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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 || 𝘚𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘴
"I SUSPECT THE NIGHT WAS SUCCESSFUL?" Carlton approached the young man who sat at a desk. Dripping of water was heard from a leaking pipe above. Whirling of computer fighting to stay on. Masked by dress shoes scuffing across the concrete ground.
The sound of his feet hitting the small puddles shook Jason from his gaze. Blinking tiredly, he looked over his shoulder to see his Uncle walking over. Two cups of coffee in each hand, steam rising over the brim. Floating into the cold abandoned Subway Station air.
He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. "A step closer, actually," he yawned. "Just been researching for..."
"8 hours," Carlton finished. "Heard that damn motorcycle miles away before you even arrived. Talk about subtly."
"Subtly isn't what I'm worried about," Jason replied. "If they know I'm coming, then they know they should run."
Jason stepped away from the desk as Carlton took a sip of his drink. Seeing the live news feed of a reporter out front of the docks. Police vehicles are scattered in the background with yellow caution tape boarding off the public from entering.
"Last night, at Smithson docks, a fight had broken out," she said. "From what we've been told is that these docks had been shipping weapons and drugs in and out of New York City."
A view of men being hauled into police cruisers could also be seen. One on a stretcher was being wheeled out of the warehouse and into an ambulance. Compression mask over his nose and mouth, keeping him breathing.
"No one knows exactly who did this, but men were beaten and one is in critical condition," the reporter announced. "Perhaps we should be thanking the person or people who did this."
His gaze floated to his nephew, finding the man stood over a table. "Was it you?" Carlton mused. "Did you put that man in that state?"
"It's a part of the job, Uncle Carl," Jason said. "The guy deserved it. He's been helping get weapons into my city and I wasn't going to stand for it."
"Oh," Carlton let out a humourless laugh, "your city? The last time I checked, the city belonged to the Mayor. Not some hardened vigilante like Spider-Man. You don't claim this city as yours."
"Last time I check, the Mayor wasn't doing anything to make a change," Jason spat. "It's me and a few others going out trying to make a change."
He turned to his uncle, a scowl pressed deeply upon his features. "And you're right," Jason nodded, "this isn't my city, but it will be."
