126/The Ninja Spider

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The Ninja Spider
Date of Scene: 23 April 2017
Location: Rockaways
Synopsis: Summary needed.
Cast of Characters: Spider-Man, Psylocke




Spider-Man has posed:
It's nearly Sunset on the Rockaways. The clouds had just begun to take on that reddish hue, which faded to a bright yellow as the light met the water and the sand. Spider-Man had come for a spot of training. He wasn't used to fighting on the sand, but that was the point of training; to try out things that you weren't prepared for. He had come with Psylocke, using a mixture of his webbing and her shadow porting to an area of the beach that had been closed off to tourists. Sure, what they were doing was technically wrong, but the beach was fine, they were safe, and they weren't bothering anyone. It did bother Peter a little bit, but where else could they train that wouldn't be populated by residents.

Stepping out onto the sand in his red and blue suit, he wiggled his toes. His suit boots were tabi in the Japanese style, meaning he could move some of his toes independently while remaining in the boots. "You sure about this, Psylocke?" He asked, a bit hesitantly. "I mean, I know I don't have any formal training or anything, but I've done all right for myself so far. If I were a video game character, I'd still have at least half my life bar at the top there, on top of that cloud that looks like the robot from Pacific Rim."

Psylocke has posed:
Psylocke is an amenable travel partner, whisking Peter off once he was free enough to do so. She was waiting for him outside of his apartment, wearing a sunhat and RayBan shades that completely masked her face, which was impassive at best. She talks of small things at various jumps between the shadows, before arriving on the beach. She starts to unbuckle her jeans and pull off her shirt.

No, Peter. You do not get a free show. Beneath the clothing is a skin tight white suit which presses against the curves of Psylocke's body. Strips are missing in pointed fashion around her arms and legs. It looks like her normal black suit, but instead is white. She tosses her clothes aside and looks over to Peter with a playful look, as she slides her glasses down her nose.

"You're cute," Psylocke says when Peter quips about the video game bar, "But, I think you're ready enough to at least go easy. Besides, you rely too much on your lovely skyscrapers to fight. All I need to do to beat you is throw you out to a place where you can swing to your heart's content." Psylocke's British accent softens any pejorative there.

Spider-Man has posed:
The eyes on that mask of Peter's widen as Betsy casually undresses. Sure, he has seen it all before, but he's definitely distracted, even if he only gets to see a white version of her normal outfit. It was nice to see she was experimenting with other colours. "Nice new threads there, Psylocke. Some people say I'm a summer, others a winter. What do you think? Are primary colours in this year?" He tugged at his red and blue suit. He did still have a fabric version of that black and white suit, but he only ever really wore that when he was in mourning, or knew he had to be particularly sneaky. Red and blue didn't hide in the shadows as well as black and, okay, the white gave it away, but less than the red and blue would have.

He did a few moves in the sand, doing a standing somersault. The man was acrobatic, even without his precious skyscrapers. When she calls him cute, he calls back in a childish sing-song voice, "I know you are, but what am I?" He finds one of those pieces of wood that stick out in the sand, and he starts to do his impression of the Karate Kid, kicking out in a leap, only to land on his other foot with perfect balance. "I'm not just a pretty mask. I don't know skyscrapers, though they do help. Besides, I never heard any complaints when I took you webslinging."

Psylocke has posed:
"Thank you, luv," Psylocke responds to his compliment to her new outfit, "I had figured since we were going to the beach, wearing dark colours would not be a prudent decision." She wrinkles her nose, "And I really would rather not sweat, if I can help it." She then tosses her sunglasses aside, while fixing Peter with one of her most critical reviews.

"Mmm, no. Pastels are making a resurgence. Primaries are like a decade old, luv. Have you considered doing robin egg and crimson?" Psylocke says, "I could have my friends redesign your outfit, should you prefer."

When Peter acts more childish, Psylocke rolls her eyes, and begins to walk towards him, "I am a goddess, and you worship me. That is what I am and what you are." She says it with no hesitancy or lack of confidence. She tilts her head, "Yes, I am sure you do just fine when you are by yourself, luv. You are often surprised when others join you, however."

And with this, a burst of telekinetic force explodes out from her kicking up sand and pushing air like a sledgehammer towards Peter.

Spider-Man has posed:
"This is my light coloured costume. The other one is black with a much larger white spider. It... has a complicated history, but I still think it looks cool. I guess, after all these years, I'm just partial to the look. Besides, if I changed it, it would give Jameson a fit. He'd have to replace all his stock photography of me with brand new stock photography." He realised there was a financial windfall there, but the ethical part of him decided no, he couldn't change his costume just so Peter Parker's photos would be more valuable. It was hard enough justifying to him that charging for photos of himself, and lying about how he procured them, was perfectly all right.

