Chapter 36

I come to a sudden stop, my feet skidding to a halt on the roof's gravel flooring. A billy club narrowly skimmed past the tip of my nose, bouncing off the side of a brick wall and then off of a water tower before finally zooming back straight past me to whence it came. And the crazy thing is, my spider sense didn't pick up on it at all, even though it travelled with such speed and power, enough that it could bounce off two different things and still maintain its momentum.

Which means either that billy club is magical or something and can evade my danger sense (I have to remember to call it that, not spider-sense) or that it wasn't thrown towards me with the intent to harm. And out of the two, I am going to go with the second one, on account of it being a goddamned billy club, and there is only one guy I know that uses those.

I only caught its movement out of the corner of my eye, and if I didn't stop then, it would have probably thunked off the side of my head. But it was not thrown to hurt me, and I think even if I did not stop it and I did get hit in the head with it, I would not have been that injured, such is the accuracy of the man that threw it.

I look back over my shoulder, and in the distance, standing menacingly on an entirely different rooftop is a dark silhouette. It is hard to make out in the dead of this New York night, here on the rooftops high about the street lamps, where the lights are dimmed and few in between. But my enhanced vision lets me see the figure in sharp clarity, though the darkness impedes me from seeing anything except the sharp outline.

Clearly, a man, given his broad stature and firm stance, muscular arms firmly held at the side clenching onto cylinders connected by a thin wire or rope, and two tiny little horns jutting out of the top of his skull, horns very much smaller than my own. I resist the urge to smirk at the size comparison, knowing that even if my face is hidden behind the mask, my current opponent would probably sense it.

It seems like Marvel's own vengeful crusader has come to seek me out for a brood off, to see whose pain is more tremendous and whose cause is juster. Well, unfortunately for him, after the night I have just had, I am not in the mood for such a competition. In fact, after everything that has happened tonight, I am not much in the mood for anything except going home and slithering into my comfortable bed.

I stare at him a moment longer to see if he is going to do something now that he has my attention, but it seems he is content to just stare back from a distance. I ponder on what to do for a moment before mentally shrugging my shoulders and deciding to ignore him. If he is not going to come to me, then I am going to leave, not wanting to waste my time.

I quickly resume my previous course as if nothing had happened, but this time I go at a more leisurely pace. Still fast, mind you, but it is clear that I am taking it easy, showing that I am not running away from him or scared of him, just that I am leaving. I move with no interruptions for about ten seconds before I am rudely interrupted again by something getting in my path, but this time it isn't a billy club.

I come to a stop once again, but this time it is a gentle stop since I wasn't going too fast, and I blandly look across from me towards the man staring just as blandly back at me. A sturdy man dressed in leather-like fabric, though I do not doubt that the materials are much more durable than that. A pair of dark red boots adorn his feet, coming to a stop halfway up his calves, similar to his gloves which stop halfway down his forearm. His arms and legs are covered in muted yellow material, not as sturdy looking as his boots or gloves, but looking much more flexible to allow for ease of movement.

A much more durable-looking dark red material covers his torso, shaped like a leotard. No doubt much more resistant to protect his vital organs, and why not stretch it down to preserve his gonads as well, an equally important organ? He uses the same dark red material for his devil-like cowl, a half mask that sits on his face showing off his strong chin with a fuzzy layer of hair growing on it and a stern mouth.

He has a utility belt strapped around his waist as well and a big D imprinted on his chest in a slightly lighter red, confirming precisely who this man is if it wasn't clear already. It seems like this one has the yellow and red suit variation at the moment, surprisingly very stealthy for being made up of two primary colours. Also, looking at the costume without bias and ignoring the helmet, I would say this suit is designed like a sports outfit, like a wrestler or a boxer. It seems like he has some very big daddy issues, still chasing after his dear father, a former boxing champion.

"...Do you need something?" My modulated voice rings out into the abnormally quiet New York air as if the entire city had suddenly gone silent in anticipation of this confrontation. Daredevil stares back silently, and for a moment, I think he seems puzzled or something before I blink, and whatever it is disappears.

