[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/pfaDhJ6.jpg?1[/img] [color=darkgray][b][sub]C H A P T E R O N E : T H E D O G B I T E S B A C K[/sub][/b][/color][b][color=brown][sup][h1]THE NARROW ESCAPE PROBLEM[/h1][/sup][/color][/b][/center] [COLOR=595959][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3] N . Y . P . D . M I D T O W N N O R T H P R E C I N C T[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=darkgray]November 13[sup]th[/sup], 2017 | 12:00a.m. | Manhattan, New York City[/color][/sup][/INDENT][/INDENT] [indent]After interviewing upwards of three dozen eyewitnesses, Detective Flash Thompson could finally go home. Tonight was a “quick shift” from four p.m. to midnight, during which he’d hoped to cover some ground on a robbery case – two masked individuals had hit a deli on West 53[sup]rd[/sup] Street, slipping away with a cash register’s worth of money and a variety of wallets and jewellery. He and Cartwright, his partner, had been following up on a lead when the call came in for backup at the U.N. headquarters. Turtle Bay was usually within the 17[sup]th[/sup] Precinct’s purview, but given the amount of chaos over there, they were outmatched and outgunned. Flash and Cartwright were about to respond when they received [i]another[/i] call – this time for a 217 over at Le Bernardin, the French restaurant. Weighing their options, they decided to head over to the assault with intent to murder – they were close, only a block over on the other side of Broadway – never expecting the scene that awaited them. Wilson Fisk – the Kingpin of Crime – was being rushed to the E.R. when they arrived, his wife staying with him in the back of the ambulance; an oxygen mask on his face, paramedics were frantically attending to him as Vanessa watched on in distress. The restaurant was a mess inside, the table at which the Fisks had been seated shattered, its seats in splinters. The tablecloth was splayed on the floor, the white linen stained by blood and champagne, half-eaten fish and shards of dishware strewn across it; neighbouring seats were overturned, plates and glasses smashed in the panic as the other guests rushed away from danger. Someone had actually tried to [i]kill[/i] the Kingpin. [i]What kind of insane idiot…?[/i] It seemed that the Shocker was. Several eyewitnesses, Vanessa Fisk among them, identified the Kingpin’s would-be killer as Herman Schultz, having heard the… [i]victim[/i]… call him by name. Vanessa, sitting in the E.R. waiting room with her face set and eyes cold, recounted how Schultz had stormed into the restaurant determined to “teach Wilson a lesson”, unloading the full force of his shock gauntlets onto the Kingpin after a brief verbal confrontation, of which Vanessa claimed her memory was a little fuzzy. A look over Le Bernardin’s CCTV footage confirmed her story, and after questioning the remaining witnesses, Flash and Cartwright put out an APB on the Shocker. As he walked to his car in the Midtown North Precinct’s underground lot, the stale car park air filling his nostrils, it occurred to Flash that Peter was probably unaware of what had happened – he was either sound asleep , or swinging around somewhere other than Broadway. Chances were that he was at Turtle Bay, doing his part to clean up after the U.N. attack. Flash had no clue how he’d react to the news. Either with a burst of joy or tranquil fury, it was hard to tell. [color=brown][b]“Yo, Detective Thompson,”[/b][/color] said a shimmer of light floating above the hood of his 2005 Ford Mustang. The black and red-suited form of Miles Morales, Peter’s trusty sidekick, slowly came into view as he stopped reflecting light, his “invisibility” wearing off. “Hey, Spider-Kid,” replied Flash. There was a time when Miles’ little trick would have startled him – made him jump out of his own skin, even – but it was pretty surprising how a few short years could steel you against something. Maybe Flash was just that awesome. “What’s up?” [color=brown][b]“Well, y’know. I heard about the thing with the Kingpin.”[/b][/color] Flash raised his eyebrows. “The thing with the Kingpin, huh?” [color=brown][b]“Yeah,”[/b][/color] Miles nodded, [color=brown][b]“The thing with the Kingpin. It’s all over everywhere.”