Chapter 41
Disclaimer: If you recognise it, surprise, I don't own it.
Chapter 21– Developments.
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"Not bad, Ben. But then again, I've been better." Jessica says, taking the seat across from me, practically slumping into it. I stifle a chuckle when her head lols back in her chair as she lazily raises a hand in the air, catching the attention of the waitress nearby. Without a single word being exchanged, the waitress goes to get her order for her, Jessica being a regular here and very familiar with all of the people here, which now includes me as well.
"Hah, sounds rough. So you haven't been having much luck, then?" I enquire, sipping on my coffee to keep my chuckles from escaping, having done that before and been on the receiving end of a harsh glare for it. But given just what she is having so much trouble with, I can't help but find some amusement in it, finding it incredibly ironic.
"Try no luck at all. Whenever I am not making ends meet, I am running all over the city just trying to find the bastard, only managing sometimes to get a glimpse of the asshole before he disappears." Hearing her complaints, I find it incredibly hard to keep my grin from stretching because the rim of my cup would not be enough to hide it, and I can only thank the fact that she is staring up at the ceiling right now that she can't see me.
"Well, Spider-Man is a popular guy. People all over the city want to meet him, grab hold of him and maim him. So it is no wonder he is so quick to scurry away." Jessica Carradine, the woman across from me, looked at me with lidded eyes as she rose back up to accept the cup of coffee handed to her by the waitress. She is a journalist or something, and she is determined to find Spider-Man for some reason, wanting to ask him some questions.
I don't know much more beyond that, and to be honest, I haven't pried much. I know for certain that Jessica is determined to find Spider-Man, to the point she works some dead-end jobs to make ends meet so she can focus on chasing him down. It makes me feel kind of bad that technically a Spider-Man, or rather a former one, is sitting right across from her and would probably be able to answer all her questions. Sadly for her, that will never happen. As far as I am concerned, this is Peter's problem, and I am just an observer.
"Still, it doesn't explain how that little punk Parker manages to get so many photos. I just wish I could find him, and I bet I could get him to squeal and tell me his secret." That was actually how myself and Jessica met because she thought I was Peter. I had a cap on underneath a hood while in the shop, and she suddenly came up out of nowhere and started talking to me, thinking I was Peter. Thankfully when I removed my cap and hood, she saw my blond hair and noticed that I was not Peter, and that is how we met. I can only be thankful that Peter still has a semi-Clark Kent thing going on, pretending to be a bit of a timid coward. I won't be doing that kind of thing, it just isn't my type of thing, plus I have no one to protect either.
"Well, good luck to you. I hope one day you manage to track them both down and finagle whatever it is you want out of them." I smile at her, to which she smiles back. She actually looks quite lovely when she isn't so haggard and weary. She has tan skin, brown eyes and wild black hair. She has some light makeup on to cover the eyebags underneath her eyes and black lipstick on as well. She has some black biker boots on, with some brown slacks, and a cosy black turtleneck jumper, over which she wears a grey trenchcoat. She has a kind of goth, scruffy look going on that actually works for her. She is actually very good-looking when she isn't scowling all the time.
"Alright, enough about me and my problems. Let's talk about yours. It will make me feel better." Jessica says, smirking at me before sipping on her drink. I sigh a little just for appearance, but to be honest, this is the reason I come here. After all, I could go to any coffee shop anywhere, and there are no doubt more relaxing places to destress that I can easily afford with all the cash I have tucked away. But I keep on coming back here because Jessica here is a really great person to talk at.
"Hah, what problems? I don't have problems." I say, which Jessica just deadpans at me for, because I have told her of my numerous problems in the past. Then, of course, I spruce it all up, change some facts and terms, and once there is nothing too sensitive, I tell her. It just ended up this way after a few meetings, with her sharing her problems and me sharing mine, an excellent way to vent. I wasn't even looking for a solution or anything, I was just saying my words aloud, and she listened, maybe a bit of advice here or there, and I did the same for her.
"Come on, Ben. Let's talk about that sexy roommate of yours you've been having trouble with. Any development there?" She asks, bringing up a subject that I have been trying to avoid thinking about lately. Still, unfortunately, I already talked to Jessica here about it not long after the fact, and Jessica isn't the type of person to let such things go. When she is interested in something, she grabs on tight and refuses to let go unless you chop off her hands, figuratively, of course.
"Nope, nothing of the sort. We have just been living in the same place and hardly see each other. I am busy with my work, and she is busy with hers." I was a bit miffed at the beginning and wanted to do something after the high from the mall trip, but that wore off after a while, and I realised that I nearly got invested when I wanted to get as far away as possible from this place.
