riverview | Video. Burner Phone: Spider-Man.

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Video. Burner Phone: Spider-Man. | hhhEEELP

Hey, so, need a hand — shit — damn it —

[LANGUAGE.

Also sorry, there's a THUMP-TING noise, because he clips into a light post he did noooot see in the middle of swinging over the city.

The feed spins to life, a red, white, and black masked face in instant view for a moment before the video rolls and rolls — a cement roof underfoot, as the figure stumbles with a gasp of surprise before pretty much crash-landing. The screen is black, the unseen figure moans, and then, holding achy ribs (it was a light fall, no worries, but the way this hurts way more when it didn't before is a little unnerving), he reappears again. It's the local Spider-Man, and the feed doesn't seem to want to stop shivering as the wind whistles. He swallows. Or, um, tries to, but he seems to have some trouble with that.

It's late in the afternoon, the light fading from the sky, and he's breathless from the running (swinging, climbing, panicking) he'd just done.]

Sorry! [Swallow.] Sorry. I fell, but I'm good. I'm, I'm fantastic. Never better. Don't tell Tony Stark. [An A-OK sign is held up with his fingers, the mask blissfully blank and pleasant and voice tempered into something less panicked; cool, we're in hero mode.] Uh, I was out looking for — for these two, Billy and Teddy? They haven't been around, so I was worried they'd... And then Lanie, she's this kid from the park, her mom can't find her. And I owe her, like, five front of the line amusement park coins at this point — right, not the time. But I've been scouting because her mom is seriously freaking out, and...

There were — there was this younger lady was flagging me for help. Said she hurt their ankle while she was out running, so I swung over, but it was tooootally a trap. Like, full-on 'Mouse Trap, look out, don't go for the cheese' kind of trap . And when I went to pick the lady up and take her to the hospital — [He seems to choke on the word a little, swallowing again, straining against something at his throat.] She snapped this on me, and some of their buddies jumped out to grab me once they knew it was latched and working.

[With a nervous chuckle, he shows the metal collar around his neck, which he vainly tries to claw his fingers under.

It's doing something to me. I can't see and hear things like I used to, and my strength's freakin' gone, and nothing's dialed to 11 right now. Like, it just sapped the powers right out of me. And let me tell you, swinging around when you've got no endurance and no healing factor is really scary! Indiana Jones is nuts. [A breathless laugh, brushing the situation off as easy-breezy and not an issue.] They must've thought my webshooters were a part of my powers or something, because they were were surprised when I took off like a bat out of heck. A-anyway, I'm really sorry. I didn't... I should've went after them, but I'm... I'm having a hard time focusing... a little...

This thing is, like, so uncomfortably tight. I think the clasp works like handcuffs do. [Another uncomfortable laugh that may or may not be bordering on a panic attack, as he scrapes gloved fingers against the too-tight collar again.] I can't even get the mask off.

[A pause, and he looks toward where he had swung in from — as if he's considering going back to the park, torn between common sense and his job as both a hero and perimeter guard member. "Peter, your heart rate is unnaturally high," Karen the AI says helpfully in his ear. He's trying to breathe against the fabric of the mask. His vision is blurry.

... He needs his glasses. But he doesn't own glasses anymore.

A bit more defeatedly:]

... Can anyone get this thing off and, I don't know. Figure out how it works?

Please?

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Send me your coordinates.

[Oh yes. Under the mask, his voice is just burnin' with that good ol' shame.]

... I can't, um... I can't read that.

At the moment.

It's a nice looking squiggle of letters, though, I promise!

[I'm fucking blind as a bat right now, it's great.]

( this is promising. voice pitched a little lower than it is when he's walking around without the mask on: )

Where are you?

... Shit.

[A pause.]

I mean, crap.

[Another pause.]

Somewhere high?

[Karen the handy dandy AI has thankfully mapped the area by the park, so she offers it to the poor kid instead; someone needed to throw him a bone anyway. Coordinates are sent to the other kid swiftly after, and Spider-Man seems to be talking to someone else who is definitely not there.]

