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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Oh, huh. It's — maybe! There are people here who are kinda the same from home, but not completely. And there's a lady who is further along than me. I'm from 2016, so. [It's all very confusing, and also really concerning, because space travel is involved. And he's really not sure he wants to go out into space, thanks; he's already having a hell of a time on earth.] But that's, that's cool. You're a cool agent-type person. That explains the tech part.

[He sucks in a breath, strained; the collar hurts to swallow around.]

I guess I shouldn't be throwing around spoilers anyway. I don't think it really does anyone any good to stress about the future.

Yeah, no kidding, spoilers. 2016's a bit ahead of me, but — ( the strain is evident; the way he struggles to catch his breath amidst the pressure of the collar reminds her of an animal trapped by too taut a leash, desperate to find freedom. it lights a fire under her. )

Hey, hey. Don't overdo it.

( her brows wrinkle together as she tries to get a better look through the camera. )

Where are you at? I can come to you, might take me a minute but I'll get there.

[U-umm. He breathes in, pinching his eyes shut. It's definitely gonna be a hell of a mark on his neck until his healing factor can kick back on properly. But at least he has a healing factor, right? Small mercies.]

Hang on a sec. Karen, could you send her our current position?

["Of course, Peter."

Before she can ask who the heck he's talking to, there will be a new message from Spider-Man's burner phone, giving her direct coordinates to a rooftop not too far from her current position.]

I'll — I can get myself to the ground, if you need me to. I'll go slow.

[He just. He wants this mask off so bad. He's practically shaking with the need.]

( "karen" is not there. the beauty of video is that skye can see that there is, in fact, no physical person named karen currently handling the man of spiders' phone, which therefore means it's not a person but a thing currently doing the position sending. or, as skye is thrilled to think of it, a robot overlord available for help. a siri, an alexa, a google assistant — just, curiously enough, named karen.

she'd really like two things here. one, to find out exactly who decided on the name karen, and two, to get a chance to tinker with karen's programming in order to see if she can't replicate the concept.

but those things can wait, because the incoming coordinates are familiar enough that skye knows exactly where to go. )

No, stay where you are. I'll come to you. ( one hand gestures for him to sit his ass back down on the metaphorical ground; the other reaches gingerly for her jacket. ) I've been on that rooftop before, it's a great spot for ... people-watching.

( hijacking other people's wifi signals, you know, the usual. )

Give me five minutes. I'll be there, okay, just don't move.

People-watching sounds just a little creepy.

... I'll wait.

[Ah, the sweet smell of surrender. By the time she does get there, Spider-Man is currently looking more like Spider-Kid — which is to say, he's doing what Breq told him, to stave off a complete panic attack, head between his knees, arms folded over his legs.

It's a bit of a sad sight, really, and he doesn't have the spider sense to even keep track of who is approaching. He's trapped in the mask, and in a way, he can almost feel the water soaking into it from fallen rubble and pipework. But that wasn't — that was weeks ago, when the Vulture dropped a building on him. He's not there. He just has to remind himself he's not stuck, he can move just fine. But he doesn't have his powers, and something about that and not being able to rip his mask off sends waves of achy panic in his gut.

Breathe, Pete, you got this. You got this.]

( people-watching is creepy. or it could be, skye supposes, if you had creepy intentions. mostly, she just likes to take advantage of the quiet. rooftops are a great place to tether off other people's paid services and relax, a way to get out of the house without having to actually interact with people. she might be witty and conversational, but even skye likes her alone time every once in a while.

as for the self-dubbed spider-man currently on said rooftop, skye does her best to meet her quoted timeline. the building isn't far, luckily, and with just her basic toolkit it doesn't take much time at all to haul ass up the staircase and find her way up to the summit.

it does, however, leave her a little off-guard to find him so obviously in the stages of pure panic. such a sight is not very reassuring. )

Hey. ( a little louder than she might normally be, said a little further away, just to give him a heads up on her arrival, to give him time to breathe and relax now that help has arrived. eventually, she comes to kneel down next to him, hands cautiously reaching out to gently lift up the collar. there's not much give, but she manages. ) I'm gonna get you out of this, okay?