"Nothing else happened after that mall trip? It's been a month already, and you live together, for god's sake. How can nothing have happened?" She immediately goes on a tirade, taking me by surprise. Usually, she just sits and listens, does some light teasing and joking around with a bit of advice and opinion to go along with it. But never before has she been so outspoken and irritated before like she has some kind of personal stake in this or she is relating to it in some way.
"We work long hours respectively, and we are dead tired when we get home, and we miss each other on our days off." I don't have any days off, and neither does Felecia, what with the work we are doing. We work exclusively at night, and during the day, I am busy out and about, going to my martial arts classes and other stuff. I don't know what Felecia does, but she is always still asleep by the time I am ready and leaving in the morning, and she is not there when I get back.
"Come on, Ben. You bought her an expensive silver earring. That must've meant something. Is she even wearing it?" I did buy her that earring, a mistake maybe because it has made things between us a bit iffy, but I don't regret it. Felecia might have tried to sell me out to the Kingpin, but that was when he was threatening her mother, and she panicked, and she didn't actually reveal anything about me.
And afterwards, after being put in a tough spot, she handed me the documents and ID she had made for me when she could have kept it and forced me to stay with her and help her with her problem, but she didn't. So Felecia didn't really do anything wrong. She was placed in a tough spot with her mother being threatened, and she panicked and said something that she didn't even think about properly. Immediately after, she apologised and gave me the means to leave that she had already prepared for me, with no strings attached.
"The only times I see her is the short period where we cross paths for a minute or two, and she is dressed in her work outfit. Her work doesn't allow her to wear any accessories or anything, so I have no clue whether she has been using the earing I got her. Now can we stop talking about this? I have come to the decision not to pursue anything with her. We are good friends and roommates, and I don't want to jeopardise that or my place to live." I make an excuse for not wanting to continue on this topic anymore. Jessica looks at me for a second, wanting to continue it, but bites her lip and nods, refraining from doing so.
"Alright, guess it's my turn then. Let me tell you about this asshole at work called John, the bastard. All day long he..."
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I watch from the corner of a rooftop as a young man lounges around on a street corner in Hell's Kitchen, a very deserted location given the fact that it is nighttime in this area, and usually, the predators are creeping around, and the mice are hiding away. There would always be a gaggle of thugs hanging around since it would be dangerous to be alone, which is why this is so suspicious to me.
For a man being alone in an isolated space, in a terrible place like this, he is remarkably relaxed and unworried, meaning that he is confident and feels safe right now. So either he is a guy that has too much unfound confidence that is going to get himself killed tonight, or if he is lucky, in a hospital bed, or he is a bigshot which I highly doubt. The most likely thing is that this little shit is backed by someone high up, so he can be alone here because no one would dare to touch him, which means I definitely want to touch him... That came out wrong.
I watch as the young man suddenly drops his cigarette to the ground and stamps it out before walking to the trash can nearby, and I can see why he started to take action as another man walks out of a shadowy alley. This man looks a bit more professional, dressed in a shirt and tie beneath a trenchcoat, as he walks over to the young man, who seriously starts to hasten his actions.
Reaching within the trashcan, the man rummages around a bit, throwing out some garbage in the process. The professional-looking man comes to a stop around a metre behind him, not wanting to get any trash on him and waits for the youngster to finish his rummaging. Taking the opportunity for what it is, I quickly hop over the side of the building into an alley, grabbing and transitioning through a few positions using the fire escapes and other parts of the buildings to descend into it quietly.
Sneaking over to the entrance of the alley, I look out to see them both still occupied, and so I reach into the leftmost pocket on my utility belt and draw out a pitch-black little disk, about five millimetres in diameter. After that whole thing with the truck full of people, I realised that I went into this thing a bit half-cocked, and so I went and tried to bolster my tools and equipment.
I make a fist with my right hand, my thumb digging into the inside, and I place the little disk on the top of my thumb. Then, moving my hand forward, I calculate the distance and move my fist upwards, and then I flick my thumb out, shooting the disk off across to finally slip in between the gap of the man's heel and his shoe to attach itself to the back of his sock. Damn, my brain is fantastic, and who knew math could be so amazing when you are actually good at it.
I don't have time to think further of the wonders of math as the young man turns around holding a small black bag which he quickly cleans off and hands to the man, who simply takes it and stashes it on the inside of his coat and then turns around and walks away without a word. I watch him go for a minute but ultimately turn my attention to the young man who is wiping his head in relief which I should rinse for information first.
I have a tracking device on the other guy, after all, so I should be able to get to him anytime I want. I spent a lot of time boosting the signal of it on a specific frequency only known to me, so I should be able to find him as long as he doesn't move too far out of New York. Just to double-check check, I bring up my left arm and tap on it to transform part of the pitch-black surface into a dimmed blue screen, and it shows the transmitter slowly moving away from me.