Answers to reviews:
AlexisBaudens: She'll appear in this chapter.
nazarenegodfrey11: Thanks.
3bodyjaa: Thanks.
Spedyalarm: Easy there, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Though... if I did give my OC a ride like the Batmobile to drive around in, then it would be the Tumbler from Batman Begins. And if he had a motorcycle, it would probably be the Batpod fron The Dark Knight because those rides look sick as fuck.
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man. I only own the OC George Edwards/The Bladewolf.
The Amazing Spider-Man had been having quite the busy night. He swung through the financial district with practised ease towards the location of a robbery. A jewelry store a few blocks up had been the victim of a smash and grab. Or rather, would have been, had it not been from the intervention of the man he had been pursuing all night, mainly following ambulances to do so.
Catching sight of the shop, a pair of ambulances and double that number of police cars in front, the Wallcrawler dropped down onto the street and approached on foot, taking extra care to be as unthreatening as possible. "Hey Spider-Man!" called a friendly voice as one of the cops beckoned him over. "What can I do for you this evening?"
Peter stopped as he watched EMTs treat a man with a serious stomach wound. "Tell me what happened here?" Spider-Man said as he returned his attention back to the cop. "Was it him?"
The officer nodded in response as another pair of paramedics came out of the store with a stretcher, a sheet over the body underneath and Peter saw the blood staining through the white sheet. "Saw him myself as we pulled up. He was fleeing the scene. We went in pursuit of him but he vanished down an alleyway." The cop told the hero. "Witness descriptions matches too, it was the Bladewolf." The cop then raised a curious eyebrow. "Hey, you've been at this for about eight years now, what's your take on him?"
Spider-Man was silent. It was not the first time he had been compared to the Bladewolf, and he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. "He's done things I wouldn't." The Webswinger said as he looked at two nearby body bags. "I'm content with being a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, but he seems the kind of guy who takes his coffee extra black."
The officer snorted at that. "Maybe..." He said as the ambulance doors closed and it drove off, sirens blaring. "Though I don't think it's that simple. What he was dealing with were a couple of robbers, one of which he left critically injured while he killed the other two upon them threatening the hostages with guns. There's more to this guy than thinking guns and shooting."
"He does seem to be a little less extreme on those who commit minor crimes." Peter nodded as he thought it over. "Muggers, robbers, he beats them up and leaves them with broken bones and possibly needing a body cast for a year, while the likes of murderers, rapists, drug dealers, he kills them without a second thought."
The Bladewolf had struck several places tonight, ranking a total of eight with this foil of a robbery. Two sites that were being used to store weapons and drugs, three attempted muggings, an attempted rape, a chop shop used to launder money and found to be full of stolen vehicles, and now a robbery. The guy had been frighteningly efficient.
"All I can say is comparing me and him is like comparing apples with washing machines." Spider-Man said with a laugh as the earpiece integrated into his costume came to life with reports of shots fired twenty or so blocks away. "You just can't do it!" He finished as he raised his arm and fired off a web, launching himself into the night.
George flopped down onto his bed in his hideout at approximately 4:30 AM, his decreasing ammunition in the couple of guns he had taken with him tonight forcing him to call it a still, he had done quite well tonight with stopping three attempted muggings, an attempted rape, a chop shop, two sites for storing weapons and drugs, and a robbery. If he was being honest with himself, it had gone better than he anticipated.
The virus he had uploaded into the NYPD servers without them noticing had greatly helped in him keeping track of the city's crime data, alerting him each time a crime was reported. His armour's systems often displayed the location, type of crime, and data on his HUD.
George sighed and turned to turn the lamp on his nightstand off, when his eyes caught sight of the large duffel bag containing the money used in the weapons and drug deals he had stopped tonight. Curious, he got off the bed and approached, grabbing the bag and dumping it's contents onto the bed. The duffel bag was one of three that he had taken, and he could tell there was a lot of money in each of them.
It's not like the dead thugs were going to be using it anymore, so George decided to take it for himself.
The vigilante let out a whistle as he counted up the total amount from just one bag. "$6,179.44... guess it's time I do a bit of shopping."
