Ain't No Mountain High Enough [Spectacular Spider-Man SI]
- Thread starter Duke William of
- Start date
- Action Superhero
. . . . I'm probably gonna regret this.
But. Why, is that a conspiracy (of Baskin-Robins of all things)?
Baskin-Robbins now knows he's the Silence. Baskin-Robbins always finds out.
Ah yes, beware the Baskin-Robbins!
Also imagine if it's a place for superheroes to hang out there.
Issue 2.3: Silence of the Vultures
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 3, 2008
Central Park
In the early hours of the night, the silver gleam of the moon illuminated Central Park–Nah, I'm just kidding, the lampposts and nearby building were the ones actually doing it. The light pollution in big cities like New York made it impossible to see any actual stars and stuff. A shame, really.
I let out a small yawn as I lazily sprawled over the park bench, checking my left and right to see if Toomes had arrived yet. He hadn't, so I decided to grab a book from my backpack and engross myself in it in the meantime. As I flipped it open and began to read, however, I could only think about the guy I was going to meet today.
Adrian Toomes. Aka, the bloody Vulture, one of the most well-known Spider-Man villains; paradoxically, he was also one of the least well-known, or less popular to be more accurate, Spider-Man villains. It's probably because of his quite frankly goofy-as-heck appearance in the comics, what with his grass-green flight costume and the seeming lack of anything keeping him in the air besides plot convenience. That and the fact being exposed to a special harness somehow gave him superstrength for... reasons.
Comic book logic, everyone.
Y'know, I'd bet a good sum of money that Spectacular Spider-Man was one of the greatest Spider-Man shows ever solely due to how they portrayed Vulture. That flight suit was just–Mwah! Perfecto!
Which, funnily enough, went back to why I wanted to talk with him. He was a genius inventor who was just below the likes of Tony Stark and Peter Parker. If I played my cards right, I could get myself my very own Lucius Fox, a gadget guy who built the awesome gadgets and gizmos I was too dumb to create. And if he hadn't finished building his suit yet, that was even better! With some tiny modifications to it, I'd have my very own super suit ready to go! Maybe I could get something like Shocker's sonic gauntlets, or perhaps a built-in airsoft wrist gun that goes pew pew pew, or maybe even–
Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh, right, convincing Toomes to become my gadget guy.
I knew that he was practically foaming at the mouth to throw Norman Osborn off his high horse and onto a wooden stake, no dihbt one smeared with all kinds of feces. That was useful as we both sort of wanted the same thing, minus the whole wooden stake thing, since I knew that Osborn was working with the Big Man. With the right words, I could redirect that hatred and drive for vengeance down a more productive path, a path that didn't involve attacking Osborn in a flight suit with the warcry of "OSBORN!!!" and acting loonier than the Looney Tunes. A great way of attracting attention, sure, but not so great at attracting positive attention. Not to mention the many ways Osborn could frame and twist these attacks to suit his narrative, one of which would be that Toomes was an insane lunatic whose claims shouldn't be taken seriously.
Which... Okay, that was admittedly somewhat fair.
Of course, there was the distinct possibility Toomes didn't join me in my crusade against crime, which, while unfortunate, would be completely understandable. He'd just been screwed over by Oscorp, he had no reason nor obligation to pick a fight with organized crime after all he'd been through. In that case, all I had to do was convince him to not become a villain and to let me handle Osborn. Toomes, like many of Spider-Man's villains, had been screwed over by the world, and he didn't deserve to go to jail for admittedly very bad stuff he hadn't actually done at the present moment. It was the least he deserved.
If he discarded my advice and still went down the path of supervillain, however, I would simply wash my hands of him. Not my fault if he didn't listen.
Now... back to enjoying my book–ARGRGAGSGSHDBHEHE!!!
NOT AGAIN, SECONDARY POWER!!!
NOT AGAIN!!!
Adrian's teeth chattered as the cold evening wind blew against his face, and he pulled his jacket even tighter against himself as he walked through Central Park, a briefcase in his hand. He was making a mistake doing this, a very big mistake. If he was caught consorting with a vigilante, a violent one at that, his shot at revenge could be kissed goodbye as it boarded the Titanic. And that didn't include the possibility that this wasn't even the Silence at all and that this was some sort of sick trick, a trap by his enemies to take him out of the picture for good.
It had to be. There couldn't possibly be any other explanation, why had he done this, he was going to... going to...
...I learned from a little birdie that good old Osborn stole FlightTech from you, which in turn makes you the enemy of my enemy...
...No. No, that was the paranoia speaking again. He took in a deep breath, trying to regain control of his emotions.
Whoever had sent him that letter knew that Osborn had stolen FlightTech from him, knew that Osborn deserved to burn in hell for what he'd done. This wasn't just some dumb kids who wanted to pull a fast one on an old man, this was someone who knew too much for their own good. Someone who also hated Osborn.
And even if this was meant to humiliate him even further, if it was meant to land him in a cramped, musty prison cell somewhere far away from where he could hurt them, it would do nothing that hadn't already been done. He was at rock bottom at this point, the only ways to go now were either where he already was or up. And he would gamble everything for the chance to climb again.
Now, if only he could actually find them.
"Aarrrgghh..."
Adrian turned at the sudden noise to see a young man, who couldn't possibly be old enough to drink yet, hunched over on a nearby park bench, clutching his head and moaning in pain. What stood out the most about him, however, were his clothes. A green hoodie that seemed more fit for an even younger child to wear, jeans stained with what Adrian assumed to be hot chocolate, a surgical mask worn inside-out, and, most striking of all, pitck-black sunglasses.
Sunglasses? In the middle of the night?
No one else was in the park, though. And the letter had said they would be at the center of the park around this time. Who else could it possibly be? So, taking in a small breath and wishing himself good luck for whatever might happen, he walked over.
"Are you alright?" He asked. It was merely the polite thing to do.
"Yeah, I'm feeling better now than earlier, thanks." The kid stated as he rubbed his head and turned to face Adrian, only to freeze slightly at the sight of the older man.
"Is there something wrong?" Adrian asked, a bit pertubed by the sudden change of emotion.
"No, no..." The kid slowly responded, an odd emotion appearing in his tone as he stared at Adrian. His gaze, akin to that of a lion eyeing up a gazelle, made Adrian shrink back a little. "This something's very perfect, actually, but thank you for your concern... Adrian."
Adrian stiffened.
The Silence smiled behind the mask.
"Please, sir, take a seat. We have a lot to talk about tonight. Don't we?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
I'm sorry for the delay in updates, my muse is a fickle thing. I cannot promise that updates will be regular or scheduled, but I do promise I will keep it alive. Maybe.
And yeah, the title was a bit... rushed in the workshopping process.
Also, Michael has finally achieved the impossible: gaining a skill that will actually help him fight!
Enjoy!
Central Park
In the early hours of the night, the silver gleam of the moon illuminated Central Park–Nah, I'm just kidding, the lampposts and nearby building were the ones actually doing it. The light pollution in big cities like New York made it impossible to see any actual stars and stuff. A shame, really.
I let out a small yawn as I lazily sprawled over the park bench, checking my left and right to see if Toomes had arrived yet. He hadn't, so I decided to grab a book from my backpack and engross myself in it in the meantime. As I flipped it open and began to read, however, I could only think about the guy I was going to meet today.
Adrian Toomes. Aka, the bloody Vulture, one of the most well-known Spider-Man villains; paradoxically, he was also one of the least well-known, or less popular to be more accurate, Spider-Man villains. It's probably because of his quite frankly goofy-as-heck appearance in the comics, what with his grass-green flight costume and the seeming lack of anything keeping him in the air besides plot convenience. That and the fact being exposed to a special harness somehow gave him superstrength for... reasons.
Comic book logic, everyone.
Y'know, I'd bet a good sum of money that Spectacular Spider-Man was one of the greatest Spider-Man shows ever solely due to how they portrayed Vulture. That flight suit was just–Mwah! Perfecto!
Which, funnily enough, went back to why I wanted to talk with him. He was a genius inventor who was just below the likes of Tony Stark and Peter Parker. If I played my cards right, I could get myself my very own Lucius Fox, a gadget guy who built the awesome gadgets and gizmos I was too dumb to create. And if he hadn't finished building his suit yet, that was even better! With some tiny modifications to it, I'd have my very own super suit ready to go! Maybe I could get something like Shocker's sonic gauntlets, or perhaps a built-in airsoft wrist gun that goes pew pew pew, or maybe even–
Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh, right, convincing Toomes to become my gadget guy.
I knew that he was practically foaming at the mouth to throw Norman Osborn off his high horse and onto a wooden stake, no dihbt one smeared with all kinds of feces. That was useful as we both sort of wanted the same thing, minus the whole wooden stake thing, since I knew that Osborn was working with the Big Man. With the right words, I could redirect that hatred and drive for vengeance down a more productive path, a path that didn't involve attacking Osborn in a flight suit with the warcry of "OSBORN!!!" and acting loonier than the Looney Tunes. A great way of attracting attention, sure, but not so great at attracting positive attention. Not to mention the many ways Osborn could frame and twist these attacks to suit his narrative, one of which would be that Toomes was an insane lunatic whose claims shouldn't be taken seriously.
Which... Okay, that was admittedly somewhat fair.
Of course, there was the distinct possibility Toomes didn't join me in my crusade against crime, which, while unfortunate, would be completely understandable. He'd just been screwed over by Oscorp, he had no reason nor obligation to pick a fight with organized crime after all he'd been through. In that case, all I had to do was convince him to not become a villain and to let me handle Osborn. Toomes, like many of Spider-Man's villains, had been screwed over by the world, and he didn't deserve to go to jail for admittedly very bad stuff he hadn't actually done at the present moment. It was the least he deserved.
If he discarded my advice and still went down the path of supervillain, however, I would simply wash my hands of him. Not my fault if he didn't listen.
Now... back to enjoying my book–ARGRGAGSGSHDBHEHE!!!
NOT AGAIN, SECONDARY POWER!!!
NOT AGAIN!!!
Adrian's teeth chattered as the cold evening wind blew against his face, and he pulled his jacket even tighter against himself as he walked through Central Park, a briefcase in his hand. He was making a mistake doing this, a very big mistake. If he was caught consorting with a vigilante, a violent one at that, his shot at revenge could be kissed goodbye as it boarded the Titanic. And that didn't include the possibility that this wasn't even the Silence at all and that this was some sort of sick trick, a trap by his enemies to take him out of the picture for good.
