the morning away I usually do some extra chores around the apartment to make up for it." Peter shrugged away the concern. "Anyways... what about you? You and... your brothers get up to anything interesting tonight?"
Brooklyn cocked a brow ridge. That was the first time Peter had made any inquiries into Broadway and Lexington on his own accord. Granted, Brooklyn had brought them up pretty frequently last night, especially when he talked more about their efforts in completing Halo 3. No names were shared, but it seemed Peter was putting out some feelers. If it were a few nights ago, he would have batted the question away. But with Goliath's words of encouragement still fresh in his mind, Brooklyn decided on a different path.
"Uh, no. I wasn't with them tonight. I was out on patrol with our Clan Leader."
"Clan Leader? Who's that? Is the Clan your family?" Peter asked the question with a reserved yet enthusiastic tone. It was not at all the response Brooklyn had been expecting. Answering it might have proved daunting a few hours ago, but the teenaged hero's enthusiasm made opening up feel all the more right.
"Yeah. The Clan's pretty much family." Brooklyn replied with an even tone. "There's… six of us, including myself."
"Big family." Peter beamed. "I've only ever been an only child myself. No real extended family, either. You guys must have a fun time during holidays."
"Aside from the Winter Solstice, gargoyles don't tend to celebrate many holidays." Brooklyn shrugged, but then smiled as memories of the festivities Elisa introduced them to drifting back into his mind. "Although we did celebrate Christmas last year. I'm really looking forward to Halloween this year though. It sounds like a blast. We think we'll even be able to step out in public without people catching on to what we really are."
"Oh man, you've never celebrated Halloween?!" The teen whirled around to face Brooklyn, his slice of pizza nearly flying out of his hand. "Dude, Halloween's great! Candy, parties, making awesome costumes. You'll have to hang out with Ned, MJ, and I. We could even do a group costume!"
"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be fun. Who's Ned and MJ?"
Hearing Peter name drop what Brooklyn assumed were some friends came as a surprise. It seemed like he wasn't the only one who was trying to open up more tonight. Though the quick look of surprise on Peter's face led the brick red gargoyle to think he had not really intended to do so.
"O-oh… they're uh… they're my friends." He replied sheepishly, finishing off his slice of pizza. "Here… you want to see a picture of them?"
Pictures too? Brooklyn thought, blinking in disbelief.
"Uh… sure." He stammered out a response as Peter had pulled out his phone. With a few quick taps and swipes, he held the phone out for Brooklyn to see.
It was a picture of Peter and two similarly aged kids at what he assumed was some sort of restaurant. Peter was not dressed as Spider-Man, and instead sported some normal street clothes. It was the first time he had seen Peter out of the skin tight red and blue uniform. The other two teens flanked him on either side.
"That's Ned -" Peter pointed to a rather portly looking kid on his right – "and that's MJ" – he then pointed to a fair skinned girl on his left. They were huddled around what looked like a grill set inside a table. All different kinds of meat and vegetables appeared to be cooking on the grill top.
"We were out getting some Korean BBQ. Sort of our own little Homecoming since I missed the official one for some… super-hero business." Peter cleared his throat on that last line.
"Cool." Brooklyn strained a smile, looking away from the phone and back to Peter. "Looks like you guys are pretty close. I'd show you some pictures of… my brothers… but I…. don't have any on hand. Flip phone, ya know."
He added a laugh at the end of that, but it betrayed his nerves. It was exciting to learn more about Peter, to see even just a hint of the teen's life. Brooklyn wanted to show him the same. All it would have taken was him saying Broadway and Lexington's names. Hell, he did have pictures to show too; his flip phone had a camera and a few pictures of the three of them already on it. But as he lept up to cross that hurdle, to open up, he was dragged back down by his self doubt.
"Don't sweat it, Brooklyn." With a wave of his hand, Peter brushed it off with a laugh. "We'll just have to get you a smartphone."
The jovial, sincere laugh caused Brooklyn to wince and look back out to the skyline.
All of this seemed to come naturally to Peter. While the teen had hesitations, he had no problem sharing more about his personal life. Sure it may have been a blunder, an unintended reveal, but he had still made it without much of a second thought once the cat was out of the bag. Brooklyn meanwhile could not even muster the fortitude to tell Peter his Rookery Brothers names.
