Peter Parker | Spider-Man (PS4) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quipsandthwips) wrote2018-10-07 12:32 am
quipsandthwips) wrote2018-10-07 12:32 am
[PSL] The Vinsmokes vs. Spider-Man
[Peter Parker is doing fine.
Let him re-phase that: he's adapted and adjusted accordingly. Look, it hasn't been easy. Deciding to remain friends with MJ and still finding himself without an actual job or home to speak of doesn't beat losing both his mentor and his last surviving family member. There are empty spaces in his life that he tries not to linger on too long — but god, he misses May's smile, her voice, her kindnesses. It had taken so long to accept Ben's death... and now it's, just... it's hard. It's easier to just be Spider-Man for a while.
Crime doesn't sleep, after all. So yeah, homeless. That's no biggie. He's been there before. He mainly just works at FEAST with the homeless (he relates, and the new head honcho Miriam knew Peter was on the streets somehow, so he makes his keep there by volunteering. He, um. He gets to sleep in May's old office. It's... nice. There are still pictures and stuff hanging up that nobody had dared move.
So he's only sort of homeless now.
Anyway. Not important. What is important is keeping tabs on the villain activity around here. With most of the villains locked up aboard the Raft (not gonna even think about Dr. Octavius right now, because it still hurts too much), it's mainly these little obnoxious crime families and gangs; Kingpin had been the leader of all the gang activity before his arrest. And now it's this crime family. The Vinsmokes. Hard to get them arrested, and they've got so many secret strings being pulled all over. It makes for a real pain in the ass to deal with. He hasn't gotten a chance to catch the head honcho with anything criminal yet, but boy oh boy has he busted soooo many drug deals, weapons manufacturing, stolen goods deals — and so on.
Most of the grunts are easy-peasy. The literal family are all a bunch of super-powered heathens like him. Cool. He's gotten, like, three of them locked up on the Raft... only to have them somehow bought out, or released for shoddy police work, or something or another. Now there's just one locked up, but it's only a matter of time before Daddy Vinsmoke does his magic.
Ugh. He hates it.
2:30 a.m., and he's down by the docks and sticking against a nearby wall as fake money exchanges hands.]
Hey, do those work on any vending machine?
I'm dying for a bag of Doritos right about now.
Let him re-phase that: he's adapted and adjusted accordingly. Look, it hasn't been easy. Deciding to remain friends with MJ and still finding himself without an actual job or home to speak of doesn't beat losing both his mentor and his last surviving family member. There are empty spaces in his life that he tries not to linger on too long — but god, he misses May's smile, her voice, her kindnesses. It had taken so long to accept Ben's death... and now it's, just... it's hard. It's easier to just be Spider-Man for a while.
Crime doesn't sleep, after all. So yeah, homeless. That's no biggie. He's been there before. He mainly just works at FEAST with the homeless (he relates, and the new head honcho Miriam knew Peter was on the streets somehow, so he makes his keep there by volunteering. He, um. He gets to sleep in May's old office. It's... nice. There are still pictures and stuff hanging up that nobody had dared move.
So he's only sort of homeless now.
Anyway. Not important. What is important is keeping tabs on the villain activity around here. With most of the villains locked up aboard the Raft (not gonna even think about Dr. Octavius right now, because it still hurts too much), it's mainly these little obnoxious crime families and gangs; Kingpin had been the leader of all the gang activity before his arrest. And now it's this crime family. The Vinsmokes. Hard to get them arrested, and they've got so many secret strings being pulled all over. It makes for a real pain in the ass to deal with. He hasn't gotten a chance to catch the head honcho with anything criminal yet, but boy oh boy has he busted soooo many drug deals, weapons manufacturing, stolen goods deals — and so on.
Most of the grunts are easy-peasy. The literal family are all a bunch of super-powered heathens like him. Cool. He's gotten, like, three of them locked up on the Raft... only to have them somehow bought out, or released for shoddy police work, or something or another. Now there's just one locked up, but it's only a matter of time before Daddy Vinsmoke does his magic.
Ugh. He hates it.
2:30 a.m., and he's down by the docks and sticking against a nearby wall as fake money exchanges hands.]