[/b][/color] “How much do you know about it?” [color=brown][b]“Not much. Just that he was eating at a restaurant with his wife when someone tried to kill him. I was hoping you could fill me in on the rest.”[/b][/color] “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” [color=brown][b]“I snuck out. I would’ve done it sooner but my school was in lockdown because of the whole U.N. thing, and my room doesn’t exactly have the biggest windows.”[/b][/color] “Isn’t it a school day?” [color=brown][b]“Didn’t you flunk school?”[/b][/color] Flash sighed. “You’ve got me there.” [color=brown][b]“Okay, so… who attacked Fisk?”[/b][/color] “Before I tell you, I need you to know,” said Flash, “That I’m one hundred percent [i]not[/i] messing with you. What I’m about to say is the truth.” [color=brown][b]“Okay.”[/b][/color] “Prepare yourself.” [color=brown][b]“Okay.”[/b][/color] “It was the Shocker.” Though Flash couldn’t see through Miles’ mask, he knew exactly the kind of expression that was on his face right now. A little bit of shock and a pinch of disbelief, complete with a healthy dose of “I don’t believe you.” [color=brown][b]“I don’t believe you.”[/b][/color] Flash couldn’t help the brief grimace that crossed his face. “It’s true. The Shocker walked into Le Bernardin and put Wilson Fisk in intensive care.” [color=brown][b]“[i]Herman?[/i] Dude.”[/b][/color] “Yep. Fisk’s got severe internal injuries, probably life-threatening. Doctors think an induced coma might be in order, if he isn’t already catatonic.” [color=brown][b]“Man. The U.N., then this. Crazy.”[/b][/color] “Yeah. I’ve got an APB out for Schultz, and I’ll let you and Pete know if there’s any developments. Knowing our luck, you’ll probably find him first.” For a moment, Flash’s thoughts took him back to the hospital, where he and Cartwright had questioned Vanessa Fisk. Watching her sit there in her chair, rigid as a statue, as she fought to keep her emotions in check… despite all of the things that she and her husband had done, all of the things that they were no doubt still doing… He’d almost felt bad for her. [/indent] [COLOR=595959][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]N E W Y O R K P R E S B Y T E R I A N H O S P I T A L[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=darkgray]November 13[sup]th[/sup], 2017 | 12:34a.m. | Manhattan, New York City[/color][/sup][/INDENT][/INDENT] [indent]Danny Brito had never seen Mrs. Fisk like this before. Yes, he’d seen her angry. Of course he had. You don’t work as one of the Kingpin’s top enforcers without answering to the top brass – the Fisks – and while he wouldn’t be the first to admit it, Dan had been on the receiving end of her wrath more than once. There was something terrifying about her, a kind of menace that not even her husband had, that made his bladder weak and sent chills down his spine… and right now, that menace was multiplied a thousandfold as she stared blankly at the hospital floor, painted fingernails digging into the fabric of her chair. Dried tears and mascara formed lines down her cheeks. Her dress was stained with patches of champagne and her husband’s blood. She was a mess. She was furious. Fancy Dan, Montana and Ox stood around her, waiting for her to speak. They’d been informed of what happened not long before Mrs. Fisk had summoned them to the hospital. They knew what Schultz had done, even after their little visit to him the previous day. If Dan was completely honest, it made him a little bit more than angry. That guy just didn’t know when to quit. “I want you to find him,” Mrs. Fisk’s voice broke the silence. It was raspy. Flat. “I want you to find him, and to make him pay. Make [i]all[/i] of them pay.” The Enforcers looked at her with a mix of confusion, sympathy and caution. “All of who, Mrs. Fisk?” asked Dan. “[i]Them[/i]. Those Sinister Six fucks. He’s one of them – [i]was[/i] one of them, I don’t care – they wanted Wilson dead either way and I want them [i]gone[/i].” “Are… are you su– ” Montana placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder, cutting him off. “Consider it done, Mrs. Fisk,” he said. And just like that, Danny began to feel a different kind of fear. An exciting kind; a paralysing kind – because it was then that he understood. What Mrs. Fisk was asking of them wasn’t just to hunt down her husband’s attacker. No… She was asking them to go to war.[/indent]