Come on, stop acting like such a hatchling! He cursed to himself. Why can't you just trust yourself you stupid idiot?!
"Dude, seriously. Don't sweat it." Peter said again, his tone reassuring yet concerned as Brooklyn felt the teen's gloved hand on his shoulder.
At that moment Brooklyn realized he was practically on the verge of snarling, his face wound into an obvious grimace. With a sigh he turned back to Peter.
"Sorry, Pete," the right words escaped him, "it's just… I want… I'm trying to-"
He was cut off by the sharp squeal of a car's tires and a shrill symphony of horns. Brooklyn looked up, first to Peter and then past the safety railings, his eyes drawn to the road below. Another tire squeal, a horn blaring, and metal scraping together filled the night air.
"What is that?" Peter echoed what Brooklyn had been thinking. Out of the corner of his eyes Brooklyn saw that Peter had put his mask back on. The lenses of the mask tightened and widened like a camera shutter as they both scanned the road.
"There!" Brooklyn called out just as another screech echoed in the night. He pointed his index talon right over a large black truck that was screaming across the bridge into his namesake borough.
"Woah! That guy is flying!" Peter had hoped up onto the railing, expertly perching himself much like Brooklyn did. "Come on, we should see what's happening!"
"Wait, what?" As he turned to look at the teenaged hero, Brooklyn saw Peter fire something out of his web shooter as the truck careened off towards an exit ramp.
"You still got that communicator I gave you, right?"
"Yeah I do, but-" Peter immediately leapt off the South Side tower, a strand of webbing catching on one of the suspension lines as he swung off in pursuit.
"Never-mind." With a huff, Brooklyn pulled the homemade communicator from his belt pouch and slipped it into his ear. Unfurling his wings, he hopped up onto the railing, sized up the wind currents, and leapt off in pursuit of Peter.
"Oh good! You kept up!" Brooklyn heard Peter exclaim over the communicator as he came in for a landing, the smile clear in his jovial tone.
The landing was a bit rough as a sudden crosswind unbalanced the brick red gargoyle for a brief moment. He wobbled slightly as he touched down, his talons digging into the blacktop warehouse roof. Seeing that he was within speaking distance to the teen, he took the communicator out from his ear and held it loosely in his hand.
"Next time can you maybe give me a little warning before you go leaping off a bridge?" Brooklyn caped his wings as he sauntered over to the teen, who was perched on the ledge of the warehouse.
"Wha- oh, sorry Brooklyn. Yeah, you're right. Should have told you what I was doing." Peter apologized quickly. "I'm not exactly used to working with a team. I mean, there was that time in Germany with Mr. Stark but-"
Brooklyn cut the teenaged hero off with a pat on the back as he climbed up onto the ledge.
"Don't worry about." He waved off the apology. It was not that big of a deal. While annoyed at the sudden spring into action, it was a welcome one. He figured it might provide a bit more time to get his head straight.
"Anyways, now that we're not leaping off bridges, mind telling me what's up?"
It was not often Brooklyn would go chasing after a speeding vehicle. During his first few months in Manhattan, the Clan had learned well to steer clear of cars. Most of the time they left the vehicular related happenings to Elisa and the NYPD. After all, what were they going to do against a speeding vehicle or a car crash that didn't risk them being seen, or worse.
"Right, the truck. Yeah." Peter nodded, the lenses on his mask flickering. "So, if it was like a sports car out for a joy ride I wouldn't have bothered. That's pretty common at this time in the morning, actually. Best to leave that type of stuff up to the police…"
Nodding in agreement, Brooklyn motioned for the teenaged hero to continue.
"But," Peter raised his index finger, "you don't really see a truck pushing eighty on the Brooklyn Bridge at four o'clock in the morning unless they're breaking the law… I mean, they're speeding… so they're already breaking the law but… you get the idea?"
"No, no you're right." He nodded again, peering past Peter as he spied the same truck they had seen on the bridge. "It was definitely suspicious."
The truck was relatively concealed against the backdrop of the early morning darkness, only barely illuminated by some radiant light that danced across the water from Governors Island nearby, and from a small flood light next to a service entrance. From what he could see, it looked like its two cabin doors and trailer doors were wide open. He could not see anyone near it, however, leading him to guess that the occupants were within one of the nearby warehouses that dotted the dock.
