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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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Hey, Red Chief's a type of nice shoe you know.

... I wonder how I'd look with normal shoes on over my costume feet. Or maybe pants. I look pretty stylish when I throw a hoodie in the mix. But I guess that's super counter-intuitive to a secret identity?

[He gives a pause, looking off to the side. It's a relief to see potential aid, but more than that, he wants to at least make everyone not too worried about the state of things — just blabbering stupid quips at Tony has been helping ease his mind and nerves.]

Oh, there's my helper guy.

Everything's gonna be okay, Mr. Stark. I'll be there to see you in a little bit!

... Unless we can't get it off, then I'll call you and complain a ton.

[Tony opens his mouth and then just closes it again. That's really all he can ask for, isn 't it.]

Alright. Keep in touch.

[No, he's not feeling slightly overprotective, why do you ask?]

[So it goes, about two uncomfortably long hours pass — because Peter has to get everything into the backpack he left in the park (and that was scary, going back to get it, but he's not gonna tell anyone about that), and then take a skytram because he's too wigged out to try and swing around with no powers...

His senses are slowly coming back to him by the time he sits the hospital doors, and a nurse asks him if he needs to be admitted (probably the pale complexion and sweaty hair), but he just asks for Tony's room. It's all good, he's fine, it's just... allergies. Yes. Allergies. This is not at all familiar to the day he'd started developing his powers. No genetic mutation weirdness happening today. Scientifically, he tries to work through it: if the superhuman abilities are in his genetics, how the hell does it work, turning them off and back on? Really weird.

Anyways, he carefully pushes open the door to Tony's room, wondering if he's actually resting.

'Cus if he's asleep, he's just gonna sneak in and deliver the goods and let him sleep more. Cool.]

Edited 2018-06-14 22:20 (UTC)

[Tony is not, in fact, sleeping. He's restlessly poking around on his phone because he's been denied a tablet, and he glances up as he hears the door open. At the sight of Peter, something relaxes slightly in his shoulders, and he tosses him a small smile.]

Hey. Got everything worked out, huh?

[Oh, yes, everything is worked out fiiiine.]

Y-yeah. Some superhero kid named — Robin? He was a real jerk.

Anyways, here it is. [He holds out the collar, kept in one piece. Though, when Tony goes to take it, it sticks to Peter's palm for a minute and doesn't really... seem to want to come off... It will, just give it a few tugs. He blinks tiredly and rubs the back of his other hand across his brow, annoyed.] Sorry, I'm kinda fried... It's been a long afternoon.

[He's hot and cold all over and everything's too bright, and he pinches his eyes shut at the fluorescence above. A hand comes up to block it a little.]

You breathe too loud.

[Both of Tony's eyebrow lifted as he carefully peels the collar out of Peter's hand. And yeah, the kid's looking a little grey.

He hesitates a moment, then tips his head almost too casually towards the chair near his bed, currently vacated. Tony's not actually sure where Sam has got to at the moment, but he probably won't mind.]

Wanna sit for a minute? Tell me how you got this thing off. Or your friend did.

Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks.

[He staggers a little as he flops into the chair, looking relieved to be in it. The world is definitely spinning, but he swears he's gonna do his best not to hurl on any shoes.]

I couldn't see it exactly, but he had a laundry list of stuff on a utility belt. He seemed pretty smart — really bad at social interaction, though. Kind of an asshole, actually, so. Not a fan of The Robin.

But it's got a — a locking mechanism there... If you can see it...

It's all kinda blobby looking to me right now, but there's a space where he was able to use different lock-picking tools. [He motions with a finger at the device, rambling to fill the noise while Tony looks at the thing.] I just don't know what is in it to set off power and magic suppressants. Something hardcore. There weren't any needles or bits that actually went into my neck to administer anything unless they're on some crazy-small micro-level...

[Tony lets the sound wash over him as he turns the collar around in his hands. As much as he hates to say it, there's a cleverness to the design, and Tony finds himself running his fingers over as much of it as he can. Oh, this thing is getting taken to pieces as soon as he gets it back to the workshop.]