It had to be. There couldn't possibly be any other explanation, why had he done this, he was going to... going to...
...I learned from a little birdie that good old Osborn stole FlightTech from you, which in turn makes you the enemy of my enemy...
...No. No, that was the paranoia speaking again. He took in a deep breath, trying to regain control of his emotions.
Whoever had sent him that letter knew that Osborn had stolen FlightTech from him, knew that Osborn deserved to burn in hell for what he'd done. This wasn't just some dumb kids who wanted to pull a fast one on an old man, this was someone who knew too much for their own good. Someone who also hated Osborn.
And even if this was meant to humiliate him even further, if it was meant to land him in a cramped, musty prison cell somewhere far away from where he could hurt them, it would do nothing that hadn't already been done. He was at rock bottom at this point, the only ways to go now were either where he already was or up. And he would gamble everything for the chance to climb again.
Now, if only he could actually find them.
"Aarrrgghh..."
Adrian turned at the sudden noise to see a young man, who couldn't possibly be old enough to drink yet, hunched over on a nearby park bench, clutching his head and moaning in pain. What stood out the most about him, however, were his clothes. A green hoodie that seemed more fit for an even younger child to wear, jeans stained with what Adrian assumed to be hot chocolate, a surgical mask worn inside-out, and, most striking of all, pitck-black sunglasses.
Sunglasses? In the middle of the night?
No one else was in the park, though. And the letter had said they would be at the center of the park around this time. Who else could it possibly be? So, taking in a small breath and wishing himself good luck for whatever might happen, he walked over.
"Are you alright?" He asked. It was merely the polite thing to do.
"Yeah, I'm feeling better now than earlier, thanks." The kid stated as he rubbed his head and turned to face Adrian, only to freeze slightly at the sight of the older man.
"Is there something wrong?" Adrian asked, a bit pertubed by the sudden change of emotion.
"No, no..." The kid slowly responded, an odd emotion appearing in his tone as he stared at Adrian. His gaze, akin to that of a lion eyeing up a gazelle, made Adrian shrink back a little. "This something's very perfect, actually, but thank you for your concern... Adrian."
Adrian stiffened.
The Silence smiled behind the mask.
"Please, sir, take a seat. We have a lot to talk about tonight. Don't we?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
I'm sorry for the delay in updates, my muse is a fickle thing. I cannot promise that updates will be regular or scheduled, but I do promise I will keep it alive. Maybe.
And yeah, the title was a bit... rushed in the workshopping process.
Also, Michael has finally achieved the impossible: gaining a skill that will actually help him fight!
First Aid
Lockpicking
Infiltration
Time Management
Spanish
Driving
French
Persuasion
Sign Language
Newest Skill: Boxing
Lockpicking
Infiltration
Time Management
Spanish
Driving
French
Persuasion
Sign Language
Newest Skill: Boxing
Enjoy!
Issue 2.4: A Discussion
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 3, 2008
Central Park
Swallowing down a gulp, Adrian hesitantly sat down next to the Silence, who pulled his backpack onto his lap to make space for Adrian.
"How has your day been by the way, Adrian?" The Silence nonchalantly asked, as if he were simply addressing a coworker or family member, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced around the park.
"...It has been better than usual." Adrian cautiously replied, thrown off by how casual the Silence was acting. "May I ask how your day has been as well?"
"It's been fine enough, thanks for asking." The Silence replied before turning to face Adrian. "Now, you and I are both busy guys, and the night breeze is starting to freeze my toes, so let's cut to the chase of this meeting. Namely, kicking Norman Osborn's high horse out from under him."
"Indeed." Adrian grinned deviously as the Silence nodded along. Now this was a language he liked speaking.
"We both know you want his hide because of his theft of your FlightTech," the Silence added, ignoring the subtle chest puffing and smirk from Toomes at the mention of FlightTech, "but I think it's only fair that you know why I want his hide as well. It's because he's involved with organized crime."
Adrian was more than eager to–Wait, what did he just say?
"I unfortunately don't have any hard evidence to prove such a claim–Osborn's a sneaky and slippery scumbag," the Silence continued on, uncaring of Adrian's wide eyes and slackened jaw, "but I'm confident that if we work together, we'll be able to bring Osborn to justice."
Together?
"Do you assume that I need your help?"
Why would he need to do it "together" with someones else?
"Not at all. It'd definitely make things easier, though."
Did the vigilante think he could attempt to steal the credit of Osborn's downfall from under Adrian's nose? And so blatantly as well
Adrian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to not lash out. "I... appreciate your desire to assist me, but I am fully capable of dealing with Osborn myself. I have no need for it to be easier."
He was the inventor of FlightTech, an unparalleled genius in engineering! What could this boy possibly do to help him?
"Absolutely true." The Silence casually replied, to the surprise of Adrian. "It'd be inadvisable for you to do so, but I won't stop you from being Osborn's little helper."
"Excuse me?"
Adrian's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned to stare at the Silence, a deep scowl forcing itself onto his face. His glare, if it were able to shoot laserbeams, could have burnt two small holes into the Silence's head. Just what did this arrogant brat think he was insinuating?
As it was, though, the young vigilante was unmoved by Adrian's anger, even having the audacity to chuckle under his mask as he continued to talk. "I can just imagine the headlines of the morning tabloids. 'Crazy lunatic attacks CEO of Oscorp.' It'll probably be the greatest PR coup of the century whether or not Osborn lives, and it'll allow him to discredit any claim that comes out of your mouth." He chuckled again. "Not that he'll need to when you're rotting away in solitary confinement or, heaven forbid, a mental asylum."
At those words, Adrian's fury promptly died an ignomious death, and his eyes widened in sudden realization. Of course Osborn would want him to lash out in a blind rage; the self-aggrandizing bastard had probably prepared at least five different speeches for such an occasion.
"I am an utter fool." He muttered with no small amount of shame, covering his face with the palm of his hand.
"I wpuldn't be so hard on yourself; I'd act like a fool too if my life's work was stolen from me." The Silence remarked sympathetically, slowly patting Adrian's shoulder. "And I admittedly need your help here as well, so... yeah."
"And what would you need my help for?" Adrian raised an eyebrow. "You can turn into a walking statue, for goodness' sake."
"Super gizmos and gadgets, obviously." The Silence answered giddily, slightly vibrating in place as if a child with an unlimited credit card in a toy store. "I'm about as tech-illiterate as an Amish toddler, and you are not. I already have my mind set on a suit of armor and some fancy gauntlets that go pew-pew and bang-bang."
"So I'm just a way for you to gain free weaponry and gadgets, then." For some reason, Adrian didn't bitterly spit out those words as he usually would. Or at least, not as bitterly.
"Not at all." The Silence reassured him. "You're owed your vengeance, and I wouldn't get in the way of you personally collecting it. It would be best for you to postpone planning such a thing for a few months, though. We wouldn't want Osborn getting any ideas."
No, they wouldn't.
The two then sat there in silence, the sounds of things going bump in the night the only noise resonating through the air. A plane passed by overhead on its way to Canada. Two squirrels raced by, one chasing the other. The wind blew.
After a few seconds, Adrian finally spoke up. "May I ask a question?"
"You may."
"Why are you doing this, Silence?"
"Reaching out to you? Well–"
"No. I mean, why did you choose to be the Silence? Why become a vigilante instead of a pampered celebrity or famous tv personality?"
"I'll get a less crappy city to live in, of course." The Silence laughed in an almost immediate response, turning his head upward to stare at the stars. "What else would a guy like me need?"
And despite his newfound cynicism, despite the faith he had lost in people...
"Hah!"
Adrian couldn't help but laugh a little as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Adrian Toomes is not a bad guy, but he's not necessarily a good guy either. He's driven to attack Osborn by his need for recognition and need for retribution instead of any true altruism, so I wanted to reflect that in this update.
Also, I would love to hear how you all feel about the story so far. I hope I'm doing a good enough job at making it enjoyable for you all to read.
Enjoy!
Central Park
Swallowing down a gulp, Adrian hesitantly sat down next to the Silence, who pulled his backpack onto his lap to make space for Adrian.
"How has your day been by the way, Adrian?" The Silence nonchalantly asked, as if he were simply addressing a coworker or family member, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced around the park.
"...It has been better than usual." Adrian cautiously replied, thrown off by how casual the Silence was acting. "May I ask how your day has been as well?"
"It's been fine enough, thanks for asking." The Silence replied before turning to face Adrian. "Now, you and I are both busy guys, and the night breeze is starting to freeze my toes, so let's cut to the chase of this meeting. Namely, kicking Norman Osborn's high horse out from under him."
"Indeed." Adrian grinned deviously as the Silence nodded along. Now this was a language he liked speaking.
"We both know you want his hide because of his theft of your FlightTech," the Silence added, ignoring the subtle chest puffing and smirk from Toomes at the mention of FlightTech, "but I think it's only fair that you know why I want his hide as well. It's because he's involved with organized crime."
Adrian was more than eager to–Wait, what did he just say?
"I unfortunately don't have any hard evidence to prove such a claim–Osborn's a sneaky and slippery scumbag," the Silence continued on, uncaring of Adrian's wide eyes and slackened jaw, "but I'm confident that if we work together, we'll be able to bring Osborn to justice."
Together?
"Do you assume that I need your help?"
Why would he need to do it "together" with someones else?
"Not at all. It'd definitely make things easier, though."
Did the vigilante think he could attempt to steal the credit of Osborn's downfall from under Adrian's nose? And so blatantly as well
Adrian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to not lash out. "I... appreciate your desire to assist me, but I am fully capable of dealing with Osborn myself. I have no need for it to be easier."
He was the inventor of FlightTech, an unparalleled genius in engineering! What could this boy possibly do to help him?
"Absolutely true." The Silence casually replied, to the surprise of Adrian. "It'd be inadvisable for you to do so, but I won't stop you from being Osborn's little helper."
"Excuse me?"
Adrian's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned to stare at the Silence, a deep scowl forcing itself onto his face. His glare, if it were able to shoot laserbeams, could have burnt two small holes into the Silence's head. Just what did this arrogant brat think he was insinuating?
