[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/t86ScSf.png[/img][/center] [hr] [b]The Williamsburg Bridge 12:32 AM[/b] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]I'm so happy, 'cause today I found my friends. They're in my head.[/i][/url] It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. Two armored trucks en route to the Federal Reserve Bank of New York were in the midst of a delivery of bills. Normally, armed transport would accompany them in the event of an attempted robbery - in the case of the FRBNY, there were always three sets of security vans on loan from a local agency, with one to stay in front and two to follow. But as soon as all five vehicles had made it to the halfway point of the bridge, something in the air started to change. A fourth van of an identical make and model appeared from the rear and casually veered into their path, prompting all six to a screeching halt. As the truck's drivers slammed the brakes themselves, though, they noticed that the four vans had started moving in a particular pattern. The two in front had peeled inwards, while the two behind interlocked in an opposite formation. Within seconds, the truck drivers realized something was horribly wrong. Another terrorist attack was always a possibility, with the security detail potentially acting on the defensive. Then the gunshots started. Before the drivers could think to radio in an alert about the suspicious activity, sixteen men appeared out of the vans in ski-masks, bulletproof vests, and darkly colored jumpsuits, all brandishing automatic rifles. A hail of bullets pelted the exterior shell of the trucks, causing sparks to fly and glass to shatter. The driver of the first truck even ducked behind cover as his side mirror exploded. But the message was delivered plainly without an exchange of words: this was a robbery and if any of them valued their lives, they'd do exactly what was asked of them. While the second truck's passenger cocked his significantly underpowered pistol, his co-worker grabbed the weapon and forcibly lowered it. He was new to the job, so the reaction was understandable. But this wasn't a scenario that allowed for any heroics. "Transport's en route, let's double-time it. ETA's eleven minutes to extraction." As soon as one spoke, another emerged from the back of the crowd, seemingly pushing his way to the forefront. [color=e34383]"Eleven minutes for [i]you[/i], maybe. Remember that the plan diverges from here for some of us."[/color] "But we were promised---" [color=e34383]"Relax. You're still getting your payday. Soon as we get these idiots out of the way of it..."[/color] There seemed to be a leader amongst the pack, as the slender-framed man stepped forward, rifle still drawn. His head turned ahead, visibly indicating the drivers and their subordinates with a much more threatening demeanor. [color=d53e85]"Here's the deal. You make your hands nice and visible with no sudden moves, you don't get scrubbed off the the windshield. Any action to the contrary receives the contrary."[/color] His accent seemed to indicate that he was from Jersey, though it was a dialect that was all too familiar from the region of New York. He could have easily been from Brooklyn, for all they knew. What was important now was that he'd given an order. Hesitantly, their hands visibly shaking, both men complied with the request and sat back in their seats, arms raised. A much taller, bulkier figure appeared from behind the leader and quickly grabbed the door, flinging it open and latching onto the first truck's driver with one massive hand. [color=d53e85]"Remember to be gentle, O."[/color] [color=edd188]"Heh."[/color] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]I'm so ugly. That's okay, 'cause so are you. Broke our mirrors.[/i][/url] With surprisingly little effort, the driver was violently tossed onto the pavement, forcing him into a sideways roll. By the time his body crashed into a series of nearby traffic cones, he looked up to see at least three of the rifles pointed in his face. That was enough to cause the other three occupants of the truck to quickly maneuver out, their arms also raised. The leader snapped his fingers, and all at once, three sets of four gunmen swarmed upon the hapless representatives of the FRBNY. [color=e34383]"See? Painless, simple. Like all good things."[/color] The leader turned towards the waiting second-in-command. [color=e34383]"Blow the truck, do whatever you gotta do with the contents. Throw it in the river for all I friggin' care, just be sure to make it nice and loud."[/color] Wordlessly acknowledging the change-up of priorities, each group of four ordered to keep one of the FRBNY pinned down parted with a man a piece, with three ultimately approaching the massive and electronically locked back doors of the trucks. A third man who hadn't been noticed before approached, his garb similar to the others, but noticeably different for one detail: a massive trenchcoat covering his uniform. He held something that was difficult to see at his side, almost like it was some sort of coiled-up cable. [color=a1ac4c]"With respect to our deal, D, you know I could just break the door myself."