Familiar Faces

December 18, 2018:

On searching the city, Caitlin and Gwen run across a Slade Wilson.



NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Stupidey stupid stupider costume. Why didn't she add more padding when she made it back in October? Right. Time jumps. One moment it's freaking nice and fall in Brooklyn, and then suddenly snow. Thankfully, the physical exertion of movement does nicely to heat up the freezing Ghost Spider. A rope of webbing attached to her wrist provides the anchoring point for her to swing between buildings. The line snaps and with another 'Thiwp!' another rope connects to a billboard atop a five-story office complex. With a graceful tug and a flip, Gwen lands in a perch atop the board as she surveys the environment and waits for Cait to catch up.

Some of the snow atop the billboard is knocked loose from the sudden momentum and weight of a human. "Not a single corndog vendor," Gwen admits in confusion to herself. She wasn't JUST looking for food, but this New York is different than her own. Pizza? The staple food? Weird. Tapping at her ear, she says aloud over com, "Maybe pho or something instead of corndogs? It's freezing." Her breath comes out as steam from behind the mask. She had promised Cait otherwise, but the weather dictates a little different.

Her eyes narrow as she looks over the sparkling white rooftops, looking towards the figure standing on his own amidst the snow. Gwen isn't far, a building or two away at this point and across the street.


"It's not *that* bad," Caitlin assures Gwen. It is, in fact, that bad. It's cold, and a little damp, and there's wind. A perfect storm for people who don't have Cait's unusual metabolism, or who are skinny blonde girls in skintight bodysuits swinging through New York.

Also, Cait's clothing is thermally self-regulating. She adjusts the trim on the hoverbike, keeping easy pace with Gwen while not getting in the web-slinger's way. "I could do pho. Or Thai food?" she suggests, helpfully. "A little panaang curry, some spring rolls— just the thing for getting the blood pressure up," she offers.

Caitlin's vision is pretty good, but the driving snow and winds make identification difficult. Gwen's much closer than she is, anyway. "Hey, do you see that guy on the roof? What's he doing out in this weather?" she asks, a little rhetorically. "Smoke break?"


Slade's hearing is good. Very very good. And in all his many many years of experience there is one sound that's only ever been made by one creature. The hoverbike's engines aren't that unique, honestly, SHIELD has two or three of them skim by his place a week, as if reminding him they know where he lives, but… THWIP is only one guy. One guy Slade has, on multiple occasions, had to deal with. And who has, at least twice, postponed a job. Slade cocks his head to the side slightly, turning a bit so that his eye can scan over the near by roofs seeking the tell tale red and blue of… … …huh. Spiderman has a new costume. Oh goodie. Everyone's been updating ever since the new Queer Eye came out. Yeesh.

Staring straight at Gwen and Cait, Slade slowly lifts his mug to his lips and takes a long pull. Idly, his once wandering mind, immediately darts to what weaponry is close at hand, the location of his sword and lance, and if he could get to his armor in time. Nope. No he could not. Sword and lance are inside. So… just the two blades, the guns, and the grenade. Hrm. Problematic. Sip. Why is Fairchild here…? "Definitely need to see Alex." he mutters off handedly to himself.


Gwen's costume is for the most part store-brought brand fabric sewn into a white-black-pink bodysuit with hood. There are a couple enhancements, but not any thermal-regulation beyond that offered by cotton-synthetic blend fabrics. At least it makes the suit easy to repair. Over the comms she confirms back, "Do you know a good place?" Mmmm. Spring rolls.

Leaning forward a bit, she keeps watch on the man sitting alone. He's -definitely- looking this way. "Hold on, I'm gonna go over to him." It's the prerogative, right? Gotta be nosy to be a superhero. With a graceful leap off the billboard and another *thiwp!* to the building corner adjacent to the street, Spider-Gwen swings off the board, over the street, to a *crunch*y landing on the same rooftop as Slade. The web is carried off by the wind once disconnected from her wrist. "Hey," Gwen announces a few meters from Slade.

