[hider= Spidey 12 WIP]
[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/552210662391021574/552663742244978689/spider2_edit.jpg[/img][/center]
[indent][b][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cno20onK9dY]SPIDER-MAN: THE DISTANCE[/url][/b][/indent]
[indent][b]Issue 12[/b][/indent]
[hr]

[indent][b]New York City, NY --- New York Public Library[/b][/indent]
[hr]

Ben had always tried to instill in his boy the value of his local library -- trust your librarian, and that. Houses of knowledge freely available to every American, overflowing with whatever resources you might need, texts and newspapers and computers galore. But this was [i]The Enforcers.[/i] Peter doubted how much he could find about them with the Dewey Decimal System, but he needed to get out of the house.

His arm was out of the sling by now but he was careful to support himself on his other arm as he placed himself in the hard oaken seat before a computer that was probably a few generations behind on hardware. Peter scooted forward and began punching in his card information to the blue readout, fingers flying across the keys. They’d be good to fly, soon, Peter thought, to hold onto the line and feel the wind ripple his costume. But for now, there was this.

The NYPL’s walls were lacquered wooden bookshelves as far as the eye could see, giving way to smooth stonework and a dark coffered ceiling that looked almost like the night sky from where Pete sat, but he was more immediately concerned with the Chrome tab booting on the warhorse of a computer. Peter looked at his fingers as the loading dial circled for the umpteenth time.

[i]Concentrate…[/i] The arm of his sweatshirt was pulled all the way forward, and his costume swirled into place around his muscles, spiraling up his arm. He squeezed and it pushed up and past his sleeve and wound around his hand. His eyes went up for an instant, scanning the faces around him. The other library-goers were absorbed, slack-jawed at screens or with noses buried in books. He looked back. His spider-glove had formed around his hand. He squinted.

[i]Concentrate harder…[/i] Parts of the fabric receded, molding around his hand. At the back of his hand it opened, and it began sprouting metallic studs at his knuckles. Fingerless gloves. A little tasteless, but a good test of what the suit could do.

[i]Great! Now all I gotta do is do that all over and… And then what, Parker? Dress up as Megawatt? “Hey guys, it’s me, new and improved, and with spider powers! You all buy that, right?”[/i]

Peter rested his chin in his hands and scanned the screen as the Google logo flashed before him. He bit his thumb and pecked at the keyboard with his other hand.

THE ENFORCERS. Peter typed. It was a start, at least. The page flashed and a slew of results zipped to the bottom of the screen. They were about what Peter expected. An IMDB link to a documentary Ben would probably like, stuff for the Osborn Arcade Expo, and a book series which made Peter blush. He clicked through the pages, one at a time, all for more of the same. Piles of news articles and books, until--

[i]BewareTheBat.com?[/i] The light of the blue link shone in Peter’s eyes. “RARE VIDEO FOOTAGE -- BAT VS. ENFORCERS, WATCH NOW”. The readout said it was a few years old. Peter clicked through and was assaulted by all the garish offenses of early 2000s web design, a JPEG of a terrible font announcing the website as “BEWARE THE BAT -- The Internet’s #1 Batman Fanzine”, with a crudely rendered 3d bat logo making slow rotations in the upper right corner.

Peter scrolled. The video link had broken, but the original poster had something to say about it:
jsn_84
>BATMAN VS. ENFORCERS clip guys!!! yeah u heard me. the ONLY circulated clip of basty in action! tends 2 get taken down WHEREVER it goes up, watch qwik! ttyl, njoy

[i]Great, my best lead is a non-existent clip on a fanzine. Loving life.[/i] Peter scanned the rest of the comments.

batfan8675309 
>WOAH DUDE! Been looking E V E R Y W H E R E 4 this bad boy, DLing now!!!

BMansWackyQuest
>ugggghhhhh video qualityyyyyy

laughapalooza42
>lol who ARE these fuggin clowns, never heard of em
>give us THE JOKER

EdwardNygmaIsMyDad
>broken link

sp00kys4arcy$c4recrows
>@laughapalooza42 They r just smoe low lvl mooks i thnk

BatScholar
>@laughapalooza @sp00kys4arcy$c4recrows Actually according to my research, The Enforcers were a team of mercenaries who were actually quite successful before Batman got them: Daniel ‘Fancy Dan’ Brito, Ronald ‘Ox’ Bloch, and Jackson ‘Montana’ Brice. The Gotham Times coverage at the time credits the defeat to then Commissioner, but then this security footage started circulating!

laughapalooza42
>@BatScholar lol nerd

JonyG1989
>WHERE IS THE VIDEOOOOOO

tickitytockity
>@BatScholar where are they now? Arkham?

