12732/Conversations on Rooftops

Conversations on Rooftops
Date of Scene:	14 February 2021
Location:	Alleyway, Central Harlem
Synopsis:	A nice quiet moment in an alley. Rare for New York.
Cast of Characters:	Spider-Man, Spawn, Ivory, She-Hulk

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Spider-Man has posed:
New York City was a big place, and sometimes our Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man had to make an abrupt change of clothes. Thing is, sometimes he had trouble finding his clothes. So many buildings look alike, and he does this every day, sometimes multiple times a day.

So, having webbed up some criminals, done his civic duty for the night, he was trying to locate the backpack he had secured to some building. Long ago he had learned not to just rely on his webbing to keep them safe. Webbing dissolved. Sometimes he wouldn't arrive in time. He lost a few backpacks that way. Thankfully he didn't have anything in them that could identify him. And even if he did, in New York, they'd take his wallet, laugh that there wasn't any cash or credit cards, and toss it in the bin.

And so Spider-Man swung through the city, a nice claw mark across his uniform chest, and a partially exposed ear. It made webswinging so much worse. The wind was something fierce up there. Taking a moment, he landed on a building that had some scaffolding, clearly under repair, "okay, think, Spidey, think. If I were a backpack, first time in the Big Apple, where would I be? Coney Island is too cold this time of year, Empire State Building is too touristy all year round, and it wasn't at the Apollo..."

Spawn has posed:
    "It's here."

    The voice that called out was deep and gravelly, but against the night time chill it was almost weak and distracted, a far cry from its usual fury. The owner of that voice was sat watching the night sky, a figure clad in heavy looking black and white, a strange combination of hard leather with liquid ink that looked like it could morph into something else at any moment. At the moment there were no gauntlets, no oversized boots and not even any spikes or chains. Instead, he was sat with his suit covered feet dangling off the edge, along with his cape which looked like it billowed out for miles and miles. Almost aimlessly drifting, even as those glowing green eyes burned like two miniature stars.

    True to his word, the backpack was very close to him. Underneath it were a number of beers, most empt, one only halfway gone. Beside them, a pack of cigarettes, one of which was burning in his left hand, burning almost down to the very edge. But the Hellspawn did not seem very concerned with that.

Ivory has posed:
Most days are normal days. Some days demand special. Like going out without a jacket but wearing a coat the color of snow. One one can't put off. Because some days just demanded to be a cat for Ivory. But what does a cat do on a building?

The better question is: why shouldn't there be a white persian cat hanging from the door handle of the roof access as it swings open? After all, a building with a mile-long coat waving from it in the sky would draw cats, right?

She-Hulk has posed:
    When you are first and formost a defense attorney, going where your clients live is just one of the obligations that goes with the job. Jennifer Walters prefers to go around gorgeous, green, and glamazon-like, but that draws attention, both wanted and unwanted alike, and so she has chosen to be small, skin toned, standard, and sorta stealthy. Her attire is even selected to blend in with the area, jeans, black chucks, an oversized faded black hoodie, some spiked leather cuffs and chain bracelets, her hair beaded and a bit braided, a red bandana hanging from her back pocket, and a beat up backpack slung over one shoulder.

    Exiting the garage door into the alley, Jennifer glances around, and nods back to the guys inside just before the door slams closed. She slowly makes her way toward the street, keeping her hood up, holding the backpack strap tight, and making sure no one is getting ready to jump her. One of the drawbacks of not being in her green form is she looks more like a victim and an easy target instead of pretty powerhouse that intimidates most people simply by being related to her cousin. Unlike most people in New York, Jennifer knows to look up, and she pauses at the odd collection of individuals forming, pausing and considering for a moment.

