Author's Note:
My Monday was complete madness. I took a train in the morning to get to the nearby big city and spent a whole hour trying to find an office to submit a document and get my license.
Then I realized I had lost my wallet. I ran like a madman to the stationery shop, which was the last place I remembered seeing it. Fortunately, the owner was a kind and honest woman: she had kept my wallet. Apparently, I had accidentally left it on the counter when I was making copies of my documents.
In the end, after this mess that turned out well, I bought the third volume of The Lord of the Rings. I finished the first one on Sunday afternoon, and I started the second one on Monday on the train. In my opinion, the first book of The Lord of the Rings is a thousand times better than the first Lord of the Rings movie.
XXX
Story Arc: Out-of-Town Visitors
Episode 2: Weekend with Surprises (III)
Chapter 7: Meetings at the port
Plot: Once Welt finishes doing her things, Black Warlock takes flight and goes to investigate towards the port, but her investigation does not remain solitary for too long.
XXX
POV Narrator
The Owl House, as usual, had lowered its shutters at 9:00 PM sharp. Welt had given way to Black Warlock, who at that moment was cutting through the air in the dead of night. He was flying high, cradled by the cold currents, with his mood unusually high: despite the small and eventful early morning incident with Motoko, the rest of the day had slipped by in the best possible way. The wind whipped his cape, producing a rhythmic rustling in the silence of the sky.
"So, Master, how was your lunch with the Woman Doctor?", Sora asked. She already knew perfectly well how things had gone, but breaking the silence during that aerial patrol above the glittering roofs of the city never hurt anyone.
"Origami likes to drive fast on her motorcycle; she always tells Welt to hold on tight to her," Warlock replied. In Welt's civilian clothes, the hero had to press his chest against Origami's back, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist to counteract the centrifugal force of the curves and not risk flying off the asphalt.
'That white-haired woman is clever,' Sora thought to herself, mentally awarding a point to Origami for her ability to exploit those situations in such a subtle and calculated way.
"Origami took Welt to a restaurant called La Piccola Italia; the food was excellent. Origami shared some things about her work, and we talked about metal alloys and hyper-conductors—a stimulating conversation," Warlock continued, tilting his body slightly to go with a gust of air. He always found exchanging opinions with the scientist stimulating and useful.
"During lunch, Welt had a little surprise: the person who brought the menu was Carrie. La Piccola Italia is her adoptive father's restaurant, and it seems to be a success," he added, and a slight warmth lifted the corners of his mouth, genuinely happy that the young girl's family was finally finding their fortune.
The person the hero of Nightfall City was referring to was Carrie Kelley, alias Gray Girl Scout. She was a semi-regular customer at the Owl House, one of those who would walk in making the bell jingle to order comic books about Gray Ghost, Batman, and occasionally, about Black Warlock himself, even though the latter was not exactly at the top of her reading priorities.
Carrie was a lively twelve-year-old who had already earned a decent reputation in the Midtown district. Everyone knew her as the Girl Scout with her inseparable gray hat firmly planted on her head, always ready to help passersby, find lost pets, collect an impressive number of merit badges, and even manage to sell more than a hundred boxes of cookies in a single week thanks to her unstoppable talking skills.
Carrie Kelley's story was simple, marked by a dramatic beginning: she was born in the dark alleys of Gotham City, left an orphan too soon due to local ruthless crime. Fortune smiled upon her when she was adopted by a loving couple who could not have children.
A year later, another twist of fate changed their lives: her new family inherited a small fortune and some properties from a distant relative who lived in Nightfall City. Seizing the opportunity to leave the shadows of Gotham behind, they moved. Carrie's adoptive father finally invested everything in the dream of a lifetime, opening his restaurant, while her mother found stable employment at the city's General Hospital.
"Once the lunch break was over, Origami brought Welt back to the Owl House. Before leaving, she said we would repeat the experience on Monday, at a different place, but she would continue her scientific conversation," Warlock explained, his gaze lost toward the neon-lit horizon, intrigued by how that bizarre intellectual partnership would unfold.
'Sunday morning with Lola, Monday afternoon with Origami, Tuesday afternoon golf match with Lola, Wednesday free, and Thursday evening dinner with Lola,' Sora calculated mentally, narrowing her eyes as she analyzed her Master's complex schedule. 'Origami will have to occupy Tuesday if she doesn't want to risk Lola getting exclusive rights. But Nia, paradoxically, is both better and worse off than them: she sees my Master six days out of seven and spends numerous hours with him, though mostly in a work environment.' It was a constant monitoring on her part, dictated both by a hint of personal interest and by pure protective duty toward her Master.
"The rest of Welt's day was peaceful. Sure, he had to manage an amateur card game tournament while discreetly keeping an eye on Natsumi and convincing her to have some sandwiches made with ingredients from the Apple Family. However, Welt noticed that Nia chatted more than usual with Rarity and was a bit more playful," Warlock concluded, summarizing with a detached tone his alter ego's last few hours before taking over for the night.
"Master, I find it alarming that you speak as if you and Welt were not the same person," Sora interrupted, crossing her arms, genuinely a bit worried about that sharp mental split.
"Warlock is Warlock, Welt is Welt. Treating the two of them as separate entities is for the best. That way, in case I meet an individual who knows both, there will be no risk of Warlock speaking as if he were Welt or vice versa," the hero retorted with absolute coldness. He knew that this psychological mechanism might seem crazy from the outside, but he considered it a strict obligation of his trade.
"In my opinion, you are complicating your own life. After all, you are the same individual," Sora murmured, thinking back to those rare moments of intimacy within the walls of their home when her Master lowered his guard, without the hero's cape on his shoulders or the bookseller's glasses on his nose, simply becoming himself again.
"We are almost there," Warlock cut her short. With a sharp tilt of his shoulders, he interrupted his gliding flight and began to dive, abandoning the soft layer of clouds to aim toward the darker lights of the industrial area.