"Just wanted to see who it was impersonating me..." Oh, I guess he found out about the multiple calls I made to the police pretending to be Daredevil. I think when you are a superhero, you want to make sure your name is not being used without your permission and not for nefarious purposes. People trust your name, they look toward it in hope and or fear, and if someone besmirches that, then they will be less effective. Your reputation is half the game. It is why Spider-Man is not all that effective when hated by the entire public, and man, am I glad I am not him anymore.

"Needs must. I am sure if you know that much, then you know why I needed to." I say this because clearly, a guy like Daredevil seems like someone who does his due diligence. If he knew about the call, then he obviously followed it up and learned about the criminal base which held people. Possibly he may have even found out about the AIM facility because a lot of people are over there right now trying to take credit for shutting it down.

"Hm. You know, something about you is very familiar." He says, making me still for a second, and my heart beats a little quicker, a fact which makes my heart beat even faster because I know Daredevil is picking up on all this with his enhanced superhuman senses. He already knows that I have reacted abnormally to his words, meaning that there is something there. I have memories of meeting this man while I was garbed in the red, blue and webbed, which means this man is already familiar with Peter Parker's movement, heart variability and smell.

No doubt he is sensing some of this off of me since I am a perfect copy of Peter Parker's body, and I can only hope that I have changed so much that he won't realise it, but it is hard to change yourself in such a way. It would be like changing from writing with three fingers holding your pen, which you have been doing all your life, to only holding it with two. It is doable when you make a conscious effort, but muscle memory and habit take over, and you don't even realise it when you revert to the original way.

"....I imagine you meet a lot of masked men in your line of work." I try to carry on, but I already know I have been rumbled, and this is now just a pretence. How are you supposed to keep anything secret from him when he can literally hear the beats of your heart, the blood flowing through your body and sense every movement you make, even the tiniest of micro reactions. He is like a human lie detector test, except much worse since he can gather much more information off of more than just your heartbeat.

"I do. And I find it is better to introduce yourself to people in the same business... I'm Daredevil." He speaks, his gaze pinned on me. I don't know what this guy is up to, but he is being unnaturally friendly for some reason. If I were to guess, I would say he is currently confused by me since I am probably familiar to him and yet just as unknown.

"...Batman." I see his mouth tighten slightly, either wanting to ask why or stifling a reaction to the name. He puts the two billy clubs he has clenched in his fists into the sheaths attached to the sides of his legs, essentially disarming himself, showing that he doesn't want to fight me. Though his hands stayed near his sides, ready to react and pull his weapons out for a fight at the drop of a hat.

I stare at him, waiting for him to ask something else while he stares back, but no one says or does anything. This is nothing like the epic faceoff I would have thought would happen. Instead, we are just awkwardly watching each other in silence. I think he was initially on his way to come and have a fight with me, warning me not to use his name again or something. But then he sensed me and got confused when I was familiar to his senses, stopping that course of events in favour of a more amicable approach, clearly a method he is not used to.

"...Good talk," I say, tired of this farce. Either say something or get out of my way, any other time, I would have been fine to indulge him, but today I am not in the mood. Plus, the longer I hang around him, the closer he gets to figuring out why I am so familiar to him. So I walk calmly, continuing my course again, walking by him and towards the edge of the rooftop.

"Wait..." He calls as I reach the edge, pulling out my grapple gun and aiming it off towards another rooftop. I pause in my movements, looking back over my shoulder to see him looking at me, but he hasn't moved from his position. I wait for a moment, and when he doesn't say anything, I raise an eyebrow, which he clearly senses as he says something straight afterwards.

"...Be careful. This is a dangerous game." Daredevil says, giving me a warning. I think he stopped me from leaving, wanting to say something else, but he couldn't find the words, and so he left me with that.

I turn away and use the grapple to zip off into the air, spreading my wings in midair to glide off into the night. I have had a long night. I just want to get back into my bed and go to sleep.

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