Chapter 2202: Battle of the Twin Cities! (43)_1

Carrying a backpack, Peter Parker rushed across the street, catching the last bus to the edge of the Bronx in the last second before the door closed.

Don't misunderstand, it's not late at night. After all, superpower users are a minority, and ordinary people hardly dare to move around in this area after dark, so the last bus here leaves at 3PM.

Once on the bus, Peter immediately wore his backpack in front, one hand on the zipper of the bag and the other supporting the middle of the bag, he sat near the back door.

A black man and a big-bearded man at the front of the bus withdrew their gaze upon seeing his posture. Obviously, they recognized him as a local, although a white local. Perhaps he came from Queens District, a place not much better than the Bronx.

The bus slowly arrived at the stop. Peter got off, waiting until everyone had dispersed. He glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, before pulling out a few coins to give to the homeless man lying by the signpost.

"Wait, don't go yet." Bruce's voice came through the earpiece. "Ask him where to buy leaves. You go get some to burn and mask your scent with it. Otherwise people there won't trust you."

Peter didn't shout out, just whispered somewhat surprised, "Is it necessary to be so meticulous? I don't think they care whether I'm a junkie or not."

"It's always best to be cautious. If you really hate the smell, smoking a cigarette will suffice."

Peter glanced around again, "No need for all that trouble. I remember there's a place where the homeless get food nearby. I'll stand in line for a few minutes, I'm sure I'll smell like it."

This was an area Spider-Man frequented, but there's a difference between looking down from high above and walking among the city streets. So, Peter took some time to figure out his direction before striding towards an intersection.

He put on the hoody and a mask, always keeping his backpack in front of him. When he arrived on this street, there were noticeably more homeless people. However, most of them glanced at his outfit and then ignored him.

Peter went to where food was distributed for a bit. He faintly saw a few classmates from New York University, probably doing volunteer work on the weekend.

After waiting for a while, he received a box of food looking convincingly hungry and put the still warm meal into his backpack. Under Bruce's guidance, he headed for the outskirts.

This was an abandoned community, meaning the government had built many houses on a piece of land with seemingly adequate facilities, and then deceived the lower-middle class or even poorer people with promotions of how good the area was, tricking them into buying houses here.

When almost all the houses were sold, the property and facilities would completely withdraw. Many years ago, this was a measure used to divert black people, but now it doesn't discriminate based on skin color.

American slums are not crowded. Most are scattered abandoned communities. They still look like independent villas but are far from any human needed facilities and the security is very poor.

And on the edge of this community, there was the epicenter of destitution, also known as the home of the homeless.

The large public facilities that were built only for facade to deceive house buyers. After the staff completely pulled out, it became a haven for the homeless. They transformed it into their dwelling and formed gangs to maintain order.

It was like a small society, with the gang acting as the government, gang members as the main body of society, homeless people as the lowest marginalized group, and scattered fugitives, many of whom Spider-Man recognized.

To maintain basic survival needs, they brought in generators, even connected the water pipes. Because the conditions were better, more idle homeless people wanted to join, so the population density here was relatively high, which was more in line with the images of dense and chaotic slums in films and television.

But it was still hard to conceal the fact that this was a community center that had been abandoned for at least 20 years, without professional maintenance, and was dilapidated, that it seemed there should be at least one Brazilian embassy.

Peter's appearance as an outsider here immediately attracted their attention, but since he had been Spider-Man for quite some time, he also had many experiences dealing with the lower social class.

He didn't take off his hood, nor did he remove his mask, he just looked at the two black men who came over with a wary look and said, "I'm looking for someone. His name is Kevin. Do you know him?"

"What do you want with him?"

"He stole my gun."

The two black men instantly became alert, but not toward Peter. They glanced at each other as if guessing which Kevin it was.

"It worked." Peter whispered to Bruce, then he asked curiously, "I don't get it, why do that?"

Gangs fear armed people more, especially on their own turf." Bruce replied: "If someone hides a gun instead of turning it in, it means they are planning something. Then everyone here is in danger."

"What's his full name?" a black man asked.

"Kevin Cabin, but I don't know if that's his real name." Peter looked up at the tall black man and said, "He looks like a Mexican, about six feet tall, black hair, brown eyes, no beard."

That description was too broad. This entire camp contained more than 3000 people, with only 10% being white. The rest were immigrants from Asia, Africa and Latin America, with Mexicans being too numerous to count. The height and hair color were not unusual and there's no way to identify him with those characteristics.