"Exactly! So, I fired off one of my tracker webs…" Peter had looked down to his right hand web shooter as he held it out in front of Brooklyn, turning his wrist skyward.
"Good shot, by the way." Brooklyn added as the teen went to press a button on the device.
"Oh, thanks! Anyways, I fired off a tracker web so we could follow it to wherever it was going..." A holographic image sprang to life from the web shooter's oblong housing. "And that led us to here: 70 Hamilton Avenue.
Brooklyn had seen plenty of hologram displays during their short stay in the remodeled Castle Wyvern, but he was still surprised to see Peter's suit was able to produce one. The Xanatos Enterprises displays he had seen were never this compact.
When Peter had turned it on, the hologram started at the South Side Tower of the Brooklyn bridge. With a quick flick, he had guided it along a yellow line that Brooklyn presumed to be the tracked truck until said line had stopped at where they were now. It was now showing a very detailed layout of the area, including a basic model for the truck, which pulsed every few seconds.
Man Lexington is going to love this. Brooklyn thought to himself before looking away from the hologram and back to Peter.
"Right. So what's here, aside from the truck?"
"Not a clue! However, on the swing over here I patched into the NYPD police band to see if there were any APB's regarding a black truck driving erratically. Turns out there was! A truck matching ours was spotted fleeing a police raid in Hell's Kitchen twenty minutes ago…"
Police raid in Hell's Kitchen! Brooklyn's heart skip a beat as he tuned Peter out.
All at once he felt a rush of anxiety, like he was a hatchling caught with his hand in the food store. Any one of the Clan could be in hot pursuit of this van. They could arrive at any second and find him with Peter. Obviously he was going to tell the Clan about his friendship with Spider-Man, but to be thrust into it completely by circumstance was not what he had in mind.
"Brooklyn? Hey! Brooklyn!"
Blinking twice, Brooklyn looked over to Peter, the teen's voice pulling him back to reality.
"You okay?" He noticed Peter's eyes flick down to his feet for a second. Following their gaze, he realized he had dug into the stone ledge with his talons.
"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine." Brooklyn lied, his heart beating in his ear. He looked westward for a brief second, half expecting to see three familiar silhouettes on the horizon, before turning back to Peter.
"Right," Peter drawled out the word, slowly turning back to the vacant truck. "So what do you think?"
"About what?" He had lessened his grip on the stone ledge, bits of masonry coming loose as he shifted around.
"Taking these guys down?" Peter asked again with a tilt of his head. "Like I said, the police reported these guys as being armed and extremely dangerous. We should get them off the streets."
Brooklyn glanced back to the western horizon, and then back to Peter.
"Yeah, I suppose we should." He gave a half hearted nod, his mind still racing trying to figure out what to do if Goliath or the other's show up. He had half a mind to tell Peter they should not get involved, that it was a matter better left to the police. But he was a gargoyle. Gargoyle's protect, no matter the circumstances.
"Great. Let's get a better handle on the situation first…" Peter lingered for a moment, his gaze fixated on Brooklyn, before he turned off the hologram. While not apparent, Brooklyn felt that the teens enthusiasm had lessened somewhat, guessing it may have been replaced by some concern over his behavior. He forced a smile before turning away from the concerned gaze, glancing back to the horizon.
A sudden mechanical click caught Brooklyn's attention. He turned back and watched as a the black spider logo on Peter's chest pushed itself out from the suit.
"What is that?" For a moment, his anxieties had been tempered with fascination.
A faint mechanical whirring, like the whine of a fan, filled his ears as the spider logo transformed into a mechanical spider. The device hovered briefly in the air as it detached itself from the suit. It beeped once and jetted off towards the presumed occupied warehouse.
"It's a… uh… I've not actually settled on a name yet." Peter bobbed his head side to side as he stared at nothing in particular, the lenses on his mask wide open. "I was thinking Spider-Drone, maybe Spidey-Drone. Anyways, it's a reconnaissance drone. I can remote control it with my mask's heads-up display, or set it to do some basic tasks. Here, take a look."
