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Chapter 21– Developments.
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"Not bad, Ben. But then again, I've been better." Jessica says, taking the seat across from me, practically slumping into it. I stifle a chuckle when her head lols back in her chair as she lazily raises a hand in the air, catching the attention of the waitress nearby. Without a single word being exchanged, the waitress goes to get her order for her, Jessica being a regular here and very familiar with all of the people here, which now includes me as well.
"Hah, sounds rough. So you haven't been having much luck, then?" I enquire, sipping on my coffee to keep my chuckles from escaping, having done that before and been on the receiving end of a harsh glare for it. But given just what she is having so much trouble with, I can't help but find some amusement in it, finding it incredibly ironic.
"Try no luck at all. Whenever I am not making ends meet, I am running all over the city just trying to find the bastard, only managing sometimes to get a glimpse of the asshole before he disappears." Hearing her complaints, I find it incredibly hard to keep my grin from stretching because the rim of my cup would not be enough to hide it, and I can only thank the fact that she is staring up at the ceiling right now that she can't see me.
"Well, Spider-Man is a popular guy. People all over the city want to meet him, grab hold of him and maim him. So it is no wonder he is so quick to scurry away." Jessica Carradine, the woman across from me, looked at me with lidded eyes as she rose back up to accept the cup of coffee handed to her by the waitress. She is a journalist or something, and she is determined to find Spider-Man for some reason, wanting to ask him some questions.
I don't know much more beyond that, and to be honest, I haven't pried much. I know for certain that Jessica is determined to find Spider-Man, to the point she works some dead-end jobs to make ends meet so she can focus on chasing him down. It makes me feel kind of bad that technically a Spider-Man, or rather a former one, is sitting right across from her and would probably be able to answer all her questions. Sadly for her, that will never happen. As far as I am concerned, this is Peter's problem, and I am just an observer.
"Still, it doesn't explain how that little punk Parker manages to get so many photos. I just wish I could find him, and I bet I could get him to squeal and tell me his secret." That was actually how myself and Jessica met because she thought I was Peter. I had a cap on underneath a hood while in the shop, and she suddenly came up out of nowhere and started talking to me, thinking I was Peter. Thankfully when I removed my cap and hood, she saw my blond hair and noticed that I was not Peter, and that is how we met. I can only be thankful that Peter still has a semi-Clark Kent thing going on, pretending to be a bit of a timid coward. I won't be doing that kind of thing, it just isn't my type of thing, plus I have no one to protect either.
"Well, good luck to you. I hope one day you manage to track them both down and finagle whatever it is you want out of them." I smile at her, to which she smiles back. She actually looks quite lovely when she isn't so haggard and weary. She has tan skin, brown eyes and wild black hair. She has some light makeup on to cover the eyebags underneath her eyes and black lipstick on as well. She has some black biker boots on, with some brown slacks, and a cosy black turtleneck jumper, over which she wears a grey trenchcoat. She has a kind of goth, scruffy look going on that actually works for her. She is actually very good-looking when she isn't scowling all the time.
"Alright, enough about me and my problems. Let's talk about yours. It will make me feel better." Jessica says, smirking at me before sipping on her drink. I sigh a little just for appearance, but to be honest, this is the reason I come here. After all, I could go to any coffee shop anywhere, and there are no doubt more relaxing places to destress that I can easily afford with all the cash I have tucked away. But I keep on coming back here because Jessica here is a really great person to talk at.
"Hah, what problems? I don't have problems." I say, which Jessica just deadpans at me for, because I have told her of my numerous problems in the past. Then, of course, I spruce it all up, change some facts and terms, and once there is nothing too sensitive, I tell her. It just ended up this way after a few meetings, with her sharing her problems and me sharing mine, an excellent way to vent. I wasn't even looking for a solution or anything, I was just saying my words aloud, and she listened, maybe a bit of advice here or there, and I did the same for her.
"Come on, Ben. Let's talk about that sexy roommate of yours you've been having trouble with. Any development there?" She asks, bringing up a subject that I have been trying to avoid thinking about lately. Still, unfortunately, I already talked to Jessica here about it not long after the fact, and Jessica isn't the type of person to let such things go. When she is interested in something, she grabs on tight and refuses to let go unless you chop off her hands, figuratively, of course.
"Nope, nothing of the sort. We have just been living in the same place and hardly see each other. I am busy with my work, and she is busy with hers." I was a bit miffed at the beginning and wanted to do something after the high from the mall trip, but that wore off after a while, and I realised that I nearly got invested when I wanted to get as far away as possible from this place.