"Alright, Master, let's get serious. Why are we heading straight toward the port?" Sora asked, noticing that the trajectory deviated sharply from their usual patrol route.
"I received information that leads me to believe something is about to happen at the port," Warlock replied. With a perfect, cat-like landing, his boots touched the metallic top of a mammoth cargo crane. He stood out against the sky, positioning himself exactly with the full moon behind him, letting the silver circle outline his dark silhouette in an intentionally theatrical atmosphere.
"Steambird, Lola, or Origami?", Sora asked, listing the three main sources the Master drew from when he didn't limit himself to intercepting police frequencies.
"Charlotte's channel hasn't published anything regarding the port; today she only spoke about Black Warlock and the robbery that happened last night. However, last week she wrote an article about how the local port economy is growing. Several companies prefer the port of Nightfall as a stop for their goods because it costs less and they avoid traffic, but the controls are also less strict," Warlock explained, recalling the precision of the texts written by the red-haired journalist.
With a fluid and almost imperceptible movement of his fingers, the hero let go of his staff. The weapon did not fall: it simply remained suspended in mid-air, floating lazily at his hip, vibrating with a faint magical inertia. Then, Warlock raised both hands, covering his eyes with his open palms.
"This seems to me like information of macroeconomic interest, not a valid reason to stake out the port," Sora retorted, not yet seeing a logical link to break their routine.
"Lola loves to chat, she loves to take photos, and she loves to go running in the morning. Lately, she decided to run eight kilometers at dawn around the beach. She takes photos of seagulls stealing food, strangely shaped seashells, and the ships coming and going from the port of Nightfall," Warlock continued, revealing the details gathered from the girl's stories.
"And where is the red flag?" Sora pressed, wanting to get straight to the heart of the matter.
"Lola showed me photos of cargo ships with a black diamond logo leaving the port every morning. And during their departure, in the adjacent streets, a handful of black trucks with the exact same black diamond logo on their sides appear. Lola photographed the trucks too: the drivers have conspicuous tattoos and a definitely shady look," Warlock explained. He recalled the sharpness of those shots and the firm tone with which, in Welt's shoes, he had strongly advised Lola to change her route and avoid that area at that hour.
"Driving trucks with port cargo early in the morning for long distances is not an elite job. It is possible those drivers are just former convicts looking for redemption, or simply people who like tattoos," Sora objected, offering the point of view of an ordinary citizen who did not see criminal conspiracies around every corner.
Warlock did not answer right away. He slowly lowered his hands from his face, revealing a radical and disturbing change in his eyes. His irises now glowed with a vibrant, hypnotic pink light, and the magical symbol inside them had reconfigured, stabilizing. Thin luminous streaks had surfaced on the skin around his eye sockets: actual veins of pure stroboscopic energy, resembling electronic circuits pulsing rhythmically on his face, illuminating his features in the darkness of the night.
"Today at lunch, Origami shared how she went to investigate a possible crime scene this morning. A man was found hanged in his apartment, with his pants pulled down. The officers on the scene immediately assumed it was an unfortunate case of autoerotic strangulation, but Origami believes there is much more behind it. She noticed a microfracture on the middle finger of his dominant hand and a tiny puncture behind his neck, almost entirely hidden by the purple bruises left by the rope," Warlock said. Meanwhile, his enhanced eyes began to methodically scan the surrounding area, moving from one dock to another.
"Origami believes the victim was drugged first, then the killer hanged him and pulled down his pants to stage the perversion and misdirect the investigation. That is why she requested a thorough toxicological report. The result will arrive in several days, given that for the precinct, it is a low-interest case and ended up at the bottom of the priority list. But I believe Origami is right. She is always right about things like this," Black Warlock commented, while his vision pierced the darkness, focusing on the dense grid of port containers.
"If you want to play detective, why didn't we go to the crime scene to look for clues? Why are we at the port instead, while you use your X-ray vision to spy on metal boxes?" Sora asked, looking at the hero's face, partially illuminated by the pulsing pink veins.
"The victim was a customs inspector," Black Warlock declared at that point, dropping the final, heavy piece of the puzzle onto the table.
"Let's put the information together: the port is making more profit thanks to a new influx of ships benefiting from lower costs and milder inspections; at regular intervals, suspicious vessels with the same logo appear and shady individuals drive black trucks; finally, someone whose job was precisely to check those cargoes dies under mysterious circumstances. All of this might be a massive coincidence, but it definitely deserves an investigation," Warlock concluded. With a lightning reflex, he reached his hand out to the side and firmly grasped his floating staff, bringing it between his legs and bending his knees to get into a flight position in perfect Harry Potter style.
"From up here, the view is too limited, I'm changing position," Warlock cut her short. With a sharp push of his legs, he launched himself into the void from the top of the port crane, opening his cape, which stretched out like a black wing, and speeding silently through the dark.
"Now I understand your logic, but I still have strong doubts," Sora admitted, following him into the wind. She was not at all sure they would find anything; there was the exact same probability that her Master was imagining an entire scenario of smuggling and murder just to connect the dots and make sense of those scattered clues.
"That's why I'm here looking for evidence," Warlock replied. He stabilized his flight a few meters from the ground, moving like a fluid and invisible shadow through the deserted corridors of the port, beginning to hunt with his gaze for the containers marked with the symbol of the black diamond or, at the very least, the cargo ships flying that exact same flag.
XXX
At the same time, in front of the main gates of the port, a white taxi pulled up abruptly, braking right in front of the guarded entrance.
The vehicle was a Peugeot 406 sedan, of a white so pure it reflected the streetlights, modified with a definitely sporty setup. The driver and owner of the vehicle was a French man in his thirties; his facial features, his shrewd look, and his bold smile made him look strikingly like Samy Naceri.
"I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but chasing a flying man dressed as Gandalf heading toward a port at night doesn't seem like a good idea to me," the driver said, turning toward the back seats to look at his passenger.
"A journalist doesn't give up her chance for so little!" Charlotte Gagnepetit exclaimed, throwing the door open and rushing out of the white taxi.
