ArchivedLogs:Bio-adhesive Paste

Bio-adhesive Paste
Dramatis Personae Peter, Eric
In Absentia	2013-04-05 Peter meets Eric at a pizza place, discusses his VARIOUS TEENAGE EXCRETIONS.
Location <NYC> Queens
Home to the New York Mets and thus a fierce rivalry among baseball fans, Queens is the largest of New York's boroughs in size, and the most ethnically diverse urban area in the worlds. Many of the different neighborhoods in Queens reflect that diversity, and the various cuisines found throughout often are in keeping with the traditional backgrounds of the residents there. As evening heads towards night, the streets of New York are bustling, especially in Queens. There are a lot of drunk people, a lot of college students, and a lot of every-day people stepping back and forth. The door to P2Pizza opens and closes behind a new figure. Eric is too broad-shouldered to be the average gamer, but he doesn't seem like a frat boy either - being alone, being dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt with a windbreaker tossed over his shoulders. He glances around as he steps out of the store, then takes up a leaning stance against the wall a couple feet away from the door. He tugs his cell phone out of his pocket and frowns at the screen, finger slipping across the surface. Text, text, text. It's Queens; therefore, there is -- as one would expect -- the sound of fire sirens somewhere in the distance. Not too many; probably just a minor ruckus somewhere. Maybe some old lady got her cat caught in a tree. But then, somewhere just above the P2Pizza logo, there's a semi-loud *WHUNK*... and then the sound of someone mumbling, just out of earshot, from above. And /then/... "Whoa no way this is just /beyond/ weird," a voice says, floating somewhere above Eric's head. It's soon followed by: "Are you, like, /following/ me? Because that is totally uncool. Jim Gordon never follows /Batman/." Peter is, for today, clad in his /red/ hoodie and blue jeans; he's got on his red ski-mask, yellow buggy goggles, and -- as a new addition! -- black gloves with the fingers cut out. He's also got on those ridiculous wrist-watches of his. Also, he smells a /bit/ of char -- and, illuminated in the hot neon glow of that sign, one can make out numerous soot-marks that coat his 'uniform'. He's currently crouched on the ledge, hands clinging tightly to it, /peering/ down at Eric. Eric jumps slightly as he's addressed, hand moving quickly to his waist, where there is... nothing. He frowns, peering up at the neon sign. "What." He blinks several times and sighs, once, running a hand through his hair. "Right. Spider-kid. What are you doing up there?" he says, gesturing to the ground in front of him. "You're going to give me a headache." he grouses, leaning his head from side to side, shoulder to ear. There is a muted crunching sound from his neck as he cracks it out, and he lets out a sigh. "Mmm. What are you doing here, anyway, kid?" he asks, gruffly. Oh, right. Eric doesn't like having to crook his head up. So, Peter decides to help. By dropping off the roof. Head first. There's a THWP as he drops -- and now he's dangling in front of Eric. Upside down, ankles crossed, clutching the thread just above his hips. The silver cord connects to the extended ledge Peter had been perched on; his head is just about level with Eric's. "This is, like, my /territory/ man. My /turf/. I just saved a kitten from a fire." Then, a pause, before: "All the really big ones keep happening /after/ my curfew. S'totally bogus." The police officer focuses on Peter, his eyes flashing up and down and over him. A brief look of confusion passes over his face. "A kitten. From a... fire." he sounds somewhat incredulous, and yet confused. "Your turf." he repeats, one hand coming up to scratch at his head. Perhaps propogating the dumb cop stereotype, it takes him several moments before he adds a comment to this particularly strange remark. "The really big ones!?" Eric tosses his hands in the air, straightening up off of the wall. "Are you serious?" he shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Dude, you really need to get your head examined. Why the hell are you pretending to be a firefighter? I think they have that pretty well covered." Upside-Down Peter shrugs. "'Cuz it's awesome?" he replies, before adding: "I dunno, I mean, it's easy-peasy for me. Fly in a window, grab some peepz, fly out. They gotta get a ladder, or go up the stairs -- swing an axe, throw /one/ person over a shoulder -- s'big hassle. I've been learning about fire stuff," he adds, his swinging becoming more pronounced; like a pendulum, back and forth. "Trying to get into some classes for EMT stuff -- emergency evac -- so I don't muck it up or anything. I /like/ doing it," he adds. "So become a firefighter. Moonlighting is..." Eric shakes his head, frowning at the younger man. