Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man. I only own the OC George Edwards/The Bladewolf.
Peter groaned as he came back to the land of the living, albeit with a pounding headache like being stomped by Rhino repeatedly. He shook his head and tried to movem, frowning when he felt a constriction around his body. As his vision blurred, he struggled as he realized he was bound to a brick wall by chains. From the looks of it, he was on a rooftop He looked around before freezing as he spotted the vigilante he fought, the Bladewolf, sitting nearby. He was now wearing a black, leather trench coat.
"Morning, sunshine." Bladewolf remarked dryly while turning away and pressing something on the side of his helmet, which made it lift so he could take a drink of water before lowering the helmet again.
"Is it?" Peter glanced at the sky, seeing it was still dark. "Kinda dark to be morning, if you ask me."
"I see you're still a smartass after I kicked your ass." Bladewolf muttered, tossing his cup of water aside with a sigh, watching as Spider-Man struggled against his chains. "That's useless. I can tell you're strong, but the only way you get free from those chains... the only way you walk out of here is if I let you."
Peter sighed and slumped against the wall before looking at him, his mask's white lenses narrowing. "Why didn't you take my mask off?" He asked, noticing upon waking up that his mask hadn't been taken off.
"I don't give a shit who you really are underneath that mask." Bladewolf said bluntly.
"You killed everyone else. Why am I still alive?" Spider-Man asked, but got no response as Bladewolf stood up and walked towards some boxes. "Huh? I got in your way twice now... and you don't strike me as someone who just lets that happen.
Still ignoring the wall-crawler, Bladewolf grabbed the tarp covering the boxes and threw it off, revealing three of them. Peter watched with a frown as Bladewolf opened one of them, tossing the lid aside and he saw the contents within.
"Military-grade Hardware. You seem to know your way around it." He said, eyeing Bladewolf who remained silent. "And you sure carry yourself like a soldier." Bladewolf sighed quietly as he stood and walked over to the ledge of the building, staring out at the city. "What are you gonna do with all of this?"
"What's required." Was Bladewolf's cold response.
There was silence on the rooftop as Bladewolf continued to look out at the city, listening to the cars honking and screeching, people shouting in the distance. He sighed and shook his head, turning and walking over to one of the guns.
"This another one of your missions?" Spider-Man asked, causing the Bladewolf to glance towards him but said nothing as he got to work. "That's why we're here, isn't it? How many will this make? I'm guessing you've done this, what... ten, maybe twenty times? How long's it been? Six months, a year... or your whole life? Something tells me you don't take breaks. You know, no one else has to die. You could stop now. Walk away."
Bladewolf, who had been busy attaching and assembling a gun, paused and looked at him. "Walk away? Could you do that? Could you walk away?" Spider-Man said nothing, causing the armoured vigilante to sigh. "Yeah..."
He stood, picking up the assembled gun before walking over to another crate as church bells were heard in the distance.
"What is that, midnight?" Peter asked, hearing the church bells as well.
"St. Matthew's." Bladewolf answered, leaning his gun beside the crate and working on something else.
"You a Catholic?" Spider-Man eyed him.
"No."
"From New York?"
"Once. Now stop, Spider."
Spider-Man raised a brow. "Stop?"
"Stop digging." Bladewolf said sternly, shooting him a look.
Spider-Man was silent as he watched the armoured vigilante continue whatever he was doing with the military hardware. "You know, a funny thing about New York... few people are actually from here. The ones who are... they don't leave. They can't, they, uh... They feel like the city's a part of them. You know? Until one day, something changes. Maybe they get older. And then they have to leave, they have to get out. See the world, maybe. Maybe they enlist? Where'd they send you?"
"Are you some shrink, Spider?" Bladewolf asked, finally turning his attention onto the web-swinger. "Come on, you gotta be something when you aren't in that suit."
"Just a guy trying to get by in life." Spider-Man answered.
"Yeah?" From the sounds of it, Bladewolf had risen an eyebrow under his mask. "Have you ever been to war?"
Frowning, Spider-Man shook his head. "No."
"Well, don't talk about it." Bladewolf said coldly before getting back to work.
"I've seen some fights though." Peter offered. "Been in a few nasty ones in the near eight years since I donned this mask."
"Yeah, been fighting bad guys for seven years and I still kicked your ass." Bladewolf said, shaking his head.
"Actually, I'm sure I was the one who did that." Spider-Man said cheekily, causing Bladewolf to sigh and look at him with annoyance.
"Think whatever you want." He muttered. "I'm talking about shit, okay? Shit that you ain't been in."
"I know one thing." Spider-Man said.