"And my money!?" the driver immediately asked, leaning out of the window. He certainly hadn't driven like a madman in the dead of night, running red lights to chase a superhero, just for charity.
"Daniel, thank you for the lightning-fast ride. Here is your money. Now wait for me here for thirty minutes, so you can take me back," Charlotte replied. She reached her arm into the passenger compartment, handing three ten-dollar bills to the driver.
"If thirty minutes pass and you don't show up, what do I do? Do I leave?" Daniel asked, quickly pocketing the thirty dollars with a fluid flick of his fingers.
"Call the police and tell them that Charlotte Gagnepetit is chasing Black Warlock!" the pink-haired journalist exclaimed. Without losing a single second, she turned and ran toward the fence, disappearing among the first rows of the port's containers.
"If you pay me well, you can do whatever you want," Daniel muttered to himself. He turned off the engine, pulled his smartphone out of his pocket, and got comfortable to watch a movie while waiting.
XXX
Meanwhile, in the heart of the metal labyrinth, Warlock had finally managed to track down the containers he was looking for. His X-ray vision had just confirmed to him that inside those steel walls, definitely suspicious cargo was packed.
With a slight blink, he deactivated his magical eyes: the vibrant pink light vanished from his irises, and the stroboscopic veins on his face were reabsorbed into his skin. Returned to normal, Warlock positioned himself straight in front of the massive container door.
"I don't know what you saw in there, but I'm really curious to find out if you guessed right or if we would have done better to hunt down those strange flying bunnies," Sora commented, making fun of the bizarre phenomenon they had witnessed the previous day.
"Knock," Black Warlock uttered in a low voice. He invoked one of his simplest unlocking spells, barely touching with his index finger the heavy chains and the massive padlock sealing the doors.
At the touch of his spark of magic, the padlock clicked open on its own with a sharp metallic sound. The iron links unraveled and slid heavily onto the concrete of the dock.
"At first, I thought learning to cast gigantic fireballs would be my most useful tool. Instead, I find that these simple little tricks are much more practical and frequent," Warlock murmured. He placed the palms of his hands on the metal doors and pushed them wide open with extreme ease, revealing a neat stack of colored plastic boxes. Inside, there were plush toys of every shape, color, and size.
"Perhaps we should review the spells regarding the Mystic Eyes, or you could just resign yourself to buying a good pair of prescription glasses," Sora ironized with a playful note in her voice.
"I'm not done yet," Warlock retorted, not discouraged at all. He reached his arm toward one of the packages at the top, opened it, and pulled out a Pikachu plush toy—soft, cute, and seemingly adorable.
"Don't you know that stealing is a crime?!" a youthful, shrill voice suddenly exclaimed from above.
THWIP!
Before Warlock could even turn around to identify the intruder, a tight stream of white fluid hit him right in the chest. The substance expanded instantly, trapping him against the container wall in an incredibly dense, tough, and sticky web.
"Webs?" Black Warlock asked, surprised. He tried to move his wrists to hint at the ritual gestures of a counter-spell, but his hands were completely stuck and glued to his body.
A dull thud made the roof of the container vibrate: someone had just landed on top of them.
"Okay, let's see what you wanted to steal, Mr..." The figure launched himself into the void from the roof, performing a perfect mid-air flip before landing in a crouch, fingertips on the ground, right in front of the hero of Nightfall City.
"...Black Warlock!" the newcomer exclaimed in a tone of deep astonishment, straightening his back and revealing his identity.
"Spider-Man!" Warlock said, with a hint of surprise mixed with genuine happiness at recognizing the individual who had just immobilized him.
The iconic arachnid-themed hero of New York was an agile and snappy young man, about one meter seventy-eight tall and weighing seventy-five kilos of pure muscle. His costume was a bright and unmistakable color combination: a vibrant red covered his head, shoulders, chest, gloves, and boots, while a deep blue lined his hips, the inside of his arms, and his legs. A dense, geometric web of printed black lines entirely covered the red sections. A small black spider with narrow, sharp legs stood out on his chest, while a much larger symbol with a rounded design and a bright red color loomed on his back. The fabric mask completely concealed his face, dominated by large, expansive white lenses outlined in black, which narrowed and widened to match his facial expressions.
"Why on earth would the hero of Nightfall City steal... plush toys?" Spider-Man asked, sliding the yellow electric mouse puppet out of Warlock's stuck fingers and lifting it by an ear.
"Put your hand inside it and you will understand for yourself why I did what I did," Warlock replied, keeping a deliberately mysterious tone.
Spider-Man didn't need to be told twice. With expert fingers, he unstitched the back of the plush toy just enough to slip his hand past the soft synthetic polyester fiber stuffing. He rummaged inside Pikachu's body for a second, and his fingers came into contact with something cold, hard, and definitely dangerous.
"This is not a children's toy," Spider-Man commented, changing his tone. He pulled his hand out, clutching a heavy metallic magazine packed with ammunition for firearms between his fingers.
"Now that you understand I am investigating a weapons trafficking ring, would you mind taking this web off me? I'm terrified that if it stays attached for too long, it might damage my costume or my skin when you peel it off," Warlock said, making fun of the risk of ending up shaved like one of those bizarre Sphynx cats.
"Don't worry, normally my webs dissolve completely on their own after an hour. But for emergency situations like this, I have synthesized a specific solvent," Spider-Man explained. He slightly lifted the edge of his costume at the waist, showing a high-tech multifunctional belt equipped with spare cartridges and small gadgets.
"Better keep your mouth and eyes tightly shut," the wall-crawler advised, pulling a tiny spray can from his belt.
Warlock followed the New York colleague's instructions to the letter, closing his eyelids tightly.
PSSSH
A vaporized cloud that smelled intensely of roses hit Black Warlock full-on. The compound triggered an immediate chemical reaction that crumbled the elastic filaments of the web in just a few seconds, reducing them to a completely harmless powder that fell to the ground.