( at first glance, it's a mess. metal and technology woven together by hands that might have skill but certainly no respect for aesthetics, digging into the fabric of the suit and presumably the skin underneath. but the nice thing about metal and technology is that they're not infallible. there's always a weak point. )

We have two options, I think. I can try and brute force you out, or we can try to take this thing apart the nerd squad way. ( she's just not sure how immediately he needs out of the collar. ) Up to you.

[He shakes his head minutely.]

No brute force — [A breath.] Take however long you need, as long as it's in one piece. We gotta' get this to Mr. Stark so he can figure out how to combat it and deactivate it, and it'll take more time if it's broken apart.

[So. He'll endure whatever. Panic or not.

The flashbacks to being uncomfortably crushed in debris can suck it.]

... Thanks for coming. By the way.

Duh. ( he doesn't need to thank her. ) The not-Avengers have to stick together, right?

( to mister stark, he says, all reverence and pious appreciation for whatever authority the actual tony stark probably wields over the avengers, and skye can only shake her head, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. once upon a time, she felt that way about authority figures. nowadays? not so much... though phil coulson, she supposes, is an exception to the rule. she doesn't hero-worship, though. there's a fine line.

the collar, however, is a little less amusing. a bobby pin is fished out of a small pouch, the plastic protective end tugged off by impatient teeth that latch onto it with a firm bite; a half-minute later, and the rounded curve is completely flattened, made into a jerry-rigged pick perfect for getting into the little crevices. )

Okay, so — this thing is a fucking mess, by the way, I don't know what they were thinking beyond how to be the douchiest guys in the entire world — ( a disapproving huff under her breath, and skye angles the edge of her pick against a tri-wing screw head the likes of which haven't been used since the early eighties. it turns, but, naturally, there's something in the way preventing her from pulling it off completely. something that looks suspiciously like the alien equivalent to a seven-pin sata power cable. ) — oh, fuck me.

( super reassuring, right? )

I'm gonna pull this connector, okay? Take a deep breath.

Wait, when, what, why?

Okayokayokay.

[Ah, the mildly panicked sound of someone going through the five stages of grief. But he pinches his eyes closed behind his mask (and look how interesting, the eyes of the mask pinch closed, too, until they're just black lines on his face), and then sucks in a deep breath. Please don't kill him, he doesn't have his powers right now to survive getting nearly murdered via collar.]

( killing him would be really bad news. mostly because she's pretty sure that's grounds for winding up on a part of the moon she really doesn't feel like exploring, but also because killing a fellow good guy just isn't a good way to start her week. luckily for all involved, death is not on the agenda.

once she's satisfied that he's taken the appropriate measures to steel his nerves, skye leverages all her carefully composed strength into wrapping fingertips around the connector head and tugging. one swift yank later, and the piece dangles from her fingertips, no more useful than a piece of cardboard. )

So far so good, right?

( she doesn't realize it, but skye's let her own held breath out too. )

Now for the ... ( a pause is super reassuring, obviously. it doesn't last too long, though, before curiosity gets the better of her and her fingers press against the exposed patch of wiring. ) We'll have to snip this, I think. Which miiight, uh... shock you?

( obligate pauses in case he wants to call the whole thing off, go. )

[Oh see, that wasn't so ba—

... Of course.

He blinks, mask eyes big and rounded and almost comical, and then laughs weakly.]

Well. I, I guess you experience new things every day?

Uh huh.

( yes, positive thinking. keep that up, spider kid, because the sight of a pair of needlenose pliers heading in through your peripheral vision probably isn't the most friendly thing in the world. she's trying to be gentle, though — mostly out of questionable levels of compassion, but also because there's a minute unspoken chance that this collar is outfitted with anti-access explosives that may or may not go off if she powers it down. you know, just... casual hacker things. )

Here goes nothing.

( SUPER reassuring. but hey, a quick snip later leads to a series of short beeps and then the familiar sound of technology powering down, all of which indicates that all is well thus far. if everything's gone according to plan, anyway. )

Okay. Try ... taking it off. Pull on it here — ( gesturing to the now open gap in the collar where skye's been tinkering ) — and see if the pieces come apart.

