[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/QLPeQ5j.png?1[/img][/center] [i]The former site of Gianino's Imports Corner of Court and Bryant St, Red Hook District, Brooklyn 03:05 AM[/i] [color=PaleVioletRed]"Jesus,"[/color] said Detective Jean DeWolff as she ducked under the police tape, flashing her badge to the approaching officers to let her pass. [color=PaleVioletRed]"What have got here?"[/color] The area was still a cacophony of sound and heat, the flashing strobes of lights from police cruisers, fire trucks, and ambulances assaulting her eyes, to say nothing of the towering inferno where Gianino's Imports used to be. Bright yellow flames gave way to thick black smoke which poured into the night sky, filling the air with an acrid smell. Jets of water arced through the air and into the blaze as crews of firefighters desperately tried to contain it. Given the reports of the fire being started by an explosion, no one was too eager to get any closer than was absolutely necessary. [color=PeachPuff]"A real shit-show, that's what we've got,"[/color] called out Sergeant Francis Tork, hands in the pockets of his old olive-drab army jacket as he approached DeWolff. [color=PeachPuff]"Reports of gunfire, possibly an armed robbery, then boom, the whole goddamn place goes up like it was hit by a howitzer."[/color] [color=PaleVioletRed]"Witnesses?"[/color] DeWolff asked. [color=PeachPuff]"Not at this hour,"[/color] Tork shook his head. [color=PaleVioletRed]"Any survivors?"[/color] [color=PeachPuff]"Ehh, if you can call them that,"[/color] he shrugged. [color=PeachPuff]"Five guys, all completely FUBAR. Broken bones, severe burns all over, all total vegetables; it's all the EMTs can do to keep them alive. An' if they're not moved to the hospital soon, they're not gonna make it."[/color] [color=PaleVioletRed]"Damn it,"[/color] Jean cursed, staring at the inferno. [color=PaleVioletRed]"Any IDs on them?"[/color] [color=PeachPuff]"Nothing official,"[/color] Tork said, [color=PeachPuff]"but one of them's Sal Minelli, one of Hammerhead's enforcers. His face looks like a good salsa right now, but I'd recognize that fatass any day. Chances are the rest of them are Hammherhead boys, too."[/color] [color=PaleVioletRed]"Think it was a rival gang, then?"[/color] Tork shrugged again. [color=PeachPuff]"Could've been a hundred different things. We won't know for sure until either they get that fire out, or one of the roasted vegetables starts talking."[/color] Jean gave him a slight scowl for his rudeness, which Tork didn't acknowledge. [color=PaleVioletRed]"Who got them out? One of ours, or FDNY?"[/color] [color=PeachPuff]"Well, that's the interesting thing,"[/color] Tork said. [color=PeachPuff]"[i]Nobody[/i] got them out. By the time we were on the scene, they'd already been dragged about a hundred yards clear."[/color] Jean's brow furrowed, and she turned to Tork with a look of confusion. [color=PaleVioletRed]"Who could've done that in time?"[/color] she asked. [color=PaleVioletRed]"Someone gets the drop on these guys, beats them within an inch of their lives, and leaves them for dead.....then, what, some good Samaritan pulls them out at the last second?"[/color] [color=PeachPuff]"Might've been a cape,"[/color] Tork suggested. [color=PeachPuff]"I mean, I know they're not really welcome in the city now, but that doesn't stop 'em."[/color] [color=PaleVioletRed]"Maybe,"[/color] Jean said, unconvinced. [color=PaleVioletRed]"This place....it used to be an old Silvermane front, right?"[/color] Tork nodded. [color=PaleVioletRed]"And Silvermane was pushed out of Brooklyn by the Goblin...."[/color] [color=PeachPuff]"What're you thinkin', DeWolff?"[/color] Tork asked, an eyebrow raised. Both of them flinched as a small explosion punched through the air, sending debris flying and firefighters scrambling to regain control of the situation. [color=PaleVioletRed]"I'm thinking I want that goddamn fire out so I can get a better look at the crime scene...."[/color] [hr] [i]The back room of DeNucci's Gym Lexington and 96th, Italian Harlem 03:22am[/i] [color=Silver][i]"It's three in the morning,"[/i][/color] came the voice of Silvio Manfredi, impatient and angry, over the phone. [color=SlateBlue]"Yeah, I know boss,"[/color] Hammerhead stammered, the usually cold and confident gangster uneasy when speaking to his superior. [color=SlateBlue]"It's just....the job at Gianino's, it.....it went ta hell, boss."[/color] There was a long pause over the line before Manfredi spoke again. [color=Silver][i]"How much were you able to recover?"[/i][/color] [color=SlateBlue]"Ah, well.....none of it,"[/color] Hammerhead admitted. [color=Slateblue]"Whole place got blown ta shit, with five a my guys in it."[/color] [color=Silver][i]"Who did we lose?"[/i][/color] [color=SlateBlue]"Tataglia, Minelli....Laguna, Zambrano, and, erm....Campaea?"[/color] He answered, two fingers rubbing his forehead as he tried to remember who he'd sent on the job. [color=Silver][i]"Dead?"