Once it was after 9:00 AM, a common time for most shops and stores in the city to open, George took a trip to Midtown, dressed in casual clothing consisting of a brown leather jacket with pockets in the front, a pair of blue jeans, and a tacky pair of Nikes.
It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for, which was a car dealership. Smirking, he walked across the street, hands in his pockets and entered while whistling as he examined the very expensive cars, some of which were muscle cars or sports cars, hell these ones looked built for racing.
There was a black Honda S2000, a white Mitsubishi Eclipse GS, a red 2001 Nissan Silvia S15 Spec-S, which was a common vehicle in Japan so George wondered why it was in an American car dealer shop. Aside from that, there was a 1969 Yenko Camaro SYC, a black Ferarri Laferarri, a Lambourghini Aventador SVJ, but one soon caught George's eyes and attention the most as he approached it.
A black Dodge Challenger SRT Demon with red stripes stretching from the hood, across the roof, right to the trunk, and also a red underlight underneath the car.
"Hello gorgeous." George let out a whistle as he gently ran a hand along the hood. Oh, he's always wanted a car like this since his teenage years. So entranced was he that the dealer's attention was caught after hearing George's whistle.
"A sight for sore eyes?" The guy asked with amusement.
"Since the day she was born." George replied without taking his eyes off of the car.
"What a coincidence, we just got her today. And she'll be yours for some K's." the dealer rubbed his fingers expectantly in a playfully devious manner.
Without saying another word, George whipped out his credit card.
About an hour later, after dealing with the paperwork and officially paying for the car, the black and red Dodge Challenger SRT Demon shot off down a street, passing Tines Square. In the driver's seat, George laughed in delight and joy as he took his new ride for a spin, wanting to break her in since his new ride will be his getaway vehicle if things get a little too... much during his nightly crime-fighting activities.
Now all that was left was for him to get himself a residence in the city since his hideout wasn't exactly the best place for staying in, and he wanted to attain some semblance of a normal life outside of the vigilantism.
'Good thing I saw a nice looking penthouse up for sale.' George thought with a smirk. Was a penthouse a bit much? Yes, but hey, he had a lot of money to spend and even more to spare, so why not put it to good use and buy stuff he wouldn't have been able to get ten years ago?
The next day was hell for Captain Yuri Watanabe. She plopped down in her chair at her desk with a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and really feeling like she needs a drink.
"What's the word, Cap?" Detective Martinez asked as he and Johnson turned to their captain. "You look like you could use a glass of Whiskey."
"I really could." Yuri muttered with a sigh before putting her hand down. "Last night, the Bladewolf hit the places we've had our eye on and responding to calls as soon as they came in. One of our IT guys believes he's in our system or has a police scanner to listen in."
Johnson frowned. "How does he go from taking out the three biggest gangs in Hell's Kitchen to targeting operations under the Kingpin? Think he's targeting the big fish?"
"Most likely." Yuri nodded, getting out of her chair and approaching the huge board displaying all of New York, with circled areas that were possible places for the Bladewolf to strike next. "Our boy is frighteningly efficient with his work. Three different criminal hideouts were hit so hard and so fast that all resistance broke before patrol cars could respond. That sure as shit ain't normal."
"From what CCTV picked up, his weaponry is some serious military-grade." Johnson said, turning in her chair. "Most likely he hit a weapons' deal and took all of their guns with him before he waged his war with the Dogs of Hell, Kitchen Irish and the Cartel. From what we've seen, he's a experienced fighter, though I wouldn't rank him as an equal to Bruce Lee or Jet Li, but he can fight and kill."
Yuri turned back to the board and put her hands on her hips as she stared at the best photo they had of the man in question, the glowing red eyes staring back at the camera. "What are you playing at, you crazy son of a bitch?"
Five days later, and that particular question raged through George's mind like a taunt. His goal had become compromised, twisted. First, he intended to kill the Dogs of Hell, the Kitchen Irish, and the Mexican Cartel as they were the ones at Central Park that day, they were the ones who drew their guns on each other and fired, not caring who they hit which resulted in the deaths of George's parents and little sister.
So he got his revenge on them.
