Step Three
Benjamin Grimm considered himself an ordinary cop in New York. He grew up in 7135 Yancy Street eating New York pizza and the fist of his alcoholic father. His only solace was his older brother, Daniel Grimm, who was the leader of the Yancy Street Gang. There was a time when he wanted to be an astronaut. After Daniel's death, that dream didn't pan out so well and so he became a cop. He wanted to get rid of crime in his humble little street once and for all. He wanted to get rid of gang violence. Luckily, his Uncle Jake came in right when he was most desperate and gave him the chance to attend high school and become a full-fledged member of the NYPD. He didn't live a luxurious life. Even so, he didn't complain. He was saving people.
But tonight…tonight, he was doing more than that. He sat in his patrol car and crossed a red light, three ninjas of the Hand in tow. According to the Commissioner, these were the type of guys that the FBI and CIA were supposed to catch. He dropped the four men in the back seat at headquarters, followed by five additional cars with equally as many members of the Hand.
Officer Grimm stepped out of his patrol car and opened up the back doors. Besides being conscious, he double-checked their cuffs and let the grunts carry them away. He made his way toward the entrance of the 1PP precinct building and was met by Commissioner Nalini Karnic. Her sharp gaze bore into him as she approached, her expression unreadable. In the background, over a dozen police cars came by, unlocking with members of the Hand, Inner Demons, or the Maggia.
"Officer Grimm," Commissioner Karnic greeted him, her voice carrying authority like usual. "Impressive work tonight. You've managed to surpass my wildest expectations. To think you would apprehend some of the most dangerous criminals in the city."
"The FBI is going to have a field day, huh?" He laughed and then said, "But, uh, just doing my job, ma'am."
Commissioner Karnic nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Well, your job tonight has made the city a safer place. Keep up the good work, Officer Grimm. You are dismissed."
"The paperwork—"
"Will be handed by me. You've spent enough time with arrest. In fact, you may even have set a record for most arrests in one night." Commissioner Karnic gave him an approving nod. Officer Grimm smiled thinly. The woman turned and went over to watch the ninjas get carried over. With a sigh, Officer Grimm returned to his car.
Settling back into his patrol car, he couldn't shake the feeling of exhaustion that washed over him. It had been a long and arduous night, filled with tension at every turn. He caught them but it wasn't because of his own abilities. It was because of Spider-Man. He did all the heavy-lifting and he specifically told him not to say anything.
"Honestly, how did he even—"
Suddenly, his reverie was interrupted by a crackling voice over the police radio. "Come to the Brooklyn Navy Yard." This message and the messages from the past three hours were done in a robotic voice. It was Spider-Man, the guy who secretly helped him tonight. No one could hear this transmission other than Officer Grimm. How? How in the world did he tap into police communications? That was the first thing he wanted to ask.
"The leader of the Maggia will be there."
Second, how the hell was he doing this!?
"He's clobberin' these gangsters like they're nothing…!"
Without hesitation, Officer Grimm shifted the patrol car into gear and sped off towards the Brooklyn Navy Yard. His mind buzzed with questions and concerns, but above all, he knew that he had a duty to uphold as a police officer. As he navigated the streets of New York, turning his police sirens on and off when need be, he couldn't shake the feeling of excitement and trepidation that coursed through him. Spider-Man was trusting him. A vigilante! They were both sticking each other's necks out for this. For Spider-Man, colluding with the NYPD could mess with his neutral vigilantism. For Officer Grimm, well…it could potentially mean getting fired.
He bought the ticket to access the yard, the yellow barrier gate opening up. His headlights were pulled to the max. He didn't need to drive far. The officer stopped, his eyes widening in surprise. There, webbed up against a red shipping container, was Otomo, the notorious leader of the Maggia and the Hand. The expensive suit, the shades, and the face—it was Otomo, the former second-in-command of Matthew Murdock.
He stepped out of his car to inspect the scene. Otomo wasn't alone, there were members of the Hand with him too. Everyone was unconscious. The yard was eerily silent. Inhaling, Officer Grimm noticed a small piece of paper attached to Otomo's chest. With cautious curiosity, he reached out and plucked it from its place.
Attention Friendly Neighborhood Police Officer!
You may have noticed a certain bald-headed gentleman webbed up against the red container. Fear not, for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is here to save the day!
I've taken the liberty of neutralizing this big bad boss for you, but the real stuff is at the Port of Brooklyn, right at the back of the yard. There's a ship anchored there, and rumor has it, it's loaded with all sorts of illegal goodies.
