[From here.]As it turned out, the first thing Harvey saw was that blue and red spandex and not much else. So it looked like he was second after all. That was all well and good, though this costumed kid was probably the one out of their basement exploration group (god, it sounded like the Boy Scouts) who he knew the least
( ... )
Dent was already there, along with--oh, right, that was Peter Parker in that getup. Indy nodded at them both as he moved over to join them. "I doubt his parents named him 'Spider-Man,' either," he commented, having caught the tail end of the exchange. If the kid wanted to play his secret identity game, though, Indy wasn't going to blow his cover. At least his reasons were more understandable than "Ryuuzaki"'s.
"How much have you been filled in on?" he asked Peter. As he spoke, he took the pillowcase bag off his shoulder and unlooped the straps to pull out the miniature shield, which he extended to Peter for inspection (how well could he see in that cowl thing?). "We picked this up from a sphinx last night. Maybe tonight we'll find a tiny sword and a tiny suit of armor." He didn't need to mask the absurdity of all this, but ludicrous or not, they all ought to be on the same page.
Was that spandex? Comic-book costumes looked ridiculous on real people, probably because most of them were balding middle-aged men pretending that all it took to be a hero was some synthetic copolymers and contact lenses.
Being a real hero was hard work. The pay sucked, the press took you for granted when they needed to fill the gossip pages and ignored you the rest of the time. Same with the donors and their tax returns. Peter knew what he was talking about, even if the others didn't. Didn't make the spandex look less stupid, but it did mean he wouldn't point it out.
"Or a miniaturization ray and a pissed-off re-enactment armada." God, Dolmacher and his crew would have a field day. The million-dollar question was how long it'd take before they realized this wasn't all set up for their benefit. Probably meal #1, given the crap they were serving now.
"I'm gonna go out on a digit here and guess that makes more sense in context."
The walk down from his room had been easier than Depth Charge had anticipated- he wouldn't have been surprised if those crutches had just been to stop him charging around and busting his stitches open like an idiot rather than to ease any pain- and so he'd made pretty good time. Good enough to catch the tail-end of a faintly bizarre conversation, anyway. He'd also been expecting to find it a lot more difficult to find S.T. than it actually turned out to be. Who could miss this little group?
He stopped just a little short of S.T., giving the other three men a blatantly appraising look. A kid in red spandex and a mask (spider-themed? Tarantulas would have had a field day with this guy), a weathered-looking man in a hat (maybe he shouldn't have left his own beret back in his room, he hadn't realise it was obligatory tonight) and... oh. He knew this one. The man from the car place, weeks back. Without his bandages, too. It was kind of
( ... )
Everyone was super quick about getting to the meeting spot, it seemed. Scott was arriving at pretty much exactly the same time as S.T. (whom he realized he hadn't actually seen in person since the Doyleton trip) and a man who took the "You Gotta Have Blue Hair" rule to heart. Indiana Jones, Two-Face, and Spider-man were already there, too, and wow Scott had an unexpected brain aneurysm at the fact that mentioning those three names in the same sentence didn't faze him anymore.
He hefted the broadsword over his shoulder, partly to look impressive and partly because resting it there was easier than holding it suspended in his grip (no wonder it was such a common pose for knights and fantasy hero types - the lot of them were just too damn lazy to hold their swords properly). "I like the sound of muscle on our side," Scott remarked with a grin that betrayed his eagerness to get going and get something worthwhile done. "Is this all of us now?" he asked.
Despite the fact that the kid felt the need to hide his appearance, he turned out to be amiable enough, offering a wave and a casual response. Harvey had to try very hard to not raise an eyebrow when he was given a title rather than a name: Spider-Man. Maybe it did make sense where the kid came from, if that was his own twisted mind, but Harvey didn't really have the time to dwell on it
( ... )
The usual suspects gradually filtered in, one of them with a massive broadsword over his shoulder. Indy raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Better than nothing, at least.
He'd seen the guy with the blue hair before but couldn't remember ever speaking to him. Depth Charge. He thought wistfully of the halcyon days when people got their nicknames from their dogs rather than arachnids or (his best guess) underwater explosive devices. Indy missed those days.
This was no time to get misty-eyed, though. He replaced the shield in the bag, introduced himself with a nod to Depth Charge, and briefly studied the ring on Peter's costumed hand; it looked identical to Taylor's. They'd already learned that this group was too big to move quickly, but they could split up when they got farther on.
"Let's move, then," he said, turning to Taylor. Privately he wondered if the ring could transport this many of them at once, but there was no need to ask. They'd find out soon enough.
S.T. let the assembled groups get through names, and was about to cut things off when Indy did it for him. The anarchist bitch session could run all night if they let it, but these guys were cool. They had a job to do.
