Change in Pace

-Hells Kitchen-

(November 8 pm)

Five days after the meeting with Gwen.

Peter Parker had it all planned out. Play superhero, hunt bad guys, build a hideout, work on his cover, hunt the bad guys, destroy Wilson Fisk, and Kill Poindexter.

It was simple, make the plan, execute the plan…and then throw it away, on account of the execution part of the plan. Because all plans go to shit the moment you execute them. 

There was always that one thing that no one's ever prepared for, the unpredictable factor, the unknown one could never account for. 

" Hello you, tell me, do you know who I am, you probably don't even remember me, some random nobody from Queens" 

Peter loomed over the bleeding body of one Benjamin Poindexter, both his hands twisted and broken, his left leg twisted in the wrong direction, his face disfigured beyond recognition with his teeth shattered and his jaw dislocated.

His charge, Wilson Fisk sprawled against his burning vehicle, a metal rod stabbed into his left shoulder holding him in place. 

He was dressed in a hooded jacket with the collar pulled past his lower face, black pants, and shoes, covered in patches of blood and bullet holes from the fight that just occurred.

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Around them littered the discarded weapons and writhing bodies of all his protection detail, groaning in pain from missing limbs and broken bones among three burning vehicles.

" I had it all planned out, I was gonna make your lives hell, take everything that mattered to you, and then kill you." 

An orange cat walked among the wreckage, moving leisurely through the groaning bodies, as it passed them, tiny noticeable needle-like objects shot from its fur before stabbing into any who attempted to rearm themselves.

"But plans change, people die, my aunt almost died…my uncle did die…" That brought back memories he tried to avoid for the last few days.

'Almost'.

Peter reached down and squeezed into his already grotesque left arm.

"AAARRRGGGG!!!" Poindexter let out a pain-filled scream.

"And you pulled that trigger, look at me, hey, hey, look at me, you took them from me" Peter pulled with a sadistic glee he never knew he possessed, something dark took root inside of him, further amplified by his innate lust for blood, a side effect of power. 

"Ssshhhh…shh..shhh. shhh. shhh…quite know, that's it, be quiet and listen" Peter firmly covered his Poindexter's broken mouth with his other hand, before pulling back his hood and and lowering his face mask, revealing his face.

Poindexter's eye's swollen eyes widened in recognition.

"Look at me and remember this face, remember that this is all because of some nobody from Queens, remember that this is all because you chose to pull that trigger at the park that afternoon, brand this into your soul, this is all because of a life you took, his name is Ben

Parker, a hardworking man, a caring husband, a loving father, my father, and the life you almost ruined, her name is May Parker, a nurse, the greatest woman you'll never meet, someone worth a hundred of your worthless life, my mother. When you die, she will come for you, tell her Peter Parker sent you, consider it a gift from an unwilling fan…and I think I'll be keeping this arm…"

"AAARRRRGG!!!AAAAAAAAHHH!" Peter ripped his arm off in one swift movement. The arm that cost him his family, and ironically the arm that led him to their killer.

With that Peter gave him a long empty stare before kicking him violently in the stomach just because he felt like it. 

He then turned to Wilson Fisk who was still bleeding out, impaled into his car, and smiled. 

"Don't think I forgot about you mister King Pin, sir, we'll have our moment" He walked over as if he went going for a leisurely stroll, with no break in his stride, just slow and deliberate.

The last thing Poindexter saw was a chubby orange cat, purring calmly as it stalked up, getting right up in the face. 

Its eyes a pitch black with pupils glowing red. The unholy creature gave the doing marksman a Cheshire grin, its lips split past further back than should be physically possible, fit for a demon, not a cat.

The last sight he would ever see. 

Then it spoke.

And it was the last thing Poindexter would ever hear. 

...…

-The night of Yuriko Watanabe's unintentional rescue-

Dressed in all black, Peter remained crouched on a power pole in the rain, not far from his intended target. A private compound surrounded by armed men near the shipyard, a private property but nothing about it was legal or proper. His been scouting out random joints over the last few days after school, aside from training himself and the fight club some nights he was setting up his new base of operations which also counted as training because of all the crates he had to move around from his new bought previously abandoned were house.

He took Garfield from the hospital to check out what he could do and he could do some amazing things.

So when he brought Garfield here to check this place out, the cat informed Peter that it smelt blood from there, the scent was so strong that the cat shot down toward the compound like a bullet.

