Summary:Silk runs into Deadpool on the proverbial clock. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Midtown is not exactly the ideal location for this kind of job, but it is what it is. Deadpool is perched up on a rooftop, a silenced sniper rifle mounted on the edge of the rooftop. The gun isn't loaded with bullets, but rather, darts. The mercenary is aiming the rifle at a building two blocks away, his masked face pressed against the scope.
At his hip is a small Walkman, playing a mixtape. The mixtape is currently banging the Peppermint Jam Remix of Tom Jones' Sexbomb, and Wade is singing along under his breath.
Silk had been practiicing 'being a hero' over the last few days. And while no large crimes had been stopped, she had assisted a few citizens with a few things, including finding a puppy dog for a sad little girl and stopping an old lady from losing control of her car and running it through the sidewalk among other things.
Now, she's webslinging with ease through the city. But, costumed people on buildings with sniper rifles is not something she's used to seeing and she spies the bright red figure easily as she twists in the air. A few near-silent weblines, and she's landing, practically barefoot on the building that Wade has chosen as his perch. The web-wrapped costumed woman moves quietly, pausing as she hears the lyrics coming from Deadpool's lips. It's not … something she ever imagined hitmen singing.
She quickly recovers, though. "Nobody is dying today on my watch, creep. Put the gun down, or we're going to have trouble," she tries.
Yeah. She's new at this.
"In go the fire, shooot me right!" Deadpool's finger moves toward the trigger, while in the distance, a guy who looks like he's straight out of the porn industry moves past the window wearing a long bathrobe and leopard print undies. Suddenly he startles.
"YOW!" The rifle is knocked off its tripod, and a dart ends up shooting out and embedding itself into the roof not more than a couple feet away. In the process, Deadpool knocks the Walkman over, causing the tape to stop playing.
"Urrrrrrgh!" he growls, and spins around angrily. "You ruined Tom Jooooeeeeeeyyyyy." The masked figure looks Silk up and down, then cocks his head to the side. "Dwayne Johnson? You've lost weight. And had gender modification surgery."
The young woman's intense brown eyes stare at Deadpool, her long black hair free. The rest of her? From the bridge of her nose to her toes, covered in webs. Costumes cost money. She has little enough. Webbing though? Organic webbing is free.
Eyes narrow, trying to ascertain whether or not Deadpool is making a joke. She is somewhat, perhaps, surprised that Deadpool does not seem to be fighting back, even if she is prepared for it. "The name is Silk. Sorry to disappoint you. But like I said. Nobody is getting shot today."
From her fingertip, a webline casts out to slam into the gun, and sticky it up, so that it's more or less problematically 'locked' into the weird position on the tripod, and the trigger itself is clogged with webbing.
"Silk." Deadpool's head is still cocked to the side, as he's trying to ascertain whether or not he should really crack another joke. "Well, I hate to break it to ya, but that gun's not loaded with -"
The words are cut off by a huge gasp, one of both surprise and alarm. Its hard to tell whether he's excited or angry! He turns to stare at his gummed up gun, then back to Silk, then back and forth two more times. "What, you just, but the, it's not, can you-" Suddenly the merc jumps to his feet, and points at Silk. "You're the other one! Th-the one Spideypants and Gw… and his definitely NOT a girlfriend because she is actually banging ME talked about!" His hands come together to press together, and it's entirely possible that he looks smitten. "Oh my god! I want to run over and give you a BIG hug! But I'm worried that you might try to punch me, or that I might get stuck to you, or, gosh, I'm so conflicted!!"
… definitely not the response she as anticipating.
Rookies.
Confusion is clear, now, and in abundance on Silk's face. It shows. And, that reveals her very likely lack of experience. Her aggression factor is quickly being depleted by Deadpool's reaction, and his words.
"Wait," she says, attempting to analyze, and figure out the situation. "You know Spider-Man? And Spider-Girl is your girlfriend?" Naturally, she thinks that Deadpool is speaking of the only other female spider she's met, not the one she's been told about.
She holds her hand up, "Not sticky, except to me. And I don't hug weirdos. I think." He has her too confused to be sure, just now.
Which begs the question, "Who are you? And why would one of Spider-Man's friends be up here trying to shoot someone?"