[/i][/color] [color=SlateBlue]"Don't know. My guy on the inside says they was beaten ta hell an' burned, might not make it through the night."[/color] [color=Silver][i]".....and you're sure it's all gone?"[/i][/color] [color=SlateBlue]"The bombs, the money, the serum, anything Goblin had in that place, it's gone."[/color] There was another long pause as Manfredi collected his thoughts. Hammerhead felt sheets of sweat pouring down his face as the silence bore down on him. [color=Silver][i]"I want him dead,"[/i][/color] Silvermane decreed. [color=Silver][i]"Whoever did this, I want him dead by the end of the week, and his head mounted on my wall. No excuses, no bullshit, you find this guy and you put him down, or I'll find someone who will. Capisce?"[/i][/color] [color=SlateBlue]"....yeah, boss,"[/color] Hammerhead muttered. [color=Silver][i]"Good. Don't ever call me at this hour again,"[/i][/color] Manfredi said, before hanging up. [hr] [i]Somewhere in upper Manhattan 03:44am[/i] [color=LimeGreen]"How was tonight's performance, gentlemen?"[/color] [color=GreenYellow]"Very illuminating, sir. The subject entered an active state in record time, with far less resistance from the host than any previous outings. We believe the symbiosis is nearing ideal levels."[/color] [color=LimeGreen]"Excellent. I'm seeing from the news that it's not just taking our boy out for joyrides anymore. They're actively hunting together."[/color] [color=Thistle]"Yes, sir, and I'm concerned about the level of autonomy the subject is allowed. If the bond continues to grow in strength, we may need to act and place controlling agents on it before--"[/color] [color=LimeGreen]"I'm noticing none of the reports of the explosion are including any fatalities."[/color] [color=GreenYellow]"Erm, yes, sir. While the subject is engaging in combat with overwhelming force, it seems to stop short of lethal actions. We're trying to determine if this is inherent in the subject organism, or if the host is somehow overriding its instincts."[/color] [color=LimeGreen]"So....he's still in there. Interesting."[/color] [color=Thistle]"If I may, sir....if the host [i]is[/i] maintaining a presence while under the influence of the subject organism, there is a chance that their hunting instincts may turn towards us at some point. I suggest activating the Slayer Protocols before--"[/color] [color=LimeGreen]"I'll take that under advisement, thank you very much. I've made sure the host will be in no mental state to take control, even if the symbiosis fails. And I've been observing him more closely than anyone. Trust me, he has no idea what we're doing, or what's happening to him."[/color] [color=Thistle]"Even so, sir, may I--"[/color] [color=LimeGreen]"That will be all tonight, thank you very much."[/color] [color=Thistle]".....yes, sir."[/color] [hr] [i]Muggins Apartment Complex 410 Chelsea St., Brooklyn 04:02am[/i] [color=DarkOrchid][i]She's falling.[/i][/color] In the distance, lights flashed and sirens still wailed around the pillar of smoke that rose above the city skyline. Police, firefighters, paramedics, and SHIELD agents swarmed about the chaos. Here, though, things were quiet and still. No lights were on in the old, four-story brownstone walk-up when a figure in black landed on the roof without so much as making a sound. Keeping to the shadows, the black figure crept across the rooftop, nearly flat against the concrete as it crawled between television antennae and air conditioning units. Reaching the edge, it paused for a moment to let a lone car pass by in the night, then as the headlights passed and darkness draped across the old building once again, crept over the edge and crawled along the brickwork before slipping inside of a window. Careful not to make any noise, the black figure crept along the ceiling, clinging to it with ease as if it were crawling on the floor. Once it was certain it had not been detected, the figure extended rope-like black tendrils up into the ceiling and lowered itself down gently into the lumpy, stained, unmade twin-sized bed inside an equally filthy and squalid bedroom. The floor was covered in ancient mouldy carpet, and on that carpet sat mounds of sour, unwashed clothes. The walls were plastered with posters, some from cheesy science fiction movies, some portraits of Einstein and Tesla and Howard Stark, some from bands that played loud and obnoxious music. The desk across from the bed was littered with scribbled notes, half-finished homework, a leatherbound journal the only thing that looked like any care had been taken in keeping it. [color=DarkOrchid][i]She's falling.[/i][/color] The figure settled into this mess, and slowly the oily black shadow that covered it melted away. Creeping into the dark crevices of the wasteland that was its host's home, the black mass left the young man to his nightmares. Tossing and turning until dawn, Peter Parker dreamed of pain, of fire, of people screaming.... [color=DarkOrchid][i]She's falling.[/i][/color] ....and that he was helpless to do anything about it.