Post by Wachter on Mar 24, 2019 1:09:14 GMT
Cassie Cain Hates Spider-Man #4
Fist vs Spider: Dawn of Frenemies
Jackrabbit No More Part 4
My name is Ben Reilly. For five days, I was locked in my room with only one goal: pizza. Now I will fulfill my friend's greedy wish – to use my great power and limited funds to deliver food to those who forget to eat. To do this, I must become someone else. I must become something else.
I am a Delivery Boy.
A bell signaled the end of school. Ben gripped his sling bag, wincing slightly with phantom aches, and was the second student out the door. Not as quick as last week, not as excited or as hyped, but still feeling the need to be gone from this gilded cage. He bumped a few people on his way, murmuring apologies as he did so. Those that recognized him gave a pitying look. The official story to explain his few days of absence and his injuries was he was the victim of a hit and run. All his teachers were so proud that he was back, ready to learn not even a week later.
He felt guilty about that.
All the cuts, scrapes, bruises and broken bones were his fault. His body was the victim of his own stupid pride and dream to be something more than just the nice boy who helped an old lady with her groceries. Never again. The look on his mother's face… Pete's terror when he returned home a second time.
Personal wasn't the same as important. He forgot that. Penguin-Tie sent the Ninja Girls after him. His ego demanded answers he didn't need right that moment as Ben played right into his hands. And what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Nothing at all.
By instinct, he started to sidle along the side of the school building, avoiding the cameras, only to catch a familiar sight waiting at the gate. There was no forgetting that mane of curly black hair and steely, no-nonsense glare. Ben shouldered his bag with a sigh, making a bee line for her.
She kept herself bundled up against Star City's not-so-bad winter. Fancy coat, fancy yet practical boots, a nice scarf wrapped around her neck to keep the chill off. He wondered how much more she'd wear if it was honestly cold out.
"Mr. Parker," she inclined her head in a slight greeting.
"Mercedes," he returned without missing a beat, walking past her, knowing she'd fall into step beside him.
"Oh, that how it is?"
"That's how it is."
"You know, there are some people that wished they even knew who their father was yet you blame yours for giving his life for his country."
Ben stiffened and stopped in his tracks. He scowled up at the woman. She returned it with disinterest. How does one begin to even explain the tragedy of watching his mom wait every day for a decade for Ben Parker to walk through their front door because Fury refused to change a M to a K on his official file? She held out some impossible hope that her husband was alive. That he'd be back one day. That one day to Ben meant that if his father was alive then the man knowingly abandoned his wife to raise a kid that wasn't hers and their baby on her own. SHIELD didn't cover that with their limitless expenses. Fury could express his respect and regret but where was he all the times they nearly lost their home?
Bad enough Ben couldn't shed his first name. He'd give anything for his mother to accept it.
You do realize if she was that kind of woman, you would have been grounded for more than five days…
He ignored the voice in his head.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Knight, it's just…" he let the words hang in the air, hoping he wouldn't have to say more because he truly did not know what he'd say.
"It's okay, kid, I was a moody teenager once upon a time too."
"How long ago was that?"
"Don't push it," she led the way to a nondescript sedan with zero governmental markings parked down the street. Somewhat hard to take umbrage when she held the door open for him. He had considered making a run for it. "After you."
The door slammed shut, locking him inside. His nose caught the whiff of coffee in the cupholder. Some residual fear sweat. There was a definite hint of iron somewhere. He glanced at the backseat as Knight walked around the front of the car and he saw the scrub marks of fresh blood. Welp. That was a good sign. Eyes forward, a manila folder tucked into the visor above him attracted his attention. Curiosity compelled him to investigate.
Self-preservation had him buckle on his seatbelt and hold his bag against his stomach.
"Where's Trish?" he asked while she started the vehicle. "She's normally my chaperone."
"So she's Trish but me? You call me Ms. Knight?"
Ben couldn't help but grin. "Okay, Misty."
"Boy, don't you ever call me that. I ain't your friend. I'm Special Agent Knight to you."
Yep. He walked right into that.
"Where to?"
"Stan's Star Pizza."
"Right back to it, huh? Not even going to give your poor mother the peace of mind of taking it easy for a few days, heading straight home, and finish healing up?"
That hit insanely close to echoing the voice in his head.
"Not gonna patrol. I'm not that dumb." Bad timing, the stop light gave her the opening to cock an eyebrow at him. He hurried on. "Thinking about brand change after what happened to my suit. Put Jackrabbit out to pasture and make use of my other talents, you know?" He raised an arm, watching the sleeve slide down to reveal the bandages beneath. He could feel the itch of his stinger growing back. "That'll take a few days. Enough for me find my feet again."
"Smart… Take it. I know you're curious."
The folder was for him. Obviously. He flipped down the visor, opening it to read while Misty drove. It was pretty light reading. Heavily redacted. The SSR and DEO's files on Carson Reilly from his journey as a war photographer through his time with the Howling Commandos to the foundation of SHIELD. Children's books had more words in them than what he was seeing. Codename: The Spider AKA the Spider-Man… no mention of how he got his abilities. Nothing that his mom hadn't already told him or he hadn't worked out on his own with Pete from the pictures and stuff in the attic.
Who the hell was the Vixen?