"Yes, I know him!" Deadpool answers, as if this were the dumbest question ever. "He's like my bestie. And actually, she goes by Spider-Woman." He says that last part with a bit of pride. He's apparently heard of a third spider-person, and is understandably assuming they were talking about Silk.
"I'm Deadpool," he tells her, before turning around and ushering her over. "Come on, come on, let me show you!" A hand darts into one of his pouches and pulls out a pair of binoculars. Pointing at the building two blocks up, he says, "Six floors down, ten windows in," and hands the binoculars to Silk.
Should she accept the offer, she'll eventually see the guy Deadpool was supposedly attempting to ice. Depending on how long she watches, there may be more to see as well.
"Deadpool," echoes Silk. "So, you advertise you murder people, and you're best friends with Spider-Man, whose probably the cities best hero?" She sounds dubious. But one thing she has going for her -is- her Silk-Sense, and it's not going off. In the least. And she correctly guesses that anything Deadpool might try to do to her she'd sense, and be able to react to before he could do it.
"Alright." Conflicted curiousity and hesitation, curiousity wins over with a mental reminder of the aforementioned, and she takes the binoculars. "And just what am I looking for?" Interestingly enough, she has little problem finding the room that he's describing to her. She might not have Peter's science knack, but the girl is quick on the uptake.
"Never judge a book by its title, Silk," Deadpool sasses. "Especially until you know the origin story."
The binoculars will show Mr. Ron Jeremy wannabe, as he steps into view to do a line of coke off a coffee table. Then, a pair of young women come by, each of them in their underwear and bearing sad, trapped expressions upon their faces.
"You know, with a name like Silk, I could easily assume that you're some kind of BDSM fetish model turned vigilante, but I'm not," Deadpool rambles. "Anywho, that… is Steve Rogers. Not the one you're probably thinking off, because that would piss people off a lot more than him whispering something like Hail HYDRA or whatever. That Steve Rogers is engaged in sex trafficking." Deadpool folds his arms while watching Silk warily.
"Alright. fine." Silk looks properly chagrined, "I'm sorry. But." She gestures to the gun. "We aren't killing him."
Then Silk does something that is absolutely sure to blow Deadpool's mind. She holds out her right hand, and shoots two webs. From two fingers. Her index finger and thumb. She passes one of the weblines to Deadpool, and before handing it over, "We'll go deal with him personally. But. No killing. Agreed?" Behind her lower face mask, her jaws move suggestive of a smile. Maybe offering him the webline is a means of extending an apology.
And, as afterthought, counters, "Silk isn't used in BDSM. My name isn't Leathr. Or, Latex. You coming?"
"Those are tranq darts, dingus," Deadpool retorts. Turns out the job didn't involve killing. At least, not on his end.
As far as Deadpool's aware, weblines come from web shooters. So yeah. Mind blown. "What the shiiiit?" he asks, before looking over at Silk with wide mask-eyes. "Do you spit venom too?? I once knew a dude who spat acidic vomit. Terrible power, really horrible codename too. He didn't make it past the sequel." He shrugs, not really willing to offer an explanation for what that means, and reaches down to grab his Walkman. He fixes it to his utility belt, then looks at the webline being offered.
"That's what you think," he quips, before grabbing the webline and hitting the play button on his Walkman. Stepping up into the roof's edge, he cracks his neck and says, "Maximum effort!" before leaping.
"No venom," Silk answers, honestly as she moves to zip along with Deadpool towards the building, and the floor where 'Steve Rogers' is with the unhappy girls. "I can make claws, though." This as much of a brag as it is a warning for him. Just in case. Though, she's certainly starting to feel she's got the hooded and costumed man all wrong, and that has her feeling a bit more open to accomodate her guilt and self-doubt.
She has to give him props for leaping without asking anything - like, how he might get up the building. She smiles to herself again, as she connects neatly and in a familiar way with the building ahead of him - she's fast. And, she's ready to provide him some support on impact, or further climbing if he needs it once there.
Two more weblines are cast, up to the floor they're going to want access too. She holds one for Deadpool.
Just before leaping, Deadpool looks directly at the camera.
(Giggity!)
"Wheeeee!" Deadpool sings, as if he's done this before, swinging through the air. He even bends his body like a pendulum to keep it from getting yanked and cracked when the webline is stretched and kills his freefall. Boots are aimed to connect with brick rather than glass, and he lands with a cushioning crouch.