"It smells like roses. I like it," Warlock commented, shaking off the last residues and appreciating the fragrance of the spray.
"Finally, someone who appreciates my taste! I usually only get complaints about this aroma," Spider-Man retorted, visibly satisfied.
"Can we skip the part where we fight like two idiots over a misunderstanding and go straight to the collaboration phase?" Black Warlock asked, adjusting his collar, having absolutely no intention of wasting energy in a useless duel against Spider-Man.
"I'm sorry, what?" the hero of New York asked, caught off guard and genuinely confused by that bluntness.
"You see, when I realized that becoming the protector of Nightfall City was going to be a permanent assignment and not a temporary thing, I did some research on other vigilantes. Apparently, you New York heroes have a strange habit of beating each other to a pulp before realizing you're on the same side. On the internet, there's a whole community discussing the love-hate relationship between Daredevil and the Punisher," Warlock explained with total naturalness.
"Hey, we New York heroes don't fight among ourselves that often! It only happens when we don't know each other at all or when we step on each other's toes. The problem is that sometimes New York City feels definitely too small for all the costumes running around," Spider-Man justified himself. Under his mask, he hinted at a slight envy for those lone heroes or those families of vigilantes who had exclusive control over an entire metropolis, where they were often loved and idolized by the entire population.
"Well, as the first and only resident superhero of Nightfall City, I welcome you to my city, Spider-Man. The police here are pretty friendly with us costumed types, the seafood dishes in the restaurants are excellent, and a small warning: be careful if you go deep into the forest, there are mutant animals and several oases filled with toxic and most likely radioactive waste," Warlock said. With a warm smile, he slipped his hand into his belt—which was definitely larger on the inside than it appeared—and pulled out a perfect chocolate muffin, decorated with an unlit candle and the words "Welcome to Nightfall City" traced in precise white icing.
"This is absolutely the cutest, and definitely the most bizarre, welcoming committee I have ever received from a colleague. And keep in mind, I know Deadpool, who is Deathstroke's crazy cousin," Spider-Man commented, grabbing the treat. He didn't bite into it right away: a slight paranoia, the fruit of years of battles, betrayals, and well-designed traps, made him hesitate.
"I like to eat, I like to cook, and I have plenty of free time. I have custom muffins ready for the founding members of the Justice League and for many other special occasions," Warlock added. Just to prove his good faith, he rummaged into his belt again and pulled out a second muffin, this time with purple icing and the words "Congratulations on the promotion to Detective" written on it. The hero of Nightfall City took a generous bite of his own pastry, immediately consuming a third of it.
"But back to business," Warlock resumed, chewing his last bite. "What is the famous Spider-Man, the friendly neighborhood hero of New York City, doing in my small town?"
'And what do I make up now?!' Spider-Man thought frantically under his mask, feeling drops of cold sweat slide down the back of his neck. 'I can't exactly tell him that Peter Parker scored a little photography gig around here, or that I slept the entire time on the train, so once I arrived at the motel with Laura I didn't need to sleep! I can't pass it off as a simple night walk that ended up here by pure chance... It's a scenario that's definitely too improbable, even for me.'
"Are you also investigating this smuggling operation? They used to operate in New York before deciding to come here, where there are fewer heroes to throw a wrench in their gears," Warlock anticipated, hand-delivering the perfect excuse on a silver platter. The hero of Nightfall City was genuinely convinced that his colleague was there because of a case from outside his own city.
"Yes! Absolutely, you are totally right!" Spider-Man replied on the spot, grabbing onto that unexpected excuse with his fingernails. "I've been looking for a solid lead to frame these individuals for weeks. I wasn't entirely sure the cargo ended up exactly in this sector, so tonight I decided to try my luck with a stakeout."
Before the two vigilantes could delve deeper into the matter, a violent, blinding explosion of white light pierced the darkness of the dock, illuminating the container walls as bright as day for a millisecond.
FLASH!
The two heroes snapped in unison, suddenly turning their heads toward the source of that sudden glow.
Spider-Man reacted first thanks to his lightning-fast reflexes: he extended his arm and shot a tight web against the corner of the nearest container to swing himself forward. Black Warlock was not to be outdone: he leaped agilely onto his floating staff, which zipped upward with a magical hiss.
XXX
A few hundred meters away, perched on top of a small stack of three overlapping containers, a young woman was clutching a professional camera in her hands, a radiant smile plastered across her face.
"A photograph of Black Warlock and Spider-Man meeting for the very first time... Now that is a bombshell news story!" Charlotte exclaimed, so excited by the journalistic scoop that she felt a wild urge to dance and sing right then and there.
A sharp thud interrupted her dreams of glory. Spider-Man landed on the metal of the container just a few meters away from her. Charlotte gave a small start from the fright, lost her balance on her heels, and slipped backward, plummeting into the empty space. Fortunately, Black Warlock was already in trajectory: speeding aboard his floating staff, he slid underneath her and caught her firmly mid-air, holding her tightly against his chest in a perfect bridal style.
"Charlotte Gagnepetit?! What are you doing here?" Black Warlock asked, genuinely astonished to find himself face-to-face with her, especially on a night already so packed with twists after his encounter with Spider-Man.
"You know my name?!" Charlotte exclaimed, instantly lighting up like a true fangirl. Completely forgetting the danger she had just faced, she enthusiastically locked her arms around the hero's neck.
"You are the most famous and successful journalist in all of Nightfall City, it's normal that I know you! Your Steambird channel is simply fantastic," Warlock admitted, letting his fanboy side show toward the pink-haired reporter.
'This is absolutely the best night of my entire life!' Charlotte thought, as Warlock glided down gently, carefully depositing her onto the flat surface of the highest container.
"I wouldn't want to interrupt this budding and highly romantic Superman and Lois Lane-style story at all, but my Spider-Sense has started tingling like a wasp's nest," Spider-Man chimed in, landing beside them in a crouched pose and implicitly inviting them to be silent.