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at Peter and leaning in slightly. "No. Take some classes before you do some damage. Then you can save a bunch of people's lives without having to worry about killing someone because you didn't do it right, you know? That's what they taught us when I became a cop. Don't move hurt people - let the medics do it." "Man are you kidding they give you /tickets/ for using your powers; you think they're gonna /pay/ me to do my thing?" Peter asks. "I mean, I guess I could sign up and hide what I am -- but, like, screw that. I'm awesome, this is awesome, I'm not gonna stop being awesome." The mention of doing damage; /that/ makes Peter stop swinging. When he speaks, his voice is a little softer: "I'm being careful. I mean -- I know I'm not a professional. I'm only doing things if I know how to do them. But, yeah. I'm -- gonna take classes." Eric's expression tightens slightly as Peter mentions ticketing. He even lets out a soft growl of annoyance, turning away from the teenager and pacing several steps back before he turns around and approaches Peter. "Yeah, maybe they wouldn't." he says, with his voice soft. "Still. Be careful." he says, flicking his eyes up the silverish cord. This, it seems, distracts him, as his next question comes in a much more interested voice. "How the hell are you doin' that?" he drawls, squinting to see the top of it. "That must be a hell of an effort to keep steady, no?" "Huh?" Peter's head snaps down (well, up -- from Eric's perspective) to look at the cord -- then back to Eric. "Oh, that's just -- it's a bio-adhesive paste. Like..." Peter's head swings to look at the nearby trashcan; suddenly, his hand flings out, and -- THWP! -- the empty soda bottle laying next to it is *splatted*, then yanked up into Peter's palm. And in the next instant, he's giving it a loose toss, letting it arc its way back into the proper trash receptacle! "...basically, a web-pistol, I guess. It shoots cords, or even little glue-balls -- it's how I get around so fast. I can even use it to, like, carry people, or swing them around -- or glue their shoes to the floor." Peter relates this information with a casual, breezy sort of tone; as if it were all just no big deal. The fact that he's explaining how his webshooters work to a /police/ officer seems to be lost upon him. "I got /crazy/-good reflexes, so, I pretty much /never/ miss, which is why I guess I haven't broken my neck yet." "Bio-adhesive paste?" Eric tilts his head to one side, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Glue. Like... some kind of... spider-kid glue." He makes a soft 'snrk' sound and smirks at the younger man. "That's cool. That's /really/ cool, actually. You use it to swing, huh? Like... from building to building?" he says, glancing upwards at the buildings around them as if trying to visualize this. There is a pause, then Eric bursts out laughing. "Man, I wonder what the traffic cameras see. I mean, people've got to have seen you. I wonder what I'd think if I saw this..." he gestures his hands up and down Peter's clothing. "Flying across from building to building, swinging on some kind of goo-rope. Man, I don't think I'd leap to bio-adhesive paste, that's for sure. I'd leap towards thinking my medication needed to be adjusted. A lot." The force of Peter's blush can almost be /felt/ through the fabric of that mask: "They've gotten a few pictures. In the newspapers. Not a lot of publicity I guess because so much /stuff/ is happening, but -- like, I try to stick to alleyways and stuff 'cuz I know it's against the law now, but..." and here, there might just be a /puff/ of pride in his tone -- "...but /man/ if they ever decided to try to give me a ticket, I feel sorry for 'em, because, well, basically? I can /fly/." "A few pictures of your bio-adhesive paste? I should be arresting them for that." Eric teases, lightly, smirk only widening. He gives the upside-down man a bright wink and a warm chuckle. "I don't think they're going to be giving you a ticket, if you feel any better. You still have a federal arrest warrant out for you. I think that takes precedence over the fifteen dollar ticket or whatever." he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Priorities, man. We have priorities." "Yeah well I mean me and my -- wait, why would you arrest /them/ for that? That doesn't make any --" Peter's nose scrunches under the mask. His swaying comes to a complete stop; teenage gears start churning. And then: "...ohGOD, nonoNO, oh man no NOT like that," and Peter actually /crawls/ up his silver web-line, as if in a desperate attempt to escape. But he doesn't zip up all the way -- just a foot or two. The mention of a federal arrest warrant gets him to stop, at least. "...oh man they still want me for that huh... yeah. Huh," he says, thinking. "Hm. Um. Hm. I should probably... figure something out for that. But man oh /man/ I don't want the gov't knowing who I am, I mean -- no offense dude but like, Jax ticked them off and they took his kids away, I don't even want to /think/ about what they might do to me if I got uppity." Eric's smirk widens at Peter's reaction, and he flashes a wide grin, full of teeth. "Nothing good." Eric says, dryly. "And they are not happy about not being able to find you. Just... keep in mind, when you dress like this and are all over town, you might want to keep in mind just who is seeing you, and what they might want you for." Eric pauses for a second, considering. "I recommend seeing a lawyer. Someone who is mutant friendly - ask Jax. I'm sure he'll know someone. Maybe one of the lawyers on his case?" He snorts. "God knows you need one more than he did, and man does he ever need one." "A lawyer. Ohman, a /lawyer/, I'm too young to need /lawyers/ what the hell -- no you're right I totally should see a lawyer and maybe straighten this out if I can," Peter decides, and now he's nodding his masked head. "That is actually a pretty good idea, actually, yeah -- thanks!" and then Peter crawls the /rest/ of the way up that line, up to the ledge. And then... there is a 'Hup!' followed by a THWP as Peter proceeds to jump -- what appears to be an easy 20 yards into the air, off the roof of P2Pizza. A web-line hits a distant building. Peter /swings/ through the air, before catapulting himself down an alleyway -- disappearing.