He skimmed the pages until it became nonstop scientific mumbo-jumbo that he had only vague familiarity with. As much as they could reason out half a century ago at least. His eyes widened when he reached a paper detailing webbing. It caused an itch in the back of his head that had a desperate need to be scratched.
"He could shoot webs?"
"They called him Spider-Man. What did you expect?"
"Silk?"
"Smartass…"
He read about the webbing again and again, thoughts filling his brain. The grapple lines always felt natural yet if he could somehow replicate the chemical make-up in the documents… Endless possibilities. The next page was equally interesting. His predecessor had some form of precognition. That, that reminded him.
"Any info on the Penguin Tie Guy or his Teenage Ninja Assassin Girls?"
"Not much more than you probably figured out googling. Owner and CEO of Rand Industries. He vanishes every couple of years and then pops back up, making large changes with the company like buying out Queen Consolidated for example. Nothing on the girls."
"Really? The Immortal Iron Fist seems like something you'd track."
"The Rand family…" oh, the venom in her voice could have killed someone in two steps. "The Rand family has either held a seat or financed a chair on the World Security Council since the split of the SSR."
That lack of an answer answered everything.
The car slowed down. They reached their destination. Ben stuffed the folder in his bag and thanked Misty for the ride. The door didn't open.
The DEO Special Agent waited for him to settle back into his seat and match her gaze. "Ben… I don't like the top one percent any more than you do. That's why I'm trusting you with that file. But I need you to promise me that you won't go and do anything stupid on your own. It's okay to ask for help. You're my responsibility, remember that."
"I won't go looking for trouble, Agent Knight." Surprisingly, that was the truth.
"Good. Now Fury's pissed. Rumor has it that since you think you're ready for the big leagues then he's going to find something for you to do. Don't disappoint me." She slipped a bill into his bag and he had to bite his tongue to keep from making a joke. "Enjoy the pizza."
Ben watched the car vanish into the afternoon traffic. No doubt she had Super Secret Agent things to do. Like paperwork. Tons and tons of paperwork. He checked what she put in his bag and silently cursed her. Five bucks? Giving the DEO a potential win over SHIELD was worth only five dollars?
Cheapskates.
Panic attack,
I'm slippin' through the cracks,
Everything's turning black,
Still don't know how I'm gonna make it back…
An arsenal of arrows was spread out across the cold, concrete floor in front of Ben. Carefully, until it had almost become rote, he utilized his tiny toolset to dismantle them, taking them apart and repackaging them to suit his needs. The webbing would have to wait – at least until he talked to his cousin – for now though, he worked on making capsules for his Wrist Shooters v2. Twice the grapple lines at thrice the length with the addition of a few odds and ends that he had ideas for.
It made the actual shooters bulkier than his first version. No way he could fit them under his Jackrabbit gloves. Possibly, if he had wanted to, he could have retrofitted them to be built in but then there would be issues reloading them without pausing five minutes to replace a gadget. He'd work on that for v3 after he figured out just what he was going to be. Focusing on the tools in his hands kept him from worrying too much about the type of man he was going to become.
His curse echoed throughout the Bunker when the arrow exploded with a hiss and tried to tangle him up. He snatched it out of the air and tossed it aside. That was one wasted. Couldn't really afford to do that. Green Arrow had left behind a finite supply even if he had his arrows crafted in bulk.
"I'm alive and it feels like I'm on fire," he sang under his breath, reaching for another arrow, "But it's right on time…"
Most of what he took apart were the bola arrows. Being able to tie up Crazy Ninja Assassin Girl II would have made that fight slightly less difficult. It was unsurprisingly easy getting them to fit what he needed. The trick arrows were designed to be miniaturized in the first place. It was a simple matter of removing the arrowheads –the bolts and flechettes were more compact – and carefully packing them up so that they didn't accidently go off. When he wasn't careful, it was a hassle bordering on impossible with what he had on hand compressing them back into an empty capsule.
"Ben."
The hardest part had been creating the firing mechanism. Good thing for him, he had five days of being able to do nothing except that. More like three days. He spent the first one mostly unconscious. His mother hadn't let him out of her sight on the second. By the third, his motor skills had mostly returned, and he was allowed to go as far as the shed in their backyard to work.
There. That was another pouch filled.
"Ben!"
He slipped his headphones off. "What?"
Felicity's glasses only heightened the glower she shot Ben. So ungrateful. She hadn't even thanked him for the pizza yet.
"We have guests."
She held up the tablet in her hands so that he could see the video feed from outside the Bunker's door. Two girls, both Asian or at least part-Asian, with very nearly the same haircut waited in silence. Ben recognized the incredibly angry features of one and the yellow scarf of the other. They were bundled up in oversized red and black hoodies as if they were unaccustomed to the cold.
What the hell? Between them and Misty, he just didn't know. It wasn't that cold. It was Star City's hottest winter in years.
"Let them in," Ben grabbed another arrow, unconcerned yet aware that Felicity fumed above him
"They tried to kill you."
"No. I tried to kill me. They helped me along. Important difference."
Her shadow still fell over him.
"Look at the box in the angry one's hands, they brought food in apology." He didn't bother to point out that if they wanted to get in, they probably could. The weird glowy fist thing they did and energy they projected was at the least a match for his strength. It had him question that if Oliver Queen really cared about security then he would have got a better door.