"What's that?"
"War changes people." Bladewolf let out a grunt, sounding like he was agreeing but Spider-Man continued. "Sometimes they see things they can't unsee. Come home to find home's not there anymore. It changed. Or maybe they did."
Bladewolf paused, staring ahead. When he spoke, he sounded like he understood that very well. "Yeah, fair enough."
"I'm just saying, I know it can be hard." Peter said.
"Do you?" Bladewolf scoffed, looking at him. "You know it can be hard? You run around this city in a pair of little boy's pajamas and a mask. You go home at night, right? Take that mask off, maybe you think... it wasn't you who did those things, maybe it was somebody else. You know I enlisted in my late teens, and the things I had to do... I'd have worn a mask then to keep telling myself somebody else did those things, not me. But despite me wearing this mask right now, soldiers... we don't wear masks, yeah? We don't get that privilege."
"You know what I think?" Spider-Man asked.
"What's that?" Bladewolf asked.
"You're still at war." Spider-Man stated.
Bladewolf scoffed in annoyance while he stood, grabbing the gun and an ammo belt. "Oh, for crying out loud. So, you charge by the hour, doc, or what?"
"Why am I here?" Spider-Man finally asked, tired of this debate.
"Everything you do out there in the streets, Spider, it doesn't work." Bladewolf said, loading the gun. "Did you know that?
"Oh, and what you're doing is better?" Spider-Man scoffed.
"What I do, I just do. It's out of necessity." Bladewolf stated coldly.
"Come on." Spider-Man scoffed before looking at him. "You know you're not the only one, right? Who did you lose? Huh? Was it someone you loved?" Bladewolf froze at his words and looked at him, tightly gripping his gun. "Well, boo-hoo. Let me tell you something, buddy. Everybody's lost someone. Doesn't mean you have to do this."
"Well, loss doesn't work the same for everybody, Spider." Bladewolf stated.
"Yeah, that's right. It's clearly not working for you." Spider-Man chuckled.
"Maybe not." Spawn shook his head and looked at him. "We don't get to pick the things that fix us, Spider. Make us whole. Make us feel purpose. My moment of clarity? It came from the strangest of places. What kind of name is Spider-Man, anyway?"
"What kind of name is the Bladewolf?" The web-swinger retorted, getting a small chuckle in response.
"Well, gotta have a codename, right? But I'm sure you didn't ask for yours. But I don't see you running from it." Bladewolf said.
"I don't do this to hurt people." Spider-Man said firmly.
"Yeah, so what is that, just a job perk?" Bladewolf asked mockingly.
"I don't kill anyone." Spider-Man said in a hard tone.
"Is that why you think you're better than me?" Bladewolf asked, leaning forward.
"No." Spider-Man shook his head.
"Is that why you think you're a big hero?"
Spider-Man sighed and looked at him. "It doesn't matter what I think or what I am. People don't have to die." He said strongly.
"Come on, Spider. You believe that?" Bladewolf asked with a scoff.
"I believe it's not my call, and it ain't yours either." Spider-Man retorted.
"Somebody ask you to put on that costume or you take it upon yourself?" Bladewolf asked before he stood and started approaching the red and blue vigilante, crouching down in front of him. "You know what I think of you, hero? I think you're a half-measure. I think you're a man who can't finish the job. I think that you're a coward. You know the one thing that you just can't see? You know you're one bad day away from being me. Despite what you and everyone else in this city thinks, I'm not a bad guy."
"You want to explain that to the orphans and widows of the men you killed?" Spider-Man challenged.
"Oh Jesus..." Bladewolf scoffed and walked away, climbing up to the billboard. "Is that what you think, Spider? I'm just some crazy asshole going around unloading on whoever I want to?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I think." Spider-Man nodded.
"That it?"
"You think you're anything else?"
"I think that the people I kill need killing, that's what I think." Bladewolf said coldly.
"You left men hanging from meat hooks!" Spider-Man reminded with a hint of disgust in his voice.
"They got off easy, in my opinion." Bladewolf dismissed.
"You shot up a hospital." Spider-Man said.
"Yeah, and nobody got hurt or didn't deserve it."
"Oh, yeah. What about you? What happens the day someone decides you deserve it?"
Bladewolf paused and looked down at Spider-Man. "I'll tell you what, they better not miss."
Spider-Man sighed. "Come on, you run around this city like it's your damn shooting gallery. You think you do-"
"Yeah, what do you do? What do you do?" Bladewolf cut in, frustrated and fed up. "You act like it's a playground. You beat up the bullies with your fists. You throw 'em in jail, everybody calls you a hero, right? And then a month, a week, a day later, they're back on the streets doing the same goddamn thing!"