Peter turned back on his web shooters holographic projector. The image of the map Brooklyn had seen previously was replaced with a live feed from the drone's perspective. It was a bit disorienting watching the world pass by from this fish eyed perspective. Brooklyn practically felt his stomach lurch as the drone somersaulted in the air while diving into a ventilation duct on the roof of their target warehouse. He quickly recomposed himself, though, and watched as the drone navigated further into the building.
"Okay… alright… I'm picking up some voices…" Peter had turned his head around, at which point Brooklyn realized Peter's head movements were directly linked to that of the drone's camera. "Let's get a scan of the building done…"
The drone beeped a few times before the holographic display split its screen between the drone's perspective and a model of the warehouse. The beeping sound reminded Brooklyn of the sonar noises he had heard in movies like Red October, and watched as the model of the warehouse was slowly mapped out by rippling waves emanating from the drone. Figures began to appear within the model as the waves continued.
"Woah. This stuff is amazing, Pete." Brooklyn marveled as he watched the completed map of the warehouse take shape, his previous anxieties on being discovered by the clan displaced by utter fascination. He could see the figures, six of them in total, moving about the warehouse's interior. "Looks like there's six guys."
"Seems like it. Should have visual confirmation- crap!" Peter's head jerked back on the latest scan ripple.
Brooklyn think he saw the reason why, noticing the model of the warehouse had now been populated with several large crates emitting some sort of pulsing color.
"What're those?" He asked, focused on these new objects. The criminals inside the warehouse seemed to be concentrated around them.
"Not good not good…" Peter's head locked forward as the drone came out of a vent and hovered in place. Brooklyn, noticing a rising anxiety to Peter's tone, looked over to the live feed, and cocked a brow ridge.
There were indeed six people occupying the warehouse. Save for them, and a few scattered wooden crates and a forklift, there was nothing else in the warehouse. Brooklyn noticed a stark contrast between their appearance and that of the likes of Tony Dracon. Where Broadway had told him Tony's men were like old school mobsters, dressed in fine suits, these guys looked more like common street thugs. Gang banger was a term he had used in the past that fit these men. He did notice most appeared to be carrying a weapon, though they were unlike any weapon he had seen. Those objects they had been concentrated around were filled to the brim with them as well. They all looked like firearms, but were not as familiar as Elisa's pistol or the few Xanatos Enterprises Particle Beam weapons he had seen. The cobbled together appearance and glowing bits made the weapons look quite exotic. And dangerous.
"Those are human-Chitauri hybrid weapons."
The grimace was obvious in Peter's voice as the teen disconnected from the drone. It remained hovering in the air, observing the criminals and the weapons.
"Sounds like you have a history with these things." Brooklyn looked to the teen. The name Chitauri was familiar to him, recognizing it as the aliens that had attacked New York in 2012.
"I do." Peter gulped, meeting Brooklyn's gaze. "I thought I'd have gotten all these things off the street by taking Mr. Toomes down…"
There was something distinct in Peter's voice, something familiar to Brooklyn. The way the teen had wavered slightly, almost choking on the words, reminded Brooklyn of how he felt when he thought about what had happened with him and Goliath.
"We've got to take these guys down, Brooklyn." That familiar tone to Peter's voice had been swiftly replaced, or perhaps repressed, by a matter-of-factness he had not seen before.
"Of course." Brooklyn nodded. "I'm with you."
"Great." Brooklyn caught the reserved smile behind the mask. "How do you think we should go about it?"
"Oh, well let's see…" Scratching his beak, Brooklyn's eyes darted between the warehouse and the live feed from the drone. "Those guys in there are pretty spaced out. It looks like they're packing up the guns, actually. Maybe they're trying to bug out of here before the cops catch up…"
In his planning Brooklyn tried to recall what Goliath would do. The Clan Leader had always made an effort to explain his thought process, either during or after a mission, to him and his brothers. Brooklyn reckoned it was part of Goliath's way to train the three of them, and out of the three he always felt he paid attention the most.
"Let's take care of the truck first. Slash its tires or disable its engine. That way if they do try to escape they'll have to do it on foot…"
"Good idea." Peter hopped in, looking down at the holographic image and live feed as well. "Easier to keep track of them with their mobility hindered. We should also cut the power to the building."
"I was just about to say that." Brooklyn smirked. "Though I wasn't sure you could see in the dark."