Next, he wanted to track down the man responsible for arranging that big meetup between the three gangs, to put him out of his misery. That man was Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin. After he was dead... George would just hang up the vigilante lifestyle and try to live a normal life.
But it hadn't gone quite the way he wanted. After all, he's stopped several crimes in the past few days, stuff with nothing to do with the Kingpin or his operations. Was he an adrenaline junkie? Was it the power? Was he just a natural born killer?
These were questions he didn't know the answer to or didn't want to be answered.
Maybe... maybe it was because of his strong moral compass. Even in his school days, he wanted to help people who were being picked on by bullies. he could never stand for it and always stepped in to put an end to it, even if it got him into trouble.
He shook his head and leaned on the table, with a large map of Manhatten, red circles around areas that he would be targeting. He was in his hideout, clad in his suit sans the mask which laid nearby. "Let's go over this again." He said to himself.
The last three nights had followed the same formula: Listen to the police scanner or respond to crime data in the city, find a group of targets for him to raid and make his way back to his car once he was done. All he had to do was the fun stuff, along with taking down a few targets of opportunity as he transitioned from target to target, small stuff like robberies or muggings.
But tonight, something big was happening. A ship was arriving at a harbor owned by Fisk. This was only of interest to George because that fact had been found by police after interrogating some of the men he left for them after one of his raids. His father had been a cop, LAPD to be exact. He always had respect for police as a result. Part of him missed his family, but at the same time he wasn't forgetting their memory.
His father's words were ringing in George's head. "I've seen the worst the world has to offer son. I've stopped some of them, but after how long? How many hostage situations ended with some poor bastard not going home to his family because the pencil pushers her didn't have the balls to say, 'we're stopping this guy now, pretty or not'? That's the number that keeps me up at night, not the number of times I've pulled the trigger."
And now, doing this vigilante stuff, George could honestly admit that he believed those words even more. While his vendetta was against the Kingpin and those responsible for the death of his family, that didn't mean he should ignore the other scumbags who deserved to die for hurting those they prey upon. Spider-Man won't do it, the police won't do it unless they need to and it didn't help that there was corrupt cops among them, so he took matters into his own hands.
He might be a killer, but at least he's stopping true monsters from hurting more people.
Those he spared should be lucky he left them in broken heaps rather than dead in the gutter.
Shaking his head, George grabbed his mask and clipped it onto his head, pressing the button on the left ear side of the helmet, which closed the front part and the red eyes came on, followed by the HUD in George's perspective. He turned and walked towards the gun wall, grabbing his hooded trench coat along the way.
While the Bladewolf was still preparing for his night's work, another exceptionally capable individual was already beginning her morally and legally questionable activities. Sat behind a camera affixed with a high-powered lens, a platinum blonde and curvaceous woman smirked as she affixed a domino mask to conceal her identity. Taking one last look at her mark and where the guards were, the Black Cat stood and stretched out as she ran through her plan for this heist over in her head.
Two streets over was Fisk Tower, a massive monolith built with the name of New York's most influential, yet most secretive, crime boss emblazoned across the front. While only a select few knew the man was a CEO by day and the elusive crime boss 'Kingpin' by night, many more knew that Fisk was quite a collector of fine art, and that was what had attracted her attention. Ensuring her specialty infiltration equipment was secure, the woman picked up her grapple gun and took aim. Accounting for the drop of the hook, the Thief took aim and squeezed the trigger and letting the hook fly until she felt it connect with the building across the street.
Rocking on the balls of her feet, the Black Cat began to move forward, picking up speed until she was right at a dead sprint and leapt off the edge. With her thumb, she flicked a switch on her gun and squeezed the trigger again and her grapple gun began to hum as it reeled her in and she swung through the street, wind whipping through her long ponytail as she came up from the bottom of her swing.
Because the Grappling hook was attached to a harness around her body so she didn't rip her arm out, the Black Cat was free to relax as she ascended, extending her legs until the heeled boots on her feet hit the wall. While they had the look of typical heels, they were soft soled, not only allowing her to move nearly silently, but the 'heel' was a hollow storage compartment, with soft rubber on the bottom to ensure stealth.