Consider this my friendly tip-off. It's up to you to swing into action and put an end to this nefarious operation once and for all! Wahahaha!
- Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man
Officer Grimm immediately crumpled up the letter and shoved it in his pocket. "That's…I thought he'd be a more silent, deadly type." He kept the paper in his pocket and subsequently forgot about it. Unbeknownst to Spider-Man, that act of forgetfulness would save his reputation and further propel it. If the psychologists at the NYPD had seen the paper, their profile of him would have vastly changed from what it became at the end of the week.
***
The moon sat high. Located at the intersection of 6th Avenue and 42nd Street, a certain construction site was strategically positioned amidst the bustling commercial district. The ground was littered with piles of rubble, steel beams, and construction equipment, Surrounded by bustling streets and the constant hum of city life, the site stood out with its fenced-off perimeter and towering cranes stretching towards the sky. The symbol of Li Shipment was imprinted everywhere.
"Hello? Hello!?" Mr. Negative growled and crushed his radio device. "Otomo is compromised. Everyone is compromised. That fucker…this must be Norman Osborn's doing."
Ten men stood around the blistering monochrome man, nervousness on their masks. They had sent scouts in groups and in pairs and none of them returned. They didn't know what was happening save that everything they had worked for was crumbling in real time. Mr. Negative sensed their trepidation. Mr. Negative's eyes crackled with dark energy as he grabbed two of his men by their shoulders, his touch seeping into their very beings. In an instant, their expressions twisted into ones of agony as the corruptive force took hold, transforming their features into dark, distorted versions of themselves.
Two became ten as he touched and grabbed them one-by-one. Some tried to step away but Mr. Negative's aura was like having 4gs of force pressing on them. Each convulsed as the darkness spread, coursing through their veins like a venomous poison. Their masks cracked and shattered, revealing faces twisted by malevolent energy. With each passing moment, their bodies contorted and warped, their once-human forms now grotesque manifestations of Mr. Negative's power.
Mr. Negative turned, smiling viscously. "Now then—!"
Thwip! Thwip!
Behind him, the two men he had just corrupted disappeared. Mr. Negative whipped back. "Huh—?"
Thwip! Thwip!
Another two disappeared, again from behind. Mr. Negative turned—
Thwip! Thwip!
"What the—how is this—?" Mr. Negative looked left and right, bewildered, then looked up. High above, perched on the crane was a shadow. Six of his men were dangling off the crane in cocoons. The power he bestowed was useless. Utterly useless!
Four of them remained, each wielding katanas. "Keep together!" Mr. Negative ordered, eyes locked on the shadow high above. "We watch each other's backs and—" His eyes went wide as a huge blanket of webbing covered his vision. "What the—"
The massive blanket of webbing covered everyone. The corrupted katanas once capable of cutting through his webbings were rendered helpless. The webbing was so damn sticky that the sharp end of the katana did nothing. It clung to the metal deeply. The more they tried to move, the deeper in the webbing they were.
They…just…couldn't…move! Due to the weight of the blanket, most were forced to their knees and stayed there like a statue.
Mr. Negative's eyes flared with anger as he realized the extent of his predicament. He thrashed against the webbing, attempting to break free from its grasp, but to no avail. His corrupted minions fared no better, their struggles only serving to entangle them further. His white eyes glowed brighter and brighter.
Spider-Man watched from above, patient. 'Even Mr. Negative shouldn't be able to break through it.'
With a frustrated growl, Mr. Negative summoned his dark energy, attempting to empower himself and break free from the webbing's hold. But nothing. Nothing worked. From head to toe, the webbing was seeping down and blocking his movements. It didn't make sense just how sticky it was. It also didn't make sense why he couldn't break through. His eyes glowed brighter and brighter until—
Cricccck! KA-DUUUM!
A black flash entered his world.
Spider-Man covered his eyes with his lenses. 'There it is! The lightning strike!'
With a deafening boom, a single black lightning strike illuminated the construction site. It was damn close and damn loud! His ears nearly popped! The black lightning strike surged through the webbing, causing crackles and fizzles, disintegrating the thick sticky strands and freeing Mr. Negative and his men from their entrapment. However, the powerful discharge of energy also had unintended consequences for Mr. Negative's own minions. Their bodies were convulsing from the excess energy coursed through them. They collapsed to the ground, unconscious and twitching.