"Robin egg is a nice colour though. Hmm, crimson. But I never went to Harvard, would it be right for me to wear their trademarked colours?" And when he talks about Harvard, he adopts his best mid-Atlantic accent. He was getting better at it having spent so much time with Betsy.

As she approached him and reminded him of her godliness, he couldn't help but nod his head up in down in the affirmative. "Oh, yes, I do worship you. You have quickly become my world..." With his position, he can see that purple hair of hers flying majestically in the wind as the sunsets behind her. He gets poetic. "There is nothing quite as beautiful as the setting sun; think of what it means, the end of one day, the promise of a new one to come. The end of solitude, the beginning of a partne..." but before he can finish, or perhaps because of his poetic licence, his spider sense began tinging in a big way.

He leapt up from the perch on that piece of wood, flying up high into the sky. There was nothing for him to fire a webline onto, so he just did a somersault, landing on the other side of her. When he did land, he thwiped his right and left hands, firing two lines of webbing, aiming to ensnare her wrists from behind and pull her toward him, "hey now, that's fighting dirty."

Psylocke has posed:
Psylocke's lips purse when Peter rambles on and on. Sometimes she finds it endearing and lovely, and others (like right now) she finds it childish. However which way she feels, she knows it is just because of her unique situation. So, she enjoys it on some level. She had a hunch that Peter would be able to dodge her ham-fisted approach to slamming him with telekinetic force, but she did not want to go full board on him.

Watching Spider Man leap gracefully into the air, Psylocke languidly turns her body to follow him, and she even seems to offer her arms so that Peter can attempt to pin her arms. She gets a coy look on her face, "My! I didn't know you were into this sort of thing..." She then drops her mental block and tries to amplify whatever reaction he would have to that sort of thing to distract him.

"The only way to fight IS to fight dirty! If anyone else tries different they are doing so to deceive you! You need to learn that!" Psylocke shouts as she suddenly twists her arms to pull Spider Man's arms closer together, to limit his upper body movement, while thrusting forward with another mental blast to throw him back.

"Never assume your opponent has -any- desire to let you win fairly," She says, chastising Peter.

Spider-Man has posed:
She really does fight dirty if she uses her telepathic abilities to amplify her flirting and teasing. It doesn't hurt that she's basically wearing a one piece swimsuit either. But he manages to keep his cool. She is trying to get a rise out of him, and he must do his darnedest to not give in so easily.

"I'll try anything with you, Psylocke... at least once, anyway." It was his habit to talk during a fight. The more he talked, the more distracting he was. The scary thing was that when he got quiet, he became a far more fearsome opponent. When he didn't talk, it meant that he was scared, or angry, or both. You did not want to mess with an angry Spider-Man. Nobody wanted to mess with an angry Spider-Man. The few who had seen him, took great comfort in facing him again with his endless prattle.

Doing some teasing of his own, "too bad you missed international women's day, huh? You'll just have to wait almost a whole year to find out what fun we might have on that day, Psy."

She may fight dirty, but he fights cleanly. Well, whenever he had the money to afford to clean his suit. When funds run low, sometimes he has to wear his suit without cleaning it. And boy, are those bad times, especially in the summer. The twist of her arms is caught. Instead of letting her bring his arms together, he just lets go. The webbing is sticky. It's still stuck to her, and when he lets go, the strands begin to pick up the sand, weighing it down. So maybe he was fighting dirty today after all.

"You know, Psylocke, you really do take the fun out of being a superhero. We're the good guys, and gals. We should set an example for them to follow. You know, do the right thing, be the hero, or heroine, as the case might be. Show little Jimmy or Janey how its done? Because one day, they might get bitten by a radioactive spider, or have their body switched, or fall into a vat of chemicals. Is that still trendy? Is it PC? Would a tub of chemicals be better? And just what do we call them? Mutated Americans? Is that too close to mutants?"

"Maybe chemically modified Americans? No, that's too long." As he talks, he moves on the sand, doing a large circle around her. He stops, coming to a skid, toying with her as he pretends to limbo back. Sand or no sand, he seems to be pretty dexterous. He's moving as if it were solid floors. "How about Chemical Americans? Has a nice ring to it, ChemAm, yeah, that's it. I know some ChemAms, some of my best friends are ChemAms."

