[GLaDOS, Peter, Duo] Back in black.

[notawastedlife]

Around the station, people fought for their lives. Shots rang out, punctuated by the occasional fall of a body, accompanied by the distressed moan of a dead body forced back into life and then torn apart by lead. The synthetic chirp of "I dooOOn't haate yoouuu," fading under it. Lasers flared across hallways, grids threatening to cut apart anyone

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[daretodo]

In no position to be worried about secret identities -- I mean, there's webbing hanging everywhere, for crying out loud, and it sure as hell didn't come from anyone else -- I pull off the remains of my torn sweater, since it's only bound to get in the way from here on out. Underneath, I have on only my new suit -- form-fitting black Kevlar reinforced with steel mesh, an abstract dark red spider decal stretching across my shoulders and torso. Shock Sheet inserts protect my joints while maintaining my flexibility, and the motorcycle boots pilfered -- and extensively modified -- from the clothes box are a hell of a change from my spandex booties of yesteryear.

I'd look pretty slick, is my thinking, if I weren't still wearing my jeans over top, my mask and gloves shoved into my pockets, and standing next to a guy who's in a suit made out of gold-titanium alloyHis is the more impressive feat of engineering, no doubt about it. Maybe it doesn't hold a candle to the Iron Man armor in my universe, but with the materials at his disposal and

[daretodo]

"Wait, is this another Captain Kirk thing?" I ask, scrambling to my feet, and immediately going into a backwards handspring in an effort to get out of reach of an overly friendly cyborg. This has the fortuitous advantage of kicking it in the face while I make my exit, but I botch the landing by smacking my head against the wall.

Shaking it off, I have just enough time to dart to the side when a claw comes right at my face, though I'm not quick enough to block the punch it lands on my gut, knocking me breathless. In a move driven by instinct, I draw up my leg, pressing my foot flat against its abdomen to push it out of my way, give me a little more space to work with.

"All new universe means an all new man-loving you? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but now I just feel dumb for not cluing into the whole goatee thing earlier."

[notawastedlife]

"He was a girl!" Tony snapped, as a cyborg's arm did the same; he threw his other arm in front of one that had just raised an arm with a machine gun built into it, the flaps he used for steering in the air doubling as an impromptu bullet shield. There was trusting someone's new bulletproof suit, and then there was letting someone unload a machine gun into your buddies. "And- that never happened, actually, I don't know what he's on about. I was tricked, I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

It ran out of ammo. Tony pulled his arm back and punched it into the ceiling.

[self_named]

"Out foxed cuz I'm so damn foxy," Duo countered, jumping over a zombie that was collapsing into pieces at his feet. He planted one foot into the wall to use it as a springboard and jump, raining down swift green vengeance on one zombie then launching himself bodily against another, knocking it into the path of the zombie that was falling from the indentation it had left in the metal ceiling.

"Hotbox!" he whispered gleefully to himself.

"This is kinda fun," he remarked, roundhousing another zombie then putting a bullet neatly through the circuitry in its spine.

"Probably means we've been doing it too long."

[notawastedlife]

"Yeah, let's stop talking about it, just... push on," Tony said, stepping past both of them and sizing up the zombies that remained in their path. They just needed to be out of the way, really. He raised both hands, charged the chest RT, filled the corridor with a flash of repulsor energy, throwing them back as a set.

When they hit the ground, yards down the corridor, they fell into neatly cut pieces.

"I didn't do that," he said, picking a fallen cyborg up and throwing it down the corridor; a red beam materialized a moment before the body crossed that section of corridor, slicing it in half.

Lasers. Lasers across the corridors. Well, of course.

[daretodo]

"...what, you couldn't just do that before?" I ask, my breaths still coming heavy from that last punch. I turn to face Tony, a look of mild disbelief crossing my face before I pull my attention towards the lasers. Making a rough estimate about where the beam came from, I pick up a disembodied mechanical arm -- ew -- and stride down the corridor a few paces, coming to a dead stop before tossing the arm into the danger zone. A grid of red light springs into life, staying on now that there's still something in the way to keep its sensors on high alert.

Great. We just went from 2001: A Space Odyssey to a heist flick. Fantastic. My one consolation is that I'm already mostly dressed for the occasion. With an exasperated sigh, I promptly reach for my gloves and my mask out of my ripped back pocket, pulling everything on, before kicking off my torn jeans, ruined during the last bout of fighting. The station shakes again, and I catch myself against the wall

[self_named]

"Hey," Duo exclaimed, "that guy's Spider-Man!"

He casually shot a zomborg in the head.

[notawastedlife]

"Duo, meet Spider-Man; Spider-Man, meet Scythe... man," Tony said, knocking back another cyborg. "I had to thin 'em out first, wouldn't do if they just clumped up and came right back. Waiting on you, now, let's see some webbing."

The station shook, lurched again; Tony stayed where he was, fist coming up as the shift sent a cyborg stumbling into it.

[gla_dos]

"The mask is an improvement," GLaDOS's voice sounded, localized to Peter's proximity, "to your face. Do you know what else is an improvement? Now that I've shut down forty three percent of the station's life support systems, I can redirect the power to the thrusters. We'll be on the ground in no time at all."