Hey, do those work on any vending machine?
I'm dying for a bag of Doritos right about now.
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He coughs as fire licks at the wreckage of the rig; Peter Parker's no where in sight. But there is a bald man — marked with scars from past gigs — standing atop the crushed pile of metal with a sort of metal contraption bound around him. He flicks his arms — and chains whip at the air sharply. Who is it? Well, he's a new face. Civilians run screaming, and with lifeless, almost robotic eyes, the figure steps off the wreckage and starts descending on what crowd lingers.
"His will is mine."
Marcos puts his fists up, ready to rush this impossibly muscular guy with his whips that are clearly strong enough to smash skulls and break bones — and that's exactly what would have happened to his stupidly brazen self, if not for Spider-Man flying into the scene to kick the villain off the steps of FEAST and back into a smokey self-made arena.]
You've got some nerve, ruining a perfectly good morning for these people!
What crawled up your ass and died, huh?!
[... Peter's a little pissed off. The quips aren't quite without venom, as he jumps out of the way of long, flashing chains and kicks the guy hard in the chest; he doesn't quite notice the haunted, possessed look he's got yet, but he's working on it, honest. The guy nearly ran him into the asphalt, hurt a bunch of people making their way on the street, ruined the supplies for FEAST — he's not quite so ready to think maybe, just maybe, this is a puppet.]
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The amusement from the shelter is damn near palatable, and probably why Sanji's twice as quick to bite Peter's head off for assumed grievances. He and Peter have an understanding, nothing else. The guy's made good on his promises so far -- not even mentioning the burns on Sanji's face when they had healed a little too quickly. The least Sanji can do is keep his end of the bargain, then, sneaking afternoons to work on his version of May's wheat cakes (and, perhaps, occasionally ask Peter for his input. Y'know. If he's not too busy being a good samaritan to everyone else).
So maybe if all of y'all could stop making assumptions. There is nothing to see here, thanks, shitheads--
Holy shit, when the building shakes, though. His ear drums ring in time with the pot of chicken stock nearly shimmying itself straight off the stove top, and Sanji hears Gloria curse behind him as she tries to avoid getting smacked by hanging pans.]
Oi, take cover! I'm checking outside. [Giving her no time to order that he stay his ass put, Sanji darts out the doorway and through the cafeteria, to the front door, to the --
To the mess of screaming people and debris outside, what the hell. Is that a big rig just plowed on their steps? And of course Macros is wigging out about something, double timing it to Sanji's side after Bug Man kicks someone into the smoking pile.
"Sandy! I can't find Pete!"]
-- What. [Feeling his heart rate flare as he looks to the big rig with a grimmer, paled expression. No, that stupid idiot cannot be--]
Get back inside, I'm looking for him. [Not bothering to check if Marcos is gonna listen, Sanji heads straight toward the thick of the battle -- it's the best way to get to the fallen big rig and check, no matter that it's smoldering and maybe a few minutes from catching into a proper fire.]
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As Sanji searches, Spider-Man leaps, avoiding those whips that are strong enough to leave indentions in the asphalt. One hand grabs the tail end of the chain, and he yanks hard, trying to keep it taut and unusable.]
C'mon, I'm really - not into this - kind of thing...!
[Whoop, baldy snaps the chainwhip, and Spider-Man goes flying into the sky.
How're you doing down there, Sanji?
Er. Alessandro, sorry.]
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Shit, he can't even kick the trucks over to check underneath, can he? Everyone's got their eyes on the arachnid enthusiast, but all it takes is one stray hobo sniffing around the area...]
-- Oi, bastard!
[Snarling at the bald man, not a hint of fear in his face or voice.]
Take it elsewhere or I'll escort you to hell myself!
[Sanji: the master of making friends.]
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Uh—! What're—
What're you doing here?! [The whip snaps again, and he leaps from the wall just as it hits, smashing some of the red brick beneath.] Okay, not important; look at his eyes! He's barely on this planet!