"It's the first time we meet!" the journalist and the local hero exclaimed at the exact same time. Immediately afterward, they exchanged a quick glance: the girl showed a mix of happiness and slight agitation, while the masked boy remained stiff from the surprise of that denial.
'And with this one, we have reached a total of five possible romantic paths,' Sora calculated cynically in her Master's mind, keeping score with the precision of a computer. 'The policewoman, the coworker, the rich heiress, the woman doctor, and now we must add the woman journalist to the list. This man attracts trouble and women in equal measure.'
The heavy rumble of several diesel engines interrupted their thoughts. A column of black trucks crossed the gates of the port with their headlights turned off, moving with such confidence that it made them look like the absolute kings of the place.
The three of them ducked instantly, pressing their bellies against the corrugated sheet metal roof of the container to avoid being spotted.
"Normally, I'm the one who brings fresh news to people, but this time I won't be angry at all if you decide to give me an advance scoop," Charlotte whispered in a very low voice. With nimble fingers, she turned off the flash from the DSLR controls and activated the high-sensitivity night shooting mode, preparing to capture every single movement.
Spider-Man tapped a control on the side of his mask, activating the night vision function of his white lenses, which emitted an imperceptible click as they applied an optical zoom onto the vehicles below.
Warlock, on the other hand, preferred simplicity: he pulled a small brass telescope from his belt; his furry features and his canine nature already granted him a baseline ability to see in the dark that was vastly superior to that of a normal human being.
"Spider-Man and I were investigating a complex weapons trafficking operation. Those criminals hide ammunition, magazines, and heavy weapon components inside completely normal plush toys," Warlock explained to her, summarizing the situation in a breath.
"This piece is going to be on a completely different level compared to the usual! I have never written an article on international weapons trafficking, nor have I ever had the chance to take photographs like these," Charlotte replied, still in a low voice. She was a bundle of emotions: happy, excited, and with the adrenaline making her fingers tremble slightly.
"I don't have much experience with port smugglers either, but I'm pretty sure I'll do great, especially now that I have Spider-Man as backup," Warlock commented, flaunting a calm confidence regarding the success of the mission.
"So, dog tooth, do you have an attack plan or are we just going to improvise and hope for the best?" Spider-Man asked, gesturing with his head toward the dock below. A handful of burly men had just climbed down from the cabs of the black trucks; they were breaking the seals and opening the various containers to begin unloading the weapons-stuffed plush toys.
A small group of thugs approached the very container that Warlock had opened shortly before. One of them noticed the ajar door, the plush Pikachu abandoned on the ground, and the metallic magazine gleaming under the moonlight. The man opened his mouth to raise the alarm, but then he thought better of it: he didn't want complications with the boss, nor did he want to risk losing his generous weekly pay. So he kicked the magazine to hide it under the pallet, closed the door, and decided to totally ignore what had happened.
"Actually, I have a great idea. Does either of you have a cell phone to lend me?" Warlock asked. He didn't own a personal one, preferring to rely on his magical communication tricks—tricks that, however, he couldn't reveal in front of Spider-Man or that required too much concentration for a stealthy situation.
"Take mine," Charlotte offered, pulling her smartphone—protected by a striking hot-pink case—out of her pocket and handing it to the hero.
Warlock quickly typed a sequence of numbers on the touchscreen that he had dialed hundreds of times in the past.
"Ciudățeni special emergency line, go ahead," a bright, ringing, and decidedly cordial female voice answered almost immediately.
"Madam Journalist, but who exactly is Harry Potter's die-hard fan calling?" Spider-Man whispered, completely thrown off. He had never heard of such a switchboard in New York.
"The mayor, seeing that Nightfall City is slowly accumulating the same crime problems as New York, set up an encrypted phone line to report super emergencies or crimes of maximum gravity," Charlotte quickly explained to him.
"Keiko Isobe, it's me, BW," the hero said into the phone's microphone, using the acronym the dispatchers knew well.
"Oh, hi BW! I wanted to congratulate you on what you pulled off the other night at the museum. You practically stole the fastest man in the world's archenemy right from under everyone's nose, huge congratulations!" Keiko replied from the other end of the line, speaking with the fluency of an old coworker.
"Wait a second... You know the name of the woman who answers emergency calls by heart?" Spider-Man asked, widening his eyes under his mask. In his case, he barely knew the name of the district captain and a couple of detectives who weren't trying to arrest him.
"It's not that difficult. This special line is managed mainly by just two women, Keiko Isobe and Mary Hatsumi. And the former definitely loves to chat during night shifts," Warlock explained, pulling the phone away from his ear for a second.
"Who are you talking to, BW? I hear voices," Keiko chimed in, demonstrating once again a conduct not quite professional for an emergency dispatcher.
"I'm staked out at the port right now, in the company of Spider-Man and Charlotte Gagnepetit. We have a massive smuggling and full-blown weapons trafficking operation right in front of our eyes," Black Warlock declared, getting straight to the point.
"Heavy weapons trafficking in Nightfall City?! But nothing like this has ever happened before!" Keiko replied, her tone instantly shifting to one of deep surprise.
"Exactly. And do you know how they get past customs inspections? They hide ammunition and gun parts inside adorable Pokémon-shaped plush toys!" Warlock provided, revealing the criminals' bizarre commercial stratagem.
"But this is an intolerable double crime! I'm sending you all available reinforcements in the area right now. Now go down there and break some heads on our behalf, BW!" Keiko exclaimed with fervor, openly inciting the vigilante to take justice into his own hands.
"Incredible. In New York, the police shoot at me on sight as soon as I move, and here the dispatchers cheer you on as if they were pom-pom-wielding cheerleaders... Life is definitely not fair," Spider-Man commented, becoming increasingly convinced that a massive dose of super bad luck was included among his superpowers.
"Well, furries are much more loved than spiders around here, especially if they have canine traits," Charlotte ironized, having never hidden her passion for dogs and dog-boys.
"Even though personally I'm much more of a Digimon fan compared to Pokémon, I'll go down and sort them out. Anyway, Keiko, send several police patrols and an ambulance just in case," Warlock concluded, hanging up the call and returning the smartphone to Charlotte.