The shadow vanished. He heard the metal of the door scrape as it opened a moment later. The siren call of a potential snack outweighed the chance of murder apparently.
He snapped the wrist-shooters closed around his wrists and flexed his hands, fingers pressed against his palms carefully. Definitely too bulky. Not uncomfortable. Just bigger than he liked. He stood and crossed the Bunker to where Felicity greeted the Immortal Iron Fist and friend.
"… holds back the storm when no one else can," the angry one finished when he reached the blonde's side. "I am Emiko."
An awkward, uncomfortable silence followed the simple introduction.
"We are the Daughters of the Dragon." There was the hint of a question mark at the end of that statement. It revealed more about the two than they probably liked and not at all what they expected. They didn't know how to interact like normal teens.
"Emiko who?"
Oooookay. That was kinda strange and impolite for Felicity to ask. These girls needed to get out more.
"Simply Emiko… You may call me Emi if you like." Something in her voice said she wouldn't like it.
"I'm Ben. She's Felicity." He bowed his head as Colleen had taught him. "We welcome you."
"Welcome you to my secret lair," muttered Felicity when he was done.
Cassie gazed all around the Bunker in wonder. Almost childlike, innocent, as she tried to look everywhere at once without having enough eyes to do so. It was a bit unsettling how she ignored them. Ben had grown accustomed (in their total of two encounters) to her intense focus. To be beneath her notice – at the moment – was disturbing. The monitors in particular kept drawing her back to them.
Meanwhile, Emiko practically forced the box she carried into his hands and did her best not to look anywhere. Her eyes never quite tracked over the suit stands for Speedy and the Green Arrow. He caught the flicker when she noticed the empty case for a second and her eyes flared redder than her jacket. Thankfully, Felicity had taken the food from him and missed it. Ben wasn't entirely sure what security measures the Bunker had but they probably involved lasers and automated crossbows.
"What are these?" she asked, holding up an orange bun-like snack.
"Pumpkin pancakes," answered Emiko. At the shared incredulous looks of the American heathens, she continued. "Pastries… They are deep fried. Very sweet. Winter is the perfect time to eat them while they are still warm." She did not back down beneath their onslaught of silence. Her determination to have her apology – despite never apologizing – accepted was admirable. "Cassie brought some dragon's beard candy if you'd prefer that."
Nobody made the first move. Cassie was off in her own world, exploring the Bunker. Emiko refused to relent with her stare? Glare? Scowl? Scowl was good. Not appropriate but the perfect description of her features as she waited on Felicity to say something. Or do anything other than match her expression. That left it to Ben.
He took an experimental bite and nearly choked over how sweet it was. His teeth sank into the middle, bypassing the crispy edges to tear into soft, sticky, chewy center. He detected a trace amount of sesame seeds to the texture as he swallowed. When he finished it, he decided to go for broke and ask about the candy.
Turned out that dragon's beard candy was basically cotton candy by a different name and different look. He wasn't sure it was possible for the treat to get any sweeter until Cassie excitedly showed him how to prepare the mixture and wrap it around the bun. He had to eat it all. Especially now that the Immortal Iron Fist had finally zeroed in on him to watch… Every. Single. Bite.
The three girls appeared to love it however after they settled around a steel table to eat. Felicity had zoomed past him by eating two of the sugar-coated buns and working slowly on a third. Even Emiko's anger issues lessened a tad as she enjoyed the snack. Cassie did not offer him another when he swallowed the last of his sickly-sweet morsel.
The Iron Fist watched him. She said nothing. Did nothing. She simply watched. And here he was completely unsure what to do with his extra sticky hands and how to politely excuse himself to wash them.
"We, uh, we have some pizza left, I think… Don't know what all we have to drink but I can get you something."
Cassie stared, Emi answered. "I will have water. Cassie," she glanced at the other girl, "Cassie would like the green liquid on the desk over there… please," she added as an afterthought.
He looked over his shoulder at Felicity's desk. Green liquid? What kind of… Oh. Mountain Dew. Felicity shot him an inaudible 'we will talk about this later' when he returned with clean hands and her last bottle of soda. Breaking bread did not bypass greed it seemed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked Cassie, handing her the drink.
She blinked and smiled.
"She has healed. A lesser fighter would have died had you kicked them in such a way," her hypewoman replied for her.
"Does the Immortal Iron Fist not deign to talk to mortals?" snapped Felicity with more than an ounce of sarcasm.
"Cassie doesn't talk at all."
The smile grew when Ben beat Emiko to the answer. He really didn't want to have to pull the ninja assassin off his friend. Wasn't entirely sure he could. What he was sure of was that the Iron Fist no longer meant him harm. There'd be time later for him to get answers over last week. Hopefully from their guardian instead of pulling teeth from the other Daughter of the Dragon.
"You're here for your rematch."
A smile.
"Like right now? Don't you need to stretch first or wait thirty minutes?" Felicity exclaimed, eyes following his journey to the exit.
What he did wind up doing was waiting the better part of five minutes for the three girls to climb up the stairs from the subbasement and join him on the dirty dance floor of Star City's formerly hippest club. Was a reasonable amount of time for them to finish eating, wash their hands, and in the case of Cassie – strip out of her hoodie into a green tank top. In the waning light of dusk and flickering cheap lamps outside, he noticed some of the scarring along her arms for the first time. This girl really was a fighter.