As it was, though, the young vigilante was unmoved by Adrian's anger, even having the audacity to chuckle under his mask as he continued to talk. "I can just imagine the headlines of the morning tabloids. 'Crazy lunatic attacks CEO of Oscorp.' It'll probably be the greatest PR coup of the century whether or not Osborn lives, and it'll allow him to discredit any claim that comes out of your mouth." He chuckled again. "Not that he'll need to when you're rotting away in solitary confinement or, heaven forbid, a mental asylum."
At those words, Adrian's fury promptly died an ignomious death, and his eyes widened in sudden realization. Of course Osborn would want him to lash out in a blind rage; the self-aggrandizing bastard had probably prepared at least five different speeches for such an occasion.
"I am an utter fool." He muttered with no small amount of shame, covering his face with the palm of his hand.
"I wpuldn't be so hard on yourself; I'd act like a fool too if my life's work was stolen from me." The Silence remarked sympathetically, slowly patting Adrian's shoulder. "And I admittedly need your help here as well, so... yeah."
"And what would you need my help for?" Adrian raised an eyebrow. "You can turn into a walking statue, for goodness' sake."
"Super gizmos and gadgets, obviously." The Silence answered giddily, slightly vibrating in place as if a child with an unlimited credit card in a toy store. "I'm about as tech-illiterate as an Amish toddler, and you are not. I already have my mind set on a suit of armor and some fancy gauntlets that go pew-pew and bang-bang."
"So I'm just a way for you to gain free weaponry and gadgets, then." For some reason, Adrian didn't bitterly spit out those words as he usually would. Or at least, not as bitterly.
"Not at all." The Silence reassured him. "You're owed your vengeance, and I wouldn't get in the way of you personally collecting it. It would be best for you to postpone planning such a thing for a few months, though. We wouldn't want Osborn getting any ideas."
No, they wouldn't.
The two then sat there in silence, the sounds of things going bump in the night the only noise resonating through the air. A plane passed by overhead on its way to Canada. Two squirrels raced by, one chasing the other. The wind blew.
After a few seconds, Adrian finally spoke up. "May I ask a question?"
"You may."
"Why are you doing this, Silence?"
"Reaching out to you? Well–"
"No. I mean, why did you choose to be the Silence? Why become a vigilante instead of a pampered celebrity or famous tv personality?"
"I'll get a less crappy city to live in, of course." The Silence laughed in an almost immediate response, turning his head upward to stare at the stars. "What else would a guy like me need?"
And despite his newfound cynicism, despite the faith he had lost in people...
"Hah!"
Adrian couldn't help but laugh a little as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Adrian Toomes is not a bad guy, but he's not necessarily a good guy either. He's driven to attack Osborn by his need for recognition and need for retribution instead of any true altruism, so I wanted to reflect that in this update.
Also, I would love to hear how you all feel about the story so far. I hope I'm doing a good enough job at making it enjoyable for you all to read.
Enjoy!
Spider-Man tried that once in the What If comics, it didn't work out well for him.
Issue 2.5: Say No to Animal Abuse
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 5, 2008
The Bronx
Nom-om-nom-nom...
I tossed the last of the fries into my mouth and threw the empty box into a nearby trashcan as I walked through the streets of New York City, passing by some tired office workers on their way back home after a long day of sitting down and staring at a computer screen for hours on end. Makes you wonder how big cities like these don't get outbreaks of hemorrhoids more often.
That talk with Toomes had gone as well as I could have expected. While I hadn't been able to dissuade him from letting me do all the action and fighting, that was really only a minor concession in exchange for all the bonuses I had gotten, the key one being that there would be no Vulture terrorizing New Yoro City. Plus, Toomes could hardly be worse at fighting than the poor mooks that became supervillains like Sandman and Rhino, so it wasn't like I was allowing him to run into certain death. Or fly, for that matter.
There was also some news both bad and good for the future. The bad news, I wouldn't be getting my own supersuit for a while since the suit Toomes currently had was both too big for me and already had its wings and jetpack on; the good news, Toomes had agreed to make me some kind of gadget to help me as part of our initial partnership in return for me hitting up one of Oscorp's warehouses in the near future. Unfortunately, that was a whole other can of slimy, unappetizing worms that I was less than eager to tackle, which sort of turned this into good news with a slimy lining.
And that didn't even mention the dilemma of how we were going to pay the expense for our little vigilante hobby.
Now was not the time for kicking Osborn in the shins nor the time to practice good financial management, though. That part came later.
Now, I thought as I sneaked into an alleyway and transformed into the Silence, is the part where I beat muggers and drug dealers into twelve new shades of peed pants.
Fun for the whole family!
Literally two minutes later...
Annnnnnd of course Spider-Man was swinging around the exact same area I'd planned to patrol in, why wouldn't he be? Normally, I would be ecstatic to finally meet the Web-Slinging Pun-Flinger himself, but given my recent... exploits(yeah, let's just call it that), it would probably be best if I delayed such an encounter for the time being. So, with a little dissapointment and the minutest of minute sighs, I blurred my way to the other side of the Harlem River and into Manhattan.
"Get up, you little rat!"
Just in the nick of time too, judging by the cruel yell nearby. Probably a mugging, a pimp abusing one of his girls, or just a guy being abusive to his girlfriend. Inwardly smirking, I swiftly shimmied my way through the alleyway and turned the corner‐
"Come on, you little shite, let's see you dance!"
...What.
Right there in front of me, three teenagers were kicking and throwing trash at a Dalmation puppy, abandoned given its collar, the little thing whimpering and crying as it attempted to scamper away. Its fur was matted and muddy, with small cuts littered all over its body. One of theteens monsters cut off its escape, forcing the puppy to back into a wall. The three then began to close in on the terrified puppy, circling it as if wolves cornering a lamb while sneering and jeering maliciously.
OH. HELL. NO.
I didn't bother introducing myself with my usual theatrics; I was too busy seeing red at the moment. I blurred next to the nearest teen and, grabbing him, shoved him into his pals. The sheer force of my push sent the three unceremoniously sprawling to the ground in a heap, causing them to let out strings of curses and threats as they turned to face my direction. Their yammering quickly died in their throats as they realized just who was looming over them menacingly and just who was a bit too excited. A short stare-off ensued, myself winning by default given my lack of actual eyes to stare with(or is it actually a loss by default instead?). A sudden jerk from me was all I needed to send the morons scrambling to their feet and fleeing for the hills, all the while screaming that I would kill them.
Don't you tempt me with a good time, boys, I darkly thought.
Picking up a soda can next to my feet, I hurled it at the general direction of the teens, managing to hit one of them square on the head. As they fled into the open streets, the sounds of whimpering caused me to turn to the Dalmatian puppy, who was still cowering next to the wall. My heart broke as I saw its frightened eyes and quivering body, and I quickly returned to my human form.
"It's alright, girl, they can't hurt you anymore." I comfortingly whispered as I cautiously held my hand out for her to sniff, the poor thing intially shrinking back from my approach." After a few seconds of me patiently waiting, though, the puppy hesitantly crawled forward and began to sniff my hand before licking it once. I then began to gently pet it, careful to not startle or scare it. Then, the puppy began to lean its head into my hand, which was also the same time I heard odd sniffling noise being made.
"Come on, girl," I whispered as I tenderly took the puppy into my arms, hopefully having gained enough of its trust, "Let's get you somewhere nice and clean, alright?"
Yip yip!
My heart...
It took only ten minutes of walking before I found what I was looking for: a nearby rescue shelter. It was a quaint little building with pristine white walls and a blue tiled roof, a small group of light blue smiling pets surrounded by a bright pink heart placed above the building's front doors. The sign right below the heart read, "St. Peter's Animal Heaven".
In essence, a place where people who weren't me could take care of my little cow dog buddy. I'd absolutely keep her if I could, but then my landlord would kick me out of my apartment. Even if by some small miracle I was allowed to keep her, my tiny, cramped jewelry box of an apartment would be far too small for a dog as energetic as a Dalmation to roam around.
The doors were fortunately push instead of pull, so I quickly turned around and backed my way into the building.
Ring, ding!
"Good evening, how may I help–Oh, goodness me!" The elderly woman at the front desk, whose name was Mallory going by the nametag, began to greet me with a smile, only to let out a shocked cry at the sight of the poor dog in my arms. She quickly rushed toward me as I gently stroked the puppy in my embrace, her eyes shut tight as she tried her best to sleep.
"It's alright, you're gonna help now, girl." I whispered comfortingly as the little heartbreaker opened her jaws in a wide yawn, causing me to cooa lot just a little.
As I then turned to Mallory and extended my arms toward ber, she gently took the dog into her arms before turning to a nearby co-worker. "Lucille, go grab Sophia and prepare a bath for this poor thing!" She ordered, and the co-worker raced off into a hallway. "Where did you find tbis poor thing?"
"Some morons were having fun terrorizing her, but I scared them off before they could do anything too cruel." I explained as I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. "I would have treated her wounds if I could, but I only really prepared stuff to help humans instead of animals."
"No, no, honey, you did it right." Mallory shook her head before giving me the most reassuring smile she could, and I let out a sigh of relief at that. She was in good hands now. I'd make sure of it.
"If it's no trouble, I need to go now." I then said as politely as I could, yawning a little for good measure. "Got some stuff to do and all that."
"Go ahead, honey, we'll take care of her from here." Mallory kindly responded before quickly adding, "And God bless you for your kindness."
"God bless you too." I smiled back.
And with that, I gave the puppy one last goodbye before standing up and walking out of the shelter, the widest smile ever imaginable on my face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
In this household, we dropkick animal abusers. It is our sworn duty. Fulfill your duty today.*
This fic is sponsored by a device designed to cool the lower jaw of South American rodents. It's a chinchilla chin-chiller.
*For legal reasons, this is a joke. Please do not go out and commit vigilante justice against animal abusers, that is the job of the police.
Enjoy!
The Bronx
Nom-om-nom-nom...
I tossed the last of the fries into my mouth and threw the empty box into a nearby trashcan as I walked through the streets of New York City, passing by some tired office workers on their way back home after a long day of sitting down and staring at a computer screen for hours on end. Makes you wonder how big cities like these don't get outbreaks of hemorrhoids more often.