"I'll take care of neutralizing the commercial vehicles. I'm pretty good at tampering with big engines," the hero of Nightfall City proposed, twirling his staff.
"Perfect, then I'll take care of packaging the thugs on the ground," Spider-Man accepted, crossing his arms, completely at ease with that division of tasks.
"And I'll take memorable front-page photographs for my channel!" Charlotte exclaimed, flashing a radiant smile and clutching her DSLR, completely ready to make a splash with tonight's coverage.
"See that you get my best profile, CG," Warlock told her, giving her a knowing wink.
"Relax, I've won several professional photography contests in the past and even worked as a swimsuit model photographer to pay for my college tuition," Charlotte replied with an evident tone of pride in her voice.
"Excuse the party-pooper question, but shouldn't we first get her to safety away from here?" Spider-Man chimed in, genuinely worried about the civilian girl's safety. For him, a hero's absolute priority was evacuating non-combatants.
"Forget it, Spider-Man. Charlotte is Nightfall City's equivalent of Lois Lane. Even if you tried to send her away by force, she'd find a way to slip back into the shadows in less than two minutes just to take her photos," Warlock explained, knowing far too well the unyielding determination of the ace reporter archetype.
"My fame precedes me!" Charlotte exclaimed, suddenly feeling charged and full of energy like never before. Her self-esteem took a giant leap: knowing that Black Warlock in person not only knew her name but sincerely appreciated her investigative work was the greatest gratification she could desire.
"Better leave her here to take photos from this position. From up here we know exactly where she is and we can pick her up on the fly in case someone decides to pull out a bazooka or goodness knows what other heavy contraption," Warlock decreed, narrowing his eyes and mentally preparing for a potentially explosive scenario.
"I still think this is a terrible idea," Spider-Man insisted, wringing his wrists and seriously fearing for the pink-haired journalist's safety.
"I am an adult woman, I've been doing this job for a couple of years, and for the last six months I've documented a superhero's actions. I have no intention of leaving just because Spider-Man worries too much," Charlotte shut him down, glaring at the wall-crawler with a fierce look to say the least.
"Courage alone doesn't stop bullets, young lady," Spider-Man retorted, maintaining an admirable Olympic calm despite the reporter's reprimand. After all, professional vigilantes have decidedly steadier nerves than ordinary people.
"Don't worry, Spider-Man. Le darò una protezione a prova di proiettile, così risolviamo questo futile conflitto," intervenne Warlock, volendo stroncare la discussione sul nascere.
"Don't worry, Spider-Man. I'll give her a bulletproof protection, so we solve this futile conflict," Warlock intervened, wanting to nip the discussion in the bud.
"Protection?" Spider-Man asked, raising an invisible eyebrow under his red fabric mask.
"An invisible force field. It can withstand a couple of hours without taking damage, or absorb up to potentially two life-threatening point-blank hits," Warlock provided as a technical explanation.
"Alright, then... But don't do anything crazy, young lady. Here, take this muffin as an incentive to be good and stay down," Spider-Man finally gave in, handing Charlotte the chocolate treat that Black Warlock had gifted him shortly before.
"Spider-Man delivering muffins door-to-door?" Charlotte asked ironically. She took a small bite of a corner and, an instant later, let out a moan of pure culinary pleasure. "Goodness... This is literally exquisite!" she murmured, clutching the pastry and almost risking dropping her precious camera.
"You can pass the compliments directly to Warlock. Apparently, our neighborhood wizard is also a rather gifted amateur baker," Spider-Man replied. He straightened up on his legs, extended his wrist, and, with a sharp flick of his fingers, shot a line of webbing toward the nearby crane, launching himself into the empty space to swoop straight down onto the criminals.
Black Warlock also stood up on the container's sheet metal, but he did not throw himself into the fray immediately.
"Shield," he pronounced in a low voice, gently tapping the top of Charlotte's head with the tip of his staff. Instantly, a geometric and semi-transparent wave of pure magical energy expanded around the journalist, stabilizing into a defensive barrier completely invisible to the naked eye.
"I am going to do what I love most, and you do the same with your DSLR. But please, stay safe. If you notice anything strange, shout, or take photographs using the flash to blind them," Warlock advised her. Then he mounted his staff and dove headfirst into the port night.
XXX
Moving in absolute silence, Spider-Man had flattened himself vertically against the corrugated metal wall of a stack of containers. Analyzing the area below with his lenses' zoom, he recorded the presence of three massive black trucks and twenty-five robustly built individuals, armed and looking decidedly unfriendly. The smugglers had already opened five containers and were frantically transferring the goods onto the trailers, loading the plastic boxes one after another.
"Guys, we need to hurry up!" growled a Caucasian man with a completely shaved head and a thin, deep scar cutting across the eyelid above his left eye. "The boss was categorical this time: he wants all the merchandise out of the city limits before dawn; we can't afford to wait for the usual cover hour."
The scarred man had all the look of being the field commander. He did not move like a simple street thug, but displayed the stiff, calculated posture of someone with real military experience behind him, or perhaps a professional fighter from underground circuits.
Extending both arms forward, Spider-Man aimed his mechanical web-shooters.
THWIP!
THWIP!
The tight white filaments simultaneously hit the right and left shoulders of one of the henchmen. With a violent yank, the superhero dragged him upward, making him lose his grip on the crate of plush toys he was lifting.
"Hhhaaa!" the man shouted, panicked by that sudden loss of gravity, but before he could even articulate a sentence, Spider-Man slammed him against the flat surface of the container and sealed him to the metal with a dense, fan-shaped web.
Without losing momentum, the wall-crawler performed a massive acrobatic leap into the night sky, landing with feline precision directly on the back of a huge brute. The impact discharged the weight to the ground, pinning the criminal to the concrete; with four rapid shots of arachnid fluid to his ankles and wrists, the second one was completely immobilized too.