When Peter chased after him to bring him back, it assaulted his senses just as much, it didn't help that his been having blood cravings for the last few weeks, and food began to taste stale and tasteless. He was embarrassed to say that he did salivate a little near the gates before the guards told him to piss off the private property.

He should consider getting himself a blood bank.

So after much consideration, he decided that for his first official night out, this would be the place.

"Five guards around a fire drum, two in the watch tower, and two by the gate, three on the roof…No, you can't eat them Garfield… when did you get so heavy? did you go hunting again? cause you're making my neck ache," The cat was curled up on his head, safely under his hood, it compressed itself into the size of a kitten to squeeze itself inside.

The compound was a five-story building used for storage of some kind. They had crates and containers all over the yard, one of them providing cover for the five guards he needed to take out, conveniently blocking the eastern watchtower from view.

The real reason he was here was the basement. That's where the scent of blood was coming from.

' Wait can you take out the watchman', he didn't need to speak for the cat to understand him. The reply was instantaneous, thoughts didn't need any effort when communicating, unlike speech.

Garfield told Peter he could.

All they needed was to take out the one to the west watchtower, then distract the three on the roof so Peter could sneak in and take them out, before dealing with the five by the fire drum who just happened to be guarding the entrance to where the scent of blood was the strongest. 

'Alright…go'. 

Garfield's biomass shifted in his hood before a tiny bird made its way out, flying toward the guard in the watch tower. 

Garfield's branch power revolved around the manipulation of biomass, he could consume it, compress it, then assimilate it then become whatever it was that he consumed the mass from, a form of bio-mimicry. His weight was the only thing he couldn't adjust, everything else was easy game, he could solidify the mass to make hard constructs, an armored shell and so much more.

His cat was a literal sentient biomass. 

The small bird flew in as if it were any other animal. Once it got close it shifted its mass again, turning into a large falcon, a prey from one of its hunts. 

Peter followed with the speed and precision of a practiced martial master. Moving across the power lines just before Garfield grabbed the guard by its color and soured into the sky faster than the armed man could make a sound. 

By the time the guard was dropped on the roof Peter was already in the air behind him. The sound of a body slamming into concrete got the attention of the three watchmen stationed on the roof. They didn't notice Peter lightly drop down on one of the railings. In one fluid motion, like water streaming through the cracks of a rock, he propelled himself between and knocked two out with a sequence of well-placed strikes before violently grabbing the last one.

They like their fellow guard were out with broken bones and damaged organs in a single instant, by the time the other two fell Peter smashed the head of the last one into the wall, webbed cracks forming with a little blood splatter from the strength he used.

'OK, Whoa, I know I'm awesome but that was easy, way too easy…I'm getting stronger.'

He let the other one drop unceremoniously to the ground. The rain helped in masking the sounds.

'That's a good thing, right?'. 

'Yes,' A young voice answered. 

Peter reflexively covered his mouth to stop himself from crying out in shock. 

'Jesus Garfield!…' Peter almost swatted the bird that landed on his shoulder. 

' I know you're adapting to human speech and all but a little warning next time would be nice bud, no matter how many times I hear it, still creeps me out.' Peter jumped on the railing to watch his next target, one of them left to get a cigarette from what Peter could hear. 

'So.oo.ry' Garfield replied, trying to form the word as best it could as it felt unnatural to him, but it would try for its master. 

'Don't worry about it bud... Maybe the bandages this time...aww...aren't you just the cutest'.

Peter pat the little bird and then sent it down, following him by using his bandages attached to the rails to lower himself silently on the container in the cover of rain and shadow.

Peter then bound his bandages to the rails and the container to walk across for a better view. 

Once there he mentally moved them down careful not to touch any of them. Like invisible guided tendrils they slithered in the air towards them before closing around their necks making sure not to touch any of them until all of their necks and bodies were enclosed.

*Shhhooft!*

In response to a single thought, all four guards were dragged into the air writhing, struggling as the bandages squeezed the air from their longs, locking their arms to their sides making it impossible for them to do anything other than squirm and suffocate.

And that was how the fifth guard found them, only he couldn't see the bandages, only a group of men in the air having the life squeezed out of them. 

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His newly acquired unlit cigarette fell from his mouth, the gun from his shaking hands. 

"Wha…wha…what the fuck?" he uttered in genuine disbelief.

Peter tilted his head in amusement. 

"Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly." He joked, only the poor man did not find it as funny. 

He was terrified, Garfield got to him the moment he turned to run. Like all the others, he didn't even have the time to scream.

-Chapter End-