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Lord WraithC H A P T E R O N E : T H E D O G B I T E S B A C K
HERMAN’S MISFORTUNE
[Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring. Rin– ]
[Click.]
“Sytsevich speaking.”
“Alexei? Hey, it’s – it’s Herman.”
“Oh, hey, Herman. What’s up man, how’ve you been?”
“Uh, yeah, alright, I guess… Listen, Alexei, I… I’m in a bit of trouble. Financially speaking. And I know I’m not part of the Six anymore, I get that, but… I really need some help. I owe money to some people, and if I don’t get it back soon I’ll – well, you know how it works, I’m not gonna get a medal [nervous chuckle]. So I was wondering if you could maybe, I don’t know, point me towards a job or something, some crew that’s getting put together… I’d just, I’d really appreciate it, man.”
“Who d’you owe money to?”
“What?”
“Who d’you owe money to?”
“Oh, uh [gulp]… um, Fancy… Fancy Dan.”
“…”
“Alexei?”
“… One of the Kingpin’s crew?”
“What does it – ”
“You’re a goddamn idiot, Herman, y’know that?”
“Hey, come on, I – ”
“What was the money for? Booze?”
“Alexei, please – ”
“I can’t help you, Herman. Sorry, man. Not with the Kingpin.”
“Alexei? Hey, it’s – it’s Herman.”
“Oh, hey, Herman. What’s up man, how’ve you been?”
“Uh, yeah, alright, I guess… Listen, Alexei, I… I’m in a bit of trouble. Financially speaking. And I know I’m not part of the Six anymore, I get that, but… I really need some help. I owe money to some people, and if I don’t get it back soon I’ll – well, you know how it works, I’m not gonna get a medal [nervous chuckle]. So I was wondering if you could maybe, I don’t know, point me towards a job or something, some crew that’s getting put together… I’d just, I’d really appreciate it, man.”
“Who d’you owe money to?”
“What?”
“Who d’you owe money to?”
“Oh, uh [gulp]… um, Fancy… Fancy Dan.”
“…”
“Alexei?”
“… One of the Kingpin’s crew?”
“What does it – ”
“You’re a goddamn idiot, Herman, y’know that?”
“Hey, come on, I – ”
“What was the money for? Booze?”
“Alexei, please – ”
“I can’t help you, Herman. Sorry, man. Not with the Kingpin.”
[Click.]
Herman Schultz was having a bad day.
His jaw ached. That damn Spider-Man, he always hit him there, and now he was having difficulty chewing and his lips were split, he couldn’t see through the swelling in his right eye and his limp made it seem like he had a stump leg. He couldn’t believe that such a simple stickup had gone so wrong – it was just an armoured truck. One truck on a delivery run to M&T Bank, with hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash… one second, Herman had a bag of money hanging triumphantly off his shoulder, the next he was getting kicked in the face by Spider-Man, webbed up and left for the police. They chased him for what felt like hours. He had to run away on foot.
No wonder the Sinister Six replaced him.
It was now five p.m., the Brooklyn sky nearing dusk with every passing minute. Herman had to sneak into his apartment through the fire escape – he was still wearing his Shocker suit, covered in the liquid remains of dissolved web fluid – every agonising step up the ladder sending shockwaves through his body. Pushing open the window to his third-floor home was a struggle, but he managed it after a few brief seconds of pain. A gust of stale air blew over his greying hair, matted as it was by sweat and dirt; he hadn’t been back here since last night, when he called Alexei to try and get some last-minute help. His once good friend’s rejection hurt him deeply. He and the Rhino had been through so much together, endured so many difficulties, that Herman had been certain their bond would be that of brothers. But then that asshole Otto kicked Herman off the Six, and Alexei seemed unwilling to say a single word in Shocker’s defence. Last night just served as proof as to where the brute’s loyalties lay.
Herman left the window open as he stepped in – it’d freshen the apartment up a little bit, give him cleaner air to breathe. The cheap wooden floor creaking beneath his boots, he limped to his sink, removing his vibro-shock gauntlets with a twist and placing them on the counter. Cold water trickled down the drain as he turned on the tap, leaning forward to let it wash over his head. It was soothing, welcoming; when the dirt washed off his face, it was as if the day’s humiliation went with it. His heartrate slowed; the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins this entire day seemed like it was finally going away. He felt calm. He felt–
Creak.
Herman whipped around at the sound, droplets of water flying from his face – and he froze, his mouth agape.
“Now, come on, guys… I have – I have until Thursday, you said – ”
“What we said doesn’t matter, Herman,” said Fancy Dan, “The Word of God said so. You understand?”
Daniel Brito stood in all of his five foot, three inch glory, his fine pressed suit showing off the kind of money Kingpin provided you. His hair combed back, his face neatly shaven, he leered at Herman with a smirk that made his blood boil and his guts shrink. Behind Brito stood Montana and Ox, the remaining two thirds of Wilson Fisk’s Enforcers; Montana with his whip and cowboy hat, Ox as gigantic and muscular as ever. Together they made quite the group of assholes.