"I get the feeling you guys are going to be a tad late with these night deliveries!" Spider-Man exclaimed, leaping back and intentionally drawing the entire dock's attention to himself.
"What the hell... What is Spider-Man doing here in Nightfall City?!" asked one of the thugs, turning pale and pulling a semi-automatic pistol from his holster with a snap.
"Didn't the boss choose to move all our operations to small-town ports precisely to avoid this kind of hassle?!" yelled another criminal, clutching a heavy, wrought-iron crowbar in his hands.
"He only came here to die!" growled Scar-eye, pointing an accusing finger at the hero in the red and blue costume. "Shoot him! Now!" he ordered his men at the top of his lungs, while tearing off his heavy jacket with a furious gesture, revealing two terrifyingly muscular arms entirely covered in dark tattoos.
"Always the same stale, recycled lines... How about a little originality, huh?" Spider-Man ironized. He began to perform a series of superhuman flips, cartwheels, and bounds, moving at such a speed that he transformed into a blurry smudge among the bullets whistling through the air, impacting uselessly against the steel of the containers behind him.
XXX
At the exact same instant, Warlock acted from the shadows. Riding his floating staff less than half a meter from the ground, he sped at a staggering velocity, blending in perfectly thanks to his dark cape. Taking advantage of the total distraction generated by Spider-Man's acrobatics, the local hero bypassed the perimeter of the dock, moving along a perfect semi-circular trajectory.
Keeping a firm hand on the staff's grip to steer the flight, he used his free hand to rummage through his belt. He drew five small bags of coarse cloth from it, sealed with a bright red ribbon, and threw them with surgical precision onto the back of each of the five black trucks. Inside each bag was kept a magical catalyst: damp forest soil, acorns from a centuries-old oak tree, and a smooth oval stone engraved with a complex rune of nature.
"Let's see if our spider friend needs a hand with the rest of the welcoming committee," Warlock said to himself. He straightened his staff, breaking the curved trajectory to launch himself straight into the heart of the brawl.
Spider-Man, in reality, was dominating the situation without any apparent effort: thanks to his reflexes and the proportional strength of a spider, he had already knocked out more than half of the enemy garrison.
"Magic Missile!" Black Warlock exclaimed loudly, intercepting three henchmen who were taking aim behind his colleague's back.
A large globe of neon-blue light materialized in front of the palm of his hand and was hurled into mid-air. Without any warning, the main sphere fragmented into three smaller luminous darts, resembling self-seeking arrows of kinetic energy.
FWIIIISSSS
FWIIIISSSS
FWIIIISSSS
Each of the magical projectiles impacted with absolute precision on the chests of the three targets, exploding in a flash of blue light that sent them straight to the mat, unconscious.
Spider-Man certainly didn't just watch: sensing the movement of a smuggler trying to flank him with a blade, he shot a blinding web onto his face, jumped toward him with a feline dash, and delivered a well-placed right hook to his jaw, sending him instantly into dreamland.
Within a few minutes, the two heroes found themselves shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of the dock. Around them, the number of remaining opponents standing had dwindled to just six men, including the leader.
"Nice light show, Gandalf! Maybe for the finale you can organize a fireworks display for us too?" joked Spider-Man, whose non-stop banter didn't end even during the most hectic fights.
"I can do that and much more, believe me," Warlock retorted, accepting the irony as a compliment.
"I'll handle the two heroes! The rest of you get on the trucks and move the vehicles, now! Better save part of the cargo than lose everything!" Scar-eye thundered, addressing his remaining subordinates. The henchmen, terrified at the idea of facing the two vigilantes, obeyed with visible enthusiasm and ran at top speed toward the cabs of the black trucks.
"Do we let them go? Are you sure you sorted those vehicles out?" Spider-Man whispered, turning his mask slightly toward the D&D-themed hero.
"I simply decided to add a touch of eco-friendly green to those trailers. Too much black is definitely bad for your health," Warlock replied with a sly smile. Then he raised his hand and snapped his fingers loudly.
XXX
As soon as the criminals leaped onto the seats, turning the keys in the dashboard to start the powerful diesel engines, the cloth bags left by Black Warlock reacted to the magical command.
BOOM!
A series of small, localized detonations struck the truck beds, kicking up a cloud of damp soil and stone fragments that painted the inside of the cargo bays. But the real show began a second later. The acorns enclosed in the bags, fueled by the rune's energy, began to sprout at a terrifying, almost unnatural speed. In just a few moments, the metal roofs of the trailers were literally pierced and ripped open by the appearance of sturdy, rapidly growing oak saplings. The massive, gnarled roots expanded like wooden tentacles, crushing the bodywork, warping the chassis, popping the tires, and wrapping the engine blocks in an unbreakable grip.
As an extra bonus, the branches and roots penetrated inside the driving cabs, wrapping around the drivers like vines and trapping them in their seats; they would never be able to break free on their own without the intervention of the fire department using hydraulic shears.
XXX
"Okay, I have to admit... That is absolutely the most original and eco-friendly method I have ever seen to destroy an engine," Spider-Man commented, genuinely dumbfounded by that botanical twist.
"Actually, I originally created those spells for instant saplings for a personal gardening and carpentry project of mine," Warlock confessed, enjoying the company and the compliments of his New York colleague.
"Cooking, baking, advanced gardening, and carpentry... You are practically a whole catalog of useful talents! Hey, by any chance do you also know how to make coins disappear or pull a live pigeon out of your cape's sleeve?" Spider-Man asked in a rapid-fire sequence, tapping into his endless repertoire of magician jokes.
"I'm still here, damn it!" Scar-eye roared with a voice full of rage and frustration, utterly unable to tolerate being ignored and underestimated like that while his men were decimated. With a sharp flick of his fingers, the man reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a bizarre kind of square high-tech patch.
"Last warning for you, pal: surrender now if you care to keep all your teeth!" Black Warlock exclaimed, slamming the base of his staff firmly onto the port's concrete, producing a grim tolling sound.