[Oh thank god, thank god, thank god. His head didn't blow up, and he can get this thing off — just in time, too, because by the time he pulls the collar off he can barely handle the way his neck feels freed, sore but finally able to pull in air (it always could, he could always breathe, but it didn't feel like it-). But with the removal of the collar comes a strange sensation through him, rolling like waves. A tinny whistle in his ear, the firing panicked senses that aren't properly at play yet, and a nausea that nearly cripples him entirely.

Feels an awful lot like when a radioactive spider bit him. Not that Skye would know the difference between that and the collar potentially having godawful defense effects or something, sorry. He curls in on himself and hisses a breath, and that sound, that awful tinny vibrating sound grating on his eardrums — Fuck it, he needs to get this mask off him now or he's gonna lose it.

He swivels from Skye where he sits and rips off said mask, the buttons of his neck and unruly, sweaty brown hair turned to her as he sucks in a sharp breath. He's not really sure how identifiable he is from the back, but he's willing to risk outing himself to a SHIELD operative who had gotten the collar off.]

Sorry, sorry, I just need a second.

( does his reaction worry her? of course it does. she might not be super capable melinda may, but even skye understands that moments in the field can lead to extremely unexpected repercussions. for somebody to be trapped in their own suit, collared like a wild animal with tech they couldn't rip off — she knows she wouldn't have handled it well.

her concern, though, only grows the longer he stays turned away from her. his breathing is loud and ragged, sweat pooled over his shoulder blades and the back of his neck, and it sounds like he's in the middle of another panic attack by the time she manages to choke out a quick — ) — hey, hey.

( cautiously, carefully, she reaches forward, resting the palm of her hand on his shoulder. a measure of reassurance, but not so much weight or pressure as to force him to turn around. just enough that he'll know she's still there. )

It's okay. Breathe. The shitty part's over, right?

No, I'm — I'm fine. Yeah. Yes.

[Shitty part is totally over! So. Um. Why isn't it over? The answer is pretty obvious to him at this point: his body is adverse reactions to suddenly having the collar removed. And just when he thought the panic attack was bad enough — well, silver lining's at least that he's not feeling like he's about to freak out.

He just feels woefully ill.

The shoulder under her hand is trembling. His eyesight is still blurry like the good ol' days, but now the light is like... too much. Everything's a lot at once, and the ringing in his ears nearly drowns out what Skye's saying before settling on something a little more tolerable (he can hear the water in the pipes, under them, in the roof — there's a ceiling fan under Skye's legs that's on its max setting for the summer)—

He sounds a little sheepish, keeping turned away.]

Body just needs a minute to, um, re-calibrate, I think.

B-boy, didn't think this would be how the night went. You come here often?

[Peter, don't make fake meeting-in-a-bar jokes to people who aren't around your age bracket.]

( the recalibration bit she understands. he sounds like a person who's about to throw up, and she mostly just wants to be sure he doesn't pitch himself over the roof on accident as a result, because that's a thing that happens... though, in skye's experience, that's mostly for someone who's on sensory overload after one too much magic mushrooms. don't judge her, people do weird things when they're technically homeless and hanging with hackers who don't have anything better to do. )

To the roof? ( she's stifling a laugh. it seems wrong to laugh outright when he looks and sounds so damn miserable. ) Yeah, sometimes.

( she wants to keep an eye on him just in case, but she doesn't want to look like she's staring, either. so she settles for coming to sit down next to him, her gaze firmly kept outwards towards the city to allow for some modicum of privacy. )

So. Spider-Man, huh? Did you come up with that, or did somebody else get the naming rights?

[He sucks in a breath, listening to his own heartbeat (and her's) for a second. This is gonna suck; he wonders how long it'll last, because the actual transformation was a little too long for his liking last time. But hey, when he looks at his hand, there's no sign of a bite. Obviously.]

I figured I'd stay on brand until the shoe deal came through. Then I could be Nikes-Man or something.