BatScholar
>@JonyG1989 This particular clip tends to appear and then disappear just as  quickly across the net. We tend to think it’s Batman taking it down himself, avoiding publicity.  If that’s the case, it’s a wonder [i]this[/i] site is still afloat…
>@tickitytockity Actually, they would’ve been sent to Blackgate, but they’re out by now. As far as I can glean, rumor has it that they went legit, or as legit as rogues do. Apparently they’re behind Enforcers Inc., a ‘security’ company to provide teams like theirs used to be to enterprising supervillain types. A solid idea, but I’d be surprised if The Bat or someone hasn’t cracked down by now.

[i]Enforcers Incorporated? Great, Spider-Man vs. Corporate America… Well, at least its not Amazon.[/i] Peter flicked the screen to a different tab and searched for it. It was the first result -- their website was plain, a slate grey and steel look that was at the very least created by a [i]competent[/i] graphic designer. Not exactly screaming supervillain pow-wow right on the front page. Peter moved through the menus and sub-menus: Contracting, Services, Employment, Contact Us… Then, under About Us: Our Founders. Peter clicked.

There header changed to a cropped photo of three men, all in striped business suits. One was huge, muscles swelling out of his suit coat. He was almost as big as Kangaroo. The other two stood in front to either side of him -- both were slighter, and one had darker skin. The other seemed insistent on wearing a cowboy hat, with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth. Peter scrolled. There were three names listed on the page, and paragraphs of description for each.

JACKSON BRICE
DANIEL BRITO
RONALD BLOCH

It was looking like BatScholar was right about at least one thing. But maybe he had a bone to pick with the security company. Peter pressed new tab and drummed his fingers on the keyboard.

Search By Video.
“Enforcers + Batman”. 20,000 results. Peter scrolled. He frowned.
“Enforcers + Batman + fight”. 50 results. Peter clicked through each page. Most were YouTube news reports, dredging up old stories with each wave of BatMania that deigned to sweep the nation.

[i]If the video keeps getting deleted…[/i] Peter gnawed harder into his thumb. He had one more solid guess up his sleeve.

“BatScholar + Enforcers”. 47 results. BatScholar was prolific. Most were posts on other fanblogs through the years, but he came across something on the third page -- BatScholar.net, The Internet’s One And Only One Man Batman Academy.

The page was newer, with embedded video, and BatScholar’s commentary beneath. It wasn’t anything Peter hadn’t already gleaned from the other sites, but there [i]were[/i] links to mirrors beneath the video. The fourth, “b4tm4n v 3n4crz” that gave him results.

[quote]
VHS artifacting ripples across the screen. Through the grain, we’re seeing the warehouse, forms of men shifting underneath the rafter beams, dragging crates behind them. The video shudders and the perspective shifts, spliced to a different camera. There are three trucks, grimy in the viewframe. One man stands over them, arms crossed and bulging like steel support wire. For an instant, there is a figure that flashes behind and above him, in the rafters beyond. It is a ghost. A glitch in the cameras.

The perspective shifts again. Another camera, a higher angle. A man in a cowboy hat waves on the half dozen workers. Another, in combat gear, leans against a steel support beam. There is a flash before the camera’s angle, the rustle of passing fabric catching on substandard audio equipment. The video winks out.

The camera above the rafters. There is something there, watching, waiting. Inhuman and bulbous, swelling like the black of the midnight ocean. Fabric rolling like a thundercloud. It is gone as fast as it appeared, secreted away among the steelwork. Hanging bays of fluorescent lights flicker. Below, there is one less workman. The Cowboy stirs.

New angle. Cowboy pulls the lariat from his hip, and whips his head from side to side. His lips flap worlessly. Superimposed subtitles flash: “WHERE IS [UNINTELLIGIBLE]?” Combat Armor pushes off from his post, obscuring the camera.

A steel ping-pong ball connects with the ground almost faster than the editor can change angles. It explodes and smoke rushes from in in a wave, instant dust storm. The camera twitches, rapidly, changing perspectives. Goons break from the smog, faces twisted, before gloved hands arced with spines emerge to drag them back, mouths silently screaming.