She took up position across from Ben, assuming her relaxed stance immediately. That was fair. He was crouched atop the bar counter. They both were just doing what felt natural to them. He tossed an empty bottle to Emiko, figuring she'd know what to do.
"Okay, are you two insane?" Felicity did her best to glare and admonish them equally but he had a secret feeling it was mostly directed at him. "We had some food, we drank together, we talked… Well, she didn't talk but she smiled a whole lot so I thought she was… You know what I mean. Why fight?"
Cassie held up her hand to stop her sister from retorting in her defense.
"Because she thinks I'm what comes before the storm," Ben guessed.
"The storm? What the hell does that even – "
The Immortal Iron Fist launched herself at Ben the same moment his grapple line snatched the thrown bottle out of the air. Emiko didn't want to hear Felicity talk anymore apparently and Cassie was prepared for him to cheat. Good times.
A glowing fist crashed into the bar even as Ben flipped over her, propelling himself off her back to the ceiling. He vanished in the darkness of the fading light from the broken and boarded up windows, cowering – really, brain? – among the pillars and rafters that once made the club look cool but grungy. He couldn't beat her one to one in a straight fight. He knew that. She knew that. They knew that.
In fact, Cassie stopped moving. She pulled herself out of the wreckage of shelves and waited. There was no Sifu to urge her to strike. She could afford to. Still, like water, waiting for whatever ripple he made.
His hackles rose. They had to meet at some point. He couldn't hide forever…
An open palm stronger than iron caught the full force of his punch. Okay, no time to be impressed by her stopping a blow enhanced by the momentum of propelling himself from across the room at a downward angle. A blow that had, in the past, made him flee a junkyard at top speed after sending the husk of a car flying. There was only the fight, the twisted tangle they became when she forced him to contort his body to inhuman proportions to escape her hold. His legs closed around her head, the motion causing them both to leave the ground for a heartbeat, while she matched his flexibility and landed on her feet, skidding through the dusty floor.
Ben, however, landed among the wreckage of the bar and felt the very relaxing feeling of broken debris poking his back quite uncomfortably.
It was a guess, more than a choice, his hairs sensing the disturbance in the air that had him flex his wrist, press down his fingers. The cords shot out in a silent hiss, catching Cassie in mid-rush, tying her up with his newly crafted gadget. Another miniscule gesture fired the grapple, yanking her to him as the golden glow of her arms freed her. That might have been a mistake. Fingers stabbed at him once, twice, three times.
His nerves weren't on fire.
That sort of sensation required him to feel his arm.
The good news… His stinger no longer itched beneath his skin.
He spun to his feet, kicking her off, before jumping to the ceiling to start this fiasco all over again.
There would be no letting her find her inner stillness. He dropped behind her, ducked, and disappeared into the rafters. No pattern. Not allowing her to see him long enough to read his moves. Drop, strike, vanish. He needed to draw the fight out until it was truly night. If that meant taking a hit here or there and there and also there then he'd do so. Keep going, don't think about being tired. Don't listen to Felicity shouting to stop. Don't give her time to channel whatever it was she channeled to strengthen her attacks…
It worked. He did have the superior stamina providing he wasn't losing blood by the gallon. Cassie took a knee after her kick took his breath. His line pulled him to the ceiling before he could land on his back… again. She was winded.
So was he.
Ben yanked her to the rafters with a grunt followed quickly by a realization.
He was not the only one capable of learning or being clever. As he felt his arm give out limply, he reflected upon all the hits that had broken through his speed, his defenses, time and again. All those theres… they were the same there. Just like that first fight. She hit the same spot over and over again until it finally did some damage. Good thing she was trapped up here with him, blind as a bat. Not that bats were blind.
His vision swam in yellow light.
Cassie smiled that same friendly wonder-filled child-like smile she had given him as she watched him eat, completely at ease with the unstable footing of metal crossbars.
That explained why she stopped using the Fist.
Ben pressed his fingers against his palms as she raised her fist…
Zambesi
A single figure strolled between the collapsed huts of the long-destroyed village. The man walked among ghosts the rest of the world had forgot. In truth, he had forgotten about them as well. This cursed place suited his needs. No one came here. No one remembered. Or rather, they remembered the stories. The terrors in the dark.
The spirits who could never find rest. He heard their roars sometimes in the quiet of the night.
Perfect for him.
With the setting sun blistering his back, he dropped the carcass of the black-backed jackal before his makeshift tent. He would skin and treat it later. Food was scarce back when he had first secluded himself away here. There was little prey to be found. It only grew worse with every passing year.
He sat down on his pallet, the dull aches he had welcomed as part of him relented as he relaxed. For a second, he closed his eyes in weariness beyond that of isolation. The flickering red beacon in the corner of his vision snapped them open. With speed of a much younger man, he threw off the furs covering the sealed case. His hands swept dirt from the lid, revealing a bird with upstretched wings. Fingers moving with dexterity that belied the arthritis he regularly experienced input the code to unlock it.
Inside was a phone. The only source of technology he allowed for this specific purpose.
It rang multiple times this past year, each message making his heart beat faster than the previous.
"They've found him."
Three words that changed everything.
The hunter took out his belt knife. No time to waste. He had to ready himself to travel. A jackal would not be enough. There were many long miles ahead. Provisions first. Then he would worry about crossing the ocean.
