Paste Pot Pete

November 28, 2018:

Black Widow and Spider-man chat in Central Park. Spiders unite.

Central Park


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Across the police scanner word had come across about a disturbance in progress that began towards the Northern end of Midtown, and raced all along the side of Central Park. A string of calls came up from thirty some cellphone callers all reporting a guy with burning feet being chased by a costumed freak.
"I think it's that spider-guy, he's chasing after some fellow whose legs are on fire, man!"
"The dude's sneakers exploded, like over and over. He landed on my cab and then flew off!"
"You shoulda seen it, they were moving so fast. It was crazy. Is there a reward?"
It had started on with a jewelry store's alarm going off, crossed the city and the park, and then ended here almost to the Financial District at the top of a lamppost right on the edge of the Central Park Dog Run where a man with rocket boots is webbed upside down with his arms crossed over his body and big globs of webbing gumming up the jet engines on his feet. But what might be the most telling is that the man in the body armor… is crying. Not nice crying, but ugly sobbing tears that run up his forehead (since he's upside down.)
And perched right beside the dangling man in the purple and green armor, is your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, crouched with a pen and paper in hand as he seems like he might have been writing something. But seems to not be doing that as much now so much as trying to comfort the captured villain.
"Aww c'mon Pete, it's not that bad. Seriously. That tech stuff you invented. That's impressive." But Pete just keeps on crying.

Natasha had gotten the alert shortly after her black sport motorcycle had left the Triskelion. Now she was on her way to the scene at a fairly high speed, with her black helmet… similar to how Stark's works… but an adapted technology that SHIELD had produced for some of its Agents. Gone are the days where Black Widow used to ride a motorcycle with no helmet, now she wears one for a multitude of reasons… from the features it has that are just so darn helpful, to the fact that SHIELD wants its 'famous' agents to show proper motorcycle safety (ugh).

Either way, the headlights of Natasha's cycle come up over a grassy hill in Central Park and the light beam briefly sweeps over Spider-man and his captured weeping willow of an armored individual.

Within moments the black cycle and black clad rider are roaring up toward where the two are and a second later, she's dismounting the bike and walking toward them with a bit of a sway in her hips, she's just naturally like that… black bodysuit, face covering sci-fi looking helmet that has 6 green glowing spider-like eyes, and a sensual sway to her steps. She approaches them, and stares, with all six green glowing eyes.

Distantly the police vehicles are coming into view, red and blue lights as they work their way up along 5th Avenue, navigating their slow way wending around the stopped cars and the wrecks… and that one burning taxi cab. That's going to be a mess. But there, with a fair amount of civilians watching and filming, Spider-Man is trying to talk down the man who is on the emotional edge of despair.
"And hey, Paste Pot Pete isn't a bad name."
Pete looks up, eyes red and running, "It's not?"
"No, heck no, c'mon, man. Did I ever tell you about some of the first guys I ever busted up? The Enforcers?"
Swallowing and sniffling, Pete shakes his head as his webbing holds him tight, twisting in the wind. "No." His voice is rough and pathetic.
"Ok, get this. They were these three guys. Worked for Fisk. They all dressed in like identical suits except for their hats. First one was Tex. And what was his thing? He had a cowboy hat. Like seriously."
Pete's lip curves up a bit, and he takes a ragged snot-filled snuffle.
"The second guy was Fancy Dan. He had a bowler. And then there was Ox. He didn't have a hat. Now what were their special powers and abilities?" Spider-Man leans over and rests a hand on Paste Pot Pete's shoulder. "Well Tex liked whips. That was it. Yay whips. That was his whole thing. Then Fancy Dan. He took a class in judo at the Y. Seriously. And Ox? Well he liked squeezing things."
Pete chuckles a little and wipes his nose on some webs then looks up at Spider-Man, "Did you catch them too?"
"Oh heck yeah. I mean, I was pretty green back then." All two years ago, "But you, Pete. You're brilliant. You could be a great scientist or engineer if you gave yourself that chance, man."
"You really think so?"
"I do."
Of course that's the moment when Natasha is making her approach and those police are getting closer. Spider-Man looks away, eyelets narrowing with a subtle whir, then he looks back towards his 'prisoner'. "I should probably get outta here, Pete. But really, try some of the educational programs while you're away. Don't waste that brain."
"Ok Spider-Man… thanks." Paste Pot Pete says as he twists slowly away.
And then there's a leap, a twist in the air, and then landing in a crouch, Spider-Man drops down right before Black Widow. And then rises up, up to his full (not so considerable height) and his mirrored lenses reflect Natasha's six green glowing eyes back at her and quieter his voice lifts aimed just at her.
"You look taller on TV."