[daretodo]

This would be so much easier with my spider-sense -- then I could go by instinct rather than sight. Not that my spider-sense was infallible, granted, but without it, there's every chance I won't see something 'til it's too late, won't be able to compensate for a shift in the station in time. As it is, that last one has me hanging by a literal thread -- I had to fire a quick web behind me to make sure I didn't overbalance, and end up sashimi.

Tuning out the fight behind me -- Duo's exclamation, Tony's glib introduction -- I let out a shaky exhale as I pick my way through the grid, my body twisting and coiling with every sideways step. It's like a dance, in a way, only instead of a partner, I have an insulting A.I. whispering in my ear that we're all going to die just that much sooner if she has her way.

"Look, lady," I say, though I shouldn't be saying anything at all, really. This requires a hell of a lot more focus than it would back home, and as helpful as the adrenaline is to keep me alert, it's not my powers. In spite of my

[notawastedlife]

"Bye," Tony said. It wasn't a bad suggestion. He charged up the repulsors, fired on high, then activated the ones in his boots, too. The initial blast toppled the zombies; the additional level of propulsion sent him shooting down the corridor in the other direction, turning in midair to turn it into genuine flight, as best as could be managed in the confined space. More of a long jump, he supposed, but it covered the ground.

"Is the new suit the bossy suit? We're on the same page, Pete, we know," he said, in the quick moment before he'd hurtled past, throwing his hands up as a corner approached, slamming on the repulsors to break, throwing an arm sideways to turn it into a ninety degree turn, racing down the next corridor, trusting the others were following as fast as they could. He touched down briefly to slam his hands into a door and wrench it open, stepping through-

(The suit's HUD glitched, turned briefly to static; the distorted colors almost looked like a stalactite, for a moment. A stalactite with eyes. Hello, dear. Forget

[self_named]

Duo huffed out an annoyed breath before breaking into a sprint to follow. One dude had Tarzan style springy lassos in his hands- and was already at the other end of the hall- and the other had his own propulsion system.

Duo was on foot.

Jerks.

Still, one didn't grow up to be a terrorist without learning how to sprint like hell. He came up short behind Peter and quirked an eyebrow.

"What smells like burning? And where the hell is Ton- woah!" he exclaimed, leaning recklessly far out the open door.

"Is that acid?!"

[daretodo]

Assuming we all get out of here alive, I'm going to need to sleep for a week once this is over. As much as I've been fighting my way back into shape -- occasionally with actual fighting -- the fact remains that I've spent most of the year in a hospital bed, recovering from near-fatal injuries. The shoulder I dislocated last year's starting to bother me, and my chest still aches from getting shot earlier. My lungs are starting to burn from the exertion. Despite its being a momentary setback, the break in movement is almost welcome, even though it's an obstacle we can't really afford to get distracted by, not with time quickly running out.

Instinctively hauling Duo back by the shoulder as the station shakes again, I turn to look at him, the fixed expression of my mask looking appropriately wide-eyed as I let my hand drop back down to my side.

"Nah, it's soup. Our host thought we could use a snack," I reply breathlessly, considerably more cautious as I take a step to get a fix on Tony's position. To him, I add, "You carry Rapunzel and

[notawastedlife]

"I'm starting to think this place is kind of a death-trap," Tony deadpanned, floating back and putting one foot in the doorway in preparation to give someone a lift. "You don't want to do the Tarzan-"

"HelLO, friend."

He looked behind him at the two cyborgs that had arrived at the other side. He could hit the repulsors, but at this distance, it'd just knock them down, he'd have to deal with them in more depth anyway.

"Hey, Duo," he said, as Duo stepped up to him, taking perhaps a different hold than would be expected to carry someone. "There's this guy from Pete's world, Wolverine, he was telling me about this trick his team have. Your world has baseball, right? Let's try a fastball special."

He seized Duo with both hands, launched the two of them off the ledge in the direction of the other side, said, "You're the fastball, I'm the special. Ready? Go!" and threw Duo ahead of him, clear of the acid and above the zombies.

[self_named]

Duo sounded, for a moment, as though he were hollering in fear. Until it turned into a borderline-unhinged whoop and then dissolved into fairly maniacal laughter.

"YEEAAAHAHAH!" he crowed, spinning the scythe in both hands over his head like a helicopter blade as he dove forward, shredding one zomborg as he fell. He tucked, rolled, and came up in a whippy roundhouse to kick the other in the chest. He swiped its legs out from under it, literally severing the robotics-enhanced limbs at the thigh, then kicked it again and sent the rest of its body tumbling down into the acid.

"I don't hate yoooouuuuuu," it said as it fell and submerged.

[daretodo]

Given the mechanics of how that little toss of Wolverine's works, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't've wanted to be a little spider on the wall for that conversation. As it is, I settle instead for letting out a bark of incredulous laughter, waiting for Duo to finish showing the zombies the business end of his scythe before I follow after him and Tony with a few carefully aimed weblines, managing a flip in the air before I land in a deceptively light-footed crouch. Pain shoots through my arm as I push myself up to standing, but I ignore it, bite back a wince no one can see anyway. I can hurt later.

Kicking the remains of one of the cyberlegs out of my way, I'm about to turn around with a quip when I hear the unfortunately familiar sound of another laser grid buzz into life.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."