That talk with Toomes had gone as well as I could have expected. While I hadn't been able to dissuade him from letting me do all the action and fighting, that was really only a minor concession in exchange for all the bonuses I had gotten, the key one being that there would be no Vulture terrorizing New Yoro City. Plus, Toomes could hardly be worse at fighting than the poor mooks that became supervillains like Sandman and Rhino, so it wasn't like I was allowing him to run into certain death. Or fly, for that matter.
There was also some news both bad and good for the future. The bad news, I wouldn't be getting my own supersuit for a while since the suit Toomes currently had was both too big for me and already had its wings and jetpack on; the good news, Toomes had agreed to make me some kind of gadget to help me as part of our initial partnership in return for me hitting up one of Oscorp's warehouses in the near future. Unfortunately, that was a whole other can of slimy, unappetizing worms that I was less than eager to tackle, which sort of turned this into good news with a slimy lining.
And that didn't even mention the dilemma of how we were going to pay the expense for our little vigilante hobby.
Now was not the time for kicking Osborn in the shins nor the time to practice good financial management, though. That part came later.
Now, I thought as I sneaked into an alleyway and transformed into the Silence, is the part where I beat muggers and drug dealers into twelve new shades of peed pants.
Fun for the whole family!
Literally two minutes later...
Annnnnnd of course Spider-Man was swinging around the exact same area I'd planned to patrol in, why wouldn't he be? Normally, I would be ecstatic to finally meet the Web-Slinging Pun-Flinger himself, but given my recent... exploits(yeah, let's just call it that), it would probably be best if I delayed such an encounter for the time being. So, with a little dissapointment and the minutest of minute sighs, I blurred my way to the other side of the Harlem River and into Manhattan.
"Get up, you little rat!"
Just in the nick of time too, judging by the cruel yell nearby. Probably a mugging, a pimp abusing one of his girls, or just a guy being abusive to his girlfriend. Inwardly smirking, I swiftly shimmied my way through the alleyway and turned the corner‐
"Come on, you little shite, let's see you dance!"
...What.
Right there in front of me, three teenagers were kicking and throwing trash at a Dalmation puppy, abandoned given its collar, the little thing whimpering and crying as it attempted to scamper away. Its fur was matted and muddy, with small cuts littered all over its body. One of the
OH. HELL. NO.
I didn't bother introducing myself with my usual theatrics; I was too busy seeing red at the moment. I blurred next to the nearest teen and, grabbing him, shoved him into his pals. The sheer force of my push sent the three unceremoniously sprawling to the ground in a heap, causing them to let out strings of curses and threats as they turned to face my direction. Their yammering quickly died in their throats as they realized just who was looming over them menacingly and just who was a bit too excited. A short stare-off ensued, myself winning by default given my lack of actual eyes to stare with(or is it actually a loss by default instead?). A sudden jerk from me was all I needed to send the morons scrambling to their feet and fleeing for the hills, all the while screaming that I would kill them.
Don't you tempt me with a good time, boys, I darkly thought.
Picking up a soda can next to my feet, I hurled it at the general direction of the teens, managing to hit one of them square on the head. As they fled into the open streets, the sounds of whimpering caused me to turn to the Dalmatian puppy, who was still cowering next to the wall. My heart broke as I saw its frightened eyes and quivering body, and I quickly returned to my human form.
"It's alright, girl, they can't hurt you anymore." I comfortingly whispered as I cautiously held my hand out for her to sniff, the poor thing intially shrinking back from my approach." After a few seconds of me patiently waiting, though, the puppy hesitantly crawled forward and began to sniff my hand before licking it once. I then began to gently pet it, careful to not startle or scare it. Then, the puppy began to lean its head into my hand, which was also the same time I heard odd sniffling noise being made.
"Come on, girl," I whispered as I tenderly took the puppy into my arms, hopefully having gained enough of its trust, "Let's get you somewhere nice and clean, alright?"
Yip yip!
My heart...
It took only ten minutes of walking before I found what I was looking for: a nearby rescue shelter. It was a quaint little building with pristine white walls and a blue tiled roof, a small group of light blue smiling pets surrounded by a bright pink heart placed above the building's front doors. The sign right below the heart read, "St. Peter's Animal Heaven".
In essence, a place where people who weren't me could take care of my little cow dog buddy. I'd absolutely keep her if I could, but then my landlord would kick me out of my apartment. Even if by some small miracle I was allowed to keep her, my tiny, cramped jewelry box of an apartment would be far too small for a dog as energetic as a Dalmation to roam around.
The doors were fortunately push instead of pull, so I quickly turned around and backed my way into the building.
Ring, ding!
"Good evening, how may I help–Oh, goodness me!" The elderly woman at the front desk, whose name was Mallory going by the nametag, began to greet me with a smile, only to let out a shocked cry at the sight of the poor dog in my arms. She quickly rushed toward me as I gently stroked the puppy in my embrace, her eyes shut tight as she tried her best to sleep.
"It's alright, you're gonna help now, girl." I whispered comfortingly as the little heartbreaker opened her jaws in a wide yawn, causing me to coo
As I then turned to Mallory and extended my arms toward ber, she gently took the dog into her arms before turning to a nearby co-worker. "Lucille, go grab Sophia and prepare a bath for this poor thing!" She ordered, and the co-worker raced off into a hallway. "Where did you find tbis poor thing?"
"Some morons were having fun terrorizing her, but I scared them off before they could do anything too cruel." I explained as I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. "I would have treated her wounds if I could, but I only really prepared stuff to help humans instead of animals."
"No, no, honey, you did it right." Mallory shook her head before giving me the most reassuring smile she could, and I let out a sigh of relief at that. She was in good hands now. I'd make sure of it.
"If it's no trouble, I need to go now." I then said as politely as I could, yawning a little for good measure. "Got some stuff to do and all that."
"Go ahead, honey, we'll take care of her from here." Mallory kindly responded before quickly adding, "And God bless you for your kindness."
"God bless you too." I smiled back.
And with that, I gave the puppy one last goodbye before standing up and walking out of the shelter, the widest smile ever imaginable on my face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
In this household, we dropkick animal abusers. It is our sworn duty. Fulfill your duty today.*
This fic is sponsored by a device designed to cool the lower jaw of South American rodents. It's a chinchilla chin-chiller.
*For legal reasons, this is a joke. Please do not go out and commit vigilante justice against animal abusers, that is the job of the police.
Enjoy!
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Fair, fair.
Correction, there can only be... ABSOLUTE JUSTICE!
Issue 2.6: Of Pups and Girls
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 7, 2008
Long Island City, Queens
Y'know... I kind of expected an Oscorp warehouse to be more... I dunno, opulent? No, that's not the right description. Impressive-looking? Yeah, that's it.
From my spot on the apartment rooftop, I could easily observe(with some help from my binoculars, obviously) the dockside Oscorp warehouse as little forklifts steered around loading and unloading crates into and from the warehouse. There were also some lightly armed guards, about six in total, patrolling around the warehouse. And to uphold my end of the deal with Toomes, I was supposed to steal from it without anyone suspecting that I had.
Now, if this had belonged to some stupid street gang about twenty members wide, I'd have simply beaten up the guards, hijacked a car belonging to one of said guards, filled every nook and cranny of the car with stolen goods, than driven off as the warehouse exploded in the distance. Why it would've exploded, I had no clue.
Unfortunately, this warehouse did not, in fact, belong to a small street gang. It instead belonged to one of the world's foremost pharmaceutical companies, and said company was owned by a psychotic criminal mastermind who would not hesitate to throw everyone I ever loved into a cauldron of boiling water if he knew who I was. It'd probably be a good idea if good old Normie didn't know about my plans to deal with him until I was in a much better place to oppose him.
That wasn't the only problem with just bum-rushing in, though. For all I knew, these guards were honest men working on minimum wage for somebody who, in their eyes, was a respectable businessman with no ties to organized crime. Not only was the idea of beating up innocent people extremely distasteful to me, to put it mildly, it was also going to be another nail in the coffin for my reputation as a cold-blooded murderer just itching to kill people.
And if I was going to protect the people, it'd be helpful if they didn't immediately run away from me on sight and screaming madly about how I would gouge out their eyes and break their necks. Hearing stuff like that hurt my feelings, and I didn't like my feelings being hurt.
Sneaking into the warehouse and snatching stuff could work, but I only had two arms to carry things with, which meant that whatever I carried out would be negligible at best. If I made multiple trips in and out, I was risking a ninety percent chance that I got caught.
I made that percentage up, by the way.
My best plan so far was to create some sort of distraction that'd force the guards to leave, but the problem was that I couldn't figure out just what kind of distraction I'd do. There was also the fact if it was not effective enough, I'd probably get caught, but if it was too effective, I might accidentally kill somebody if I miscalculated. Please don't ask why.
That, however, would be a problem for me to figure out later. Checking the time on my phone, I quickly put away my binoculars and scaled down the apartment's fire escape stairs. Couldn't risk being spotted stalking the place, after all. And besides, it was about time I met with an old friend of mine...
A few minutes later...
St. Peter's Animal Heaven, Manhattan
"Who's the cutest little furball in the world? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"
With uncontrollable joy and excitement, I massaged little Daisy's furry cheeks and petted her tiny head, cooing like a baby and grinning wildly as I did so. My luttle Dalmation friend eagerly wagged her tail as I showered her with affection, a stark contrast from her quivering in fear in a dark alleyway. I did not care for the giggles of my human companion sat beside me, Daisy was just so freaking cute!!!
Aggghhh!!!!
"You really love her, don't you?" My new friend asked, a cheeky smirk on her face.
"How could anyone not?" I rhetorically asked as I turned to face Sophia with a smirk of my own.
Specifically, Sophia Sanduval: aka Chat best Spider-Man girlfriend ever. That wasn't a knock on MJ, Gwen, and the others, by the way; Sophia was best girlfriend simply because the likes of They-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named weren't able to lay their grubby hands on her. As such, there were no stories where Chat was unceremoniously fridged so that Peter could get "character growth" or where she abandoned Peter to hitch up with Paul.
"Look at these beautiful eyes, Sophia and tell me you wouldn't conquer the entire city if she told you to." I held Daisy up and pushed her right in Sophia's face, the smart little pupper taking the cue to widen her devastatingly cute puppy eyes and whine slightly.