Ah, thanks Karen. You're the best.

Don't. Move.

( is all the warning he gives before disconnecting the feed entirely, grabbing onto some gear and an extra tool box, using the grapple gun in his belt to get through the city faster traveling by rooftop. damian is in full robin gear--not that peter will be able to see it very well: black and yellow cape, red shirt with the "R" symbol etched into it, green domino mask, green knee high lace-up boots. .

a depowered whatever this child is supposed to be (spider-man, it said? more like spiderboy) isn't very threatening, but he's careful to keep his steps heard regardless; a taptaptap against the cement of the rooftop as he approaches from the side. )

Let me see it.

[He is curled up a little, knees pulled close, and the wiry dude definitely seems younger than he usually looks from afar — but then he looks in the guy's direction, and holds up a hand in salutations.]

Hey! Same hat.

[What's up fellow hero. But also, feel free to look at this thing. It's very akin to a turtle wrapped painfully in plastic soda rings, and Spider-Man has to keep his twitchy hands on his knees to not scrape at it again. Focus, Peter. Focus on the job.]

... Careful, we need it whole.

And don't cut my head off to do it? That's not what I had in mind.

[Oh look, a joke.]

( small, yes. robin's a few inches over five feet, thin frame and all lean muscle over bone; he carries himself with the confidence of someone at least thrice his age, getting down onto his knees a few breaths away from spiderboy with a screwdriver in hand.

no one he's familiar with has disappeared yet, but he's followed the rumors going between locals well enough. has heard a few announcements of disappearances, and if they're getting collared, depowered, that--explains a lot. keeping this piece of tech in one piece could be crucial to tracking down the ones that have been kidnapped, or freeing them successfully.

so he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, presses the tip of the screwdriver into where the collar clicked together. )

I'm not going to break it. Or you. ( a beat. ) Maybe.

I like the odds of 'maybe' more than 'definitely'.

[He cracks wise a little, because it's a great way of combating slow-festing anxiety. Just like real life! If there's anything he can forcefully convey through his alter ego, it's a sense of (albeit crumbled) confidence in being a Little Shit. But gosh, he wishes he could see what the kid actually looks like (he's definitely a 'kid', too).]

Hey, hey, watch the jugular.

[Another useless swallow that doesn't quite work.]

So — what's your thing? You've got a sweet hero name?

»Tt«. Head back, keep still. ( snarky comments are something he'd usually give back just as hard, but he's working right now, and not the be a good distraction kind of working. no, robin keeps his eyes down on the collar, pulls a few pins out of his sleeve and starts working at the opening, leaning in a bit closer to hone his ears in in the sound of metal clinking against metal.

a normal lock would take him mere moments. this one takes a bit longer, but from the way it's loosening a bit--he is getting it. )

Robin. My thing is being better than some idiot in tights who manages to get stuck in a power-inhibiting collar.

... Right. Good point, my bad.

[The figure flinches a little under the motion of his work, and he goes quiet for the rest of the miserable efforts to get the thing off. By the time it actually starts loosening, Spider-Man's hands are trembling and his eyes are pinched shut behind the mask. It takes everything in his power not to rip the thing off his head and feel free, but he is still too anxious at the thought of revealing who he is (on purpose, anyway, because, like, he knows he's shit at identities here).

He manages to find his voice, relieved that the metal isn't bruisingly tight anymore. But he still feels completely vulnerable out here, no powers, no way of defending himself other than fleeing; if he tried to fight like this, how far would he even get? It's a good thing there are other heroes around, but at the same time, there's a steep feeling of failure with every sharp ting of metal scraping metal.

A bit more sincerely, tingled with weariness:]

Thanks for the help, Robin.

Edited 2018-06-14 20:27 (UTC)

( this isn't like any tech he's ever toyed around with, and he has had his fingers in all kinds of techpots. that fact alone garners his attention. robin is careful not to break anything, working instead to ply the locking mechanism itself loose. with spiderboy being still, it's--a lot easier.

starlite lenses narrow as his attention focuses in, tongue pressed to teeth as fingers work over the lock delicately until it does finally give a click and frees itself from around the boy's neck. robin wraps fingers around the collar, pulls it off and holds it tight in a gloved hand. snapped the powers right out of this child, but robin doesn't have any to be concerned over losing. )

Don't be stupid enough to get caught and you won't need my help.