"After all, Spider-Man is here with me, the most famous hero in New York City! A true veteran who has fought alongside none other than the Avengers!" Warlock added, raising his staff and pointing it proudly toward the wall-crawler, presenting him to the enemy as the ultimate weapon.
"You're almost making me blush under the mask," Spider-Man joked, crossing his fingers and feigning a mock shyness at such high-sounding compliments.
"I am Black Warlock, the hero of a thousand tricks, the one who can put you in suspension at every single encounter," the furry in the Gandalf costume proclaimed in a theatrical tone, slamming the base of his staff onto the concrete once again, producing a dull chime that vibrated through the air.
"And you, Scar-eye, are left a simple muscle-bound bald guy, without weapons and without any powers. You don't have the slightest chance of victory against us. Accept it: get on your knees and raise your hands high. The police will be here any minute," Warlock ordered, keeping the tip of his staff pointed straight at the chest of the last criminal left standing on the port dock.
"A simple muscle-bound bald guy?! I was born and raised in the most infamous alleys of Gotham City, and in the past, I worked for Bane himself!" Scar-eye exclaimed, his eyes wide with rage. Without wasting another second, he slapped the tech patch hard directly onto the side of his neck.
The effect of the chemical substance was immediate and frightening. The veins on the criminal's neck and arms swelled excessively, pulsing with a dark liquid; his muscle mass expanded rapidly, pumping up his chest and shoulders until he became much larger, taller, and heavier—a colossus of pure brute force.
"And I attack you from behind!" Black Warlock declared with blatant audacity, pointing his index finger past the boss's massive silhouette.
Scar-eye, conditioned by the reflexes of a thousand battles, spun around instantly, expecting the sudden assault of a magical root or an energy dart coming from his rear. Instead... emptiness. There was absolutely nothing behind him. He had just made the fatal mistake of completely turning his back on two heroes endowed with extraordinary powers.
"■■■!" Scar-eye muttered, chewing through a series of heavy swear words and insults as soon as he realized the deception. But before he could turn back around, a massive wave of purple magical slime, instantly summoned by Warlock, hit him full-on, wrapping his pumped-up body and gluing him to the ground in a suffocating grip. "You will pay dearly for this! As soon as I get out of prison, I'll take some even stronger stuff, I'll ask the boss for real reinforcements, and you two heroes will be..."
THWIP!
A precise stream of arachnid fluid shot by Spider-Man hit Scar-eye square in the mouth, sealing it instantly and reducing his final threats to a muffled, ridiculous grunt.
"Well, I have to say, that was easy. And a little bit fun, too," Spider-Man commented, dusting off his hands and considering that port night decidedly successful.
"Welcome to Nightfall City, my friend. Around here, nine times out of ten, wrongdoers are bizarre, amateurish, or suffer from some strange thematic obsession," Black Warlock replied, flashing a huge, serene smile, fully enjoying his life as the city's protector.
The D&D-themed hero reached into his capient belt once again and drew out a slender magic wand, carved from a light and flexible wood. The wand's surface was decorated with silvery veins resembling stellar constellations, and the tip was topped by a small shard of colored glass that glowed faintly with its own light. The name of that bizarre mystical object was the Wand of Pyrotechnics.
"The time has come to officially announce our presence to the police. Pyrotechnics!" Black Warlock exclaimed with an almost childlike joy painted across his face. He pointed the wand straight toward the celestial vault and pressed his thumb, firing two shots in rapid succession.
Two spheres of purest light burst from the glass tip, streaking upward into the night sky like small flare rockets. Once they reached the desired altitude among the clouds...
KABOOM!
The first sphere exploded with a thunderous roar, dissipating into a magnificent, bright yellow firework display that perfectly outlined Black Warlock's personal geometric symbol in the sky.
KABOOM!
A second later, the second sphere detonated in turn, giving life to a spectacular light show of a vivid, bright red, which went on to compose Spider-Man's unmistakable spider-shaped logo.
"Definitely much better than any Bat-Signal I've ever seen," Spider-Man commented with his head held high, sincerely enjoying that moment of pure visual celebration.
"Tomorrow I plan to start my afternoon patrol around 1:00 PM. You can easily find me on top of the museum roof; if you decide to stick around for a while, I'll be happy to give you a tourist tour of the city," Warlock proposed to him, eager to prove himself hospitable and to get to know Spider-Man better. After all, he was the absolute first real superhero he had ever chanced to meet in the field.
"I can't promise you anything, Gandalf," Spider-Man replied, swaying slightly on his legs, uncertain whether or not to accept that unusual invitation.
The two vigilantes' lighthearted moment, however, did not last long. The sharp, distant wail of police sirens pierced the silence of the port; a standard patrol car turned the corner at full speed, stopping its run with a conspicuous skid about a hundred meters away from them.
Warlock instantly recognized the stiff figure sitting in the driver's seat.
"Spider-Man, you'd better vanish from here immediately, and make sure to take Charlotte with you too," Warlock whispered to him urgently, his expression changing. "Captain Ch'en has just arrived. She is without a shadow of a doubt the second most beautiful policewoman in all of Nightfall City, but she is also the strictest, most rigid, and intimidating one in the entire department." In his heart, the local hero still vastly preferred the charm of Motoko Kusanagi, but unfortunately, the sexy purple-haired policewoman couldn't materialize on every single crime scene.
"Black Warlock?! I demand explanations for this whole disaster immediately!" thundered Ch'en's strict and peremptory voice, which resonated through the dock with such intensity that it made her sound more like an infuriated dragon than an ordinary woman in uniform.
"I gladly leave this entire hot potato in your wise hands, Wise Warlock the Black," Spider-Man ironized, spending the last Gandalf reference of the evening.
THWIP!
Shooting a tight web upward, Spider-Man lifted himself agilely from the ground, disappearing into the shadows of the port roofs and leaving the chaos behind him.
To be continued...
XXX
Author's Note:
In case anyone was wondering: yes, the fireworks idea came to me because of Gandalf.