[/color] The leader held up a hand, his gaze fixated on the skies. [color=e34383]"No. They handle the cash, we handle whatever comes next. Don't get antsy on me, M."[/color] Even from beneath his mask, a wide smirk could be seen creeping across trenchcoat's lips. [color=a1ac4c]"Who's antsy?"[/color] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]Sunday morning is every day, for all I care. And I'm not scared.[/i][/url] "Please..." D turned towards the faint murmur that originated from one of the drivers. Sure enough, one of them was forcibly brought to his feet, rifles still trained at either side of his head. The man was visibly in his late thirties, eyes glassy and breathing labored. Scared out of his mind. "Please don't do this. Take... take whatever you want and go, but don't hurt anybody. We're just out here to do a job. I've got a... a family, a couple of kids." [color=e34383]"That right?"[/color] Suddenly, D's demeanor switched. Just moments before, his body language communicated that even under the circumstances, this was a calm and collected professional. One could easily imagine that this had been far from his first rodeo when it came to executing high-risk-higher-reward robberies. But the minute that the guard had started groveling, it was like a fuse had just... shorted. [color=e34383]"Alright, line 'em up."[/color] The others turned, a couple of them even exchanging confused looks. [color=a1ac4c]"What?"[/color] D angrily shot forward, rifle drawn. [color=e34383]"I said line 'em up. Straight line, horizontal."[/color] [color=edd188]"Boss, maybe take a breath..."[/color] [color=e34383]"No."[/color] To everyone's surprise, he responded to that appeal by turning off the gun's safety. The others that had just been in the middle of trying to crack the door had stopped, their reaction being to place their hands back on their weapons. Something was evidently going very differently than what had been planned, and it startled them. [color=d53e85]"No, this piece of... this is what I hate. The minute that somebody begs? Drops to their knees like they're five and just got, what? Caught with the cookie jar? That's when I get pissed. This is a simple exchange. We get the cash, they get to live. I laid it out all nice and clear. But that?"[/color] Grabbing the newly wide-eyed and completely pale guard by the collar of his shirt, D spun around and tossed him face-first onto the concrete. The man shrieked for half a second, but became eerily silent as soon as he looked back to see the gun lowering towards his line of sight. It was at this moment that the others noticed, for the first time, that the make and model of D's rifle was considerably different from theirs. More sleek, streamlined. Highly technological, in a way. [color=e34383]"That's the kind of thing that'd get me beaten by the old man. 'Till I learned not to do it no more. 'Till I got made an example of."[/color] The gun cocked, ready to fire. The helpless driver began to shake his head, overwhelmed with disbelief. Several wanted to advance and prevent this, but none took so much as a step. This had just become an entirely different situation - casualties weren't conducive to a simple heist. [color=e34383]"It's just not something I can abide in others."[/color] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]Light my candles in a daze, 'cause I've found God.[/i][/url] [i][b]THWIP![/b][/i] All fell silent as a thick line of a silken material appeared out of nowhere, latched onto both of the driver's shoulders and whisked him into the air. A few of their jaws dropped while watching the driver scream out as he sailed past the trucks, disappearing from sight entirely. D himself was frozen in place, clearly wondering what just happened. But before anyone could react properly, another set of lines shot out of the dark. [i][b]THWIP! THWIP! THWIP![/b][/i] "What's going---" "Is that---" "What the f---?!" Three gunmen holding down the other drivers felt an immensely strong tug on their weapons. Then went slackjawed as the rifles careened out of their hands, whipped sharply, and struck three others hard in the back of their skulls. They tumbled forward and slammed against their immediate surroundings, one colliding with the armored hull of a nearby truck, another hitting the metal railing of the bridge, and the last unfortunately forced into a fourth gunman, whose weapon fired off a stray shot into the air in surprise. D, O, and M converged on eachother, frantically scanning for any sign of something in the dark. But the lights of the New York City skyline bled into a heavy early morning fog to obscure their vision enough to make it a difficult task. The other men began racing around, shouting barely intelligible orders, grabbing their freshly discarded guns and trying to quickly position themselves on the defensive. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]Yeah, yeah.[/i][/url] [color=e34383]"You've gotta be friggin' kidding..."[/color] [color=edd188]"What's happening?! Is it the cops?!"[/color] [color=a1ac4c]"No, moron, this is it! This right here!"[/color] A large, human-shaped shadow moved above them at blinding speeds, twisting and turning mid-air with the grace of an Olympian. D's eyes locked onto the figure just as landed on the side of the armored truck, seemingly clutching to something. Or more accurately [i]into[/i] something, with each of them hearing the distinct sound of metal slowly bending. D pressed a button on the side of his weapon, brandishing it as a series of orange lights began to emit. [color=e34383]"M's right, it's him! The friggin'... the guy that the Bugle talks about!"[/color] All stood to attention as the figure's head raised, revealing the intricate crimson design that sat atop a featureless black visage. Scanning the crowd of would-be thieves, readying himself to strike before any of them got wise enough to try and attack. The [b]Spider-Man.[/b] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]Yeah, yeah.[/i][/url] [i][b]Pérdida de tiempo.[/b][/i] His heart still racing from the frantic swing across the bridge, Spider-Man felt a surge of adrenaline hit him all at once. The world went into slow-motion as his enhanced senses kicked in, revealing a few potential approaches on how to handle this before they opened fire. There were at least fifteen, maybe sixteen hostiles in total? He wasn't sure. A couple of guards were being held at bay, though some had escaped the notice of their captors upon the webslinger's dramatic entrance. Miguel had to quietly hope that they took the opportunity to escape on their own, because he had a feeling that what happened next would be occupying his attention. Which suited him just fine. Unlike a majority of the mask-and-spandex crowd that had come to infest New York, he wasn't interested in pretending to be a hero. He just knew from a lifetime of living in the city that he couldn't trust the cops to do the job correctly. Clenching hard against the steel casing of the truck, Spider-Man held his breath and focused. Then without much consideration, he leaped high into the air. He could hear the guns start to fire at him, but they sailed straight past. His movements were too fast for them to keep up. [color=e34383]"DON'T LET HIM GET CLOSE! YOU HEAR ME?! DON'T LET HIM---"[/color] [b][i]THWIP![/i][/b] The leader fell directly on his ass, his mouth suddenly engulfed in a thick patch of webbing. Two of the thugs approached him and attempted to help remove it, but the others were still focused on their mystery attacker as he somersaulted into an arc above. Firing another webline to secure himself, Spider-Man swung low and reached out with a gloved hand. Grabbing one of the gunmen by the back of the neck, he violently flung him into the air and brought his knees up, effectively propelling into his spine. Shooting like a missile, the screaming henchman collided with two others, allowing Spider-Man to coat them in another, bigger patch of webs as he swung over. As a result, the three were now immobilized. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]I'm so lonely. That's okay, I shaved my head. And I'm not sad.[/i][/url] Landing on the bridge proper, Miguel rolled and flipped out of the path of another smattering of bullets. Sparks once again flew off of the truck as he dodged behind it, leaping onto the back and scaling it with precisive movements. His head was pounding and the blood was rushing to his extremities, but he had to admit - it was a feeling that he'd become addicted to. Compared to the monotony of his day-to-day grind, putting himself in situations like this gave him a thrill that no drug, he suspected, could ever hope to match. Leaping over the protection of the truck, Spider-Man raised both hands and shot out two weblines at once. Watching them attach to the opposite support cables of the bridge, he yanked hard on them and released his heels' grip on the vehicle. The result catapulted him directly at a group of thugs who were surprised enough to stop firing, seriously considering whether they should try and clip him there or move out of the way. By the time it became obvious that "move out of the way" was the smarter option, his fists brutally collided with two of their faces. Miguel then used his momentum to sail forward, grabbing onto the third's shoulders with both hands. Swinging his body wildly, he wrapped himself around the criminal's back, grabbed his arm in a lock, and then maneuvered the other arm into the other side of his closed thigh. Watching Spider-Man yank himself back, all of them backed away in horror as the sickening sound of bones snapping drowned out the man's screams. He'd broken both of the thug's arms. In an [i]instant[/i], acting without hesitation. This was enough to cause at least two of them to drop their guns and immediately turn away, running for their lives past the barricade. Spider-Man couldn't help but smirk as he leaped ahead and latched onto one of the poles connected to the overhead bridge light. [color=447bb5][b]"Anyone else?"