Fist vs Spider: Dawn of Frenemies
Jackrabbit No More Part 4
My name is Ben Reilly. For five days, I was locked in my room with only one goal: pizza. Now I will fulfill my friend's greedy wish – to use my great power and limited funds to deliver food to those who forget to eat. To do this, I must become someone else. I must become something else.
I am a Delivery Boy.
A bell signaled the end of school. Ben gripped his sling bag, wincing slightly with phantom aches, and was the second student out the door. Not as quick as last week, not as excited or as hyped, but still feeling the need to be gone from this gilded cage. He bumped a few people on his way, murmuring apologies as he did so. Those that recognized him gave a pitying look. The official story to explain his few days of absence and his injuries was he was the victim of a hit and run. All his teachers were so proud that he was back, ready to learn not even a week later.
He felt guilty about that.
All the cuts, scrapes, bruises and broken bones were his fault. His body was the victim of his own stupid pride and dream to be something more than just the nice boy who helped an old lady with her groceries. Never again. The look on his mother's face… Pete's terror when he returned home a second time.
Personal wasn't the same as important. He forgot that. Penguin-Tie sent the Ninja Girls after him. His ego demanded answers he didn't need right that moment as Ben played right into his hands. And what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Nothing at all.
By instinct, he started to sidle along the side of the school building, avoiding the cameras, only to catch a familiar sight waiting at the gate. There was no forgetting that mane of curly black hair and steely, no-nonsense glare. Ben shouldered his bag with a sigh, making a bee line for her.
She kept herself bundled up against Star City's not-so-bad winter. Fancy coat, fancy yet practical boots, a nice scarf wrapped around her neck to keep the chill off. He wondered how much more she'd wear if it was honestly cold out.
"Mr. Parker," she inclined her head in a slight greeting.
"Mercedes," he returned without missing a beat, walking past her, knowing she'd fall into step beside him.
"Oh, that how it is?"
"That's how it is."
"You know, there are some people that wished they even knew who their father was yet you blame yours for giving his life for his country."
Ben stiffened and stopped in his tracks. He scowled up at the woman. She returned it with disinterest. How does one begin to even explain the tragedy of watching his mom wait every day for a decade for Ben Parker to walk through their front door because Fury refused to change a M to a K on his official file? She held out some impossible hope that her husband was alive. That he'd be back one day. That one day to Ben meant that if his father was alive then the man knowingly abandoned his wife to raise a kid that wasn't hers and their baby on her own. SHIELD didn't cover that with their limitless expenses. Fury could express his respect and regret but where was he all the times they nearly lost their home?
Bad enough Ben couldn't shed his first name. He'd give anything for his mother to accept it.
You do realize if she was that kind of woman, you would have been grounded for more than five days…
He ignored the voice in his head.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Knight, it's just…" he let the words hang in the air, hoping he wouldn't have to say more because he truly did not know what he'd say.
"It's okay, kid, I was a moody teenager once upon a time too."
"How long ago was that?"
"Don't push it," she led the way to a nondescript sedan with zero governmental markings parked down the street. Somewhat hard to take umbrage when she held the door open for him. He had considered making a run for it. "After you."
The door slammed shut, locking him inside. His nose caught the whiff of coffee in the cupholder. Some residual fear sweat. There was a definite hint of iron somewhere. He glanced at the backseat as Knight walked around the front of the car and he saw the scrub marks of fresh blood. Welp. That was a good sign. Eyes forward, a manila folder tucked into the visor above him attracted his attention. Curiosity compelled him to investigate.
Self-preservation had him buckle on his seatbelt and hold his bag against his stomach.
"Where's Trish?" he asked while she started the vehicle. "She's normally my chaperone."
"So she's Trish but me? You call me Ms. Knight?"
Ben couldn't help but grin. "Okay, Misty."
"Boy, don't you ever call me that. I ain't your friend. I'm Special Agent Knight to you."
Yep. He walked right into that.
"Where to?"
"Stan's Star Pizza."
"Right back to it, huh? Not even going to give your poor mother the peace of mind of taking it easy for a few days, heading straight home, and finish healing up?"
That hit insanely close to echoing the voice in his head.
"Not gonna patrol. I'm not that dumb." Bad timing, the stop light gave her the opening to cock an eyebrow at him. He hurried on. "Thinking about brand change after what happened to my suit. Put Jackrabbit out to pasture and make use of my other talents, you know?" He raised an arm, watching the sleeve slide down to reveal the bandages beneath. He could feel the itch of his stinger growing back. "That'll take a few days. Enough for me find my feet again."
"Smart… Take it. I know you're curious."
The folder was for him. Obviously. He flipped down the visor, opening it to read while Misty drove. It was pretty light reading. Heavily redacted. The SSR and DEO's files on Carson Reilly from his journey as a war photographer through his time with the Howling Commandos to the foundation of SHIELD. Children's books had more words in them than what he was seeing. Codename: The Spider AKA the Spider-Man… no mention of how he got his abilities. Nothing that his mom hadn't already told him or he hadn't worked out on his own with Pete from the pictures and stuff in the attic.
Who the hell was the Vixen?