Natasha's enhanced hearing inside the helmet has her picking up most of what Spider-man was saying to this Pete fellow and it has her smirking faintly. But when Spider-man disconnects from that interaction and swaps over to hopping and rising up in front of her she just stares at him… flatly.

A second later and her helmet is unfolding off of her face and the pieces are all separating and disappearing behind her head. Now, her face is fully visible and her red hair starts to gently sway in the chilly night time NYC air. She's 5'3" though probably a little taller with her boots on.

"You're giving the criminals pep-talks now?" She asks the young hero. "Are they not challenging you enough anymore, kid?" Her arms cross together over her stomach above her equipment-laced utility belt, she glances back to the approaching police force, then back to the Spider-man before her. "Who is he?" She asks with a tip of her chin toward the man webbed up drowning in his own bodily fluids.

Antsy, that's how she makes him feel. Or maybe it's the cops coming in and starting to take control of the situation, though they haven't spotted him quite yet. But he's antsy and she can see it as he looks over his shoulder and then turns back to her. "Pete?" He asks, "He's not like… a villain villain."
She likely might see the slight shift of features under that mask that might be a smile, but hard to read a face hidden behind there, and moreso no eyes to read despite the surprisingly expressive mirrored eyelets that shift as he speaks. "He's had a tough time, and I dunno. I get this read off him that if he had a good break… you know?"
But then the Cops sweep a look over in their direction and with a bare whisper of movement, Spider-Man leaps into the air and perches on the side of a tree trunk that keeps him in view of the Widow, but hidden from the police. "I dunno…" He looks over in Pete's general direcition, then turns back towards her as his eyelets open further. "Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think so."

Natasha is intimidating, she's been trained to be intimidating. Not maybe because of muscles, but because of her attractive appearance and the fact that most who know of her know that she's so darn deadly. Things like this make a super spy of her caliber a antsy-inducing experience.

She stands there, with forearms folded over her stomach and she just listens to the Spider while she glances back to the police as they arrive. Then she looks back to see that Spider-man has flipped his way up off the ground. He's a flighty one, to be sure. "What are you afraid of?" She asks him, bluntly. "You stopped a criminal. The Police aren't going to arrest you, kid." She says, knowing full well this to be the case considering she works with the NYPD on a daily basis practically. She knows most of the officers on a first name basis.

"You could be right about him too." She adds on the topic at-hand. "But you might be wrong also. A lot of criminals like to play the woe-card, when in fact they crave what it is they're trying to do and they don't change, if they don't want to change." She has a darker look on life than Spidey for sure.

"Ehn," Spider-Man's definitely got that New York accent, somewhere up north near the Bronx or Queens for sure. Brooklyn? Who knows? But it comes out at times like just then. "I've been shot at by a few, and sometimes they want to arrest me. There were some…" He lifts a webbed hand and waves it to the side as he stays there perched in the shadows. "Stuff going on. This guy impersonated me for a while and not all the cops get the memos, you know?" Not even to mention the Bugle thing.
But he nods to her, "I get what you're saying, Ms. Widow. Really. And I'm not going to let him go or give him a break. Right? But I can still hope he reforms." He skitters down the trunk of the tree and then drops down with a light thip-thap of shoes on the sidewalk. He takes a breath and seems to steady, though he stays to the shadows near her.
Then he tilts his head, "Wait a sec, you came out here for me for some reason? Or just, you know, coincidence?"

Natasha watches him as he drops back out of the tree and then she scans him over visually more closely, checking his suit out… or just checking the kid out? No, its definitely the suit, the other would be weird, but either way he's a young man so he'll probably hope for the other one!

