xp_logs | With Extreme Prejudice, chapter 2 (Reply)

Spider-Man and Daredevil start their investigation and find an ally.

New York City was not unfamiliar with murder. Although it boasted a substantially reduced homicide rate since Giuliani's reforms and other shifting sociopolitical factors in the 1990s, the sheer volume and density of its population meant that people were killed every day. Rarely, though, multiple people by the same killer, and even rarer, a person with an apparent political motivation.

The entrance to Sandra Williams's apartment was still cordoned off, more than a week after her slaying, so Spider-Man and Daredevil had to enter through the conveniently unlocked window. The coast was clear, no investigators on the scene, but still Miles crept around like he was sneaking downstairs on Christmas Eve to check his presents without waking his parents.

Bad analogy, he considered. This was not a joyful scenario.

"They haven't cleaned the blood out of the carpet yet," Miles murmured, eyes fixed on a dark red stain that at this point would never get out. "Geez, it's everywhere."

"I can smell it," Matt murmured back, feeling the need to speak quieter in deference to the dead. The metallic tang of blood permeated the air even though the apartment had had time to air out some. It was embedded in the carpets, the walls. Even if the visual was removed, the carpet replaced, he doubted it would ever quite disappear even if it could still be lessened. "See anything interesting?" he asked, pushing the scent of blood back so he could focus on other senses and other scents.

"They got the body outline there. Big blood stain at the head." All of the victims had shots to the head, Miles remembered reading. "Not much looks out of place. No books on the floor or furniture thrown around. It's like whoever did this just came in, murdered, and left. Hey, how's your friend doing? Uh, Foggy?"

"He's....pissed," he was fine. Alive, anyways. "But he's alive to be pissed, so that's fine," Matt continued, not wanting to talk about it. Turning in a slow circle, he made a clicking noise, "Nothing," he agreed, then held a hand up, moving back to the window. "Someone's coming." Mahoney. Great.

Miles gasped and pressed himself up against a wall, going camo. If he stayed perfectly still then whoever was coming wouldn't even know he was there. Unless he sneezed. Or farted. Which, now that he thought of them, he felt like he had to do now. Great.

The door creaked as Brett Mahoney let himself into the apartment. It had been a few days, and coming in with fresher eyes, not surrounded by dozens of people trampling around trying to process the scene, could lend itself to finding something that had originally been missed. He began poking around, eyes scanning the floors and walls.

Waiting on the balcony for Brett to do whatever it was he had come for had been the plan. That was until he heard Miles prepare to sneeze. Shit. "Mahoney," he growled, giving the cop a moment before stepping in front of the window, hands visible.

Brett's hand was already going for his gun. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the vigilante. "And what have we done to be graced with your presence?" He asked dryly, not letting his hand relax just yet.

"Serial killer," Matt pointed out, obviously. Granted, this was outside of his usual stomping grounds of Hell's Kitchen, but there were circumstances. "Judging from the blood, this was some serious overkill."

A loud sneeze interrupted them, snapping Miles back into view. "Oh, gross, I got snot in my mask." He grabbed a tissue from the nearby end table and lifted his mask up above his nose so he could wipe out the inside. "I swear that's never happened before. Also hi. I'm Spider-Man. Nice to meet you."

Two probably mutant vigilantes against one man and his gun. Brett didn't favorite his odds. He still didn't drop his hands. "Bit far from home, aren't you?" He asked the taller costumed nutjob, raising an eyebrow. "And what's a serial killer got to do with either of you?"

"This is why I only wear a half mask," Mat pointed out, trying to hide a smile. Turning back to Mahoney, he shrugged slightly, "Policeman shoots two mutants, then gets killed himself? And then everyone associated with his trial? Not exactly rocket science, Mahoney. He needs to be stopped."

"That would be why the police are investigating," Mahoney pointed out with a frown. He didn't necessarily disagree with the vigilantes and what they tried to do. But this was a crime scene. They had to draw the line somewhere.

"Yeah, but, you know, it's kinda because of the police we're here in the first place," Miles piped in. "No offense. You must get it, right, brother?" He pointed to his face and then to Mahoney. "We just want to help. Maybe there's places we can go that you can't."

Brett raised an eyebrow. "I get wanting to help, but what do you think you can do?"

Miles pulled his mask back down, gagging a bit at the smell. "Ugh, I've gotta wash this thing tomorrow," he muttered before turning his attention back to the policeman. "I mean, people on the streets might be more willing to talk to us than you. We're heroes of the people."

"We can go where you can't and we can do things you can't do," Matt added. "We're on your side. We're not going to jeopardize your case when you get this guy," because they would get him. And they would stop him. "But too many people are dying."

"What's that?" Miles got down on all fours to search underneath a couch. A glint of something reflecting the lamp's light had caught his eye. He probably would have missed it if it weren't for the special lenses in his mask. He owed Matt's brother a nice Christmas gift for this.

Reaching to get the object, he swore when something razor-sharp poked his finger. "A ninja star?" he said incredulously, retrieving the item. "Do we have a murder ninja in town? Cool."

Brett's eyebrows shot way up at that. "A ninja? That...does not sound cool." He dug a latex glove out of his pocket and plucked the star out of the Spider kid's hand. "Especially if he's not on our side."

The weapon had eight points, Miles noted. Something about it nudged at his memory but for the life of him, he couldn't place it. This was going to bug him forever. "All the more reason you need us. I don't think any policeman in the study has anti-ninja training."

"Shuriken were used the other night when Foggy was attacked too," Matt noted, "And Foggy was on the case. We know how the victims are linked. So who would want to kill them? And who is actually doing the killing?" he supposed it could be the same person, but that felt too personal and there was something impersonal about this. "Fucking ninjas."

Brett sighed. This was so far beyond his pay grade. "Alright," he said finally. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a little help from you two."

"We'll call if we find anything actionable," Matt promised, wandering slowly through the apartment and into the other rooms. Like most New York apartments, it wasn't very big and he didn't find anything. Climbing back out the window, he assumed Miles would follow.

The younger hero did. "Well, not call call," he clarified, halfway out the window onto the fire escape. "But, you know, in a Batman sort of way. Adios!"