IT WAS THE evening, as Spider-Man perched on top of a building overlooking the Presidential Hotel. He could see cars coming in and the valet drivers going out. This was going to be quite the event.
As he was looking on, the web-slinger's colleague stepped up to the edge of the rooftop. They have been working together for the last few days and it all led to now. Y/N had to admit though, the man with him did most of the work and went through a lot to get here.
"Poindexter's riled up. He's going to the parking garage." Daredevil told him.
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He wore all black which differed from his red-plated suit from before, the suit Poindexter had been sporting recently.
"Easy entrance from the garage to the ballroom?" Y/N asked.
"Fisk has agents. But they won't be able to hold him off."
"All right."
Daredevil crouched down and looked at the venue below.
"We'll split up. Take one of the side entrances and get into the ballroom. I'll go through the parking garage and try to intercept Poindexter."
"Crashing a wedding huh?" Y/N replied. "Maybe I'll storm in right they ask who objects."
Daredevil didn't react to his quip and kept laying out the plan. "You gotta watch out for Schultz, remember?"
Y/N nodded. Fisk was able to get Herman Schulz out of jail a week ago to serve as muscle once he realized both Daredevil and Spider-Man were onto him.
"Yeah, yeah. I got Herman." He replied.
"The Bulletin's working on getting Nadeem's testimony online. So things could get tense in there." Daredevil added.
Y/N nodded, remembering that his father, Michael, and coworker, Karen Page, were working on doing just that.
"I'll see you on the inside." Daredevil added and walked off.
Spider-Man exhaled, then dropped down from the edge of the rooftop.
Inside the venue, patrons were already startled by the video posted online. Almost every phone in the ballroom had Ray Nadeem's confession playing, and Fisk was getting tense as he danced with his bride, Vanessa.
Suddenly, there was feedback from the stage. Poindexter, in his Daredevil suit, had the microphone. Everybody stopped, along with Fisk, and looked at him.
"I'd like to make a toast." Poindexter said. "Julie and I wish you the very best."
He quickly threw the microphone at Wilson, expecting the object to impale him because of his extraordinary strength and precision.