"Nothing else happened after that mall trip? It's been a month already, and you live together, for god's sake. How can nothing have happened?" She immediately goes on a tirade, taking me by surprise. Usually, she just sits and listens, does some light teasing and joking around with a bit of advice and opinion to go along with it. But never before has she been so outspoken and irritated before like she has some kind of personal stake in this or she is relating to it in some way.
"We work long hours respectively, and we are dead tired when we get home, and we miss each other on our days off." I don't have any days off, and neither does Felecia, what with the work we are doing. We work exclusively at night, and during the day, I am busy out and about, going to my martial arts classes and other stuff. I don't know what Felecia does, but she is always still asleep by the time I am ready and leaving in the morning, and she is not there when I get back.
"Come on, Ben. You bought her an expensive silver earring. That must've meant something. Is she even wearing it?" I did buy her that earring, a mistake maybe because it has made things between us a bit iffy, but I don't regret it. Felecia might have tried to sell me out to the Kingpin, but that was when he was threatening her mother, and she panicked, and she didn't actually reveal anything about me.
And afterwards, after being put in a tough spot, she handed me the documents and ID she had made for me when she could have kept it and forced me to stay with her and help her with her problem, but she didn't. So Felecia didn't really do anything wrong. She was placed in a tough spot with her mother being threatened, and she panicked and said something that she didn't even think about properly. Immediately after, she apologised and gave me the means to leave that she had already prepared for me, with no strings attached.
"The only times I see her is the short period where we cross paths for a minute or two, and she is dressed in her work outfit. Her work doesn't allow her to wear any accessories or anything, so I have no clue whether she has been using the earing I got her. Now can we stop talking about this? I have come to the decision not to pursue anything with her. We are good friends and roommates, and I don't want to jeopardise that or my place to live." I make an excuse for not wanting to continue on this topic anymore. Jessica looks at me for a second, wanting to continue it, but bites her lip and nods, refraining from doing so.
"Alright, guess it's my turn then. Let me tell you about this asshole at work called John, the bastard. All day long he..."
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I watch from the corner of a rooftop as a young man lounges around on a street corner in Hell's Kitchen, a very deserted location given the fact that it is nighttime in this area, and usually, the predators are creeping around, and the mice are hiding away. There would always be a gaggle of thugs hanging around since it would be dangerous to be alone, which is why this is so suspicious to me.
For a man being alone in an isolated space, in a terrible place like this, he is remarkably relaxed and unworried, meaning that he is confident and feels safe right now. So either he is a guy that has too much unfound confidence that is going to get himself killed tonight, or if he is lucky, in a hospital bed, or he is a bigshot which I highly doubt. The most likely thing is that this little shit is backed by someone high up, so he can be alone here because no one would dare to touch him, which means I definitely want to touch him... That came out wrong.
I watch as the young man suddenly drops his cigarette to the ground and stamps it out before walking to the trash can nearby, and I can see why he started to take action as another man walks out of a shadowy alley. This man looks a bit more professional, dressed in a shirt and tie beneath a trenchcoat, as he walks over to the young man, who seriously starts to hasten his actions.
Reaching within the trashcan, the man rummages around a bit, throwing out some garbage in the process. The professional-looking man comes to a stop around a metre behind him, not wanting to get any trash on him and waits for the youngster to finish his rummaging. Taking the opportunity for what it is, I quickly hop over the side of the building into an alley, grabbing and transitioning through a few positions using the fire escapes and other parts of the buildings to descend into it quietly.
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Sneaking over to the entrance of the alley, I look out to see them both still occupied, and so I reach into the leftmost pocket on my utility belt and draw out a pitch-black little disk, about five millimetres in diameter. After that whole thing with the truck full of people, I realised that I went into this thing a bit half-cocked, and so I went and tried to bolster my tools and equipment.
I make a fist with my right hand, my thumb digging into the inside, and I place the little disk on the top of my thumb. Then, moving my hand forward, I calculate the distance and move my fist upwards, and then I flick my thumb out, shooting the disk off across to finally slip in between the gap of the man's heel and his shoe to attach itself to the back of his sock. Damn, my brain is fantastic, and who knew math could be so amazing when you are actually good at it.
I don't have time to think further of the wonders of math as the young man turns around holding a small black bag which he quickly cleans off and hands to the man, who simply takes it and stashes it on the inside of his coat and then turns around and walks away without a word. I watch him go for a minute but ultimately turn my attention to the young man who is wiping his head in relief which I should rinse for information first.