Spider-Man had shielded his eyes from the blinding light and his lenses adjusted to the brightness. As the dust settled and the echoes of the lightning strike faded, he surveyed the scene before him. Mr. Negative stood amidst his fallen men.
"Haa…haa…" Mr. Negative glared up at him, wisps of white in his eyes. Felix noted the subtle signs of fatigue in Mr. Negative's stance, the slight hunch of his shoulders and the labored rise and fall of his chest. Despite his formidable powers, it was clear that even Mr. Negative had limits.
'He probably can't use it often or back-to-back. Time to act!'
This was step three: defeat Mr. Negative!
Thwip! Thwip!
Spider-Man's webbing stuck to his chest and he flew down. Arms in a cross, his feet slammed into Mr Negative who was too slow and winded to react. He was blasted into the base of the crane. There was smoke and dust. Spider-Man landed, one knee down and an arm outstretched back. The neon green lights filled up his suit like liquid. His lenses flared to life.
His Spider-Sense tingled. That was the cleanest, strongest attack he had ever landed. However, that did not mean his opponent was done. Ten seconds later, Mr. Negative walked out, a glowing black katana in hand. His legs crackled with energy and he blasted forward.
'Woah!' The katana was a hair's breadth from slashing his spider-symbol. Spider-Man back-flipped and shot out a ball of webbing. Mr. Negative slashed through it and kept going. His swings weren't silly either. Each was calculated. Fast. Lightning-fast.
Mr. Negative was trained and he was trained well. Clearly, he was familiar with his powers and trained them to near perfection. Spider-Man's reflexes kicked into overdrive as he narrowly evaded Mr. Negative's relentless assault. With each swing of the glowing black katana, the air crackled with dark energy, leaving behind streaks of black lightning that lanced through the air.
"Raaah!" Mr. Negative's blade aimed to slice his head. Spider-Man maintained his ground and limboed under it, nose nearly touching the dark blade. Then, once he was back up, he darted forward and delivered three rapid punches to Mr. Negative's stomach. He had noticed something during his fight. Mr. Negative was wholly focused on attacking. He was skilled and fast yet he didn't bother to defend.
Why? Because he didn't think he could be touched in his current state. On-guard, fully ready, crackling with energy. But he was wrong. Each strike rang out like a thunderclap—like metal hitting flesh. His breath hitched from the pain and he staggered back. Spider-Man seized the opportunity to press his advantage. First, a swift roundhouse kick aimed at Mr. Negative's midsection, followed by a line of webbing that reeled him in for a powerful uppercut that sent him reeling backward. Thwip! Spider-Man brought him back in range again and ended him up with a spinning back kick. Mr. Negative tried to block. His arms practically caved in and he was knocked to the ground.
Drip. The villain listened to blood leak from the corners of his mouth.
"You touched me," Mr. Negative stated, shocked. He wiped the white substance off. "You…you touched me!"
Ordinarily, touching Mr. Negative led to a world of pain. Whether it was in costume or out of costume, he was a walking hazard for humans. Previously, the metal of his suit would have increased the conductivity and redirected damage to him. On the other hand, if he wasn't in costume, then the lightning would just burn his flesh. Herbie predicted the pain would be slightly lessened due to Extremis. Just slightly, however. It would still feel like he was fighting against a living taser worth a thousand volts. But with his new upgrades, he was fighting him with no issues. No potential corruption and no superheating of the costume.
Felix had prepared for this battle for a reason. Mr. Negative's powers were vast. To seize complete victory, he had to pluck out every little card he had. The corruption, the EMP-esque lightning, his men—everything. Step three was coming to its natural conclusion.
Indeed, at that moment, as he struggled to get to his feet, Mr. Negative understood that Spider-Man was going to win. He couldn't let that happen. No.
"No…!"
His Spider-Sense went haywire. He flicked his wrist out—
"NO!"
Thwip!
Cricccck! KA-DUUUM!
Mr. Negative's screams echoed. The hero was too late. Black lightning struck.
The deafening crack of lightning slammed into something—but what? Mr. Negative's aura flickered for all but a second. He was still there on the ground, so what was this? Why was his Spider-Sense going so crazy?
Creeeak!
His Spidey Sense went into overdrive. He looked up just in time to see the massive crane in front of him shudder and groan. The crane seemed to come alive with an otherworldly energy, its metal framework glowing with an eerie black light. The structure groaned and creaked under the strain, the sound echoing like a death knell through the night.
The crane began to tip over.
Spider-Man's eyes widened in alarm
Oh fuck.