Psylocke has posed:
"I do not need a day to claim as my own," Psylocke says, with a playful smirk, when Peter begins to let go of the webbing. "Every day is my day. I am an aristocrat afterall. Or an assassin who cares not for the whims of others. It depends on what letter the day begins with." Betsy scowls at the web stuck to her hands, as it falls to the ground, and Peter makes all sort of acrobatic nonsense.

Psylocke raises her eyebrow, stretching the red tattoo, "Really? You think we have any sort of room to teach degenerates?" Then, she shows that the web on her hands will really not be a problem. She flicks her arms to the side, and the wispy tendrils suddenly brighten with a rose aura. Psy snaps her left whip once, cracking the air with a sizzle of energy.

"The only time there is room for redemption is when there is absolute surrender. Until then, those who want to oppress others must be shown the only proper response - the one that comes from physics. For every action ..."

Psylocke raises her right hand, and then begins to spin lashing out with a vicious whirlwind of whips and snaps at Spider Man, "Well! You know the rest!" She shouts, laughing.

Spider-Man has posed:
Spider-Man ducks and dodges, weaving through the vicious whirlwind of whips and snaps as if they were part of some kind of obstacle course. Huffing and puffing through them as he went around her, getting ever closer to the centre, he asked, "I forget, is the reboot of American Gladiators still on TV? Because if they are, I should definitely try out." He would never use his powers in such a way, but it's nice to joke about it. He hardly ever shows off the way he is now, but she wanted to test him, and he wanted to pass the test. He had been promised a reward if he did well, though he wasn't sure what it would be.

As he got closer to her, he reached out to grab at one of her arms. He had hoped to grab them both, and get her in a bear hug. "Sometimes, it amazes me that you come from the lands of Winnie the Pooh and Pokemon. Aren't England and Japan supposed to be all nice and civilised? I wouldn't want to face you if my life depended on it." He's also fairly certain that she's holding back, as she's trained to kill, not defeat, kill. If she tried and he messed up, well, so much for their happy relationship.

Psylocke has posed:
Each weave of the tendril snaps at Peter. Psylocke purses her lips again. He was supposed to finish that line! "And equal and opposite reaction you dope." She rolls her eyes, but keeps the speed coming after Spider-Man. Eventually, Peter works his way right into giving Betsy a big old bear hug. She smiles and seems to go still. "That show was so trite and evidence of American backwater ways. You really all need to rejoin the empire."

Spider-Man is right to think that Psylocke were holding back. If she wanted to kill him, there would be no physical combat. All Spider-Man would realize is that he were by himself on this beach, and then his mind would cease to exist. Then, it would be a simple cessation of bodily function and the job would be complete.

But, that is not the task at hand. Peter needed to not rely on his pre-cognitive abilities. Psy rests in Peter's arms for a few moments, before leaning her head back, smiling into his mask's eyes.

"I believe it's time we went into hard mode, Peter," She whispers conspiratorily, before kissing his mask.

This is all a pretense. Suddenly, an onrush of psychic attack slams against Peter's mind, but not in a conventional way. Psylocke has spent enough time with Spider-Man to know, mentally, how his Spider-Senses work. It was a simple stimulus overload to send a plethora of information into Peter's brain to make him CONSTANTLY think his Spider-Senses were blaring warnings of imminent danger from all sides.

"What will you do when everything is dangerous, Peter?" Psylocke sinuously says, slipping out of Spider-Man's grip as easy as twisting her body. She crouches down nearby, smiling with both her eyes and with her mouth, "How will you know which is the real danger..." She snaps her whip twice, and lashes out at Spider-Man with her left hand, while snapping the right whip harmlessly from the distance.

Spider-Man has posed:
"For someone who likes to insult my country, I sure do like you a lot." He had never been one of the 'U-S-A' chanting Americans, beating his chest about how good they are. He grew up in New York. He knew better. America was good at a lot of things, great at a few, but nowhere near as good as they seemed to think they were. "I could be persuaded of that. It's not like we don't already have our own Empire. We're just a bit shy about calling it that."

He seems to calm himself with her in his arms. His heartbeat slows. He is content and happy to be so close to her. He can smell her perfume. His hands wrap around her waist as she ceases to struggle from the bear hug. "Hard mode it is. Wait, we've been on easy until now?" He blushes under the mask as she kisses near his eye, and again over his lips, or the area of the mask that covers his lips.

When she lets loose, he lets go and staggers back, his hands going to his head. At first, it is a rush of oncoming noise, like a being in a room filled with a very loud stereo system, but after a moment, it turns to white noise. He wiggles his fingers. Something feels off. He looks at her, his mask emoting. There was some fancy technology in that mask that would mimic his emotions, just in an amplified manner.