An inquisitive expression crosses her face, eyebrow raised, as if trying to place.. something.. on this man. Then it hits her, and the realization crosses the expression of the mask. "Aren't you .. .. I can't remember your name, I'm sorry. Mr.. Wilson? I think?"


Caitlin motors up behind Gwen, and her eyes open wide in alarm when Gwen identifies the man. Caitlin accelerates the vehicle, shooting forward so she catches up with Gwen before the web-slinger can get too close. "Ghost!" she says, sharply. Her hands lift from the controls a little, enough so Slade can see that she's not angling for a fight with him. There's a look of wary respect on her features, rather than the normal resolute determination she'd normally carry.

"Hi, Mr. … Deathstroke," she says, a bit lamely. "It's kinda cold out, isn'it?" she adds, for lack of something more clever to say. She beckons at Gwen, hissing softly. "C'mon, let's leave him to his smokes," she tells Gwen. "I'm sure he doesn't want us pestering him while he's just enjoying the weather, okay?"


Deathstroke takes another draw from the coffee, "I havn't smoked in decades." he drowls out in a flat deadpan voice as he shoots a cool look over his steaming mug at Caitlin. "And I have no idea who Deadstake is." he mangles the name on purpose because, well, there's a reason he wears a mask. When he's wearing one. Which he isn't currently. Respect the code, it's there for a reason after all. Sip. He then turns to look at Gwen, something like curiosity crossing his features and he takes a step her direction, glancing up and down, his eye sizing her up from toe to tip in that one glance, "So." he says after a pause, "Not Spider-Man then." another pause, "I'm sorry, have we met before?" he has an eidetic memory, he /can't/ forget faces, so he knows that he's at least never seen that costume before, but at least it's confirmation for Gwen she got the name right.


Gwen waves her hand at Cait, "It's totally okay." On her dimension, Slade is definitely an entirely different person to the public eye than here. "My father liked Slade a lot," Past tense, it feels weird to use it here. "Though you look much healthier than I remember." Reaching back into her backpack, she digs out another burner flip-phone. A whole new lot were just purchased, as it's about the only reliable way she can anonymous communicate with others. Taking a couple steps forward, she offers the phone in an open hand, "I'm Ghost Spider, call me if you see any of those rifts around."


Slade quirks a brow as he catches the past tense in the statement, "I work out a lot." he says after a long pause, "And my diet plan is ridiculous. Staying active is the key to a long life." or you know, experimental super soldier serums. But whatever. He reaches out and takes the phone, turning it this way and that and eyeing it for a moment before nodding once and tucking it away in his coat. "Ghost Spider." he says, his tone suggesting he's not entirely sure what to make of this turn of events. "I'm not usually the one saying this but… I have so many questions suddenly."


Gwen takes a couple steps back once the phone is taken, reaching behind her to finish zipping up her olive-green pack. "Yeah, I get that a lot." She looks back towards Cait's hoverbike and turns to move away, "Enjoy your coffee!" She'll have to figure out why Cait was so worried about Slade over spring rolls. And who is this Deathstroke guy? Planting a foot on the ledge, she leaps off with a thiwp! and then is off.


Slade sticks his hand in the pocket of his coat and then slowly lifts the cup of coffee to his lips once more. After a final sip he reaches up to tap his collar, "Peabody?" <Yeah boss?> "Contact Hosun. I need a deep dive and intel on a new player. Ghost Spider, active in New York, seems… new or confused. Possibly recently lost a father. I have a phone number to strip mine as well. I want it off book, quiet. Clear?" <Yeah boss. I'll tap in the kid and we'll get on it.>

Slade taps his collar again and continues to watch the Spider disappear into the distance, his eyes easily capable of peering through the distance clearly. "So many questions…." and he turns to head back inside, his mind rolling over the possibilities.

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