[And it's pretty true. Looking into baldy's eyes seems to imply, well. That he's drugged, or under some kind of influence. He sways as he walks: aiming to hurt and maim the hero in his path, sure, but also entirely slack-faced as he goes. He says, again, "His will his mine...!" before snapping his weapon in Sanji's direction next.]
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Hell it is, then.
[Sorry, stranger. You're fuckin with the man's investment here. There's also the fact that Peter might be dead, and the furious smirk on Sanji's face is all the more unhinged for it.]
Oi. Did you see a guy my size? Brown hair? Good Samaritan? [casually stepping forward] I hope for your sake you have.
[He's spent enough times chasing after Arachnid Boy to know how to dodge, even without the usual flame and fanfare. There's a sidestep, the chain breezing past his cheek as the man picks up speed. This is fuckin stupid and risky to be pulling moves out in public, especially where all of his coworkers can see, where that idiot Spider-Man can pass judgment.
But.
Fuck it. Fuck them all. He's pissed now, and tries to stamp his shoe directly into the bald man's face.]
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Or at least that was what he was going for, because the guy somehow rolls onto his feet and instantly slashes away Peter's webshot with his chains. Despite having a gash in his forehead from Sanji's attack that is dripping blood, the dude still has all his teeth. And still is emotionless, like a puppet. The sight sends tingles up the base of Spider-Man's spine. What the hell...?
Okay, no, focus, Pete. Think of the physics behind this; what needs adjusting?]
Hey! Give him another one of those kicks — I'll be faster on the shot!
[If he hits him mid roll, knows it's gonna connect and focuses his webshooters in the right spot, then he should be able to keep the guy completely pinned. Hopefully. God, otherwise there could be some serious injuries here on top of who is already hurt or worse — and he can't let that happen...!]
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Admittedly, Sanji didn't go for full strength in front of a group of civilians, but god, he was at least hoping for a stagger. He hates it when jobs last longer than one hit. Sighing, he folds his arms and lowers his foot, giving it a shake to work out the numbness from impact.]
Ain't you a shitty charmer.
[-- And of course Spider-Man is up there, being bossy. There's another irritable look because this sounds a lot like a comedy duo act, but that doesn't stop Sanji from acquiescing. This one time -- one time -- he'll oblige, when he stands too much to lose letting this nutcase walk around free.
He tries again for a hit, this time aimed more squarely in the man's chest as he does his best to dodge those whips.]
Here -- now do your job!
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Spider-Man sends a few volts of electricity through the webs still attached to his wrists, and the guy jerks, finally fainting in his restraints. As the webhead lands near a fiery wreckage by Sanji, he gives a thumbs up — not to be funny, but because he's genuinely so fucking relieved to have this guy out of commission. Especially near FEAST. God, there's a real mess here, and he hopes there aren't any fatalities (but when does he ever get what he wants).]
Good work, man.
[No jabs, no mention of his new leaf turned toward being the 'good guy'.
Just pure relief.]
I'll handle turning him in — uh. [How the hell do you talk to one of your villainous rivals, when they're not villainous to you anymore? God, this web is not a pleasant one weaved. What have you done here, Peter Parker?] If you're feeling up to it, maybe scout for anyone in need of an ambulance? They should... be on their way.
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Sanji doesn’t.
In fact, the ramifications of sticking his nose into this mess have already turned his shoulders taunt, expression wooden when the asshole stands there giving suggestions like Sanji is his little worker bee. Fuckin spare him, there is no way in hell the superhero doesn’t recognize a crime lord’s son. And Sanji’s disguise had never meant to hide his identity from people who already knew him; just keep the general masses from expecting anything more than a run of the mill hobo.
So what the fuck is this, huh? Spider-Man’s way of reminding him he can’t do shit if he’s not brave enough to wear his own suit? Well the shithead isn’t wrong about that. Sanji can’t take a jab at him — Spider-Man is too well loved by the city to be openly hostile. Even shooting him a glare is pushing his luck, and it’s why Sanji decides not to bother.
Instead, he... smiles. Like they’re old pals. Leans in and offers Spider-Man a pat on the shoulder, with his hand remaining in place.