The Burglar was more than adapt at moving on heels, and the rigid 'upper leather' section meant that the likelihood of a rolled ankle was practically nil. With grace and agility, the Black Cat ran 'up' the wall as the grapple gun pulled her upwards. Once on the roof, the burglar disconnected the hook and ran along the rooftops until she was in a dead spot in Fisk's surveillance where she prepared the next phase of her plan.
Readying her grappling hook again, she watched the guard walk around the terrace down below, patiently waiting for him to round the corner and give her the opening she needed. Her patience was soon rewarded as the purple clad gunman did exactly that, and she instantly seized the opening with both of her clawed hands. Using her grapple, she crossed the gap and slowly went up until she reached the next ledge, in a well practiced move, the thief took the rappelling gear off her shoulder and wrapped the loop around a fixture before connecting the c clip to her own harness before disconnecting the hook.
Leaning back, she felt her wait be supported by the rope as she began to play it out, slowly descending to her intended destination on the 19th floor. Once at her mark, she extended the claws in the tips of her gloves and began to cut a neat circle in the window before pushing the glass into the building as it clattered to the floor. Knowing that the action would have tripped the alarm, the Black Cat moved quickly, but appeared unhurried, cool and collected in her movements as she spied her mark at the far end of the room.
Rolling in an EMP grenade, the pulse from the sphere disabled the electronics, motion sensors, laser tripwires, and pressure plates, and whatever other security features the Kingpin had to protect his legally acquired artworks.
Drawing a pneumatic spike, the thief anchored her rappelling line to the side of the building. Raising her grapple, she then sent the hook to the far wall and connected the grapple gun to the rappelling line as she hooked herself to the grapple line. With a feline's agility, the Black Cat shimmied along the horizontal line through the display until she reached her target. Felicia reached for her satchel and pulled out the black cat plushie inside, setting it down on the pedastel before plucking the Chinese statue up and stowing it securely in the bag.
But just as it looked like this heist would go off without a hitch, she heard the handle of the door nearby begin to turn. Reacting quickly, she pulled herself up, bracing herself against the wall with one hand and foot as the other rested on her line as the door swung open and a man walked in with a radio and flashlight.
"Yeah, I don't see nothing, looks like a false alarm." He said as he ambled in. "Fine, I'll take a closer look ya lazy shit." He grunted before securing the walkie talkie to his belt and stepping closer in, though he didn't bother turning on the lights and just used his flashlight.
Smirking, the Black Cat bided her time until the man got closer, and then she struck. Dropping down, she wrapped her legs around his neck and squeezed him between her thighs as she pressed her hand to his mouth and he struggled against her chokehold. "Shhh..." She whispered into his ear as he pawed at her legs, trying to free himself. "You know, most men beg to get between my legs~" Purred the Black Cat seductively as the man finally ran out of oxygen and passed out.
Acrobatically, the burglar swung her legs back up around her grapple line and shimmied back out the window before disconnecting the line, ascending her rappel and securing that before she swung off towards a safehouse to deposit her ill gotten gains.
And that's it for this chapter everyone. Let me know what you think in the reviews. And don't worry... The Bladewolf and the Black Cat will meet first before George Edwards and Felicia Hardy do.
Also, I've come up with a new OC, though I'm having a little debate in what to make him; either a full-fledged Werewolf or a Vampire-Werewolf Hybrid. His name is Kaeden Hunter, and he was bitten by a Werewolf during a savage attack that took the lives of his family when they were camping (Depending on the story and origin but the family still dies), leaving him to become a monster.
Unlike most Werewolf stuff, Kaeden is able to transform at will, with his Werewolf form being that of the black Werewolf from Van Helsing (Which is my favourite Werewolf design). While like this, the human and wolf sides are in conflict, a battle for control as he is still dangerous to be around. However, every full moon, the change is brought on by force, and the wolf takes over more than the human this time, leaving him more dangerous than before because it's the animal that's in control.
That's the Werewolf origin if I go with having him become a Werewolf. If I make him a Vampire-Werewolf Hybrid, I'll blend the Werewolf origin with the power of Dracula from Dracula Untold (Which is the BEST vampire film made in the 2010s).
Let me know what you think. Should he be just a Werewolf or a hybrid? What media should I pick to introduce him?