In The Web Of Gotham

Interrogation

There's an unmarked moving truck, driving out from the warehouse with someone wearing a straw hat that looks right for a farm. Upon spotting the truck heading out, Spiderman clicks an unseen switch down on the red marble he's holding and throws it towards the array of red disks. The marble plinked and bounced off the hood of the truck and seemingly unfolded, springing up in front of the disks. Revealing two cylinders with nozzles around them that began spraying a wide net of web fluid outwards. The spray of webbing crossing the trigger sensors of the disks, which fired their lines of webbing. Creating a giant net that the truck could not stop in time for. It drove right into the net, getting stuck in it immediately.

"Got him," Spider-Man said as he ran and leapt onto the truck's box. Tearing the sheet metal container open, he grabbed pill capsules worth of the dry powder of the drugs. The truck trying to peel back and rip through the webbing, to no avail. He jumped down onto the hood, the metal bending under the sudden force.

Holding the capsule pills in his left hand, he used the right hand to punch through the windshield and pull the driver out of the seat and threw him into the web. Suspending him in the net, trapped like a bug. The driver was about to scream, but a punch to the nose stopped that real quick.

"You're going to tell me where Dr. Crane is making the drugs. Understand?" Spider-Man initially instructed. The thug looked towards Spider-Man and laughed.

"Who do you think you are? Batman?!" The goon laughed in mad glee. Spider-Man seeing the opportunity to put some skills to use, shoved the capsules into the thug's mouth and punching up into the chin of the man. Forcing the capsules to break, clasping his hand over the thug's mouth so the powder had no choice but to be inhaled by the thug. He could see the eyes begin to dilate, as the drugs enter his bloodstream through his lungs.

Meanwhile, in the brain of the drugged up drug runner. As the goods he was supposed to distribute to the back alley drug dealers in Gotham was now coursing through his veins and altering his perception of reality. The Spider-Man who forced these drugs into his system was turning into a monster. The hand clasped around his mouth slowly growing into taloned hands. The lensed eyes turning sharper, angular, angrier. An expression of rage slowly growing on that masked face. The hidden mouth talking to him under the mask slowly growing white fangs, each word making the fangs twist in ungodly ways to mimic human speech. The white spider across the black void of the suit growing its own fangs, stretching further along his entire body.

Spider-Man had turned into some sort of twisted shadowy monster. Baring and gnashing his fangs at him, as if he was going to bite his head off should he not comply.

"I'll ask again. Where is Dr. Crane making his Scare drugs?" The twisted Spider-Monster asked, his demonic voice bellowing.

"I don't know! I don't know!" He cried out in fear.

"How do you not know?!  You're Crane's drug runner!" Spider-Man proclaimed.

"I'm just the main distributor from here! Dr. Crane reaches out by phones that he leaves! He tells when to answer, and when to call! He has stockpiles all over Gotham! Basements, attics, other warehouses, they just bring the drugs to my warehouse when Dr. Crane wants me to distribute them! I sell the drugs out to the dealers in Gotham, and days later someone else comes to take the truck back to the Doc with the money we make from the sales! That's all I know! I swear!" The thug cried out, tears of terror streaming down his face. Spider-Man's lensed rage that we're his eyes narrowed, the grip tightening.

"Names...I need names. Who brings the money to Dr. Crane?" Spider-Man demanded.

"I don't know! It's a different person everytime! Everytime they pick up the money, I'm told to stay home! Let me live! Please!" He sobbed in fear. Spider-Man let out a mist from his wrist, the inhalation suddenly making the criminal...feel...relaxed...tired....sleepy...just like that, the criminal was asleep. Back in reality, Spider-Man was dissatisfied by the fact that Jonathan Crane was so good at covering his tracks. So to help this man ride out the rest of his Scare high, Spider-Man loaded the sleeping cartridge. Then doused him with the anesthestic mist that he concocted.

"Well that didn't go like you intended. Resorted to chemical stimulus to get the interrogation you wanted. Even then you didn't get any of the information that you wanted," Ghost-Maker said as he landed onto the truck with Spider-Man.

"Correction...I at least got one good piece of information out of this. This truck is the same truck that Crane gets his money from," Spider-Man said as he climbed into the driver seat. He popped open the lid for the built in power outlet, taking out a small black mechanical spider from one of the compartments in his belt. Attaching it to the rubber lid, slight drilling noises heard as the spider's mechanical legs pierced and hooked into the rubber. He presses a red button on the spider. A soft beep is heard, and the button glows red. Closing the lid up, perfectly obscuring the glow.

"A tracking device?" Ghost-Maker asked as Spider-Man climbed out of the moving truck.

"Spider-Tracer. As long as it isn't destroyed, I can key in on the signal and track where it is," Spider-Man explained.

"How do you track it? Does that mask of your have a gps locator?" Ghost-Maker asked.

"Working on that...for now it's an external receiver for the signal being transmitted," Spider-Man said as he took out the remote to show the screen with the spider on it.

"Smart. You'll want to work faster on working it into a device you can carry on you directly. If not directly into your mask," Ghost-Maker suggested.

"I'll keep on working on it then," Spider-Man said. With that, the two vigilantes left into the night. Spider-Man calling the GCPD directly from his own phone this time, since they know who he is. Lieutenant Watanabe answering the phone.

"Hey Pete. What's going on?" Watanabe asked.

"I have one of Jonathan Crane's drug runners strung up in a web. He's in a sedated sleep, so be careful with transit. Ichabod Pharmaceuticals warehouse in the Bowery," Spider-Man explained.

"I'll send a unit to pick him up and process him. Good job, Spider-Man," Watanabe said as she hung up the phone.

"Connections in the police. I appreciate that sort of networking," Ghost-Maker complimented.

"Dude I work with these people outside of the mask. It isn't networking," Spider-Man denied.

"Networking is making friends and connections for professional reasons. It's a tactic that billionaires use to make themselves richer. It's also a damn powerful tool for vigilantes to skirt around the word of the law," Ghost-Maker said casually.

"You say that like you know how to do both," Spider-Man said.

"I know how to do it. And I know it when I see it. You can deny all you want, you're a professional vigilante in the works," Ghost-Maker confirmed.

"If you say so, Ghost-Maker," Spider-Man said as they climbed into the Ghost-Stream and flew off into the night of Gotham... primarily to take Spider-Man home because he was still tired from the month of no sleep working in the Batcave.