The palm feels uncomfortably warm, like the bottom of a pan left on the stove. Not enough to burn, but the warning is pretty damn clear. ]
‘M gonna do you a shitty solid and assume you’re not that stupid. [Keeping his voice low, smile still fixed in place ] Can’t blame a guy for being on the clock, but in case you feel like snooping later, I’ll twist your head off like a bottle cap next time we meet. So mind your shitty manners, eh?
[ :) ]
Oh. And find a kid called Peter Parker for me. You fuck it up, you die.
[ :)!! ]
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You got it, pal. I'll keep a look out.
[Then he's off, swooping in to help any of the injured. At the end of the day, there were two people in critical, two stable, and a whole boatload of more mild injury. Detective Yuri — dear sweet confidant from the police, his source of 'inside scoops' — gives him a knowing nod as they load the guy up into a high-defense van that will take him to the Raft. The bald guy, he's not saying a peep, just keeps staring and practically drooling on himself.
It's all sorts of wrong. There's a lot to this, a lot to discover. And Spider-Man is worrying that this may be a tiny army in wait, if someone's manipulating others into their bidding. He just keeps repeating it over and over: his will is my own. It's an hour before Spider-Man finally swings off, leaving the clean-up to professionals, to firefighters and clean-up crews and officers.]
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One of the volunteers with a round face and shockingly red hair, Celeste, throws her arms around the man's shoulders as he appears from down the sidewalk, in-between the construction guys still sweeping debris. Peter looks kinda worse for wear, clothes smelling like smoke, patterned here and there with soot and debris; he's got a goose-egg on his forehead and some pretty unkempt hair, but otherwise... Solid.
He winces, and puts a hand on her back.]
Owowow, careful — I got thrown pretty hard there... My back's killing me...
[He has a story at the ready, as Celeste leans back and wipes at her eyes in relief. "Alessandro and Marcos have been looking for you...! They were calling the hospitals, and — and helping with looking through any wreckage, and I thought... I thought maybe the rig hit you, and you were just... gone..." She's about to burst into more tears (emotional gal, always has been), and he just rubs circles in her back with apologies on his tongue.]
Sorry, I was hiding out during that big fight, and I — I ended up needing to help someone who was hurt, and it was kind of a blur, honestly... I'll — I'll go let 'em know I'm okay. Which way'd they go?
["Inside FEAST. Calling around hospitals. If you weren't there..." Before she can burst into more tears, he calms her with a shoulder squeeze before making his way back inside — and everyone kinda looks at him like he's a ghost at first, before relieved voices start bouncing around the facility.
Time to go let everyone know he's totally not dead?]
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So it's a relief to everyone's nerves that word spreads quickly in a place like this. The moment Peter returns and everyone already knows of it, somehow, most of them acting like they never doubted for a second he had to be alive. Just wouldn't be fair, y'know? Maybe that's how it is on this bitch of an Earth, but no, not Peter. He just... can't die that easily on 'em.
Gloria sticks her head into the kitchen -- "Sandy, Peter's in front!" -- before she heads out to greet him (and probably ride his ass for worrying the staff half the death).]
... S'not like I care, y'know. [Muttered under his breath, to no one, as the volunteer continues serving on trays what's soon to be the lunch rush, once the shelter has settled down some. Turns out people still need to eat, even when a big rig nearly rammed through the front door. He's got no time to see Peter, is his excuse. Shit knows the bastard is probably being mobbed by his legion of fans.]
... Well. [Taking a break, he leans into the oven, a brief smirk overtaking him as he listens to the jubilation in the cafeteria] Guess I owe Spider-Man doritos. [Heh]
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Peter eventually makes his way into the kitchen, smiling at him a little; he's still dressed in his slightly wartorn attire befitting a man who was nearly splattered by a big rig going 60 an hour. But with him comes a sort of fond aura (because everyone's already told him how much Sandy'd been looking high and low for him while he was missing).]
... Hey.
[And in case Sanji's worried it'll devolve immediately into sappiness:]
What's for lunch?