"Dude, really? I've got holograms and remote controlled drones in this suit. You really didn't think I'd have night vision too?"
"Touché. Once we cut the power, we should try to disable their weapons. Anything in your suit that can do that?"
"No, nothing that could do it safely. The energy cores powering the weapons can get pretty unstable. A blast from my Taser Web's might short out the weapon, but it could also overload the core…"
"And cause a pretty messy explosion, right?" Brooklyn guessed, which Peter confirmed with a nod.
"Although," Peter continued, "I could hang back as you engage the guys head on. Keep my distance and web them up so they can't shoot at you. How's that sound?"
"I guess that could work." Brooklyn side eyed Peter, apprehensive at the idea. "You sure you can keep them off me?"
"Absolutely." The reply came without a second of hesitation on Peter's part.
Breathing in, then out, Brooklyn nodded.
"Alright. I trust you."
"Awesome." Peter clapped his hands together. "Let's get to work. You go disable the truck, I'll cut the power to the warehouse. We'll meet on the roof. There's an access hatch in the southwest corner that we can get in on."
Brooklyn gave the teenaged hero a thumbs up before he jumped down to the street below. There was not enough of an air current to carry him over to the truck, so traversing on foot was the only option. He did extend his wings in his descent, the leathery membrane bracing his fall like a parachute as his talons dug into the asphalt on landing.
He glanced around as he crouched low, peering into the darker recesses of the buildings and sniffing the air. With no sign of anyone else, save for Peter who zipped overhead, Brooklyn launched into a sprint on all fours, his wings folded tight against his back as his tail swished behind him.
It only took a few seconds to reach the truck. He skidded to a halt against its left most wheel. Pausing for a moment, his ears flicking as they picked up on the faint sounds of passing traffic and rats skittering in the darkness, he flexed his talons before digging into the tire. Its thick rubber parted easily as he slashed a large gash in its wall, the resulting release of pressurized air blowing his hair back.
The popping sound from the tire was louder than he had anticipated, but it was well timed. As soon as he had dug into it, an ambient hum that had filled his ears suddenly ceased. Looking past the front hood of the truck, he saw that the flood light had turned off.
"Power's cut." Peter's voice chirped in his right ear.
"Truck's disabled, too." Brooklyn replied in a low whisper. "Heading up to the roof."
Checking his surroundings once more, Brooklyn crouched low and then lept upwards, caught onto the edge of the trailer, and hoisted himself up. With another jump, Brooklyn dug into the sheet metal exterior of the warehouse and began his short ascent to the roof. He effortlessly pulled himself up to the roof and glanced around once more.
"Over here." He heard Peter's voice in his ear, and quickly spied the teen waving at him from his left.
He crept along the blacktop roof and joined Peter by the aforementioned access hatch.
"These guys are spooked." Peter spoke in a low whisper, a slight snicker following. "Want to hear?"
There was a rush of static from the communicator before Brooklyn heard a cacophony of voices.
"Get that power on now, man!"
"Shit shit, I don't like this…"
"We gotta get outta here, fast!"
"Cops must've cut the power. Those motherfucka's got the place surrounded I bet!"
Their reactions were all too similar to that of the countless other criminals Brooklyn and the Clan had the pleasure of ensnaring. Panic, confusion, and fear were ripe in their voices. Brooklyn wondered if perhaps Goliath and the others had gotten up close and personal with some of these guys during the police raid. Though these guys did not mention "flying monsters", their agitation and anxiety was clear.
"Here," Peter cut the drone's audio as he gingerly opened the access hatch. "There's some catwalks running along the roof of the building. Let me know when you're in position and I'll start webbing 'em up while you knock 'em out."
"Right." Brooklyn nodded, looking down into the darkened warehouse through the now open access hatch.
His eyes took a minute to adjust to the near pitch black interior, but he soon spied the catwalk that Peter had mentioned. Brooklyn grabbed onto the edge of the hatch with one hand and lowered himself inside. Letting his feet touch the cold metal of the catwalk, he let go of the hatch's edge.
"What was that?!" One of the criminals must have heard the hatch being opened, or the faint creak of aged metal when Brooklyn had set down on the catwalk. A few of them had flash lights out, and they turned them towards the roof of the building.