He skimmed the pages until it became nonstop scientific mumbo-jumbo that he had only vague familiarity with. As much as they could reason out half a century ago at least. His eyes widened when he reached a paper detailing webbing. It caused an itch in the back of his head that had a desperate need to be scratched.
"He could shoot webs?"
"They called him Spider-Man. What did you expect?"
"Silk?"
"Smartass…"
He read about the webbing again and again, thoughts filling his brain. The grapple lines always felt natural yet if he could somehow replicate the chemical make-up in the documents… Endless possibilities. The next page was equally interesting. His predecessor had some form of precognition. That, that reminded him.
"Any info on the Penguin Tie Guy or his Teenage Ninja Assassin Girls?"
"Not much more than you probably figured out googling. Owner and CEO of Rand Industries. He vanishes every couple of years and then pops back up, making large changes with the company like buying out Queen Consolidated for example. Nothing on the girls."
"Really? The Immortal Iron Fist seems like something you'd track."
"The Rand family…" oh, the venom in her voice could have killed someone in two steps. "The Rand family has either held a seat or financed a chair on the World Security Council since the split of the SSR."
That lack of an answer answered everything.
The car slowed down. They reached their destination. Ben stuffed the folder in his bag and thanked Misty for the ride. The door didn't open.
The DEO Special Agent waited for him to settle back into his seat and match her gaze. "Ben… I don't like the top one percent any more than you do. That's why I'm trusting you with that file. But I need you to promise me that you won't go and do anything stupid on your own. It's okay to ask for help. You're my responsibility, remember that."
"I won't go looking for trouble, Agent Knight." Surprisingly, that was the truth.
"Good. Now Fury's pissed. Rumor has it that since you think you're ready for the big leagues then he's going to find something for you to do. Don't disappoint me." She slipped a bill into his bag and he had to bite his tongue to keep from making a joke. "Enjoy the pizza."
Ben watched the car vanish into the afternoon traffic. No doubt she had Super Secret Agent things to do. Like paperwork. Tons and tons of paperwork. He checked what she put in his bag and silently cursed her. Five bucks? Giving the DEO a potential win over SHIELD was worth only five dollars?
Cheapskates.
***
Panic attack,
I'm slippin' through the cracks,
Everything's turning black,
Still don't know how I'm gonna make it back…
An arsenal of arrows was spread out across the cold, concrete floor in front of Ben. Carefully, until it had almost become rote, he utilized his tiny toolset to dismantle them, taking them apart and repackaging them to suit his needs. The webbing would have to wait – at least until he talked to his cousin – for now though, he worked on making capsules for his Wrist Shooters v2. Twice the grapple lines at thrice the length with the addition of a few odds and ends that he had ideas for.
It made the actual shooters bulkier than his first version. No way he could fit them under his Jackrabbit gloves. Possibly, if he had wanted to, he could have retrofitted them to be built in but then there would be issues reloading them without pausing five minutes to replace a gadget. He'd work on that for v3 after he figured out just what he was going to be. Focusing on the tools in his hands kept him from worrying too much about the type of man he was going to become.
His curse echoed throughout the Bunker when the arrow exploded with a hiss and tried to tangle him up. He snatched it out of the air and tossed it aside. That was one wasted. Couldn't really afford to do that. Green Arrow had left behind a finite supply even if he had his arrows crafted in bulk.
"I'm alive and it feels like I'm on fire," he sang under his breath, reaching for another arrow, "But it's right on time…"
Most of what he took apart were the bola arrows. Being able to tie up Crazy Ninja Assassin Girl II would have made that fight slightly less difficult. It was unsurprisingly easy getting them to fit what he needed. The trick arrows were designed to be miniaturized in the first place. It was a simple matter of removing the arrowheads –the bolts and flechettes were more compact – and carefully packing them up so that they didn't accidently go off. When he wasn't careful, it was a hassle bordering on impossible with what he had on hand compressing them back into an empty capsule.
"Ben."
The hardest part had been creating the firing mechanism. Good thing for him, he had five days of being able to do nothing except that. More like three days. He spent the first one mostly unconscious. His mother hadn't let him out of her sight on the second. By the third, his motor skills had mostly returned, and he was allowed to go as far as the shed in their backyard to work.
There. That was another pouch filled.
"Ben!"
He slipped his headphones off. "What?"
Felicity's glasses only heightened the glower she shot Ben. So ungrateful. She hadn't even thanked him for the pizza yet.
"We have guests."
She held up the tablet in her hands so that he could see the video feed from outside the Bunker's door. Two girls, both Asian or at least part-Asian, with very nearly the same haircut waited in silence. Ben recognized the incredibly angry features of one and the yellow scarf of the other. They were bundled up in oversized red and black hoodies as if they were unaccustomed to the cold.
What the hell? Between them and Misty, he just didn't know. It wasn't that cold. It was Star City's hottest winter in years.
"Let them in," Ben grabbed another arrow, unconcerned yet aware that Felicity fumed above him
"They tried to kill you."
"No. I tried to kill me. They helped me along. Important difference."
Her shadow still fell over him.
"Look at the box in the angry one's hands, they brought food in apology." He didn't bother to point out that if they wanted to get in, they probably could. The weird glowy fist thing they did and energy they projected was at the least a match for his strength. It had him question that if Oliver Queen really cared about security then he would have got a better door.
The shadow vanished. He heard the metal of the door scrape as it opened a moment later. The siren call of a potential snack outweighed the chance of murder apparently.