"You got me there, Michael." Sophia laughed, and I laughed along with her as I set Daisy back on the floor so she could play with the other puppies. "All hail our new fluffy overlord, Daisy the Destroyer."
"All hail Daisy ze' Destroyer!" I said in the most stereotypical German accent I could muster before doing a rigid salute, which prompted even more laughing from the two of us.
When I'd first met Sophia today, my first thought was, Oh, wow, that's really neat! My second, much less light-hearted thought was, Oh, crap, she probably knows that I'm the Silence. If Daisy had blabbed about her savior to Sophia, which was a near certainty, then Sophia most likely knew just who exactly was sitting beside her–Scratch that, she definitely knew who I was. She interacted with every pidgeon, rat, dog, and cat in the freaking city, one of them had probably already snitched on me at this point.
Yet, from what I could tell, she didn't act like she was even slightly nervous, which could mean that she was at least okay with me. Which was good, because I'd rather befriend the girl who can talk to rats and cockroaches instead of turn her into an enemy. I'd have to be careful in how I went about interacting with her, but as long as I didn't kick any puppies or eat live pidgeons, I should be fine with her.
"I'm surprised you have the time to come visit given it's a school day." Sophia off-handedly remarked with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"First off. Hi Pot, I'm Kettle." I raised an eyebrow of my own in jest.
Sophia snorted.
"Second," I then continued, "I got my G.E.D. already, so I don't have to worry about dealing with stupid school politics."
"Really?" Sophia asked in slight surprise as she pet another puppy that had waddled over to her before grinning slightly. "I got mine too so that I could help my family with the bills and stuff. Though not having to deal with other teens is also a bonus."
"Neat." I replied with a smile as I stretched my arms over my head a little. "So is this a full-time job or do you have any other jobs you do?"
"This is a full-time thing, yeah, but I do do some odd jobs for the neighbors here and there. What about you?" She asked me in turn, taking the puppy she'd been petting into her lap.
"I work at a small electronics store near Times Square. It's not much, but it pays the rent."
"Wait, you pay rent?" Sophia's eyes widened slightly.
"Got emancipated from my parents a year ago, but no, I don't wanna talk about it." I replied with a tone that, while it brooked no argument, was hopefully not rude. I just wasn't ready to talk about my past, or rather, the past of the guy Senga had shoved me into.
"Fair enough." Sophia shrugged.
Oh, thank goodness.
"..."
Wait, am I supposed to talk now?
"..."
Oh, shoot, this feels like I'm supposed to talk now. But I can't!
"..."
Now's not the time for you to show up, social anxiety!
"..."
"So..." Sophia awkwardly spoke up, breaking the tension causing me to inwardly sigh with relief. Just a little. "What else do you wanna talk about?"
Quick, Michael, say something! Anything!
"Um... What's your favorite food?"
Anything but that, me! What the hell was that, you idiot?!
"Yes. Literally yes."
Wait... That actually worked?
"Just for clarification, that means you'll eat anything? Right?"
"As long as it tastes good."
"Heh, I think we're on the same page."
We were not, in fact, on the same page. We spent the next few minutes arguing over pickles and whether or not a radish hamburger was good with a cinammon-mayonnaise spread.
Then we exchanged numbers.
We're gonna be great friends, I can just feel it already.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Chat is best girl, for real, for real. But she can have some odd opinions on food.
Also, I'm starting to run out of good chapter title names.
Enjoy!
Long Island City, Queens
Y'know... I kind of expected an Oscorp warehouse to be more... I dunno, opulent? No, that's not the right description. Impressive-looking? Yeah, that's it.
From my spot on the apartment rooftop, I could easily observe(with some help from my binoculars, obviously) the dockside Oscorp warehouse as little forklifts steered around loading and unloading crates into and from the warehouse. There were also some lightly armed guards, about six in total, patrolling around the warehouse. And to uphold my end of the deal with Toomes, I was supposed to steal from it without anyone suspecting that I had.
Now, if this had belonged to some stupid street gang about twenty members wide, I'd have simply beaten up the guards, hijacked a car belonging to one of said guards, filled every nook and cranny of the car with stolen goods, than driven off as the warehouse exploded in the distance. Why it would've exploded, I had no clue.
Unfortunately, this warehouse did not, in fact, belong to a small street gang. It instead belonged to one of the world's foremost pharmaceutical companies, and said company was owned by a psychotic criminal mastermind who would not hesitate to throw everyone I ever loved into a cauldron of boiling water if he knew who I was. It'd probably be a good idea if good old Normie didn't know about my plans to deal with him until I was in a much better place to oppose him.
That wasn't the only problem with just bum-rushing in, though. For all I knew, these guards were honest men working on minimum wage for somebody who, in their eyes, was a respectable businessman with no ties to organized crime. Not only was the idea of beating up innocent people extremely distasteful to me, to put it mildly, it was also going to be another nail in the coffin for my reputation as a cold-blooded murderer just itching to kill people.
And if I was going to protect the people, it'd be helpful if they didn't immediately run away from me on sight and screaming madly about how I would gouge out their eyes and break their necks. Hearing stuff like that hurt my feelings, and I didn't like my feelings being hurt.
Sneaking into the warehouse and snatching stuff could work, but I only had two arms to carry things with, which meant that whatever I carried out would be negligible at best. If I made multiple trips in and out, I was risking a ninety percent chance that I got caught.
I made that percentage up, by the way.
My best plan so far was to create some sort of distraction that'd force the guards to leave, but the problem was that I couldn't figure out just what kind of distraction I'd do. There was also the fact if it was not effective enough, I'd probably get caught, but if it was too effective, I might accidentally kill somebody if I miscalculated. Please don't ask why.
That, however, would be a problem for me to figure out later. Checking the time on my phone, I quickly put away my binoculars and scaled down the apartment's fire escape stairs. Couldn't risk being spotted stalking the place, after all. And besides, it was about time I met with an old friend of mine...
A few minutes later...
St. Peter's Animal Heaven, Manhattan
"Who's the cutest little furball in the world? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"
With uncontrollable joy and excitement, I massaged little Daisy's furry cheeks and petted her tiny head, cooing like a baby and grinning wildly as I did so. My luttle Dalmation friend eagerly wagged her tail as I showered her with affection, a stark contrast from her quivering in fear in a dark alleyway. I did not care for the giggles of my human companion sat beside me, Daisy was just so freaking cute!!!
Aggghhh!!!!
"You really love her, don't you?" My new friend asked, a cheeky smirk on her face.
"How could anyone not?" I rhetorically asked as I turned to face Sophia with a smirk of my own.
Specifically, Sophia Sanduval: aka Chat best Spider-Man girlfriend ever. That wasn't a knock on MJ, Gwen, and the others, by the way; Sophia was best girlfriend simply because the likes of They-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named weren't able to lay their grubby hands on her. As such, there were no stories where Chat was unceremoniously fridged so that Peter could get "character growth" or where she abandoned Peter to hitch up with Paul.
"Look at these beautiful eyes, Sophia and tell me you wouldn't conquer the entire city if she told you to." I held Daisy up and pushed her right in Sophia's face, the smart little pupper taking the cue to widen her devastatingly cute puppy eyes and whine slightly.
"You got me there, Michael." Sophia laughed, and I laughed along with her as I set Daisy back on the floor so she could play with the other puppies. "All hail our new fluffy overlord, Daisy the Destroyer."
"All hail Daisy ze' Destroyer!" I said in the most stereotypical German accent I could muster before doing a rigid salute, which prompted even more laughing from the two of us.
When I'd first met Sophia today, my first thought was, Oh, wow, that's really neat! My second, much less light-hearted thought was, Oh, crap, she probably knows that I'm the Silence. If Daisy had blabbed about her savior to Sophia, which was a near certainty, then Sophia most likely knew just who exactly was sitting beside her–Scratch that, she definitely knew who I was. She interacted with every pidgeon, rat, dog, and cat in the freaking city, one of them had probably already snitched on me at this point.
Yet, from what I could tell, she didn't act like she was even slightly nervous, which could mean that she was at least okay with me. Which was good, because I'd rather befriend the girl who can talk to rats and cockroaches instead of turn her into an enemy. I'd have to be careful in how I went about interacting with her, but as long as I didn't kick any puppies or eat live pidgeons, I should be fine with her.
"I'm surprised you have the time to come visit given it's a school day." Sophia off-handedly remarked with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"First off. Hi Pot, I'm Kettle." I raised an eyebrow of my own in jest.
Sophia snorted.
"Second," I then continued, "I got my G.E.D. already, so I don't have to worry about dealing with stupid school politics."
"Really?" Sophia asked in slight surprise as she pet another puppy that had waddled over to her before grinning slightly. "I got mine too so that I could help my family with the bills and stuff. Though not having to deal with other teens is also a bonus."
"Neat." I replied with a smile as I stretched my arms over my head a little. "So is this a full-time job or do you have any other jobs you do?"
"This is a full-time thing, yeah, but I do do some odd jobs for the neighbors here and there. What about you?" She asked me in turn, taking the puppy she'd been petting into her lap.
"I work at a small electronics store near Times Square. It's not much, but it pays the rent."
"Wait, you pay rent?" Sophia's eyes widened slightly.
"Got emancipated from my parents a year ago, but no, I don't wanna talk about it." I replied with a tone that, while it brooked no argument, was hopefully not rude. I just wasn't ready to talk about my past, or rather, the past of the guy Senga had shoved me into.
"Fair enough." Sophia shrugged.
Oh, thank goodness.
"..."
Wait, am I supposed to talk now?
"..."
Oh, shoot, this feels like I'm supposed to talk now. But I can't!
"..."
Now's not the time for you to show up, social anxiety!
"..."
"So..." Sophia awkwardly spoke up, breaking the tension causing me to inwardly sigh with relief. Just a little. "What else do you wanna talk about?"
Quick, Michael, say something! Anything!
"Um... What's your favorite food?"
Anything but that, me! What the hell was that, you idiot?!
"Yes. Literally yes."
Wait... That actually worked?
"Just for clarification, that means you'll eat anything? Right?"
"As long as it tastes good."
"Heh, I think we're on the same page."