I have a tracking device on the other guy, after all, so I should be able to get to him anytime I want. I spent a lot of time boosting the signal of it on a specific frequency only known to me, so I should be able to find him as long as he doesn't move too far out of New York. Just to double-check check, I bring up my left arm and tap on it to transform part of the pitch-black surface into a dimmed blue screen, and it shows the transmitter slowly moving away from me.
I really boosted myself into a new gear after getting blasted into that wall by a stupid goon, and I made sure to take precautions as well, such as having another way to check my interface other than the screen on my arm. I use my arms for fighting, after all, so they might get damaged and is just there for the sake of ease. But, of course, if it were to break, then I would be pretty screwed, wouldn't I? Which is why I have a small device in my utility belt that would be able to do the same things, and I have a few backups at home as well, and this is just one of the upgrades I have done.
I watch as the young man reaches into his pocket and brings out a pack of cigarettes, obviously wanting to stress relief after that apparently stressful situation. Then, getting ready for my part in the play about to begin, I walk over to the middle of the alleyway and face the young man, the shadows still hiding me from view. I reach into my utility belt and draw a single Batarang ready myself as the young man places a single cigarette in his mouth and brings up a zippo lighter to the tip to light it.
His zippo just reaches the tip, and he is about to light it when I fling my Batarang out before quickly moving my hands to my side and allowing my cape to envelop my lower body entirely, and use a function of my suit to change the lenses in my cowl to a bright white. The Batarang zips through the air and cuts right through the side of the cigarette, and embeds itself in the wall on the other side, the end of the cigarette hitting the ground just as the flame sparks to light above the zippo. The young man stalls entirely, the flame staying lit as he looks at the flame... and then down at the chopped-off cigarette... and then right at the Batarang in the wall... and then left at me... and then he runs.
Turning off the white lenses which no doubt served their purpose and scared the bejeezus out of the man, I quickly grapple up on the roof and begin to follow him. Theatrics are a big part of instilling fear in criminals and getting information out of them. Sure, I could just grab ahold of them and beat the snot out of them, but that would be a lot of wasted effort on my part, and I can't be bothered to hit them until they squeal. This way, they will shit themselves as I use all sorts of scare tactics, and when I grab hold of them, they will spill everything just to get away from me. Plus, I'm Batman. Instilling fear is part of the job description.
I silently hop across the roofs in pursuit of the young criminal, following him through the streets and alleyways, searching for safety. I must be lucky or something because every path he takes is deserted, like, every other way he could have taken has at least a few people on it, but for some inexplicable reason, this guy just ends up running through dead streets. What an unlucky guy.
Seeing the guy start to struggle and become short of breath, I quickly move to take my next position for the second act. The young man looks back over his shoulder for the last time, and not seeing anything, he comes to a stop, his hands resting on his knees as he pants for dear life. And then he looks up, and there I am, all the way at the end of the street, underneath the beaming light of a street pole, just staring at him. One would think the darkness would be scarier, but the light has its uses as well and can be just as terrifying when utilised correctly. Such as right now, showcased by the young man abruptly turning around and running back in the other direction that he came from.
With all the preparation done, I can safely move on to the interrogation part of this procedure, but even that has a proper starting point. And so I quickly take to the roofs again and rush ahead of the young man who hasn't even left the street yet. Letting a guy stew can work very well, but there are also times when acting abruptly is even more effective, such as after you let them stew, which is what I am going to do now.
Seeing the man turn to run down another alley and search ahead of it, I quickly spot a large dumpster along the street with garbage piled up all around it, which should make for some excellent cover. Moving swiftly and silently, I covertly drop down to the street level and hide behind the dumpsters, and then wait for my prey to come to me.
Focusing my senses, I pay attention to the drumming of panicked footsteps rapidly slapping against the concrete pavement, coming closer and closer to my position. My eyes shoot open when I have determined the correct timing, and my arm whips out from behind the dumpster to grab ahold of the running young man, who flails like a wild chicken in my grasp. I made sure not to clench his throat too tightly, not wanting to pop his head right off. I'm not even sure if I am capable of that, though I do know that I could bend his neck like a sippy straw.
Using my grip on him, I swing him around and slam him into the brick wall next to the dumpster, elevated just enough that his tiptoes are just barely scraping against the ground as my hand holds him in place. His arms uselessly clutch my own in an attempt to shake my grasp, but his attempts are pitiful, and my arm remains unfettered as he begins to struggle for breath.
