Summary:Spiderman goes to thwart an armored car heist and ends up encountering Sunny dispensing some stylish gunslingin' justice. Log Info:Storyteller: Peter Parker |
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You would think they would know better,
They did have the presence of mind to get a truck heavy enough to handle fifty bricks of solid gold. They did study the location, knew about the security, and had dressed for the occasion in official-looking uniforms. They had only had to shoot four people, take the gold, and hustle out while the cops picked up the pieces.
But someone had goofed, and someone had noticed that a BRANKS armored truck was driving through Soho, and since the one noticing was a certain Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, he was soon swinging over the armored truck, getting ready to land on the roof.
PM
Technically, it had been a long while since Sunny had interupted a bank heist. The last time? The criminals had been escaping on horseback…it had been quite a while ago. Now however, they were a little more updated. Of course, apparently they didn't seem to be that much smarter than back then.
The thieves might have been updated, but as the figure stepped out into road in the path of the van wrapped in a duster and a hat, they probably looked like they'd stepped out of a western movie and straight onto the street. It was an image not helped when the woman's hand snapped up and a revolver was leveled at the moving vehicle, but as the engravings on the weapon and indeed the shooter's hair begain to blaze with light? Well…something a little stranger was going on!
With the sound of a gunshot and the streaking bright light of the power-infused bullet, sure enough there was suddenly a smoking hole where the armored truck's engine would be.
PM Spider-Man had JUST landed on the roof of the vehicle when he saw the Woman With No Name step into the street. He thought, *Holy cow, she's gonna be street pizza WAIT IS THAT A GUN??*
Then she fired, and his Spider-Sense PULSED in his head. He saw the trail of the projectile punch through two inches of plate steel in front of the radiator, and sensed it penetrate the radiator, the engine block, and most likely the transmission.
He was lucky. If this had been the same model but five years or older, and the engine would have seized, stopping the vehicle abruptly and turning the rear of the vehicle into a giant Cuisinart set to PUREE. As it happens, the motor began to spray oil, the radiator spraying coolant in the engine compartment, and the engine stopped, the vehicle rolling to a quick but not immediate stop.
The two up front GOGGLED their eyes at the gal gunslinger, and one of them looked up at Spider-Man as he pulled off the roof. "What the Hell happened??" the driver asked.
Spidey dropped a web grenade into the vehicle's front compartment and said, "I dunno, man, I just got here myself!"
Then the grenade went off and the two up front were pinned to their seats by webbing.
PM
To her credit, Sunny had planned to try and stop the van from getting -too- out of control…but it skids to a sputtering stop. Huh. Lucky!
There's a twirl of the revolver in her hand before she holsters it in a smooth motion and starts to step forward. She totally ment to do that! The sudden arrival of the man on the roof has her blinking, her hand moving towards her hip for a moment before the web bomb goes off and wills the front compartment in sticky sponge-like restraints.
"What in the hell is that?"
AM Spidey looks up from the two in the cab. The others are going to wonder what happened, but the rear door can only be opened from the outside. So he shouldn't have to worry about it. He gazes down at the cowgirl and says, "Nice shootin', Tex. Or is it Texina? Anyways, nice shot. Did the job without risking anyone's life, and I'm always a big fan of that." He raised a hand in greeting. "Hey there, I'm Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. And who might you be, she of the VERY shiny six-shooters?"
AM
A chuckle, a shrug of her shoulders and a tip of her hat…truth be told, she enjoyed the chance to 'be herself'. Wasn't exactly often one could go walking down the street in a gunslinger belt anymore after all. "Sunny," she offers lightly before she steps towards the rear door and rolls her shoulders. "And I'm from Arizona…I think. Long story." A shrug, she lets one hand rest on the handle of the vehicle's rear door and tilts her head to the side as she glances up at the Spider.
"You want in on this, or shall I have this dance?"
AM Spider-Man looked at her oddly. She had that Look, the ones that he had seen on a couple of other people. The Look that says, "I am much more than I seem."
"How about I jump in if things get dicey?" He paused. "There are two guys in there with autmatic weapons. There's also 53 gold bricks in there. There's a possibility one or both may be injured. They can also hear us, as well. I don't want anyone killed. I don't like that music. But if you can do it without bloodshed…" He hops down to the street, when he can see the door and Sunny. "…be my guest."