We were not, in fact, on the same page. We spent the next few minutes arguing over pickles and whether or not a radish hamburger was good with a cinammon-mayonnaise spread.
Then we exchanged numbers.
We're gonna be great friends, I can just feel it already.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Chat is best girl, for real, for real. But she can have some odd opinions on food.
Also, I'm starting to run out of good chapter title names.
Enjoy!
Issue 2.7: Me–OW!!
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 9, 2008
East Bronx, The Bronx
"What about tear gas?" Adrian suggested over the phone.
"Adrian, just where the hell am I going to get tear gas from?" I replied incredulously as I lightly sprinted through an alleyway, being careful to not drop my phone while doing so. My cheap burner phone that I was pretty sure would crack in half if I so much as breathed in its general direction wrong.
While I respected Adrian and his intelligence, I soon realized that he was a smart guy in the same way Reed Richards and Tony Stark were smart guys. Smart enough to know how to build a ray gun capable of vaporizing humans, not wise enough to refrain from building the bloody thing. Which was a bit obvious given his actions in canon, but now I was being beaten over the head about it.
Not to mention that there was also the issue that I'd potentially be gassing innocent people, which was–Do I really have to explain why this is bad? Though, Adrian probably had a different view on just how innocent they were.
"The black market." Adrian responded, as if it was just that simple.
"Adrian, you live in a small warehouse you also use as your workshop, and I'm a teenager who has to pay rent for an apartment while working a nine-to-five job." I deadpanned as I passed by a small group of tents inhabited by homeless people, the unfortunate smell of cannabis and cigarette smoke wafting in the air. "I'll be surprised if we have enough money to buy even a pistol magazine. Combined."
"You're the one who called me for advice, Silence." A slightly irritated Adrian responded. "This feels rather unappreciative of my help."
"Yeah, I do appreciate your help, mate, I'm just not feeling it." I admitted as I subtly covered my nose. "Thanks, anyways."
"You're a smart lad, I'm sure you'll think of something." Adrian replied, his words almost sounding like he was trying to reassure me. Must be the wind. "Good day."
"Good day to you too." I then hung up on Adrian before letting out a sigh and transforming back into my scary statue mode. We'd need to get more secure comms in the future. Couldn't risk wiretaps and the like.
Ugh, this whole vigilante thing was so much simpler when I was just beating up random gangsters and not worrying(at the moment) about organized crime and mad men creating supervillains. Not to mention that I had to do the opening prayer for church this Sabbath as well as help Mr. Schultz clean up the shop tomorrow; I was just so much more busy nowadays. Sometimes, I–Nggghh!!
I suddenly stumbled into a wall, the annoyingly familiar pain of a power-induced headache racking my head as I tried my best to massage it. Gosh, was I starting to get tired of this nonsense!
Thanks a lot, Obama!
After I had taken a good while to recover from the sudden migraine, as well as process my sudden knowledge in how to shoot and wield a pistol, I continued to patrol the Bronx. About fifteen minutes later, I found myself a juicy target to sling mud at.
Specifically, four little ruffians had cornered a well-dressed business man and had pushed him against a wall face-first. One of them held a razor blade to his throat, another ruffled through the man's pockets, while the last two rummaged through his briefcase. The man was begging them to let him go and saying that he had a family, which only got him a light cut on the neck and a lot of cursing for his trouble.
Naturally, this was the perfect time for me to test out my new ideas for fighting.
Peeking around the corner, I grabbed the burner phone from my pocket and mentally prepared myself. This is why you trained, you idiot, stop worrying so much.
Taking in a deep breath, I moved.
I hurled my burner phone at one of the bastards rummaging through the briefcase, their backs facing my direction. Estimated time of impact: four seconds in real time.
I blurred over to the guy with the razor and violently yanked the hand holding said razor away from the man.
Pulling the brigand behind me, making sure to stay out of his sight, I then gave a strong uppercut to the other guy holding the victim to the wall. I momentarily lost my super-speed when the thug caught a glimpse of me, but my uppercut into unconsciousness quickly remedied that.
"Aagh!!!"
The thug I'd thrown the phone at suddenly cried out, sprawling to the ground as the phone smacked him in the back of his head, his friend catching him with shocked confusion.
I ignored those two and, turning around, blurred over to the guy with the razor, who had recovered from my sudden attack. A stomp on his foot, punch to the stomach, and slap to both cheeks later, he had unrecovered from the attack and collapsed to the ground unconscious. Dusting my hands, a slight shiver went up my spine, the tell-tale warning sign of someone having spotted me. But I wasn't worried.
Turning around, I saw that the two goobers were looking at me, one quivering in his boots and staring at me with wide eyes, with the businessman fleeing the alley in the background.
"I-it's the S-silence, Frankie!" The scared one stuttered. "We've g-gotta get outta here!"
"Shut up, Paulie." His companion, the one I had bonked in the head with the now very broken phone, angrily drawled as he whipped out a pocket-knife. "I ain't runnin' from no freak."
Really? Really? This fella sees a person made out of concrete and thinks that a little blade is gonna do anything? A blind baby was smarter than this guy. A piece of kelp was smarter than this guy. A cactus was smarter–scratch that. Literally anything other than this guy was smarter than him.
"Screw that, I w-wanna live!" Frankie's friend was also clearly smarter than him, given how he swiftly booked it for the streets, not wanting any part in his friend's idiocy.
"Get back here, ya' idjit!" Frankie yelled, the pot calling the cauliflower black. Growling angrily, he turned back to me and said, "Forget the coward. I'll take ya' on my own, freak."
Whatever you wish for, Pocket-Knife Frank. I'll be sure to get you flowers for the funeral.
The two of us then stared each other down for a few seconds, a light breeze blowing a candy wrapper next to our feet. I got into a comfortable stance, not at all concerned with how the fight would go; Frank twitched and jerked his knife at me, ready to–
"Hiss!!"
Huh?
"What the–GYAARRGH!!!"
While me and Frank had been staring each other down, from out of nowhere, some random black cat had suddenly leaped onto the guy from behind and started to claw the absolute crap out of him.
"GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!!!!"
I stood there utterly stunned as the cat began to wreak havoc on Frank's face and chest, its screeches and hisses serving as its battle cry. The poor moron, having dropped his knife in the fracas, frantically struggled and grasped for the cat, his screams harmonizing with the cat's hisses. Unfortunately for him, the cat was the more agile of the two, and he ended up scraping his fists against the wall rather than the cat. Eventually, the cat had had enough and leaped off Frank's face, the guy groaning in pain as he clutched his face.
Fortunately for him, the wounds wouldn't be fatal.
Un-fortunately, he looked like a well-used scratching post for a tiger.
Dios mio.
As he moaned and groaned, I blankly stared at him, almost unable to process what had just happened.
...Did I just get kill-stealed by a cat? I dumbly thought to myself.
"Mreow!" The black cat stared up at me with expecting eyes.
I think I just got kill-stealed by a cat. Who now want me to scratch his or her head.
I, of course, did as the furry feline asked, absent-mindedly scratching it as gently as I could so that I didn't accidentally hurt it. The cat purred at my touch, rubbing its head against my hand and demanding yet more affection.
Y'know... This was probably a sign of good things to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Obama is the canonical name of the R.O.B. Michael met. Make with that what you will.
New Skill Gained: Pistols!!!
This chapter is sponsored by a chain of breakfast restaurants owned by the star of Sherlock. It's Eggs Benedict Cumberbatch.
Enjoy!
East Bronx, The Bronx
"What about tear gas?" Adrian suggested over the phone.
"Adrian, just where the hell am I going to get tear gas from?" I replied incredulously as I lightly sprinted through an alleyway, being careful to not drop my phone while doing so. My cheap burner phone that I was pretty sure would crack in half if I so much as breathed in its general direction wrong.
While I respected Adrian and his intelligence, I soon realized that he was a smart guy in the same way Reed Richards and Tony Stark were smart guys. Smart enough to know how to build a ray gun capable of vaporizing humans, not wise enough to refrain from building the bloody thing. Which was a bit obvious given his actions in canon, but now I was being beaten over the head about it.
Not to mention that there was also the issue that I'd potentially be gassing innocent people, which was–Do I really have to explain why this is bad? Though, Adrian probably had a different view on just how innocent they were.
"The black market." Adrian responded, as if it was just that simple.
"Adrian, you live in a small warehouse you also use as your workshop, and I'm a teenager who has to pay rent for an apartment while working a nine-to-five job." I deadpanned as I passed by a small group of tents inhabited by homeless people, the unfortunate smell of cannabis and cigarette smoke wafting in the air. "I'll be surprised if we have enough money to buy even a pistol magazine. Combined."
"You're the one who called me for advice, Silence." A slightly irritated Adrian responded. "This feels rather unappreciative of my help."
"Yeah, I do appreciate your help, mate, I'm just not feeling it." I admitted as I subtly covered my nose. "Thanks, anyways."
"You're a smart lad, I'm sure you'll think of something." Adrian replied, his words almost sounding like he was trying to reassure me. Must be the wind. "Good day."
"Good day to you too." I then hung up on Adrian before letting out a sigh and transforming back into my scary statue mode. We'd need to get more secure comms in the future. Couldn't risk wiretaps and the like.
Ugh, this whole vigilante thing was so much simpler when I was just beating up random gangsters and not worrying(at the moment) about organized crime and mad men creating supervillains. Not to mention that I had to do the opening prayer for church this Sabbath as well as help Mr. Schultz clean up the shop tomorrow; I was just so much more busy nowadays. Sometimes, I–Nggghh!!
I suddenly stumbled into a wall, the annoyingly familiar pain of a power-induced headache racking my head as I tried my best to massage it. Gosh, was I starting to get tired of this nonsense!
Thanks a lot, Obama!
After I had taken a good while to recover from the sudden migraine, as well as process my sudden knowledge in how to shoot and wield a pistol, I continued to patrol the Bronx. About fifteen minutes later, I found myself a juicy target to sling mud at.
Specifically, four little ruffians had cornered a well-dressed business man and had pushed him against a wall face-first. One of them held a razor blade to his throat, another ruffled through the man's pockets, while the last two rummaged through his briefcase. The man was begging them to let him go and saying that he had a family, which only got him a light cut on the neck and a lot of cursing for his trouble.
Naturally, this was the perfect time for me to test out my new ideas for fighting.