[His breathing has at least evened out completely; he's not on the verge of hysterics, cool. And then there's a pause, because the last person he told this to barely took him seriously. He tucks his hands under his arms, feeling cold in the breeze (Mr. Stark put a heater in the suit, but he thinks maybe that would be a godawful idea). ]

Actually, I got bit by a radioactive spider.

Yeah? ( of all the ways to suddenly wake up capable of Great Things, skye figures an animal bite can't be the worst option. at least it's better than winding up in a rock cocoon. ) That probably hurt like a bitch.

( she's glad to note that the sound of his ragged breathing has calmed. it's still a bit forced, if she listens closely, like someone who's trying very hard to get their shit together — but she can't blame him, either. she'd probably be freaking out too after being locked up in a metal maniac's dog collar. )

How do spiders become radioactive, anyway? Were you urbex-ing Three Mile Island or something?

... School trip to a lab...

[Okay, look, he figures at this point he's been pathetic enough that she probably has guessed he's not very old. He takes a moment, closing his eyes and feeling relieved that the sun is setting in the distance. Less light, the better.]

I don't really know how the spider got there. I mean, to be fair, I just kind of say it was radioactive, but who knows... Either way, I figure it was some breech in their work area? [He shrugs.] I got really sick — like, I should've gone to the ER, probably. When I woke up, my vision was 20/20. Or, um. 40/40. I don't know.

I could hear a conversation outside, seven stories down, across the street.

And I could walk on my ceiling.

You know. Typical teenager things.

Aside from the spider-bite pukefest, that doesn't sound like the worst school trip in the world.

( to be totally fair, she hadn't really assumed his age until she'd seen his jawline out of the corner of her eye. that had told her she was working with someone younger, maybe late teens at the most. somebody who had an excuse for feeling as totally uncomfortable in their own skin as skye did. )

If it makes you feel any better — ( even though she knows it probably won't. ) — mine was a rock cocoon followed by a mild coma, so.

( a shrug. )

Getting superpowers, probably a solid three out of ten for me.

( THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE. )

[Yeah, I mean, the trip was nice until the whole pukefes...

Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! He has to stop himself from just totally spinning around to face her, because now he's crazy interested — another super-powered type? That's like a moth to a bug zapper, here. But the awe is definitely heavy in his voice.]

A rock cocoon? That's — What kinda' power did you get?

Yeah. Rock cocoon.

( she's pleased to see it's pulled his attentions away from how crappy his day had gone. if skye can share a little bit about herself and take some of that pain and suffering away, she feels like she really ought to do it. )

I can ... I don't know how to explain it. ( so she demonstrates. her hand stretches out, palm parallel to the roof line; after a beat, a slow wave of seismic energy rolls out towards the roof, shaking the tiles and lifting up pieces of rubble that are rocked and rolled right off towards the ground below. ) I can make things shake, I guess.

[Oh, his butt is rumbling. Nice.]

... Like an earthquake? Oooh, scary.

[But he clears his throat, feeling more like himself... albeit extremely fucking ill. But don't worry about that. Focus on the good stuff. Maybe if he does that, he won't puke on anyone's shoes.]

In a cool way, I mean... Not exactly just seismic noise, since you can use it on anything, right? Like, if you used it on someone's belly, it'd look like one of those weight-loss body-shaker thingys. Or does it only work on earth?

( skye just gives him a Look. like, son, where were you born and what life have you led that earthquake powers makes you think of weight loss fat wraps? do you need an adult? are you okay??? )

I honestly have no idea — well, I mean, I don't have super great control of it yet. It's still new to me, so trying it out on people's bodies hasn't been... totally high priority yet.

( there's a beat. )

You're way too damn skinny to need a weight-loss shake, Spider Dude.

( and then, now that she's actually, you know, seen his face. )

Okay, look, I can't just keep calling you variations on spider shit, you have to have an actual name I can program into my phone.

[Ahem.]

Spider-Man.

... Or, uh. Or Peter. Peter's... good.

[Yeah, this was doomed from the start. He gives up identity covering at this point; like, once someone catches you in the middle of an undignified panic and you both end up super-powered allies, there's little point in trying.]

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Video. Burner Phone: Spider-Man. | hhhEEELP

peter's great at confusing people, its all good

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