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[Easy to make, easy to mass produce. The fact Sanji makes it taste like food from a five star restaurant is beside the point. A closer inspection will show it's a recipe based off the loaded potato, complete with bacon, green onions, sour cream, and shredded cheese fixings for anyone who wants it. After that, he's got slices of baked bread (some with garlic and cheese, some without) stationed to the side.
Not bad, really.]
Oh, and -- Congrats on not dying, I guess. [God knows he was completely unaffected. Obviously. Twirling a ladle in his hand, Sanji glances over his shoulder, expression somehow both neutral and judgy]
You look like shit.
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[He just grins at that, making his way closer. He's gonna be vanishing again in an hour or two, after some shifts here — Yuri's gonna have the bald guy's interview for him, or whatever they managed, anyway. And Peter can ask after toxicology reports and the like. Try to figure out if there's something more to this, like that big hallucination mess back in October...
Then there's patrolling again. He usually does more night patrols than day, but crime doesn't exactly sleep when the sun's out... Until then, he can rest easier, hanging out with some of the people here as the place gets caution-taped off for a bit. It's a real shitshow out there, with some broken fire hydrants and safety inspections.]
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The bruised and wild-haired man glances up innocently.]
...
Smells really good.
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[...
Just gonna... slide him a tray?? So he can make his stupid ass a bowl?? What the fuck, dude. They probably heard you all the way in California]
How did you survive, again?
[Honestly the better question is how has Peter survived up until now. He really hopes the guy didn't get this beat up when his aunt was around]
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... When others could buy the take-out, most of the time.
[He says it just before eagerly starting to pour some soup into a bowl.
A pause.]
... And a lot of pizza coupons...
[Is he gonna start trying to slurp on soup that's still hot? Yes, yes he is.]
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that's nasty
u nasty]
Y'know, if you released the secret on how you keep that body with that diet, pretty sure you'd be rich in a year.
[Shit, even Sanji kinda wants tips. He's no slouch and would rather be shot in the back than eat Top Ramen, but intellectual curiosity has him wondering]
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It's New York City, you get over these things. Obviously.]
... It's probably a medical condition or something. I just don't gain weight. [I mean, unless he falls into a depression and lays around in a bathroom eating pizza instead of swinging around fighting crime. But when would he ever do such a thing? Jeez.] May used to keep us on the healthy foods growing up, but, uh.
Then college happened.
[He blows on his spoon, one sec.]
So there went that.
[... After a moment, his spoon lowers, though. Because as much as he's enjoying getting over almost dying, there's also — well, him and his one-track mind.]
I wonder what happened out there. I heard the guy was seriously checked out, or something... [What's something a totally normal citizen would guess?] Maybe, uh. Bath salts?
[Maybe he rode that bad boy all the way from Florida.]
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Bath salts are more a stimulant, so probably not that.
[The nice thing about working at a place like FEAST -- everyone's got an uncomfortable past they don't want advertised. It's why it works to his advantage to talk like he knows of drugs. What hobo doesn't know of bath salts?]
Bastard looked fast, but emotionally unresponsive. I've seen corpses with more energy. [A shrug]
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Because yeah, this didn't seem like... a drug thing at all, actually, or at least not a conventional one. Maybe a drug that made people obey you. He's betting there's someone — a villain, a group, a company — around town that is actually able to manipulate people. Oscorp, for all the bad crap they do, seems unlikely.
But there's a deep, dark underbelly, one he has investigated day in and day out.]
You got stuck out there? He didn't try to hurt you, did he?
[Hey, most of the time he's great at playing innocent civilian guy. He's just making sure his buddy Alessandro wasn't in grave danger while he was accompanying an injured person to the hospital. You know?]
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[That is not an answer; Sanji doesn't feel like providing one, either. Instead what Peter gets is a scoff as Sanji starts loading up bowls with soup, for the lunch rush to come take.]
Next time don't fuckin' wander near big rigs trying to drive into our building and Gloria won't send me looking for you in the middle of shit storm.
[So, maybe the bald asshole took a few swings at him. Maybe.]
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But at that, he smiles behind the spoon, a crinkle to his eyes that says 'you're full of shit'.]
... Sorry for worrying you, shit head.
[Awww, look at that. Boy scout is using language you taught him.]
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