Peeking around the corner, I grabbed the burner phone from my pocket and mentally prepared myself. This is why you trained, you idiot, stop worrying so much.
Taking in a deep breath, I moved.
I hurled my burner phone at one of the bastards rummaging through the briefcase, their backs facing my direction. Estimated time of impact: four seconds in real time.
I blurred over to the guy with the razor and violently yanked the hand holding said razor away from the man.
Pulling the brigand behind me, making sure to stay out of his sight, I then gave a strong uppercut to the other guy holding the victim to the wall. I momentarily lost my super-speed when the thug caught a glimpse of me, but my uppercut into unconsciousness quickly remedied that.
"Aagh!!!"
The thug I'd thrown the phone at suddenly cried out, sprawling to the ground as the phone smacked him in the back of his head, his friend catching him with shocked confusion.
I ignored those two and, turning around, blurred over to the guy with the razor, who had recovered from my sudden attack. A stomp on his foot, punch to the stomach, and slap to both cheeks later, he had unrecovered from the attack and collapsed to the ground unconscious. Dusting my hands, a slight shiver went up my spine, the tell-tale warning sign of someone having spotted me. But I wasn't worried.
Turning around, I saw that the two goobers were looking at me, one quivering in his boots and staring at me with wide eyes, with the businessman fleeing the alley in the background.
"I-it's the S-silence, Frankie!" The scared one stuttered. "We've g-gotta get outta here!"
"Shut up, Paulie." His companion, the one I had bonked in the head with the now very broken phone, angrily drawled as he whipped out a pocket-knife. "I ain't runnin' from no freak."
Really? Really? This fella sees a person made out of concrete and thinks that a little blade is gonna do anything? A blind baby was smarter than this guy. A piece of kelp was smarter than this guy. A cactus was smarter–scratch that. Literally anything other than this guy was smarter than him.
"Screw that, I w-wanna live!" Frankie's friend was also clearly smarter than him, given how he swiftly booked it for the streets, not wanting any part in his friend's idiocy.
"Get back here, ya' idjit!" Frankie yelled, the pot calling the cauliflower black. Growling angrily, he turned back to me and said, "Forget the coward. I'll take ya' on my own, freak."
Whatever you wish for, Pocket-Knife Frank. I'll be sure to get you flowers for the funeral.
The two of us then stared each other down for a few seconds, a light breeze blowing a candy wrapper next to our feet. I got into a comfortable stance, not at all concerned with how the fight would go; Frank twitched and jerked his knife at me, ready to–
"Hiss!!"
Huh?
"What the–GYAARRGH!!!"
While me and Frank had been staring each other down, from out of nowhere, some random black cat had suddenly leaped onto the guy from behind and started to claw the absolute crap out of him.
"GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!!!!"
I stood there utterly stunned as the cat began to wreak havoc on Frank's face and chest, its screeches and hisses serving as its battle cry. The poor moron, having dropped his knife in the fracas, frantically struggled and grasped for the cat, his screams harmonizing with the cat's hisses. Unfortunately for him, the cat was the more agile of the two, and he ended up scraping his fists against the wall rather than the cat. Eventually, the cat had had enough and leaped off Frank's face, the guy groaning in pain as he clutched his face.
Fortunately for him, the wounds wouldn't be fatal.
Un-fortunately, he looked like a well-used scratching post for a tiger.
Dios mio.
As he moaned and groaned, I blankly stared at him, almost unable to process what had just happened.
...Did I just get kill-stealed by a cat? I dumbly thought to myself.
"Mreow!" The black cat stared up at me with expecting eyes.
I think I just got kill-stealed by a cat. Who now want me to scratch his or her head.
I, of course, did as the furry feline asked, absent-mindedly scratching it as gently as I could so that I didn't accidentally hurt it. The cat purred at my touch, rubbing its head against my hand and demanding yet more affection.
Y'know... This was probably a sign of good things to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Obama is the canonical name of the R.O.B. Michael met. Make with that what you will.
New Skill Gained: Pistols!!!
This chapter is sponsored by a chain of breakfast restaurants owned by the star of Sherlock. It's Eggs Benedict Cumberbatch.
Enjoy!
Awww, how adorable. You must adopt the kitty!
I hope you're not foreshadowing Black Cat herself showing up to do her super thief career.
And keep your cat safe from Felicia!
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
You'll see, my good fellow...
Barbaric Bob
The Barbaric One
- Location
- Soon to be plundering a village near you
Proof that common sense is indeed a superpower, would that stop making it common though?
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Common sense is unfortunately growing less and less common, it seems.
In the comics(at least the one Chat appeared in), apparently just being nice to the animals makes them more likely to help you. Although, Chat's good word is definitely helping.
The Chosen One (Canon)
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 12, 2008
Sanduval Residence, Manhattan
Michael clutched his saber tightly and glared at the monster in front of him, a traitor he had once foolishly called friend.
"You were the Chosen One, Sophia!" He bitterly cried out. "You were supposed to bring balance to the culinary arts, not destroy them!"
"If you are not with me, Michael," Sophia darkly muttered as she brandished her own saber, "than you are against me."
"Can't you see the madness of your ways? Deep-dish pizza is evil!"
"From my point of view, pineapple on pizza is evil."
"Then you are lost!"
"Rrraaagh!!"
"Yaarrghh!!"
Clank Clank Clank Clank Clank
The plastic lightsabers bonked against each other as Sophia and Michael made the most dignified of "Zhoom" and "Thwoom" noises and most certainly did not try their best to not grin. The duel was swift but brutal, quick but daunting as blows were exchanged. In the end, though, it was good that triumphed as Michael disarmed Sophia and forced her to the ground.
"Yield!" He ordered.
"Strike me." Sophia sneered back, a snickering crack beginning to show. "Strike me down, and I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine."
"You are my sister, Sophia!" He replied, his lips curling upward as he struggled not to laugh. "I love you!"
An awkward silence followed as the two stared at each other, desperately trying to keep it together while daring the other to laugh first.
"Sophia, dinner's ready," Sophia's mother called from downstairs, which was the straw that sent Michael and Sophia bursting into a fit of laughter.
"We got a little carried away there, didn't we?" Sophia giggled, snorting a little.
"I'd hate to see what'd happen if we really got carried away." Michael jokingly replied.
"You wanna join us for dinner, Michael?" Sophia asked as she stood up. "There's bound to be more than enough for you to eat as well."
"I'll never say no to a free dinner." Michael grinned back as the two quickly walked out of Sophia's bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Here's a little fluffy sidestory for y'all to enjoy based on the idea below.
Sanduval Residence, Manhattan
Michael clutched his saber tightly and glared at the monster in front of him, a traitor he had once foolishly called friend.
"You were the Chosen One, Sophia!" He bitterly cried out. "You were supposed to bring balance to the culinary arts, not destroy them!"
"If you are not with me, Michael," Sophia darkly muttered as she brandished her own saber, "than you are against me."
"Can't you see the madness of your ways? Deep-dish pizza is evil!"
"From my point of view, pineapple on pizza is evil."
"Then you are lost!"
"Rrraaagh!!"
"Yaarrghh!!"
Clank Clank Clank Clank Clank
The plastic lightsabers bonked against each other as Sophia and Michael made the most dignified of "Zhoom" and "Thwoom" noises and most certainly did not try their best to not grin. The duel was swift but brutal, quick but daunting as blows were exchanged. In the end, though, it was good that triumphed as Michael disarmed Sophia and forced her to the ground.
"Yield!" He ordered.
"Strike me." Sophia sneered back, a snickering crack beginning to show. "Strike me down, and I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine."
"You are my sister, Sophia!" He replied, his lips curling upward as he struggled not to laugh. "I love you!"
An awkward silence followed as the two stared at each other, desperately trying to keep it together while daring the other to laugh first.
"Sophia, dinner's ready," Sophia's mother called from downstairs, which was the straw that sent Michael and Sophia bursting into a fit of laughter.
"We got a little carried away there, didn't we?" Sophia giggled, snorting a little.
"I'd hate to see what'd happen if we really got carried away." Michael jokingly replied.
"You wanna join us for dinner, Michael?" Sophia asked as she stood up. "There's bound to be more than enough for you to eat as well."
"I'll never say no to a free dinner." Michael grinned back as the two quickly walked out of Sophia's bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Here's a little fluffy sidestory for y'all to enjoy based on the idea below.
"The shroud of the Pasta Side has fallen... Begun the Pizza War has." - Yoda probably
Barbaric Bob
The Barbaric One
- Location
- Soon to be plundering a village near you
Deep dish, pineapple, wait till they get a load of me
-Chocolate Confection Pizza, the true evil
-Chocolate Confection Pizza, the true evil
Issue 2.8: Friendship is Magic. Dark Magic.
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 15, 2008
Generic Chinese Restaurant #17, Brooklyn
Friends, true friends, are amazing. They'll be there when you need a hand to pull yourself up with or a shoulder when you need something to cry on.
"Sooo... when are you gonna propose to her?"
They're also ravenous sharks who would viciously attack at the first sign of blood in the water.
"Would it be by the beach–No, wait, what about the zoo? Give the penguins a little show, right?"
And there was a whole lot of blood for Anne to sniff out.
"For the last time, Anne, Sophia and I are not dating." I muttered for about the third time as I took another bite of my Chinese takeout, having just left Mr. Schultz's for a quick lunch break. "We're just friends."
"Uh-huh." Anne sarcastically replied over the phone. "You exchanged numbers with her, visited her home, fought with lightsabers, and ate dinner with her family, and she isn't your girlfriend? Michael, you haven't even visited my home yet, and you're my best friend. That was a date and a half, and you are, all my offense meant, freaking blind if you can't see it!"
"We met a week ago, Anne, it'd be really rushing it if she and I were dating right now." Not that I'd mind that happening, of course. But at least give it a month before suggesting that, geez!
"So you'd consider it after a month, huh?"
Shoot, I said that out loud!
I groaned into my palm at my idiocy as Anne's dastardly cackling rang out from my phone, my witch of a friend taking far too much pleasure in my suffering. "I regret ever becoming friends with you."
"And you shall continue to suffer such regret!" Anne continued to cackle before she suddenly stopped. Then, with a hesitant tone that surprised me, she said, "...Just don't ever do that for real, alright?"