AM
"Automatic weapons?" Sunny repeats, grinning a little and tracing her hand down her midriff to where the second revolver rests across her front. "Well…lets see if I've still got the knack, huh?" There's actually a wink leveled at the web-slinger before she reaches out with her free hand and yanks the door open. Despite the request for a lack of lethality it seems she's intending to use her gun… a point that's made in a flash as the weapon is drawn from her holster and fired so suddenly it's little more than a blink and a single sound.
There was no glow this time, no magically empowered rounds to punch through steal…just two inhuman shots leveled straight at the weapons of the men inside from someone with reflexes clearly higher than human.
Ever the fan of a little show, the revolver in her hand is once more twirled before she holsters it again. "Can't beat a classic."
AM Donny and Brandon were all ready to unload at whoever was in front of the door.
Then it opened, and the sight of a blonde woman dressed like someone out of a Western caused to hesitate. Which meant than their guns were still in their laps. Donny's, a cheap Chinese AK-47 knockoff, fractured in his hands, a bit of metal piercing his right hand. He yelped and dropped the weapon…what was left of it.
Brandon, however, had a better-made Russian version and his did not break. However, the kinetic force of Sunny's bullet was enough the drive the butt of the rifle into his groin, where it made a solid impact.
Brandon dropped the rifle, both hands clutching his groin, and falls forward onto his knees. "…eeeeeeeeee…" He hisses thinly, in a voice that is rather high for a big Welsh fellow.
Spider-Man winces visibly. "Heeeee's gonna be feeling THAT for awhile. OW."
AM
Could be worse, the next shot could very well have gone through his head. With 'brandon' down on his knees, the blonde woman turns her gaze to the disarmed Donny and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. "Hands high sweetheart. Either to surrender or to take a swing, but trust me your day can certainly get worse." She's even grinning as she says it, almost daring the mook.
Of course, that's assuming Spidey doesn't just web them both up immediately.
AM Donny looks at the beautiful blonde that shoots like "Blondie," and he raises his hands. "Just take us to jail, man. Maybe call someone for my hand? It really hurts."
Spider-Man nods. "Called them already. EMT is coming in." He looks to Sunny. "Okay. I have to ask. Where the Sam Hill did you learn to shoot like that??"
AM
"Seven-eleven," The woman answers, the response clearly amusing to the woman who technically could claim the reverse of the movie that line had spawned from. Still, Sunny steps back and adjusts her coat, finally fishing into the back pocket of her much more 'current' looking leather pants and withdrawing a crumpled pack of gum. Tossing a stick into her mouth she looks back at Spidey and then gives a dismissive wave. "Lots of practice, lots of people shooting back."
AM Spider-Man nods, then looked behind him as a cop car and ambulance turned onto the street. "We…should probably hoof it. I think the cops are going to take a dim view of you packing heat, whether it was for a good cause or not. Minimum, they'll confiscate your guns." He points down the street. "There's a little cafe over there, if you want to chat." He begins walking towards that direction—not hurrying, but not moseying either.
AM
It was true enough. They didn't really tend to have permits for divine weapons, and Sunny's firearms weren't exactly a hammer. A shrug, a nod, the blonde pulls her jacket back closed over her weapons and turns to walk away. "Might see you there then, even if I'm usually more of a 'bar' type after something like this."
Still, she'll walk as far as the nearest alleyway, then she's running and shrugging out of her gear. Odds are she'd be stashing it back in her apartment before she was going to come by the cafe.
AM Spidey keeps strolling, but is stopped by one of the cops, then heads back to unstick the guys in the cab. He forgets that every now and then. A few spritzes with the solvent, and then he makes up for lost time by webslinging his way to the cafe, a small Italian bistro with some outside tables, which are all empty at this moment.
He should probably say something about always wanting to go to this place. Sounds better than "I'm way too young to go to a bar."
AM
Drinking ages had changed a little over Sunny's life. It was a little funny to be older than many of the buildings she walked into and still getting occasionally 'carded'. Still it's a suprisingly brief amount of time until the woman returns, albeit dressed rather differently. Leathers, dusters and western theme are replaced with a far more 'normal' pair of jeans and a deep orange off-the-shoulder shirt that was about as unsubtle as everything else she'd gone about today.