"What kind of gun?"

"Glock 19, got it from a blue mutt."

The tall black man immediately raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking Peter Parker up and down, as if he didn't believe he had killed a cop.

"He willingly handed it over." After mimicking Bruce's tone and snorting, Peter Parker said, "If you don't help me find him, I'll let the owner of the gun come looking himself."

The two black men exchanged glances again. The one in front turned around as he said, "Follow me. Don't try any funny business, we've had enough trouble recently."

As Peter followed them in, he said, "Who isn't in trouble? There's chaos in Queens District, the four new mobs are fighting with the locals. Otherwise, I wouldn't have ended up here."

Mentioning this finally got the tough and suspicious black man in front talking. "The newcomers are crazy. My mom said she's only seen such crazy mobs over 20 years ago. Back then, they would even dare to rob police cars."

"Now they dare to." Peter echoed, adopting Bruce's voice, "I just came from the Lytic community in Gotham. Three cops died there. Guess how they died?"

The black man was indeed attracted. He turned to look at Peter and Peter said, "They didn't die on the street, but in their police car, which was less than 300 meters from the police station."

The black man drew in a sharp breath and grimly declared, "A bunch of maniacs, just like their mayor."

Peter immediately realized he gained critical information and proceeded to say, "You mean the fat guy named Cobblepot, the one who killed Bruce Wayne?"

"Yeah, they say Wayne was the richest man there. I gotta say, the mayor is a tough nut, certainly tougher than ours."

"Who could be worse than him?" Peter sarcastically agreed, "Who would ever expect him to kill Stark?"

The black man burst into laughter, turned to Peter as he continued to lead to way and asked, "You specialize in this, don't you? Helping people get guns?"

"I'm just a runner." Peter said with some resignation, "Actually, it was a colleague of mine who made a mess of things. I came to clear up the trouble."

Soon they reached a small compartment separated by discarded car doors and planks. A Mexican-looking old man poked his head out. The black man pointed at him and said, "He's the head of those Mexicans. If you want to find someone, ask him."

Peter once again described what he had seen. The old man paused before saying, "Seems like there really is such a person."

Of course there is, Peter thought, he had just come from the police station in the Queens District. The situation about the lost gun was not made up.

Although Peter had no idea how Bruce was able to deduce the culprit's identity and location from vacant crime scene and idle police chatter, after all, he is Batman.

Deep down, Peter was excited and smug. Previously, he had to handle all logistics, action planning, execution and cleanup by himself. Now, he had backing from Batman. It certainly felt fantastic to have a strong team member.

Indeed, Peter wasn't very skilled at deduction and investigation. If it were him, he would have chosen to sneak in under the cover of darkness rather than striding in with the help of a few words, expecting others to help him find someone.

The black man's face immediately turned serious. Previously, he had been somewhat sceptical of Peter. However, when the old man agreed, he became genuinely worried. In addition to the risk posed by the man hiding the gun, if the cops got involved, they wouldn't know how to explain it to their boss.

"Lead us to him, captain." The black man leaned against the window and knocked on the counter before him, "You need to take care of this."

"I can tell you where they are, but I'm not going," said the old man, quickly shrinking back and muttering, "He lives on the edge of the maniacs' turf, and I don't want to be killed by a hidden gun."

The black man looked helplessly at the simple map that the old man had drawn. After he gasped, he thrust the map towards Peter saying, "You go ahead. Head in through this back alley here, go around the abandoned landfill, the intersection with two tires tied to the wall is the place. The guy lives inside."

"But I have to warn you, it's close to those Gotham maniacs. There's always a gunfight going on there. They seem to think bullets are free. So, if you're going that way, you'd better be careful."

The black man walked up to pat Peter on the shoulder, "Compared to those lunatics, hiding a gun doesn't seem like a big deal. I would like to help, but there's nothing in it for me."

Knowing he wanted money, Peter hesitated whether to give it or not when Bruce said, "Don't pay him. He will just take the money and run. Listen to me, say this."

"But if something happens, neither you, your boss, nor I can explain it. How about this, leave me your number, and when I find him I will notify you. I'm willing to pay for garbage disposal services."

The black man's expression shifted. He immediately turned around, waved at Peter and said, "I won't deal with garbage. You handle it yourself."

Upon hearing Bruce chuckle and hum in his earpiece, Peter thought, "Heh, spineless."

People from Gotham really are a bunch of lunatics, Peter thought to himself.