Definitely no needles. [He slips that in once it seems like Peter's wound down a bit.] Not entirely sure how it works yet, but it's not an injection. So it shouldn't still be in your bloodstream or anything.

[He glances briefly at Peter as he says it. Just in case the kid is worried.]

I'm gonna have to study this thing a bit closer. But thanks.

[He shrugs, sinking into his chair a little with his clammy hands buried in his pockets.]

You don't need to thank me... I only just brought you the thing. I didn't really... do anything helpful tonight.

[Read: Not helpful enough, not something that completely solved the kidnapping issue, which is the only way he would have been helpful enough.]

Tell the kid he did a good job, Tony.

[Sam just happens to enter then with a couple of cafeteria trays in his hands. Yes, it's some creative juggling, and yes, he's definitely fetched more than just pudding for Peter. One of the trays is Sam's, but one has pudding, a couple of cheeseburgers, some fries, and a few other things. He doesn't seem terribly bothered by the fact that Peter's occupying the chair, instead sitting down on the bed and setting Peter's tray on the bedside table. The look he gives Tony says something like He won't listen to me, but maybe he'll listen to you.]

Didn't know what kind of pudding you wanted, so I got chocolate, vanilla, and the chocolate-vanilla swirl. Figured you could do without pistachio or tapioca. Though, man, what they really need is banana with Nilla wafers.

[Aw, man, Peter's gonna feel so bad when Sam figures out he's kind of grossly sick right now. As nice as the dream of banana and Nilla wafers is, he's not sure he could handle that whole package, even if they had it. He carefully reaches out for the chocolate-vanilla swirl (best of both worlds, right), not particularly able to stop the way his fingers tremble. He's resolved to not let his teeth chatter.]

Thanks. But I didn't really have a job to do good at, exactly. It was k-kind of a trap more than anything.

[Listen to him being a contrary little bastard. Just as Sam predicted.]

Edited 2018-06-18 19:49 (UTC)

[He's here and he's in one piece, and frankly that's the most helpful thing Tony could ask for. But it's not like that's something he can say.

Instead he shoots of ghost of a smile in Sam's direction, a thin attempt at looking mock offended.]

I was just getting to it.

[He was, actually.]

Traps happen, we all fall for them sometimes. You made it out and brought information. Not really seeing a downside here.

[Sam notices the trembling hands and quietly redirects some of that food to Tony. He's probably not supposed to be eating it, but whatever, what the nurses don't know won't hurt them and Tony gets a cheeseburger. Win-win.]

I'm not a science guy, but I'm pretty sure that having one of these collars to analyze is gonna be real helpful in the long run. Way more useful than you ending up with the other captives.

[He is totally being double-teamed with inspiration here. Jeez. Can't you let someone beat themselves up in peace? Peter looks a little more at ease, though, because he's a teenager and responses plentifully to positive reinforcement. Good job, boys.

He focuses on what he can do, at least. It lessens the anxious lines on his brow as he talks.]

... Yeah. I need to — get Karen's recordings of the attack and, uh... I guess hand the snapshots of any of the kidnappers to the Perimeter Guard? All of that. Some of them wore masks, I think, but some of them didn't. And there was this bald guy who seemed to be in charge of all of them. He asks them to jump, they say how high. That kinda thing.

[Well Tony's definitely not going to complain about the sudden food shift. Getting cheeseburgers after deeply traumatic experiences is practically a habit now.

But he is at least paying more attention to Peter than the burger for the moment.]

You can probably just ask her to send it all, someone over there can make sense of it. And I'll get to work on this collar thing.

[He almost says "But it's my job, not Karen's." Which is kind of ridiculous in the grand scheme, he knows, but he feels woefully inadequate in letting his AI handle the end result. Which he shouldn't. She wouldn't mind. He surrenders to the idea with a little chuckle.]

Yeah. Yeah, that all sounds good. I should probably head out and — and... do... something. I dunno. Do the neighborhood watch thing?

[Because he looks 100% capable of doing anything other than sitting and shaking like a sweaty chihuahua.

Keep stirring that pudding uselessly in the little plastic cup, Pete, you're doing great sweety.]

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Video. Burner Phone: Spider-Man. | hhhEEELP

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