"Hey, thanks!" he says, and grabs the webline as if it were a grappling wire. Then, he starts climbing up the building, hand over hand, pulling himself up. He's not as fast as her, and huffs at this. "Okay, okay, stop showing off, I'm not The Flash here."
"I'm not trying to," Silk insists, her expressive eyes looking back to Deadpool. "Just trying to get there. Are we — breaking in?" She looks uncertain. Do heroes break into windows? To save girls from a sex trafficker? Probably?
"Sorry. I'm still new at all this. Not at my abilities. But, at this - hero thing."
"Well," Deadpool answers amidst grunting as he comes up near the target window. "First thing you gotta do is get something straight. I'm not a hero. I'm like… a kinda bad guy who gets paid to fuck up even worse bad guys." He holds onto the webline, with the target window between himself and Silk. "You know, what we're about to do? Totally overkill. This douchebag isn't even powered. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't have any muscle." One hand comes free and points to his old rooftop with a thumb. "Tranq darts," he tells her, before moving that same arm into the window, elbow first, and shattering the glass.
Ladies first!
Silk takes the cue, commenting, "Just don't make me have to bring you in," as she moves like lightning into the apartment.
It's not like Cindy hasn't read stories, news, feeds, tapes, of these sorts of people in her time in the bunker.
She looks around for the man she'd seen through the binosculars. She is not, however, your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman. She is Silk.
And, as soon as she spies the man, two weblines are shot to his ankles, and she pulls, hard, fast, to yank him off his feet, and onto the floor.
"Bring me in?" Wade says to himself, incredulously. It's almost like she thinks this is a buddy cop flick. Is it a buddy cop flick? BOOK 'EM, DANNO!
The creep who happens to share a name with Captain America ends up yanked off his feet and landing on his face, shattering his nose. "Ouuuurrrrrrgh!" he cries, blood spewing out for a moment. He tries to flip around, hands on his face, which is when he suddenly finds a Deadpool leaping in, bounding over, and landing upon the guy's belly in a straddle.
"Ah ah ah!" he says, hushing the man with a finger to his lips before producing a ball gag from somewhere. The item is shoved into the creep's mouth and tied around his head, the straps pulled hard to create no shortage of discomfort.
There are five young women in the room. Possibly teenagers, most likely at least legal adults but one is likely left to wonder. It's not as if they're carrying ID. All five of them are hunched together, all of them practically naked. The large studio flat has a video camera set up, aimed toward the bed.
A webline is shot to the camera, which Silk wrenches to the side to shatter against the wall. Then, she looks over to the girls. "You're safe, now." She moves to the closet, and tosses out five oversized t-shirts for the girls that will at least provide some form of covering for now, until they get get something more fitted.
"What are you planning on doing with him?" The question is a fair one, for a buddy-cop team-up film.
Deadpool lurches the fellow upright, then drags him over to the wall, where he's shoved roughly into a cross legged and fear-stricken place.
"Nothing," says the merc. He retrieves a cell phone, takes a few pictures, then starts sending them to someone. "Job was to secure him, make sure he stays put, get paid." He reaches again into his belt, then grimaces. "Awwww fuck! I forgot my zip ties."
Deadpool doesn't even have to ask. No zip ties? Who need Zip-Ties when you have a Spider-Kind about? A few well-aimed websots later, he is effectively hogtied, but not only that, his stomach, and the side of his face are also webbed to the floor - the latter by his hair. Oh, that'll be a MESS to get out.
Silk checks back to the girls to make sure they're okay, then looks back to Deadpool. Getting paid? To be a hero? She needs money.
But, getting out of here is also on her mind. She asks him, "Is this where we call the police, then, and make our escape before they get here?"
"Oooh!" Deadpool chirps. "That'll work!" He then shakes his head to Silk. "Not quite, Silk Stockings," he quips. "They get to go to the police, or wherever they want to go. But this guy." He crouches down to rub the terrified criminal's hair. "This guy stays here." He walks back to Silk, cell phone in hand. He's apparently sent the photos via text to someone. "Waaaait for it…"
Finally, an SMS alert comes in from his bank account about money deposited by wire transfer, $5,000 USD. He shoves the phone away, then turns toward Silk, reaching to put a hand on either of her shoulders. "Our work here is finished," he says, sounding all official. "Now let's get these young ladies out of here and leave Steve Dickless Rogers here to face whatever is coming to him."