Spider-Man has posed:
Liquid suits were not Spider-Man's favorite fashion choice. In his experience, they chafe a surprising amount of the time, so long as trying to harvest your internal organs and fluids counted as chafing. Or was that in its own category? "Oh, thanks, I was looking for that," and Spider-Man would shoot out a webline, drawing the backpack towards him, and he would slip it onto his back. No chance of changing clothes with witnesses present, but at least he had it. Spider-Man also did the nerdy move of buckling the straps that tied it together over his chest, and the one for his waist. Of course, the way he moved, that was almost a perquisite.

As he finished with the strap, he noticed the white Persian cat. "I'm always amazed by cats. I can't wear white. It gets dirty too easily. But cats can climb rooftops and keep their coat pristine." He hadn't seen Jennifer Walters yet, but down below, there were three men who looked pretty rough entering from the opposite end, giving her the option of passing close by them, or heading back inside.

Spawn has posed:
    "I used to smoke a pack a day, drove the wife crazy. Always promised I've give 'em up, and every once and a while I'd even mean it. But you know how it is, you make a deal with the devil, then he's got his hooks in ya."

    Lifting a hand lazily, he moves his head to regard the burning cig even as smoke billows into the frigid night sky. His eyes smoke in a similar way if one looked closely, except with a slight greenish hue. And didn't seem to move with the wind.

    "And now here I am, looking for any possible vice to take my mind off today. Down to my third pack, and they don't do a goddamn thing for me."

    Cig was flicked into the air even as he looks away in disgust, shaking his head. For the first time it seems he truly takes notice of the wallcrawler, those glowing green orbs in his head seeming to glow a little brighter. Did this mean he was focusing more? Was he charging up a laser beam? If he was, his body language didn't seem to suggest it, in any case. No, he was perfectly relaxed.

    "If you've got anyone at home waiting for you, swinging around this cesspit playing cops and robbers dumbest choice you could make. You only get to ruin it once."

Ivory has posed:
Letting go of the doorknob, the cat lands on all feet - what else, testing the gravel rooftop floor carefully before it explores out, the eyes focussing first on gooy spawn, then on the wretched menace the Bugle so hates. And cants the head in the cat way. Two or three steps bring the fluffy feline out of the way the door swings, closely clearing the catastroph of crushed tail. Because those rooftop access doors are heavy as the proverbial underwold. After all, hell is a place at least one on the roof has visited.

The comment about pristine coat seems to earn the attention of the curious cat, as it ever so boldly bolts to the webslinger, stopping somewhere mid-way to turn the eyes to the Spawn.

She-Hulk has posed:
    There is really no choice, Jennifer can't go back, but she does shift her backpack to in front of her and hold it tightly to her chest. Her father was a cop, her cousin is the strongest guy on any block, and Jen herself was trained by both the oldest Eagle Scout alive and the Deadliest Woman in the Universe, so if she has to fight, she will fight, and she will not show fear. She knows that if she really needs help, she can either stop hiding her other self or call for back-up, and so she presses onward.

    As she nears the trio of ruffians, she nods politely shifting to give them room to pass and try to slip by them, cause she has no intention of being the aggressor. Too many laws and too much red tape to deal with for potential paranoia. Heck, the trio could be headed to where she left for beers and poker night for all she knows, no sense in jumping to conclusions... right?

Spider-Man has posed:
"Well, that's about the gloomiest story I've ever heard. I figure you're a glass is half empty kind of guy, am I right, Bright Eyes?" Since he didn't know Spawn's name, he gave him a name from Planet of the Apes. In the modern version, the apes had bright green eyes. And his were positively... or is that negatively, glowing. Moving over to take a seat on the ledge, but not too close, he was trusting in his spider-sense to alert him to danger. He would pull out a sandwich from his backpack, peanut butter and jelly, "want half?" And then as the curious cat approached, he would try to give it a gentle pet.

One of the Ruffians says, "careful miss, streets aren't safe at night," as he passes by the attorney. So many people judge on looks only. Just because they looked like ruffians, did not mean they were criminals. In fact, another of them, seeing a pen on the floor behind her, picked it up, and would try and tap Ms. Walters on the shoulder, "I think you dropped this."