Brooklyn was quick to avoid the light, crouching down on all fours and making his body as flat as possible. The sharp, contrasting shadows of the metal rafters hid his form well as the lights danced around him. Glancing back to the hatch, he saw Peter had climbed inside as well. Watching first hand as Spider-Man effortlessly clung to the ceiling and skittered along on all fours admittedly made his skin crawl.
Turning back to the ensemble of criminals, Brooklyn began to size up his targets. All of their weapons were humming with a purple glow as they pointed them around. Knowing that Peter had the weapons covered, he instead assessed the physical strength of his foes. There were still only six in total. None were particularly outstanding to the brick red gargoyle. He took to naming them off of their general physical appearance.
There was "Chains", a shifty eyed fair skinned male with a plethora of gold chains adorning his body. Chains was clearly the most nervous, having backed up against a concrete support pillar. He appeared to be hyperventilating.
"Jersey", an older looking pale man with a tattered Mets jersey, seemed well composed. He kept his weapon at a low ready, eyes scanning the rafters.
"Muscles" was next up. Large, muscular, and shirtless. He was carrying the largest of the weapons, though he was keeping a laser focus on one of the larger entrances to the warehouse.
Then there was "Beanie", so dubbed because he was wearing a red beanie hat on his head. Why the human was wearing a winter hat so close to summer was beyond Brooklyn, but it had made him easy to pick out. Beanie was standing close to a box filled with some sort of glowing purple rocks.
The next guy, "Forklift", was so named as he was standing next to the forklift Brooklyn had seen on the drone's footage. It looked like he may have been driving it before the power had went out.
The final guy was furthest from the rest of the group, having positioned himself at the service entrance to Brooklyn's right. He was dubbed "Lookout".
His targets sized up, Brooklyn crawled along the cat walk. He kept his movements slow yet deliberate. Each stride fed into the next one as he hugged the shifting darkness.
"Someone needs to go outside and start the truck!" Yelled Forklift. "We need to get this stuff outta here!"
"No way man! I ain't going out there only to get shot up by the cops!" Chains shouted back.
"We would've heard sirens by now if it were the police…" Lookout spoke up as he crouched down next to the service door.
"With how many we iced at the drop point? No way, ese. They out for blood. Damage Control gonna bust our asses for sure." Beanie had propped his weapon up on the crate, aiming it at Lookout's service door.
Brooklyn rounded a corner on the catwalk, climbing up a set of stairs that led to a section of the walkway that'd place him directly over Muscles.
"Quiet, all of you! I think we've got company in here." Jersey spoke with a confident, cool tone.
Stopping in his tracks, Brooklyn peered over the edge of the catwalk. He took one final stock of the position of his foes before looking around for Peter. He quickly spied the teen hanging upside down from a nearly invisible strand of webbing.
"Ready, Spider-Man?"
"Ready!" Brooklyn spied the teen's thumbs up.
"Web 'em up."
On cue, a flurry of webs shot out. Blobs and stands arced through the air, impacting the crates of weapons and glowing objects first. The webs then turned on the criminals, each finding their weapons covered in the sticky substance. Screams of anger, confusion, and surprise erupted from the group, prompting Brooklyn to make his move.
"It's Spi-" Muscles seemed to have spotted Peter in the rafters, calling out the hero's appearance before Brooklyn crashed into him from above. He effortlessly knocked the human to the ground with a sharp blow to the head, letting out a guttural war cry as he did.
"What the hell is that thing?!" Chains cried out in terror, desperately trying to pull the trigger on his weapon as he aimed it a Brooklyn. Another web shot from Peter pinned him to the concrete pillar, knocking him out of the running.
Eye's glowing white, Brooklyn delivered another sharp blow to Muscles' head before turning towards Beanie. The poorly dressed man, seeing that he could not shoot at Brooklyn, rushed the gargoyle down. He swung at Brooklyn with a shrill cry, but Brooklyn had already moved out of the way, side stepping the charging human with ease. His tail wrapped around the human's leg, and Brooklyn jerked his hips back. Beanie went tumbling onto the concrete floor.
"It's a monster!" Forklift exclaimed, frantically clawing at the webbing that ensnared his left hand.
"Hey, that's not very nice!" Peter quipped as he landed on top of the forklift. Brooklyn watched as Peter delivered a sharp jump kick to Forklift's head, knocking the human out cold.