Big Man makes an audible ’WHUMP’ into the nearest camera’s receivers as he drops into the smog, flinging himself from the truck. The smog is beginning to clear. The workers are scattered, some hog tied and left to lie on the ground, others hung from the rafters at odd angles, legs and arms splayed out. Others still are wound to boxes with steel cable, necks limp. Big Man, Cowboy, and Combat Armor stand in loose formation, back to back, eyeing every angle. Combat Armor reaches behind his back. Cowboy’s grip tightens. Big Man cracks his knuckles.

Camera shift. The men stand before the trucks. Something silver and yellow passes through the fuzz of the VHS format and slams into the ground. The camera’s audio whines, trying to keep up with some noise, but it squeaks and fails, sputtering artifacts into  the recording. Sonic grenade. Something dark and massive slams into freight trucks from above, crumpling the hood before a black wash of fabric falls over it, obscuring. The figure draws to its full height, impossibly tall from his angle, steeped in liquid darkness, covering everything but a symbol on its chest. A Bat. 

Combat Armor claps his hands over his ears and runs, barreling over crates and jamming fingers into his ears. Cowboy is more pragmatic, he yells and twirls his lariat, snaking it around the grenade. But he is not fast enough to save his friend. Batman launches forward and is punching the Big Man before he can react. His fists land like machinegun fire -- “thuda-thuda-thuda-thuda-thuda--” Batman sweeps away before the big guy can so much as raise his arm, and drives an elbow into his solar plexus. He wheezes and pitches forward as the Cowboy yanks the grenade, throwing it to the far off reaches of the warehouse. Batman swings back with a foot to Big Man’s inner knee and he topples, crashing into the ground.

The Bat is gone, off camera before Cowboy can get eyes on him. His chest is heaving. He holds his lariat above his head. You can see the sweat beading on his forehead. Something drops from above, a rope twists around Cowboy’s body and he pulls at it, desperate. His feet leave the ground, but a knife arcs from somewhere beyond the edge of the screen and the ropes gives. Cowboy hits the dirt.

A new angle now and Combat Armor has readied another knife. Staring offscreen. Lips move. “I SEE YOU, BAT!” The subtitles read. He doesn’t. A metal shuriken swings in from off-camera, stabbing into the back of Combat Armor’s hand.

“AIIIEEEEE!” The subtitles read. Combat Armor clutches his hand and Batman moves in from behind, grabbing him around the waist and launching beyond the camera’s view, seeming to take off to the sky.

It changes again and there is a mass of black fabric, stringing Combat Armor to the rafters, lowering the rope down, meter by meter. Cowboy is moving again on the ground. He’s lost his hat, and his head snaps to every noise like a small dog.

New perspective. Batman drops, sending sawdust into the air as he lands. Cowboy recoils. Sees Combat Armor swinging from the rafters.

“YOU MOTHER******!” The subtitles read. The whip cracks forward and Batman sidesteps, driving in for the finishing blow. He is not fast enough. The tip of the whip circles back around and lashes over his chest. Batman drips backward. Gloved hands touch at the wound and Cowboy cracks a grin. He moves for another strike, but now Batman is ready.  The whip snaps and Batman raises his fist to intercept. The line contorts and is caught on his glove, wound between the spines. Cowboy pulls, desperate, but Batman pulls in, abusing the leverage. Cowboy stumbles forward and Batman brings his knee up to meet the combatant. The cowboy crumples.

Batman unwinds the lariat from his hand in slow, practiced circles. He tenses for a moment and turns. Microfilament lenses lock onto the camera lens. A batarang flashes and the feed dies. The angles shifts once more, but it is too late. There is already more smoke. The Bat is gone, with nothing but the bodies of Enforcers in his wake.
[/quote]

The screen refreshed as soon as the video ended. “SORRY, THIS FILE IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE.”

[i]That was Enforcers Inc. alright, if the cowpoke was anything to go by…[/i] Peter clicked away from the tab. [i]I wonder if I should do Spider Gadgets? That grenade thing was cool… I could do, what? Impact webbing? Web grenades? Maybe something less obstinately web-themed?[/i]

[color=#b37486]“Peter Parker?”[/color] It was a voice Peter had mostly heard conjuring retorts for Flash’s jokes, or melting into the choir of cheerleaders chanting at games and Spirit Rallies.

[color=#507de5]“Liz Allan?”[/color] Peter responded in kind, bringing his elbows in from the computer. It was her; straight dark hair that went past her shoulders and a smile that made Flash Thompson lose whatever few brain cells he was still holding onto.

[color=#b37486]“Surprised to see me?”[/color] She pulled out the chair next to Peter and thumbed the power, inspecting her nails while it booted.