He snapped the wrist-shooters closed around his wrists and flexed his hands, fingers pressed against his palms carefully. Definitely too bulky. Not uncomfortable. Just bigger than he liked. He stood and crossed the Bunker to where Felicity greeted the Immortal Iron Fist and friend.
"… holds back the storm when no one else can," the angry one finished when he reached the blonde's side. "I am Emiko."
An awkward, uncomfortable silence followed the simple introduction.
"We are the Daughters of the Dragon." There was the hint of a question mark at the end of that statement. It revealed more about the two than they probably liked and not at all what they expected. They didn't know how to interact like normal teens.
"Emiko who?"
Oooookay. That was kinda strange and impolite for Felicity to ask. These girls needed to get out more.
"Simply Emiko… You may call me Emi if you like." Something in her voice said she wouldn't like it.
"I'm Ben. She's Felicity." He bowed his head as Colleen had taught him. "We welcome you."
"Welcome you to my secret lair," muttered Felicity when he was done.
Cassie gazed all around the Bunker in wonder. Almost childlike, innocent, as she tried to look everywhere at once without having enough eyes to do so. It was a bit unsettling how she ignored them. Ben had grown accustomed (in their total of two encounters) to her intense focus. To be beneath her notice – at the moment – was disturbing. The monitors in particular kept drawing her back to them.
Meanwhile, Emiko practically forced the box she carried into his hands and did her best not to look anywhere. Her eyes never quite tracked over the suit stands for Speedy and the Green Arrow. He caught the flicker when she noticed the empty case for a second and her eyes flared redder than her jacket. Thankfully, Felicity had taken the food from him and missed it. Ben wasn't entirely sure what security measures the Bunker had but they probably involved lasers and automated crossbows.
"What are these?" she asked, holding up an orange bun-like snack.
"Pumpkin pancakes," answered Emiko. At the shared incredulous looks of the American heathens, she continued. "Pastries… They are deep fried. Very sweet. Winter is the perfect time to eat them while they are still warm." She did not back down beneath their onslaught of silence. Her determination to have her apology – despite never apologizing – accepted was admirable. "Cassie brought some dragon's beard candy if you'd prefer that."
Nobody made the first move. Cassie was off in her own world, exploring the Bunker. Emiko refused to relent with her stare? Glare? Scowl? Scowl was good. Not appropriate but the perfect description of her features as she waited on Felicity to say something. Or do anything other than match her expression. That left it to Ben.
He took an experimental bite and nearly choked over how sweet it was. His teeth sank into the middle, bypassing the crispy edges to tear into soft, sticky, chewy center. He detected a trace amount of sesame seeds to the texture as he swallowed. When he finished it, he decided to go for broke and ask about the candy.
Turned out that dragon's beard candy was basically cotton candy by a different name and different look. He wasn't sure it was possible for the treat to get any sweeter until Cassie excitedly showed him how to prepare the mixture and wrap it around the bun. He had to eat it all. Especially now that the Immortal Iron Fist had finally zeroed in on him to watch… Every. Single. Bite.
The three girls appeared to love it however after they settled around a steel table to eat. Felicity had zoomed past him by eating two of the sugar-coated buns and working slowly on a third. Even Emiko's anger issues lessened a tad as she enjoyed the snack. Cassie did not offer him another when he swallowed the last of his sickly-sweet morsel.
The Iron Fist watched him. She said nothing. Did nothing. She simply watched. And here he was completely unsure what to do with his extra sticky hands and how to politely excuse himself to wash them.
"We, uh, we have some pizza left, I think… Don't know what all we have to drink but I can get you something."
Cassie stared, Emi answered. "I will have water. Cassie," she glanced at the other girl, "Cassie would like the green liquid on the desk over there… please," she added as an afterthought.
He looked over his shoulder at Felicity's desk. Green liquid? What kind of… Oh. Mountain Dew. Felicity shot him an inaudible 'we will talk about this later' when he returned with clean hands and her last bottle of soda. Breaking bread did not bypass greed it seemed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked Cassie, handing her the drink.
She blinked and smiled.
"She has healed. A lesser fighter would have died had you kicked them in such a way," her hypewoman replied for her.
"Does the Immortal Iron Fist not deign to talk to mortals?" snapped Felicity with more than an ounce of sarcasm.
"Cassie doesn't talk at all."
The smile grew when Ben beat Emiko to the answer. He really didn't want to have to pull the ninja assassin off his friend. Wasn't entirely sure he could. What he was sure of was that the Iron Fist no longer meant him harm. There'd be time later for him to get answers over last week. Hopefully from their guardian instead of pulling teeth from the other Daughter of the Dragon.
"You're here for your rematch."
A smile.
"Like right now? Don't you need to stretch first or wait thirty minutes?" Felicity exclaimed, eyes following his journey to the exit.
What he did wind up doing was waiting the better part of five minutes for the three girls to climb up the stairs from the subbasement and join him on the dirty dance floor of Star City's formerly hippest club. Was a reasonable amount of time for them to finish eating, wash their hands, and in the case of Cassie – strip out of her hoodie into a green tank top. In the waning light of dusk and flickering cheap lamps outside, he noticed some of the scarring along her arms for the first time. This girl really was a fighter.