"Talk," I say as I loosen my grasp, the young criminal hastily breathing in as much oxygen as he can, unaware of if he will be able to do so in the future. After finally getting enough oxygen to his brain, he registers what I said and looks at me with panicked eyes.
"O-Okay, okay- I'm just a messenger man, a nobody! All I do is drop stuff off. P-Please don't hurt me." He says hurriedly, giving me information without a fight. I don't know if this is my scare tactics at work, or he is just naturally this cowardly and self-preserving.
"What stuff," I say, drawing my face closer to him so that my dimmed white lenses are staring directly into his eyes. He looks away, unable to handle the intensity but starts rapidly talking as he does so.
"I-I don't know, man. I JUST DO WHAT I'M TOLD... Okay, can you let me go... please?" No wonder this guy started to spill so quickly. It's because he doesn't know jack shit. He is just a courier, a glorified mailman that delivers shit for others. And worse than that, he doesn't even get to look at the mail or peek at the packages like a mailman gets to. I know they do. They definitely do. I would. It's incredibly easy just to steam a letter open and then just seal it back up. And things are always getting lost in the mail, and I know half of my Amazon packages that never turned up were either taken by the delivery man themselves or somebody who spotted it when they were walking by.
"Not enough..." I say, leaving it open-ended. Obviously, this kid probably has nothing more to say, but I wasted time hunting him down, so I am going to try and squeeze as much as I can out of him. Which apparently includes urine as well because I can see a stain starting to appear on his pants. This is why I have learnt to hold all the people I interrogate at a distance because, more often than not, they defecate or piss themselves, and this way, it only goes down their own legs. Or if I am holding them off of the ledge of a rooftop, their own faces.
"A-ALRIGHT! P-PLEASE- OKAY! I- I HAVE SOMETHING ELSE! THERE IS GOING TO BE A BIG MEETING BETWEEN A LOT OF THE TOP GUYS! THE PLAYMAKERS! I DON'T KNOW WHERE, BUT IT IS GOING TO BE IN FIVE DAYS' TIME! OKAY, THAT'S ALL I KNOW!" He says, and I release him to sit in his own mess as I walk away. I can hear him hyperventilate and talk to himself behind me as I leave, but I ignore it in favour of returning to get my Batarang and thinking about what the thug just told me.
A big meeting between all of the big shots, and if anyone is a big shot, that would be Wilson Fisk. Of course, there is no guarantee that he will be there. After all, to the hoodlum behind me, every guy with a gun is a higher-up. Plus, if it is something that important, the fact that a little scrub like this knows about this is suspicion and reeks of being a trap. If it is for me or not, it remains to be seen, and it is still an opportunity.
Still, if there is a chance that the Kingpin will be there, then this could be an ample opportunity for me. If I turn up and crash the big party, and make a strong show of force, then there is no way they will be able to ignore me, and I will become priority number one. With them all focused on me, they will forget about Felecia, especially if I kick the shit out of the fat man myself.
After their attention is entirely on Batman, I need to keep it there, but I also need to leave as well since I have resolved Felecia's problem. Maybe I can just pass the mantle of Batman onto someone else, explain some of the situations and have them be the target, maybe Daredevil or someone entirely new. Oh well, I can think about that stuff in the future. Right now, I need to hurry up after the guy I placed the tracking device on.
But first I have to retrieve my Batarang... which is no longer in the wall where I left it...
Quickly searching the area, I find the two halves of the cigarette on the ground, which confirms this is the right spot. And looking back at the brick wall, I can see the thin slit in the cement between the bricks, clearly made by my Batarang... but it is nowhere in sight.
I look around, but there is nobody else around, and there are no clues to follow either. I quickly switch between the multiple modes of my lenses using infrared and others, but I am unable to pick up on any hints or anybody in the surroundings. Whoever took it is gone with the wind, and there is no way to track them.
Note to self, find a way to keep track of your own equipment and try to pick up everything you leave behind before running off when possible. But unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about this right now, and I need to hurry up and track down the guy who took that package.
Zipping up to the rooftops and checking the interface on my arm, I quickly set off to follow the transmitter. Though I can't help but worry about who exactly took that Batarang, sure, it could just be a random kid or guy looking to sell it for some quick cash. Somehow, I get the feeling I am not that lucky, and this is somehow going to come back and bite me in the back.
Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. Best to just push it to the side and ignore it with zeal until it inevitably props its head out again and somehow worsens my life.