She then raises her eyes up and tilts her head juuuuust a little toward the left as she stares at him. "I was on my way home from work when the call came in about a 'thing' in Central Park. This place is between my work and my home." She says to him then in response to his question before her green eyes look to the man webbed up and the police who've come to get him.

"He was impersonating you?" She asks then, her gaze refocusing on that of Spider-man and his reflective eyes that are sending double images of herself back at her. "Where did you get your gear?" She asks him bluntly then. He's a kid, who's got a fancy suit and… well, its a valid question considering her position, even if she doesn't expect a straight answer, because she knows street vigilantes all too well.

The wallcrawler goes through this moment of trying to look like he's comfortable, at ease in her presence as he rests his hands on his hips, then shifts his weight to one foot, then folds his arms and stops in mid-motion to gesture with one hand. "It was this… whole… thing." He takes a few steps, walking away from the 'scene of the crime' and letting the police handle poor Paste Pot Pete. But when he starts to tell the story of what happened he seems to come together a little more easily.
"Wilson Fisk hired this guy to trash my rep. This old spy from the Ukraine called The Chameleon." She can hear the sharpness in his voice. "He robbed a bank, went after a few friends of mine. I caught him but." He turns around to look at her as he frowns behind the mask. "Well, a lot of people still think I'm not exactly the best of people to be around."
But then she mentions the 'gear' and he twists an arm outwards, glancing at the web-shooter on his arm, but then turns the arm back and grabbing his elbow with one hand. "Ah, yeah. Home brew." But then he seems to puff up a little as if trying to give the impression of being older when he says, "From, my uhm. Workplace. At the job. I have."

"Wilson Fisk?" Natasha repeats that name, she knows all too well that man's reputation around the city but its not really in her ballpark to ever deal with him, especially without an assignment to send her in that direction. She just softly shakes her head though and moves on mentally.

A lopsided smirk is shown to the Spider-man and she just nods once to him. "Look." She starts. "You do impressive work out here, kid. I've seen you a couple times now in the past week. But be careful. Wilson Fisk is bad news… to put it like some kind of comic book cliche. If he finds any way to hurt you, he'll do it. Even if its not you, he'll find people you care about and hurt them."

A short pause and Natasha looks back to the cops before back to Spider-man once more. "Just watch yourself and any… slip ups you might not see coming. Put a call out if you need help, I know you do that tech-stuff and can announce yourself to SHIELD if needs be. Say that you need my help, and I'll come help you." Why though? Maybe she's nicer than the tabloids paint her out to be? They hate the most secretive of Avengers after all.

Now it's his turn to eyeball her as his head cocks to the side and he takes a few more steps away… just enough to reach a park bench that he leaps onto with that effortless grace and perches on the back of it. With elbows resting on his knees he balances there perfectly with just the pads of his feet somehow holding him upright more than would be normal.
"Is this a for real thing?" He asks, head tilting to the side, "Like is this you reaching out? Am I your 'asset' now like those guys in The Wire? That was pretty cool." His tone is light, joking, but weirdly enough /now/ she can tell he's watching her so warily. Maybe that humor is how he distracts others.
"Are you my very own super spy contact? Do I get a cool wrist radio and x-ray specs?" She might not quite have reached the point being able to read the way his mask shifts and moves as he speaks, though his eyes are widened and hinting towards the amused. She might even be able to realize those dimples near where his mouth should be might well indicate a smile.

All of this, all of it gets a reaction out of her that Barton would be far more familiar with… a look of 'Nice jokes, great jokes, you have the best jokes.' But ultimately she just smirks at him. "Don't make me immediately regret the offer." She says to him in her stoic tone of voice, that flawless American accent even though she's natively Russian.

Her arms uncross and she turns to glance at the criminal that the cops are pulling down, and then she glances to Spider-man again. "We arachnids have to stick together, right?" She says to him before she turns and starts to walk back toward her fancy black motorcycle. She's not the most talkative after all, also related to the Russian part of her.

"Just let me know if you need help." She does add back to him, as she's moving to get back onto her transportation wheeled rocket of awesomeness.

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