[/b][/color] They responded with further gunfire. Miguel cursed at himself as he dodged, realizing that he'd nearly opened himself up to a bullet by trying to act tough. He'd paid the price for such arrogance in the past, having suffered stabbings and gunshot wounds in his initial days wearing the suit. A year of experience had taught him to be better, but there were occasions when he forgot himself. He figured that was the part of him that he'd inherited from his father, who would "forget" himself all too often - to the point that it cost him any contact with his family, having put Miguel and his brother through enough physical and mental abuse to last the rest of their lives. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]And just maybe... I'm to blame for all I've heard. But I'm not sure.[/i][/url] He would never be like him. Being Spider-Man meant that Miguel had a chance to make a difference, but it was going to be on his own terms. And as far as he was concerned, stopping a robbery like this was only a step below intervening in a random carjacking. Before the gunfire on the bridge had alerted the police to the chaos, prompting Miguel to respond after hearing it on his police scanner app, he'd been pursuing an Alchemax truck to an off-site storage facility that could have resulted in something truly incriminating. Evidence of some genetic tampering that the government couldn't possibly overlook, no matter whatever story Tyler Stone could have spun for them. But because of this, he'd lost the trail. It made him angry. And when he got angry, Spider-Man got particularly into the idea of mimicking a certain Wookie by snapping someone's arms out of their sockets - hence his earlier display of aggression. [color=e34383]"HEY, FREAK! PLAY DEAD!"[/color] Before he could engage with his next few attackers directly, Spider-Man was surprised to feel the brunt of some unseen energy knock him off of the path of his descent. Just barely managing to catch himself from falling by latching onto another bridge cable, the wall-crawler spun around to see just what had knocked him back. But to his surprise, a large rectangular strip of something glowing came flying towards him. As Miguel tried to leap out of the way, it struck him hard between his shoulder blades, ripping into the fabric of his suit and causing him to cry out as it burned into his skin. Falling several feet before hitting the concrete below, Spider-Man's ears began to ring as his vision blurred. And three obscured shadows began to overtake his line of sight, moving towards him at an alarmingly calm pace. Miguel could feel his shoulder ache from being practically dislocated from the impact of the fall, but he didn't have the slightest idea of what could've hit him. [color=447bb5][b]"W-Who the shock..."[/b][/color] [color=a1ac4c]"Who the 'shock'? What's that supposed to..."[/color] [color=e34383]"Montana. Eyes on the prize. Ox?"[/color] Spider-Man started weakly pushing himself back up, but was struck again. This time by a massive fist hitting the back of his skull. The ringing got even louder and he almost felt himself black out, but he could swear that he'd heard these voices before. Not in person, but in something he'd watched. Some sort of televised court hearing, or something. [color=e34383]"Nice one. Bet he's not up for anymore of that jumpin' around like a cartoon bunny on crack."[/color] Montana. Ox. It all clicked into place. Their leader was a two-bit hoodlum named Daniel Brito. Or "Fancy Dan", as he was more colloquially known to the public at large. The three of them had been sentenced to a Maximum Security facility for murdering at least a couple dozen enemies of the Maggia over a five-year period. Gruesome stuff, at least enough to get all of them a life sentence. But they had mysteriously disappeared during a prison transport six months prior. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]I'm so excited. I can't wait to meet you there.[/i][/url] They were known as The Enforcers. Usually, they were only called upon when their clients had reached a point of no return. Spider-Man realized that their presence here could only indicate one thing, as he could feel them coming closer - this wasn't a robbery after all. This was a trap. And like an idiot, Miguel had leapt right into it. [color=447bb5][i][b]Mierda.[/b][/i][/color] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpiEunhVs9o][i]And I don't care.[/i][/url]