He shakes his head, almost oscillating it, as the danger seems to be coming from both sides. He can rely on his other senses, and he does well at first, but after a few more attacks, one of them nails him in the ribs and he goes flying, rolling into the sand. It's probably gotten into his suit by now. Sand gets everywhere. Coughing, he gets up off the sand, and looks to her, "all right Lady Psylocke, no more Mr. Nice Spider." He fires off a bit of webbing with a thwip, aiming for one of her feet in the hopes of grabbing and tugging on it so that she'll land on her backside!

Psylocke has posed:
When there is so much information it makes it difficult to process, that is when one can truly determine their own fighting instincts. Peter seems to have a good handle of his own combat abilities, which pleases Betsy/Kwanoon. They have both come to care for Peter. He is like a child, in a way. Not that Psylocke dotes on him or condescends on him. Between both Betsy and Kwanoon, Psylocke is mentally old enough to be Peter's mother. Their combined age reaches in the low fifties.

When Spider-Man flies across the beach from the hit, Psylocke looks momentarily concerned. She had not meant to hit him THAT hard. She furrows her brow, but when he pops up, the concern melts away, but not soon enough. Her foot is caught and she is slammed onto her back with a 'whoompf!'

Psylocke barely has a moment before Spider-Man pounces on her and leaves her in a compromising position. "Well. This is fascinating. Usually, you're the one down here," Psylocke says with a calm smile.

A shadow covers both Spider-Man and Psylocke, "Luckily you caught me, my dear," Psylocke says pointing over Spider-Man's shoulder, "Because I was just about to drop this thing on your head." When Spider-Man looks up, a semi-sized boulder hovers precariously over head. Psy's eyes lock with Peter's mask, "Let's not be a distraction now, hm? I might drop this on us."

Spider-Man has posed:
Maybe he's in a flirtatious mood, maybe it's because he's laying on top of her, but he grins at her through the mask as she openly flirts with him, while their lives are in such a precarious position. This was all about testing things. So he decides to test her. "Oh, I had forgotten that you like to be the one on top. I have no problem with that." And while grabbing her, he does a roll, moving on the sand so that he is lying on his back, and she's resting above him. "Try not to drop that thing on us. It wouldn't look good on your superhero resume. Oh, right, you prefer to call it a curriculum vitae." Is that a distraction? If it's not, he is ready to roll them both to the side, or use his webbing to knock it off course. If he had enough time, he could even fashion a cocoon around them.

Psylocke has posed:
Psylocke rolls her eyes, and allows Peter to flip himself to his back. She tilts her head, "I did not want to hurt your ego. I could likely fight off the Hand and Foot hit squads while being ... mmm distracted by you." She boops his nose with a finger, before sliding off, and standing up.

With the flip of her hair, Psylocke sends the boulder flying away, crashing with a dull thud a hundred yards away down the beach. She offers a hand to Peter, "I think that is enough for right now."

Spider-Man has posed:
He eagerly accepts the hand, and is soon on his feet beside her. It's harder to get up on sand. In fact, it probably would have been easier had he just flipped up on his own, but he was still glad for the offer of assistance. "Yeah, yeah, you're the lady of death, a master like no other, one girl in all the world, the chosen one, I've binge watched the series. I get it." He rolls his mask up a little, just enough that his mouth is exposed. He rolls his tongue around, trying to get some sand out of his mouth that had found its way through his mask. "Hmm, how about some pizza, tea, or...?"

Psylocke has posed:
"When you put it that way, Peter, you sound like you're pouting," Psylocke chortles while turning away from him after he stands up. She walks over to her discarded clothes which are utterly covered in sand. She makes a face, "Ugh. Well. At least I didn't bring the designer clothes, knowing what sort of trouble we were getting into." She picks them up and tries to shake them out.

Psylocke glances over her shoulder with a thoughtful look, "I was thinking of getting something else, but if you're content on getting pizza..." She winks, and begins to walk towards the shadows.

Spider-Man has posed:
"Hey, hey, careful with the names, Psylocke." He has an identity to protect. Very few people know that he is really Peter Parker, and he'd like to keep it that way. Sure, they seem to be alone, but he wears a mask for a reason. You never know who's watching or listening. "Oh, something else could be fun... wait, are we talking one of those fancy places that costs more than I make in a month, or something else something else?" He deliberately repeated himself there, alluding to, you guessed it, something else. He did though make his way to the grassy area, here he took a seat on his butt and removed his boots so he could pour the sand out of them. "I could use a shower myself. I've got sand in places I didn't know I could get sand."