Oh. Oh, that wasn't a good sign. Not good at all. I needed to head this off immediately before this could devolve into something messy and unnecessarily sad, whatever the root of it was.
"I'd never ditch you liek that, Anne." I promised her. "We're best friends forever, remember? The bracelets I got us?"
"I know that, it's just..." Anne trailed off for a second. "There's this part of me that's being a jealous idiot and saying you'll ditch our friendship. It's stupid, I know, but I just can't get rid of it. It's only been growing ever since school started, with both of us being too busy to just talk, and... well..."
Oh. When she put it that way, it made a bit too much uncomfortable sense.
"Don't worry, I understand you completely." I softly smiled as best as I could. "To tell you the truth, I've been a little worried about our friendship as well, and I think we should fix that before it goes wrong. Maybe we could hang out some time this week? You could bring Brendan as well; I need someone to tease you with."
"You do realize that'd mean war, right? And that I have a big cannon named 'Your Relationship with Sophia Sanduval' ready and loaded?" Anne mock-threateningly asked, the previous drama being forgotten as I silently sighed in relief.
"Who needs guns when I have Lockheed Martins named 'Hunk's Junk' and 'Chocolate Abs'?" I joked back as I finished the last of my takeout, throwing my trash into a nearby bin as I began to walk back to Mr. Schultz's shop.
"Oh, it's on." Anne eagerly replied, no doubt grinning madly.
"Agreed." I smirked. "You wanna go to Coney Island or the zoo?"
"I'm thinking the zoo, honestly. I don't get to go there and see the animals much anymore."
"Alright, the zoo it is. I can pay for the tickets, unless you want to split it?" I asked.
"Brendan can pay for his own ticket and so can I." Anne replied. "Just pay for yours, okay?"
"Okay. And when are we going?"
"Brendan and I should be free on Thursday, but I'll check to make sure."
"That works for me. I've gotta get back to work now, by the way, so I'll talk to you later."
"Alright. Bye, Michael!"
"Bye, Anne!"
With that, I ended the call before quickly walking over to a nearby bus stop and waiting for the next bus. As I waited for the bus, I decided to go over through the list Adrian had written for me last night again, just to make sure.
Triple-A Batteries, two microchips, some cables...
Late last night...
Toomes's Workshop
"Look here. If I were to take a right at this section and walk for a few more feet, I'm lead to right under the warehouse. The plan can work, Adrian!"
"I see that, Silence, but if you don't want to be discovered vreaking in, we'll need a distraction."
"And that's why we'll be making two, of course! One to distract, the other to enter. And I'll be helping you make them, of course. I'm not some kind of lazy freeloader, after all."
"...That is fair. But I will need more materials if we are to create them."
"I work at an electronics store, I'm sure I can buy whatever you need."
"Are you sure you have the necessary funds?"
"This isn't the black market, Adrian; and I'm not buying IED's, I'm buying stuff to make IED's with. Besides, Mr. Schultz has a policy where employees get to purchase items at a fifty percent discount, I'm sure I'll be able to get more than enough."
"And if you don't?"
"You also have money to spare, right?"
"...Sigh. How much?"
"Depends on what you need."
"I'll write down a list."
Scribble scribble scribble...
"How does this look, Silence?"
"I can afford it, yeah. When can you get all this ready?"
"If you get me the materials by tomorrow, it'll be ready by Wednesday."
"Got it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
A little foreshadowing of what's to come, and some more slice of life stuff before we get into the big end to Issue 2. Which will happen in (not-telling) updates.
Also, allow me to take the time to recommend another SI fic; specifically, Singularity, an Avengers: EMH fic by Austrichh where the Self-Insert, who has been inserted into Graviton, is determined to avoid Dr. Hall's canon madness and villainy. It's already off to a good start, in my opinion, so if you want some more fics to enjoy, I'd recommend it wholeheartedly.
This update has been sponsored by a chocolate bar shaped like a cartoon frog that is also the lead singer of a Queen tribute act. It is a Freddo Mercury.
Enjoy!
Generic Chinese Restaurant #17, Brooklyn
Friends, true friends, are amazing. They'll be there when you need a hand to pull yourself up with or a shoulder when you need something to cry on.
"Sooo... when are you gonna propose to her?"
They're also ravenous sharks who would viciously attack at the first sign of blood in the water.
"Would it be by the beach–No, wait, what about the zoo? Give the penguins a little show, right?"
And there was a whole lot of blood for Anne to sniff out.
"For the last time, Anne, Sophia and I are not dating." I muttered for about the third time as I took another bite of my Chinese takeout, having just left Mr. Schultz's for a quick lunch break. "We're just friends."
"Uh-huh." Anne sarcastically replied over the phone. "You exchanged numbers with her, visited her home, fought with lightsabers, and ate dinner with her family, and she isn't your girlfriend? Michael, you haven't even visited my home yet, and you're my best friend. That was a date and a half, and you are, all my offense meant, freaking blind if you can't see it!"
"We met a week ago, Anne, it'd be really rushing it if she and I were dating right now." Not that I'd mind that happening, of course. But at least give it a month before suggesting that, geez!
"So you'd consider it after a month, huh?"
Shoot, I said that out loud!
I groaned into my palm at my idiocy as Anne's dastardly cackling rang out from my phone, my witch of a friend taking far too much pleasure in my suffering. "I regret ever becoming friends with you."
"And you shall continue to suffer such regret!" Anne continued to cackle before she suddenly stopped. Then, with a hesitant tone that surprised me, she said, "...Just don't ever do that for real, alright?"
Oh. Oh, that wasn't a good sign. Not good at all. I needed to head this off immediately before this could devolve into something messy and unnecessarily sad, whatever the root of it was.
"I'd never ditch you liek that, Anne." I promised her. "We're best friends forever, remember? The bracelets I got us?"
"I know that, it's just..." Anne trailed off for a second. "There's this part of me that's being a jealous idiot and saying you'll ditch our friendship. It's stupid, I know, but I just can't get rid of it. It's only been growing ever since school started, with both of us being too busy to just talk, and... well..."
Oh. When she put it that way, it made a bit too much uncomfortable sense.
"Don't worry, I understand you completely." I softly smiled as best as I could. "To tell you the truth, I've been a little worried about our friendship as well, and I think we should fix that before it goes wrong. Maybe we could hang out some time this week? You could bring Brendan as well; I need someone to tease you with."
"You do realize that'd mean war, right? And that I have a big cannon named 'Your Relationship with Sophia Sanduval' ready and loaded?" Anne mock-threateningly asked, the previous drama being forgotten as I silently sighed in relief.
"Who needs guns when I have Lockheed Martins named 'Hunk's Junk' and 'Chocolate Abs'?" I joked back as I finished the last of my takeout, throwing my trash into a nearby bin as I began to walk back to Mr. Schultz's shop.
"Oh, it's on." Anne eagerly replied, no doubt grinning madly.
"Agreed." I smirked. "You wanna go to Coney Island or the zoo?"
"I'm thinking the zoo, honestly. I don't get to go there and see the animals much anymore."
"Alright, the zoo it is. I can pay for the tickets, unless you want to split it?" I asked.
"Brendan can pay for his own ticket and so can I." Anne replied. "Just pay for yours, okay?"
"Okay. And when are we going?"
"Brendan and I should be free on Thursday, but I'll check to make sure."
"That works for me. I've gotta get back to work now, by the way, so I'll talk to you later."
"Alright. Bye, Michael!"
"Bye, Anne!"
With that, I ended the call before quickly walking over to a nearby bus stop and waiting for the next bus. As I waited for the bus, I decided to go over through the list Adrian had written for me last night again, just to make sure.
Triple-A Batteries, two microchips, some cables...
Late last night...
Toomes's Workshop
"Look here. If I were to take a right at this section and walk for a few more feet, I'm lead to right under the warehouse. The plan can work, Adrian!"
"I see that, Silence, but if you don't want to be discovered vreaking in, we'll need a distraction."
"And that's why we'll be making two, of course! One to distract, the other to enter. And I'll be helping you make them, of course. I'm not some kind of lazy freeloader, after all."
"...That is fair. But I will need more materials if we are to create them."
"I work at an electronics store, I'm sure I can buy whatever you need."
"Are you sure you have the necessary funds?"
"This isn't the black market, Adrian; and I'm not buying IED's, I'm buying stuff to make IED's with. Besides, Mr. Schultz has a policy where employees get to purchase items at a fifty percent discount, I'm sure I'll be able to get more than enough."
"And if you don't?"
"You also have money to spare, right?"
"...Sigh. How much?"
"Depends on what you need."
"I'll write down a list."
Scribble scribble scribble...
"How does this look, Silence?"
"I can afford it, yeah. When can you get all this ready?"
"If you get me the materials by tomorrow, it'll be ready by Wednesday."
"Got it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
A little foreshadowing of what's to come, and some more slice of life stuff before we get into the big end to Issue 2. Which will happen in (not-telling) updates.
Also, allow me to take the time to recommend another SI fic; specifically, Singularity, an Avengers: EMH fic by Austrichh where the Self-Insert, who has been inserted into Graviton, is determined to avoid Dr. Hall's canon madness and villainy. It's already off to a good start, in my opinion, so if you want some more fics to enjoy, I'd recommend it wholeheartedly.
This update has been sponsored by a chocolate bar shaped like a cartoon frog that is also the lead singer of a Queen tribute act. It is a Freddo Mercury.
Enjoy!
True Companions who steadfastly stuck by your side until the end, not those Fair Weather Friends who abandon you when things get rough and then come back like nothing happened.
On the bright side, at least they're not loan sharks.
Aaah, such an awesome story I've read there and Avengers Earth's Mightiest Heroes show was pure unadulterated fun to watch. And it sucks of having only 2 Seasons, they deserve Season 3 or even an animated movie.Also, allow me to take the time to recommend another SI fic; specifically, Singularity, an Avengers: EMH fic by @Austrichh where the Self-Insert, who has been inserted into Graviton, is determined to avoid Dr. Hall's canon madness and villainy. It's already off to a good start, in my opinion, so if you want some more fics to enjoy, I'd recommend it wholeheartedly.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
common sense most the time is not that common nor the sensibel
It's rare in Marvel Universe nowadays and things get out of hand too much.