A Spider in Gotham Chapter 4

The one with the baton rushed him. Stick was a good enough nickname as any. Pete shifted to the side, letting it slide through the air where his shoulder had just been. He took a step back as the guy adjusted.

"Come on." Peter scoffed. "My cousin can do better than that and he's in T-Ball."

Stick yelled, swinging out horizontally. Peter hopped back again.

"Last chance." Peter said. "I've had a really bad week and you're not going to like where this goes."

The other two tactical thugs laughed. Stick didn't like that. The thug swung like a mad man, going every which direction he could, just trying to land a hit now. Peter hardly moved as he dodged the crazy swings. A small turn of his shoulders, a step to one side or the other, and a slight duck avoided all of the attacked.

Peter sighed. He caught Stick's wrist on the next swing. The guy outweighed him by a good fifty pound and was much taller than him. Stick's mind didn't seem to understand why his hand wasn't moving. He swung at Peter with his free hand, balling it into a fist.

"This is pretty cool." Peter said turning the captured hand to the side to study the retractable baton. "I think I'm going to keep it."

Peter twisted the wrist he held, hearing it snap. He caught the baton as it fell and snapped it back into its compact side. Stick didn't give up. He grasped at the gun on his belt with his free hand.

"No." Peter said, smacking the hand away.

He unlatched the gun and drew it. The other tactical thugs tensed. Peter ejected the magazine, racked the slide to clear a chambered round, and tossed it over his shoulder. He hadn't had much time training with the team, but he had picked up a few tricks.

"Done yet?" Peter asked.

Stick drew a knife and lunged.

"You just don't learn." Peter groaned.

He slipped the lunge, grabbed the outstretched arm, and twisted. Stick was introduced to the asphalt in a snappy manner. Mostly his arm, and possibly some ribs, were doing the snapping. Peter kicked the discarded knife away. Stick didn't move to get up.

Peter turned to look at the other two tactical thugs. He crossed his arms.

"Well?" He asked, shifting his gaze from one to the other.

The two thugs looked at each other. They shrugged. One reached for his gun.

"None of that." Peter chided. "This is between us. We don't want anyone else to get hurt."

The thug laughed but didn't draw the gun. Chuckles, that would work. The other slapped him on the chest, joining in on the joke. Slappy, that helps. The two of them squared up. Slappy popped another baton while Chuckles took out a knife that was practically a small machete.

"Now that's a knife." Peter quipped.

"Just supposed to rough you up, kid." Chuckles said as he approached. "Can't let you walk after that."

"Oh, good, you speak English." Peter said. "These next two minutes are going to be very important for you. You have some really critical decisions to make."

Slappy and Chuckles stared at him.

"The first decision you should consider is to walk away. You see that." Peter motioned to the whimpering lump that was Stick. "That was me taking it easy. I've had a really bad week and I don't feel like holding back."

"Jobs a job, kid." Chuckles shrugged as he took another step forward.

"I'm really doing you a kindness here." Peter shook his head. "We keep this up and I can't guarantee you're walking away from this."

The two continued to approach.

"Here's the thing, kid." Slappy finally spoke. "This ain't our first go. You did okay with the new guy, but we get paid to do this. It's our job. And we are GOOD at it."

"Alright." Peter sighed. "What do you want them to tell your family?"

Slappy took another step forward. Peter sprang to action. The duo seemed to move in slow motion. A solid punch landed in the center of Slappy's chest. He felt the armor plate in the vest break, as well as the bone underneath it. The impact lifted Slappy off his feet and sent him tumbling back toward the gate.

He turned to look at Chuckles. The man had stopped mid-step. Chuckles stared at the spot where Slappy had been a moment ago, where Peter now stood.

"Jobs a job, eh?" Peter planted a kick in Chuckles' stomach.

The tactical thug rocketed through the air. He collided with the chain link fence, bowing it in, but not quite punching through. Chuckles stayed suspended in the fence, practically folded over, held in place by the strained links.

Peter looked at the two guards at the gate. They shook their heads. One motioned to the ground next to him.

"We're here to guard the gate." The guard said. "You ain't the gate."

He turned away and headed to look for some lunch. A couple of convenience store hotdogs slathered in ketchup and large soda worked well enough. It didn't taste good, but he needed the calories, and it was cheap. He still had over forty dollars left.

Peter returned to the construction area. Chuckles, Slappy, and Stick had been collected. The two gate guards watched him approach but didn't say anything. Their hands stayed well away from their weapons. His spider-sense didn't even tingle when he walked through the gate. He joined the line to pick up the gear.

Hardhat Guy waved him over. He stepped inside the shed. Peter followed. Inside the place looked like a survival bunker. There were monitors along one wall and a stack of crates with the LexCorp logo. What surprised him the most was the staircase. It led down to a rather nice office.

"Kid." Hardhat Guy said with a sigh. "After that fight I can't keep you on. I'd love to, you've done more work in one shift than the last week. We just can't afford the heat that Penguin would bring if you're still here."

Peter nodded.

Hardhat Guy gave him another fifty dollars. "You more than earned this. Sorry, kid."

Peter took the money without a word. He gave Hardhat Guy a wave before leaving.

"Hey, kid." One of the gate guards called to him.

Peter looked over but didn't say anything.

"You're a meta, right?" The guard asked.

Peter shrugged.

"You just dropped three of our guys." The guard didn't sound bothered. "The boss won't be happy. Got a way to fix that though."

As much as Peter would love to tell them to shove off, he was only one guy. He didn't have his suit and he didn't know how much worse things could get for him. Peter motioned for the guy to continue.

"The boss only cares about two things, money and respect." The guard said, he pulled out a business card. "Go to this address, show them the card, and you'll earn more money than you could ever make here."

"I'm not a criminal." Peter said without taking the card.

"You're not going to be knocking over banks, or working the docks." The guard scoffed. "You can fight. People like to watch fights. You get paid to do what you're good at. The boss brings you in, it looks good on him. Everybody gets paid, no one has to get shot, no homeless shelters get burned down. Win-Win."

Peter took the business card. It had an address on it. The other side had a logo that matched the ones on the guards coat. Peter One had said something about fighting for money. Underground Wrestling, the kind that wasn't scripted and no one pulled their punches. There were worse things to do for money.

~§~

I was in the mood for a fight scene after dealing with shoddy wi-fi for the last week.