Adrenaline surged through his body as Brooklyn scanned the warehouse. Beanie was down for the count, having hit his head during his tumble. Jersey and Lookout were still up, with Jersey running over to Lookout. It looked like they were going to try to make a break for it out of the service door, but Peter was one step ahead of them. The teenaged hero shot a glob of webbing over at the door, sealing it shut.
At the same time, Brooklyn had lept after Jersey. The more composed human must have anticipated Brooklyn's pursuit. He rolled out of the way of Brooklyn's pounce, got back on his knees, and swung his disabled weapon at the gargoyle. It was easily caught by Brooklyn, his muscles flexing against the force of the swing.
"W-what the hell are you?" Jersey grimaced, his previous composure evaporated.
"Just a concerned New Yorker." Brooklyn smirked with a growl. He batted the assault away and drove a fist into Jersey's gut. The human, almost puking, keeled over. Brooklyn then hit him with a left hook and sent Jersey sprawling out onto the floor.
"I give up!" Lookout shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. Peter was already on him, webs pinning him against the service door.
"You good over there, Brooklyn?" Peter called out from the forklift.
"All good, Spider-Man." He huffed in reply, his eyes shifting back to their normal color as the adrenaline high slowly subsided.
The situation seemed to be under control, so Brooklyn decided to indulge in his curiosity. He loomed over the knocked out Jersey, eyeing the webbed up weapon. It was vaguely pistol shaped, much larger and cruder than Elisa's. Wires and tubing arced throughout its metal frame inter spaced by the otherworldly glow of a purple rock embedded in the top of the pistol shaped weapon.
"Careful with that, Brooklyn. I wouldn't to- LOOKOUT!"
Brooklyn's head jerked towards Peter at the cry, and then focused in on Muscles. The muscular human had recovered from Brooklyn's assault and had managed to free his trigger finger from the webs. The large, crude weapon arced with purple energy as it charged up. And Brooklyn was right in its cross hairs.
His eyes went wide as a high pitch whine filled the warehouse. He moved to dive out of the way, but saw that Peter had managed to latch a web onto Muscles' arm. The teen pulled with all his might as the whine ended in a crescendo, a white hot purple beam blasting out of the weapon. It just barely missed Brooklyn as he dived to the right, watching the beam cut effortlessly through the warehouse wall. Melted metal began to drip from the wall and ceiling as the beam arced upwards with Peter's pulls.
Seeing that Muscles must be holding down on the trigger as he fought against Peter's pulls, Brooklyn darted forward. He lept in the air, clasped his fists together, and brought them down on Muscles' head.
"Fuck yo-" Muscles' tried to shout out the obscenity before he went limp from Brooklyn's haymaker. His grip on the trigger relaxed. The deadly beam fizzled out, the smoldering embers from the destroyed ceiling showering the interior in an eerie orange glow.
His heart beating in his ears, Brooklyn tensed up as he scanned the warehouse again, hyper aware of any other potential threats.
"Brooklyn! You okay?!" He heard Peter cry out. The sound of approaching footsteps caused Brooklyn to launch a punch in its direction, but his fist was caught by Peter.
"Pete…" He gasped, his eyes glowing white for a brief moment before softening. The grasp Peter had on his fist was light yet forceful. "Sorry… just a bit shaken up. You saved my life…"
"You would've done the same, buddy." No hesitation in his response. "Come on, we should get out of here. The NYPD and the Department of Damage Control should be here any minute now."
Brooklyn stared at Peter for a few seconds, adrenaline still coursing through his body.
"Right." He sighed, spying a ladder he could climb up to get to the catwalk. "Yeah, let's get out of here."
With a nod, Peter shot a web line into the rafters and hoisted himself up to the ceiling. Brooklyn followed close behind, running over to the ladder and climbing up with a break neck speed. The two climbed out of the access hatch together, the sound of approaching sirens filling the morning air. He noticed that Peter had since recalled the drone. It now sat firmly on his chest again, resuming its shape as a simple logo.
"Come on, let's head over there." Peter suggested, pointing out a large building overlooking a nearby park.