"Yeah, so you just put 'em in the morgue." Spider-Man said dryly.
"You're goddamn right, I do." Bladewolf nodded.
"You ever doubt yourself, Wolfy?" Spider-Man asked.
The reply was instant. "Not even for a second."
"Really? Really? You never think for one second, "Shit, I just killed a human being."" Spider-Man challenged.
Bladewolf tossed a piece of metal off the billboard, scoffing as he came down. "That's being pretty generous."
"A human being who did a lot of stupid shit, maybe even evil, but had one small piece of goodness in him. Maybe just a scrap, Bladewolf, but something. And then you come along, and that one tiny flicker of light gets snuffed out forever." Spider-Man said. Bladewolf stood in front of him before he sat down, focusing his full attention on him.
"I think you're wrong." Bladewolf said.
"Which part?" Spider-Man raised a brow.
"All of it." Bladewolf shook his head. "I think there's no good in the filth that I put down, that's what I think."
"And how do you know?" Spider-Man challenged.
"I just know." Bladewolf said, then he gestured around them. "Look around, Spider. This city, it stinks. It's a sewer. It stinks and it smells like shit and I can't get the stink out of my nose. I think that this world, it needs men that are willing to make the hard call. That's what I think. I think you and me are the same!
"That's bullshit, and you know it!" Spider-Man retorted.
"Only I do the one thing that you can't. You hit 'em, and they get back up. I hit 'em, and they stay down!" Bladewolf said, emphasising his words by slamming his fist into the ground. "It's permanent. I make sure that they don't make it out on the street again. I take pride in that."
"Let me ask you this." Spider-Man started.
Bladewolf raised a brow. "What's that?"
"What about hope?"
Bladewolf scoffed. "Oh, fuck. You wanna talk about Santa Claus? You wanna talk about Santa Claus?"
"I live in the real world too, and I've seen it." Spider-Man said.
"Yeah? What have you seen?" Bladewolf asked mockingly.
"Redemption."
"Ah, Jesus Christ."
"It's real. And it's possible. The people you murder deserve another chance."
"What, to kill again? Rape again? Is that what you want?" Bladewolf asked darkly.
"No. To try again. To try." Spider-Man said, pleadingly. "And if you don't get that, there's something broken in you you can't fix."
"Oh that happened a while ago, Spider." Bladewolf scoffed, standing. He walked over and grabbed the gun, slinging the ammo belt around his shoulder and setting up a tripod on the rooftop ledge. "Now sit quietly, Spider... it's time for the Dogs of Hell to be put down like the rabid mutts they are."
"What?" Spider-Man blinked.
Bladewolf didn't respond as he aimed through the scope, seeing the row of bikes. Without another word, he pulled the trigger. The bullet shot from the gun, sailed through the air, and struck one of the bikes which proceeded to blow up and take the other bikes with it, causing louder and bigger explosions with the building being caught, setting it ablaze. Bladewolf watched coldly as fired blocked the doorway, trapping the Dogs of Hell inside unless they wanted to take the chance of burning to run through the fire.
Shouldering the gun, Bladewolf turned to the enraged Spider-Man who was struggling in his chains. "I'll see you around, Spider." He said before he hopped over the ledge just as the chains finally broke.
Rushing to his feet, Spider-Man ran over to the ledge and looked over... but there was no sign of Bladewolf. He sighed, cursing as he heard the screams from the bikers in the nearby bar and he quickly went to work on trying to put out the blaze, in the hopes of saving them before they burned to death.
Arriving back at his hideout across the Hudson River next to the George Washington Bridge, Bladewolf took off his mask to reveal George Edwards' tired expression.
His hideout was pretty much his HQ, with computer systems set up in the center, a kitchen with stocked food, and there was also a room with a wall dotted with pictures and photos of the men he had been targeting, as well as had the insignia of the three gangs he had successfully annihilated. Well, the New York branch of them. Members of the Kitchen Irish, the Dogs of Hell and the Mexican Cartel were still out in other places aside from New York, but they won't be safe for much longer.
However, there was one picture that linked all of the gangs, the reason for that deal in Central park seven years ago that resulted in a massacre. The one man George wanted dead more than the Dogs, more than the Cartel, more than the Irish.
Wilson Fisk AKA the Kingpin...
And that's it for this chapter. Now I'm just going to flat out say it. George won't always kill thugs, eventually he's going to stop killing... but that doesn't mean he won't be brutal as fuck. Like to the point of leaving criminals broken heaps needing to be put in hospital to save their lives.