[color=#507de5]“Well, I mean, I don’t think you’ve talked to me in…”[/color] Peter considered, [color=#507de5]“... Ever.”[/color]

Liz shrugged.

[color=#b37486]“When I saw the one glove wonder I couldn’t resist.”[/color]

[i]Cripes.[/i] Peter hadn’t retracted the substance of his costume, and the fingerless glove was still locked around his hand. He offered a smile and puffed out his chest.

[color=#507de5]“I saw it in the closet and realized I just couldn’t leave home without it.”[/color] He winked with altogether too many face muscles.

Liz rolled her eyes. She tapped at the keyboard.

[color=#b37486]“What brings you to the PL? Wouldn’t you rather work at your super-science lab or whatever?”[/color] She asked.

[color=#507de5]“When I ran my English paper through the centrifuge it came out all chewed up, so I figured I’d try here next.”[/color] Peter offered, trying to navigate to a web page that didn’t expose his tight-wearing escapades.

[color=#b37486]“Better than trying to write a paper when Flash is gunning it with the top down.”[/color] Liz replied. She had pulled up a few tabs -- one was the Daily Bugle, with a grainy shot of Peter’s mask, bug eyes looking directly back into the camera while he heaved a cop over one shoulder. The others were assorted google tabs and fansites, steeped in black and spider logos.

[i]I have fansites? Sweet![/i]

[color=#507de5]“Spider-Man paper?”[/color] Peter asked. He scratched at his glove idly, and the white glow of his own computer started to fade to screensaver.

[color=#b37486]“We have to write about a current event for Journo, anything related to the attack. Figured I’d suss out what our neighborhood wallcrawler was up to then.”[/color]

[color=#507de5]“Where are you at on the web head?”[/color]

[color=#b37486]“[i]Web head[/i], that’s a new one. Groovy. I figure he’s just trying to help, yknow? He hasn’t done us any worse than Wonder Woman -- but Flash is head over heels with him.”[/color]

[i]Flash Thompson. Head over heels. With me. I think I’m gonna faint.[/i] Peter felt a twinge of nausea at the base of his stomach.

[color=#507de5]“[i]Flash?[/i] Really?”[/color]

[color=#b37486]“Mhm. That guy’s just a big teddy bear. If he’d stop being an asshole for five minutes.”[/color]

[color=#507de5]“How do you put up with him?”[/color]

Liz looked at him then. She pushed her hair back and air rushed out of her nostrils. She turned back to her computer.

[color=#b37486]“I ask myself that one a [i]lot[/i], Parker. Sometimes you just sorta… End up with people. Like that Osborn kid and Mary Jane.”[/color]

[color=#507de5]“Ouch.”[/color] Peter scratched at his chest, over his heart.

[color=#b37486]“But maybe every now and then you need to... What’s that Static guy always saying…? Put a shock in your system?”[/color] She didn’t sound convinced.

Peter thought about the feeling of Megawatt’s electricity arcing through him, scorching his veins. He could still taste the metal in his mouth. Like when he and Harry stuck batteries on their tongues. Peter curled his gloved hand into a fist. The fabric felt good against his fingertips.

[color=#507de5]“Sometimes the shock hurts… But I guess sometimes it has to.”[/color]

She smiled for just a second, eye crinkling and then suddenly opening wider than they had before. Like something just clicked. [color=#b37486]“Maybe it does, Parker. Maybe it does.”[/color]

Peter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He moved to check it.

[indent][b]Incoming Message from: PARKER, BEN[/b]

[i]Where are you Peter? Should be getting rest & May says you are not in your room. Work again 2day? XOXO, Ben[/i][/indent]

Peter grimaced. It was looking like he’d need to spend another few hours at home for the Parker Pity Hour. And if he had to hear ben bitch about Spider-Man’s behavior [i]one[/i] more time… Peter steadied himself. He cleared his throat.

[color=#507de5]“Well this has been, um,”[/color] Peter searched for the words, [color=#507de5]“[i]a time[/i] certainly, but it looks like I need to bounce.”[/color]

[color=#b37486]“Hey, Peter. Before you go: have you been to [i]any[/i] of the football games this year?”[/color]

Peter gave a shallow laugh as he stood. [color=#507de5]“I see Flash rattling people’s brain cases enough on my own time.”[/color]

Liz chuckled softly. Peter liked it, he decided. [color=#b37486]“Mhm. You should come. Sometime.”[/color]

Peter fiddled with the strap of his bag.

[color=#507de5]“Maybe… Maybe I will.”[/color]
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