Herman swallowed back the lump in his throat. His gauntlets. He needed his gaunt–
“Ah, ah, ah,” warned Dan, wagging his finger. His other hand had slipped beneath his suit jacket – the warning was clear. “You’re in no position to do that, Herman. Speaking of, my man, you look like shit.”
He did.
“Now, I’m assuming you don’t understand what I mean by Word of God. Is that right?”
Herman nodded. It was.
“It’s an analogy, see, comparing our employer – Wilson Fisk – to the almighty man in the sky Himself. Because while I said that you have ‘til Thursday to give us the money, God said that He wanted it tonight. Why? I don’t know. Don’t give a shit. He’s fuckin’ God. We don’t question him, right?”
Herman clenched his fists, his knuckles white. If he even made a move, Brito would spread his brains all over the apartment walls.
“Christ, shut up, Dan,” said Montana, “Just get to the goddamn point for once in your life.”
“Screw you, Montana, I’m doing a – ”
“Shut up.”
He eyed Herman.
“Fisk wants the money tonight. You got it?”
Herman stayed silent.
“Didn’t think so. We’re going to hit you now.”
Montana’s whip cracked, and the Shocker saw stars.
His jaw ached. That damn Spider-Man, he always hit him there, and now he was having difficulty chewing and his lips were split, he couldn’t see through the swelling in his right eye and his limp made it seem like he had a stump leg. He couldn’t believe that such a simple stickup had gone so wrong – it was just an armoured truck. One truck on a delivery run to M&T Bank, with hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash… one second, Herman had a bag of money hanging triumphantly off his shoulder, the next he was getting kicked in the face by Spider-Man, webbed up and left for the police. They chased him for what felt like hours. He had to run away on foot.
No wonder the Sinister Six replaced him.
It was now five p.m., the Brooklyn sky nearing dusk with every passing minute. Herman had to sneak into his apartment through the fire escape – he was still wearing his Shocker suit, covered in the liquid remains of dissolved web fluid – every agonising step up the ladder sending shockwaves through his body. Pushing open the window to his third-floor home was a struggle, but he managed it after a few brief seconds of pain. A gust of stale air blew over his greying hair, matted as it was by sweat and dirt; he hadn’t been back here since last night, when he called Alexei to try and get some last-minute help. His once good friend’s rejection hurt him deeply. He and the Rhino had been through so much together, endured so many difficulties, that Herman had been certain their bond would be that of brothers. But then that asshole Otto kicked Herman off the Six, and Alexei seemed unwilling to say a single word in Shocker’s defence. Last night just served as proof as to where the brute’s loyalties lay.
Herman left the window open as he stepped in – it’d freshen the apartment up a little bit, give him cleaner air to breathe. The cheap wooden floor creaking beneath his boots, he limped to his sink, removing his vibro-shock gauntlets with a twist and placing them on the counter. Cold water trickled down the drain as he turned on the tap, leaning forward to let it wash over his head. It was soothing, welcoming; when the dirt washed off his face, it was as if the day’s humiliation went with it. His heartrate slowed; the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins this entire day seemed like it was finally going away. He felt calm. He felt–
Creak.
Herman whipped around at the sound, droplets of water flying from his face – and he froze, his mouth agape.
“Now, come on, guys… I have – I have until Thursday, you said – ”
“What we said doesn’t matter, Herman,” said Fancy Dan, “The Word of God said so. You understand?”
Daniel Brito stood in all of his five foot, three inch glory, his fine pressed suit showing off the kind of money Kingpin provided you. His hair combed back, his face neatly shaven, he leered at Herman with a smirk that made his blood boil and his guts shrink. Behind Brito stood Montana and Ox, the remaining two thirds of Wilson Fisk’s Enforcers; Montana with his whip and cowboy hat, Ox as gigantic and muscular as ever. Together they made quite the group of assholes.
Herman swallowed back the lump in his throat. His gauntlets. He needed his gaunt–
“Ah, ah, ah,” warned Dan, wagging his finger. His other hand had slipped beneath his suit jacket – the warning was clear. “You’re in no position to do that, Herman. Speaking of, my man, you look like shit.”
He did.
“Now, I’m assuming you don’t understand what I mean by Word of God. Is that right?”
Herman nodded. It was.
“It’s an analogy, see, comparing our employer – Wilson Fisk – to the almighty man in the sky Himself. Because while I said that you have ‘til Thursday to give us the money, God said that He wanted it tonight. Why? I don’t know. Don’t give a shit. He’s fuckin’ God. We don’t question him, right?”
Herman clenched his fists, his knuckles white. If he even made a move, Brito would spread his brains all over the apartment walls.
“Christ, shut up, Dan,” said Montana, “Just get to the goddamn point for once in your life.”
“Screw you, Montana, I’m doing a – ”
“Shut up.”
He eyed Herman.
“Fisk wants the money tonight. You got it?”
Herman stayed silent.
“Didn’t think so. We’re going to hit you now.”
Montana’s whip cracked, and the Shocker saw stars.