Brooklyn nodded, prompting Peter to run off towards the building. He, in turn, went over to a nearby ledge on the warehouse. Much to his delight, there was just enough of a fleeting updraft blowing off of the bay that could take him into the sky. He positioned himself adjacent to the wind, stretched his wings, and pushed off the ledge.
It was nice to hang around long enough to see the end of his handiwork. Per Goliath's orders, they never tried to linger around crime scenes too much after intervening, lest they risk being spotted more than they already had been.
From the vantage point Peter had chosen, Brooklyn caught a bird's eye view to the clean up operation. The criminals were all led out into awaiting police vans, sufficiently battered and bruised enough to hopefully think twice about their choice of life. The fire department had showed up as well and tended to the flaming damage wrought by Muscles' beam weapon. He also spied the unfamiliar black vans of the Department of Damage Control. Their agents looked like something out of Men in Black as they hauled away the human-alien hybrid weapons.
"You were awesome back there, Brooklyn." Peter's voice cut through the silence that had settled between them. "And pretty scary. I'm surprised those guys even tried to fight you. Like, that roar you did when you jumped down onto the muscular guy? That was sick."
"Thanks." Brooklyn smiled lightly. He had since come down from the adrenaline high, his mind occupied with Peter's life saving actions. "You weren't so bad yourself. Never should have doubted your skill with those web shooters."
"Yeah, well… I've got a bit of practice in with them." Peter replied with a sheepish tone, running a gloved hand through his hair.
"And you saved my life." Brooklyn added with a sharp laugh.
"Yeah…" Peter added a quick laugh to Brooklyn's. "So do you like owe me a life debt or something? Is that a thing with gargoyles? Because like I said, you would've done the same thing for me. Don't feel like you owe me for anything. It's part and parcel with the job."
There it was, that same nonchalant, heroic yet carefree attitude that so effortlessly flowed. It punctuated every interaction Brooklyn had with Peter, and seemed to come as naturally as breathing to the teen.
"Not exactly, but you still saved my life." He grinned. "That's a pretty big deal for us gargoyles. For anyone, I'd imagine. Thank you, Peter."
It looked like Peter was going to try and wave it off as no big deal. True it was part of the "job", as he had put it. Brooklyn had saved plenty of human's lives before during his patrols. But this was one of the first times a human had saved his life. There was a rash of emotions bubbling to the surface that he could not quite place. One that prevailed above the rest, however, was easy to place.
Trust.
Trust not only in Peter, but also in himself. Brooklyn now knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could trust himself and his judgment. After all, if he was able to trust Peter with his life, then he knew he made the right choice.
"You're welcome, Brooklyn." Peter nodded as Brooklyn reached into his belt pouch.
He held his phone in his hand, looking at the front display. It was almost five o'clock in the morning. Sunrise was probably fifteen or so minutes away. He felt a familiar tingle in the back of his skull, an instinct all gargoyles had, telling him to find a safe place to roost soon. But that could wait.
He flipped the phone open, looked at the home screen for a brief second, and then held it up to Peter.
"That's me and my brothers: Broadway -" he pointed to Broadway, who was on Brooklyn's left in the photo – "and Lexington -" he pointed to Lexington on his right.
It was a selfie that Brooklyn had taken at their first Yankee's game a few months back. They were each sporting matching hats, all three grinning wide.
Brooklyn watched as the gears in Peter's head turned as the teen looked at the picture. He was studying every detail of it, a grin quickly forming on his youthful face.
"Broadway and Lexington…" he repeated. "I can't wait to met them."
Brooklyn smiled.
"Can't wait for you to meet them either, Pete." He closed the lid on the phone.
A/N:
Here we are!
My apologies for the long wait. I went through several re-writes of the chapter, trying to make sure the progression of Peter and Brooklyn's friendship felt naturally. It was quite a daunting task as I did not exactly want them to immediately jump into sharing personal details, but also did not want to stretch it out too much. After all, Peter has always been portrayed as a "wears his heart on his sleeve" type person. Even considering Brooklyn's mindset at this point, I surmised even he would have trouble in not trusting Peter. Therefore, I felt a turn towards his own self doubt was prudent. I have always felt his betrayal at the hands of Demona would have negatively impacted his faith in himself, and hope I portrayed those feelings well here!
I will not make firm commitments to a set timeline for posting chapters, but I am aiming for at least once a month.
See you in the next one!