Spawn has posed:
    Spawn didn't respond right away, instead lifting his left hand in front of his face and letting the material covering it shift around some to reveal the faintest hint of a dull gold ring before it sinks back into the ink and vanishes. Almost idly checking and studying his suit and body before moving that hand toward the cat. If the beast wants to see what Hell smells like, that was fine by him.

    "Nah, I don't really eat much these days. Haven't really needed to in a long time. You know a while ago I ran into that idiot you run into sometimes. Trapped in a rhino suit, hasn't bathed or wiped his ass in years because of it, smells like a nightmare. I lost a really good AK-47 because of his temper tantrum."

    Of course he didn't mention the massive property damage or all the insanity, but that almost went without saying. He also doesn't mention that a giant green glamazon punched the Rhino's lights out. Maybe one just had to be there to really take in the majesty.

She-Hulk has posed:
    Having worked with loads of people who society misjudged, Jennifer knows to be wary, but not judge without evidence. She glances at the backpack and notices one of the side pockets was not zipped. Nodding she smiles, "Thank you." taking the offered pen and placing it in the backpack, then zipping the pocket. She then nods to both, "And thank you for the advice. I'll probably call Luke Cage or another of the Heroes-for-Hire for a ride. You guys be safe too."

    Pulling her phone out, Jennifer considers if she should really make the call. It isn't like she really needs Luke or Danny for protection. After a moment, she turns the corner, deciding to put the phone away, but she does glance around before leaping up to fire escape, and begins to ascend to the rooftops, climbing the iron steps, pulling out her ear buds and putting them into her ears, while singing, "I stay out to late... got nothing on my brain... that's what people say, mm, mm... that's what people say, mm, mm. I go on too many dates... but can't make 'em stay... atleast, that's what people say, mm, mm... that's what people say, mm, mm."

Spider-Man has posed:
"I know that feeling," but for very different reasons. Spider-Man struggles to put food on the table, and yet is still willing to share. "Oh, you know Rhino? Small world. I got him a bath bomb for Christmas, but it sounds like he didn't use it. Or maybe I just need a bigger bath bomb." With his Spider-Sense not having been set off, he had seen the exchange below, but not really picking up on who they were, or any real danger. He was ready to jump down and help, but people were just being people. A lot of the time being a rooftop hero is just sitting there and watching. Pulling up his mask, he began to eat some of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, while continuing to pet the white cat.

Spawn has posed:
    Truth be told, the Hellspawn was half listening, more focused on memories of Wanda, of supposedly happier times. Fragments of arguments appeared in his mind, a vase of roses shattering against a white wall and screaming in his ears. The feeling is so real that his cape recoils in real time, shuddering like a heart moments before a fatal stroke. Then it's gone, the memory, and the former soldier can't recall a single other detail.

    Here in the darkness and shadow, it was hard to make out fine details, and the glowing of Spawn's eyes made the finer details of his face hard to see. It was a good thing, since he could barely stand the sight of himself anymore, much less the idea of others looking -at- him. And now, hearing the jostling of a fire escape, it seemed his suit seemed to suddenly 'wake up' as he snapped out of whatever mood he'd been in. Instantly more 'ink' spirals and webs over his neck head and face until he is hidden behind a white and black mask that bears the vaguest of similarity to a certain wallcrawler sitting nearby. The collar of that cape seems to wake up as well, chains seeming to emerge from nowhere. When the man speaks again, there is grit, and authority behind his words.

    "Belatedly, call me an ape again and I'm snapping my foot off in your ass, web-boy. The name is Spawn."

    As the big man starts getting to his feet and prepares to leap out into the wide world, he glances over the 'masked menace' as the papers seem to think.

    "You're a good kid. Take care of yourself."

    And with that he was gone, cape rustling and spreading out like wings, flapping in the most terrifying way as the Hellspawn made his way back home.