Hair tied back, Sunny pushes into the space with an absent wondering if she was about to find Spiderman just sipping coffee in a corner.
AM Spider-Man is sitting at the table in the small patio next to the cafe. He is sipping from a glass of water, his mask pulled up just past his nose to make it possible. His body language does not reveal sophistication—in fact he seems a little nervous and unsure. Spotting her does not seem to relieve his tension, though, and he stands up when Sunny arrives. "Uhm, hi, Sunny. I…wasn't sure if you'd show up orr if you were just going to vanish like Clint Eastwood's character in the Good, Bad, and Ugly movie."
AM
"I mean," Sunny begins, making to take a seat for herself and shrugging. She at least, seems perfectly comfortable as she waits for service, as strange a look as anyone dining with Spider-man is going to get. "I thought about it, but then…kinda hungry." A shrug, she gives a smirk. "Well, you wanted to chat. I'm assumin' you had questions. Otherwise, just being polite?"
AM Spider-Man put his glass down. "Well, I'm chasing a quartet of felons in a faked-up armored truck, and then suddenly I meet a bonafide gunslinger in Soho. So, yes, there are questions. The first one, though, is if you want to be asked questions? Some people don't. In fact, the less they reveal about themselves, the better. So, I figured I'd ask that one first. And, to be fair, if *you* have any questions, then we can alternate. I ask you one, then you ask me one, etc., etc. Does that sound agreeable?"
AM
"You can ask," Sunny shrugs, finally recieving service enough to ask for a coffee…and a muffin. Blueberry, of course. "Can't promise I'll answer, but you can ask all the same." A pause, she tilts her head to the side. "So you're the Spider-Guy from the newspapers, huh?" she questions before chuckling a little. "Thought you'd be a little older…but I suppose shavin' stops you getting itchy under the mask?"
AM Spider-Man smiles wryly. "Opinions vary." He takes a deep breath. "Kids are turned into solders for warlords in Africe, the Middle East…when it comes right down to it, the world doesn't care how old you are. There isn't really a 'You Must Be This Old to Deal With Atrocity.' What matters is what you can do." He pauses, then asks, "Why were you dressed like that? It's almost like you were looking for a gunfight."
AM
"True enough," his answer works for Sunny, but as her coffee comes she takes the time to sip it before she gives her own response. "Nostalgia mostly, I guess. A little bit of style, flash and signiture. Same reason you're in tights. That coat is over a century old after all…although I've had to patch it up a few times, I admit."
AM Spidey raises one eyebrow. It shows through the mask. "You mean, that was what you wear when you want to go out and put yourself in harm's way to help other people?" He looks puzzled. It's not a set of red-and-blue pajamas, but it is distinctive in its own way.
AM
"Pretty much," she says with a shrug, another sip. "I mean, mask aside, any reason you couldn't do what you do in street clothing?" Sipping her drink, Sunny reaches for her muffin in afterthought. "Everyone has a little show to 'em who does this sort of thing."
AM That is a valid question. "Street clothing and styles can be traced back to owners. A distinctive costume…it sends a message to people. It lets them know who I am immediately. Like it lets them know I'm not planning to seriously hurt them. A repuation can be as much infuence as any decision you make."
AM
"Sounds like you put some thought into it," Sunny shrugs lightly and takes another bite of her treat, continuing to talk even with her mouth full. "I menf, ifts lighht…" she begins before swallowing the mouthful. "It's like my hat or my guns in a way, but…I guess I'm not as 'Friendly' as you to first glance."
Making to stand, the crumbs are dusted off on her legs before she makes to glance around. "Anyway, I figure I've got enough staring and I don't need someone snappin' a shot of me for the papers. I'll let you get back to it, and I'm sure I'll see you swinging about soon enough." With that, a wink, and a couple of bills tossed on the table, Sunny turns to leave.
AM Spidey nods, waving to her as he stands. "Take care of yourself, Sunny."
It is only when he is webslining to the next point of his patrol that he realizes they she knows more about him than he does about her. An enigma to the end, like Clint Eastwood's Blondie.
"Well…looks like Blondie has returned. Thquestion is, is it For a Few Dollars More?"