[Ah, yes, there goes the tattered remains of his pride and feelings of self-confidence for the day. It only makes sense, he wasn't really the pinnacle of either of those things before he was bit by a radioactive spider. He huffs, breathing in deep and relishing the way his throat isn't being pinched and squeezed.

He shoots ye old finger gun.]

You know, you're probably a hit at etiquette classes.

[A pause, as he looks at it from where he sits.]

... Mr. Stark's gonna have a field day with this one, I bet.

Any of that tech familiar?

Not particularly.

( but he's pulling out another device from his utility belt regardless, using it to do a quick scan of the tech and sift through the results on the glass screen. robin doesn't hand it back yet, either. this collar's his for the moment while he finishes trying to figure out what the hell it is. )

Stark?

( what did you think he was going to just hand it over once he got it off come on spiderboy. )

Yeah, Tony Stark. Iron Man. That guy.

I told him I'd bring it in for him to check out; if you want I can pass along your information to him? He's hardcore with tech. And he's been here a while, so he's pretty familiar with what they can do.

[He's not in any rush to take the tech back yet, though.]

You might not have the information in your system, to match it to anything.

New guy, right? Not that I've been here very long either, but y'know.

( iron man. and clearly someone who doesn't care about whether or not their identity is shared, or this child is just. unaware. either way. the screen on his device flashes through several pages of information, taking internal scans through the metal exterior. he adds a few notes to the side, gloved fingers tapping at the screen but robin doesn't open it up.

out on the field he doesn't have the tech to get that far into it. the scans should be enough to go off of, and it wasn't difficult to get off.

tools tucked back where they belong, and he tosses the collar on a palm. gently. )

Inform him he should keep better track of his lackeys.

[Oh, that does it. He swipes back the collar, the whites of his eyes thinning into slits.]

Oh, got it. And you can inform your handler you need work on this part of the gig where you learn how to talk like a normal person, because you suck at it. [He stands up, shaky on his feet.] You're not the first kid I've met who belittles everyone else to compensate for your inflated ego, but thanks, I always miss my early middle school years.

Have I taken up enough of your time, your almightiness?

( scans have already been collected, he doesn't need the actual device much longer. with the information he has, drake should be able to decipher what it does, how it works. and if drake can't, he'll get the tech to do it himself. no big deal.

lips part into a toothy grin regardless as he tilts his head back, gives spidey here a once-over. )

Considering I found you shaking and blinded, I'll let it go just this once. My ego is as large as is warranted. If you're taken down by something as simple as a power inhibiting collar, I wouldn't recommend irritating me.

( a hand moves down, slowly, reaches into one of the pockets to pull out a protein bar, tossing it straight for peter. )

Save your strength, you'll need it for later.

[Spider-Man glowers, letting the protein bar bounce off his suit and onto the roof.]

Nice posturing. Like I said: work on the social part of the job, Captain Egomaniac.

( can't even catch a protein bar, wow. should this guy even be in a suit. )

I don't wear this to make friends, »tt«.

[He refuses your stupid protein bar.]

And why do you wear it?

[This is an important question. Really, really important. Don't fuck it up.]

( at the beginning it was to please his father. to prove he was worthy to be his son. to be his true heir. now? now it's something more. being part of something. helping others, helping his city. keeping his kingdom and the people within it safe. )

That's none of your business.

( ain't gonna tell this loser any of that though. )

[He sighs, turns away, starts hobbling off toward the edge of the building, and casually steps off it. No worries, he's swinging down onto street level without killing himself, at least! It's scary as hell, but he's still got enough energy in him to do the usual web-slinging without dying from it.

That poor, abandoned protein bar, though.]

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Video. Burner Phone: Spider-Man. | hhhEEELP

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