"O.K., watch and learn. Get closer, everyone, I don't know what the effective radius of this thing is." The last thing they wanted was to end up with half a compatriot on the other side. Except if it was Two-Face.
"You just smash the stone." He ran it down the untaped end of the pipe, where the threads were visible. Whatever the stone's metaphysical properties, it wasn't much harder than the dried blood that had created it, and it chipped and then crumbled like a rockslide.
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Dent was already there, along with--oh, right, that was Peter Parker in that getup. Indy nodded at them both as he moved over to join them. "I doubt his parents named him 'Spider-Man,' either," he commented, having caught the tail end of the exchange. If the kid wanted to play his secret identity game, though, Indy wasn't going to blow his cover. At least his reasons were more understandable than "Ryuuzaki"'s.
"How much have you been filled in on?" he asked Peter. As he spoke, he took the pillowcase bag off his shoulder and unlooped the straps to pull out the miniature shield, which he extended to Peter for inspection (how well could he see in that cowl thing?). "We picked this up from a sphinx last night. Maybe tonight we'll find a tiny sword and a tiny suit of armor." He didn't need to mask the absurdity of all this, but ludicrous or not, they all ought to be on the same page.
Reply
Was that spandex? Comic-book costumes looked ridiculous on real people, probably because most of them were balding middle-aged men pretending that all it took to be a hero was some synthetic copolymers and contact lenses.
Being a real hero was hard work. The pay sucked, the press took you for granted when they needed to fill the gossip pages and ignored you the rest of the time. Same with the donors and their tax returns. Peter knew what he was talking about, even if the others didn't. Didn't make the spandex look less stupid, but it did mean he wouldn't point it out.
"Or a miniaturization ray and a pissed-off re-enactment armada." God, Dolmacher and his crew would have a field day. The million-dollar question was how long it'd take before they realized this wasn't all set up for their benefit. Probably meal #1, given the crap they were serving now.
Reply
"I'm gonna go out on a digit here and guess that makes more sense in context."
The walk down from his room had been easier than Depth Charge had anticipated- he wouldn't have been surprised if those crutches had just been to stop him charging around and busting his stitches open like an idiot rather than to ease any pain- and so he'd made pretty good time. Good enough to catch the tail-end of a faintly bizarre conversation, anyway. He'd also been expecting to find it a lot more difficult to find S.T. than it actually turned out to be. Who could miss this little group?
He stopped just a little short of S.T., giving the other three men a blatantly appraising look. A kid in red spandex and a mask (spider-themed? Tarantulas would have had a field day with this guy), a weathered-looking man in a hat (maybe he shouldn't have left his own beret back in his room, he hadn't realise it was obligatory tonight) and... oh. He knew this one. The man from the car place, weeks back. Without his bandages, too. It was kind of ( ... )
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Everyone was super quick about getting to the meeting spot, it seemed. Scott was arriving at pretty much exactly the same time as S.T. (whom he realized he hadn't actually seen in person since the Doyleton trip) and a man who took the "You Gotta Have Blue Hair" rule to heart. Indiana Jones, Two-Face, and Spider-man were already there, too, and wow Scott had an unexpected brain aneurysm at the fact that mentioning those three names in the same sentence didn't faze him anymore.
He hefted the broadsword over his shoulder, partly to look impressive and partly because resting it there was easier than holding it suspended in his grip (no wonder it was such a common pose for knights and fantasy hero types - the lot of them were just too damn lazy to hold their swords properly). "I like the sound of muscle on our side," Scott remarked with a grin that betrayed his eagerness to get going and get something worthwhile done. "Is this all of us now?" he asked.
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(The comment has been removed)
He'd seen the guy with the blue hair before but couldn't remember ever speaking to him. Depth Charge. He thought wistfully of the halcyon days when people got their nicknames from their dogs rather than arachnids or (his best guess) underwater explosive devices. Indy missed those days.
This was no time to get misty-eyed, though. He replaced the shield in the bag, introduced himself with a nod to Depth Charge, and briefly studied the ring on Peter's costumed hand; it looked identical to Taylor's. They'd already learned that this group was too big to move quickly, but they could split up when they got farther on.
"Let's move, then," he said, turning to Taylor. Privately he wondered if the ring could transport this many of them at once, but there was no need to ask. They'd find out soon enough.
Reply
"O.K., watch and learn. Get closer, everyone, I don't know what the effective radius of this thing is." The last thing they wanted was to end up with half a compatriot on the other side. Except if it was Two-Face.
"You just smash the stone." He ran it down the untaped end of the pipe, where the threads were visible. Whatever the stone's metaphysical properties, it wasn't much harder than the dried blood that had created it, and it chipped and then crumbled like a rockslide.
[teleporting here]
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