She took up position across from Ben, assuming her relaxed stance immediately. That was fair. He was crouched atop the bar counter. They both were just doing what felt natural to them. He tossed an empty bottle to Emiko, figuring she'd know what to do.
"Okay, are you two insane?" Felicity did her best to glare and admonish them equally but he had a secret feeling it was mostly directed at him. "We had some food, we drank together, we talked… Well, she didn't talk but she smiled a whole lot so I thought she was… You know what I mean. Why fight?"
Cassie held up her hand to stop her sister from retorting in her defense.
"Because she thinks I'm what comes before the storm," Ben guessed.
"The storm? What the hell does that even – "
The Immortal Iron Fist launched herself at Ben the same moment his grapple line snatched the thrown bottle out of the air. Emiko didn't want to hear Felicity talk anymore apparently and Cassie was prepared for him to cheat. Good times.
A glowing fist crashed into the bar even as Ben flipped over her, propelling himself off her back to the ceiling. He vanished in the darkness of the fading light from the broken and boarded up windows, cowering – really, brain? – among the pillars and rafters that once made the club look cool but grungy. He couldn't beat her one to one in a straight fight. He knew that. She knew that. They knew that.
In fact, Cassie stopped moving. She pulled herself out of the wreckage of shelves and waited. There was no Sifu to urge her to strike. She could afford to. Still, like water, waiting for whatever ripple he made.
His hackles rose. They had to meet at some point. He couldn't hide forever…
An open palm stronger than iron caught the full force of his punch. Okay, no time to be impressed by her stopping a blow enhanced by the momentum of propelling himself from across the room at a downward angle. A blow that had, in the past, made him flee a junkyard at top speed after sending the husk of a car flying. There was only the fight, the twisted tangle they became when she forced him to contort his body to inhuman proportions to escape her hold. His legs closed around her head, the motion causing them both to leave the ground for a heartbeat, while she matched his flexibility and landed on her feet, skidding through the dusty floor.
Ben, however, landed among the wreckage of the bar and felt the very relaxing feeling of broken debris poking his back quite uncomfortably.
It was a guess, more than a choice, his hairs sensing the disturbance in the air that had him flex his wrist, press down his fingers. The cords shot out in a silent hiss, catching Cassie in mid-rush, tying her up with his newly crafted gadget. Another miniscule gesture fired the grapple, yanking her to him as the golden glow of her arms freed her. That might have been a mistake. Fingers stabbed at him once, twice, three times.
His nerves weren't on fire.
That sort of sensation required him to feel his arm.
The good news… His stinger no longer itched beneath his skin.
He spun to his feet, kicking her off, before jumping to the ceiling to start this fiasco all over again.
There would be no letting her find her inner stillness. He dropped behind her, ducked, and disappeared into the rafters. No pattern. Not allowing her to see him long enough to read his moves. Drop, strike, vanish. He needed to draw the fight out until it was truly night. If that meant taking a hit here or there and there and also there then he'd do so. Keep going, don't think about being tired. Don't listen to Felicity shouting to stop. Don't give her time to channel whatever it was she channeled to strengthen her attacks…
It worked. He did have the superior stamina providing he wasn't losing blood by the gallon. Cassie took a knee after her kick took his breath. His line pulled him to the ceiling before he could land on his back… again. She was winded.
So was he.
Ben yanked her to the rafters with a grunt followed quickly by a realization.
He was not the only one capable of learning or being clever. As he felt his arm give out limply, he reflected upon all the hits that had broken through his speed, his defenses, time and again. All those theres… they were the same there. Just like that first fight. She hit the same spot over and over again until it finally did some damage. Good thing she was trapped up here with him, blind as a bat. Not that bats were blind.
His vision swam in yellow light.
Cassie smiled that same friendly wonder-filled child-like smile she had given him as she watched him eat, completely at ease with the unstable footing of metal crossbars.
That explained why she stopped using the Fist.
Ben pressed his fingers against his palms as she raised her fist…
***
Zambesi
A single figure strolled between the collapsed huts of the long-destroyed village. The man walked among ghosts the rest of the world had forgot. In truth, he had forgotten about them as well. This cursed place suited his needs. No one came here. No one remembered. Or rather, they remembered the stories. The terrors in the dark.
The spirits who could never find rest. He heard their roars sometimes in the quiet of the night.
Perfect for him.
With the setting sun blistering his back, he dropped the carcass of the black-backed jackal before his makeshift tent. He would skin and treat it later. Food was scarce back when he had first secluded himself away here. There was little prey to be found. It only grew worse with every passing year.
He sat down on his pallet, the dull aches he had welcomed as part of him relented as he relaxed. For a second, he closed his eyes in weariness beyond that of isolation. The flickering red beacon in the corner of his vision snapped them open. With speed of a much younger man, he threw off the furs covering the sealed case. His hands swept dirt from the lid, revealing a bird with upstretched wings. Fingers moving with dexterity that belied the arthritis he regularly experienced input the code to unlock it.
Inside was a phone. The only source of technology he allowed for this specific purpose.
It rang multiple times this past year, each message making his heart beat faster than the previous.
"They've found him."
Three words that changed everything.
The hunter took out his belt knife. No time to waste. He had to ready himself to travel. A jackal would not be enough. There were many long miles ahead. Provisions first. Then he would worry about crossing the ocean.