15143/Life Lessons and Other Public Services

Life Lessons and Other Public Services
Date of Scene:	26 May 2023
Location:	Clinton (Hell's Kitchen), Manhattan
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Spider-Man, Black Canary

---

Spider-Man has posed:
The first stirrings of summer are beginning to creep over New York City and though dark has long since fallen, the heat of the day has not yet entirely disipated, only the cooling breeze wafting over the city offering up a hint that spring is indeed still in full bloom. And that breeze is a little better up on the rooftops of the city, out of the grotto-like streets that run through Manhatten.

It is late enough that it would not be an entirely bad idea to call it a night, to head on home and tuck one's self into bed. Unfortunately it is also early enough that Peter just might feel a little guilty about doing that. It usually isn't that hard to find trouble in the city -- New York is good... or bad... like that -- but tonight has been surprisingly quiet thus far.

And that's what has brought Spidey into Hell's Kitchen. If there's gonna be trouble, this is definitely a good place to look for it. So he perches atop one of the nearby rooftops in a crouch, one arm casually draped around one of hte building's gargoylish mountings as he lets his masked gaze sweep over the streets below.

"I don't mean to tell you how to do your job Carl, but you don't seem to do a very good job of keeping the evil spirits away from this part of town," the masked wall-crawlers says conversationally.

Yeah. He's talking to an inanimate statue. It's definitely one of those nights.

Black Canary has posed:
Why does she do these small, nasty bars? Oh, right. Because the album hasn't dropped yet and they need to test out variations on the tracks until they have it right. And live audiences for bands without albums are seedy little "live music" bars.

But this one had chicken wire between the stage and the audience. Meaning she couldn't connect like she usually did.

Dinah sighs and, freshly changed from her stage outfit into her vigilante outfit, heads off into the byways of Hell's Kitchen. She'd spotted it as a bad neighbourhood when they entered. There's always a chance to blow off steam out here.

Down below Peter, then, is a woman in a leather bodysuit, fishnets, a loose-fit leather jacket, and kerb-stomping motorcycle boots who seems to be heading for the darkest alleys possible, like she's LOOKING for trouble.

*Sigh*

Probably worth watching over.

Spider-Man has posed:
Despite an hour that is growing increasingly late, the streets of Hell's Kitchen have certainly not cleared. And while the evening might have been slow thus far, chances are that Peter would have taken notice of the woman coming out of that low-rent dive on the corner even if things had been a whole lot more action packed. Because yeah, someone definitely looks like they're dressed for trouble and it would seem that not every resident of the Kitchen can make that same determination.

Or maybe they just don't care.

And while the masked vigilante up above might have marked Dinah's passing, he is certainly not the only one. A small pack of men -- little more than teens really -- huddle around the stoop of a nearby building, passing around a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag and laughing coarsely amongst themselves.

At least until Dinah walks by. Then the wolf-whistles and cat-calls start. And as she continues down the street, the pack of delinquents leave their perch to follow right on after.

Black Canary has posed:
Dinah sighs to herself. This really is too easy. Nobody's taught these kids manners. Nor how to assess a target. Her musculature and her bearing both should have given them pause for thought, but no, they saw long blonde hair and a posterior and followed.

Well, she's a good, if brutal, etiquette instructor.

Turning into a dark alley, she quickly, but quietly, moves deep into the murky depths before returning to her stately walk, just to give them a little hint when they round the corner and find her farther down than they expected.

Like clockwork, right on time, they round the corner and, after being mildly taken aback, they dive into the murk themselves.

Dinah stops, scratching her head as she looks around. She turns and spots the teens and breaks into a friendly smile.

"Listen, guys," she says in her Canuck-accented voice, friendly, and polite. "I think I took a wrong turn somewhere. Do any of you know where Pete's Finger is, eh? It's a bar."

Come into my parlour said the ...

Spider-Man has posed:
The Rooftop Highway definitely is not for everyone. But for those with the agility and balance to master its tricks, it's a pretty fast way to get about really. No hunting for streets or alleyways. Just go in whatever direction you need. Fortunately Spider-Man has no shortage of any of the required traits, tracking the progress of the little procession below. And while the little pack of punks might be oblivious to the fact that their chosen target is anything but a waiting victim, Peter is a little bit better judge of things.

At least on that front.

The six-pack of young men don't let the seeming speed of their quarry dismay them for long, hastening to close that distance once more, especially once Dinah pauses to ask her friendly question. "That place?" the lead man says with a dismissive little snort. "That place is a hole. You'd be way better off comin' back to my place with me and my boys. We'll show you a much better time," he promises as the young men at his back laugh and make kissy-faces at the blonde.

"Ahhh geez," Spidey mutters up above, giving his head a little shake. He hopes up onto the ledge of the building in one smooth motion, prepared to jump over the side. He's just not entirely sure who he'll be rescuing when he gets down to the alley below.

Black Canary has posed:
The first arm that reaches for Dinah ... and there's always such an arm, isn't there? ... finds itself ... well, it's both good and bad for the unfortunate bearer of it. Good: He's pulled in close to Dinah. Body-touching close. Bad: His wrist and elbow both are bent at unnatural angles to painful degrees. VERY painful degrees. It's not audible to any but he and she (and Matt Murdock, fifteen blocks away), but the sounds of tendons just at the edge of tearing are audible to those with the ears to hear it.

Over the guy's shout of pain.

"I don't recall," Dinah says, with a voice still polite and warm, but eyes cold as ice, "giving permission to touch me, Mister."

The suddenness of the transition from polite stranger to hell cat is chilling, as is the continued politesse of her voice, though with added steel.

"Do I need to hold some remedial classes in courtesy?"

Spider-Man has posed:
while he might not hear the tendons stretch to the point of tearing, the cry of pain from below leaves little doubt just how effective the blonde woman's hold really is. And while there is really no doubt that the young punk pretty much deserved exactly what he got, it's still hard not to wince. Just a little bit.

That cry of pain seems to be signal and while the young man right in front of her drops to his knees, clutching at his arms, his friends don't seem all that keen to take the right lesson from the experience. Instead of backing off and making respectful apologies as would be very, very smart, the other five punks are quick to surge forward, more than one knife suddenly appearing in hands as a babble of crude insults assails Dinah.

Not exactly the best course of action to de-escalate the situation.

Just by watching the blonde in the fishnets, Spidey is fairly certain that even five, knife-wielding men are probably not likely to come out of this very good. But his intervention might help keep the sheer violence down and Peter is pretty okay with that. So there is no hesitation in him as he simply steps off the ledge of the rooftop, dropping the dozens of feet towards the waiting pavement below. Even as he falls he seems perfectly at ease and when one of the men lunges towards Dinah, trying to stab her, a ball of webbing suddenly flies out from him, catching the man's arm and pinning it to the wall of the alleyway. "Have you been raiding your mother's cutlery drawer? Shame on you."

Black Canary has posed:
Dinah's moves are next-level stuff. If Spider-Sense-By-Proxy were a thing, it would be going off right now on behalf of the five who don't learn quickly. Five men move forward. One woman moves forward. Two men find that the woman is now behind them somehow, in a move so slick and quick that in the darkness it's not clear how she even did it. One twist of the torso and the centre man of the three before her is now going to have to temporarily relearn how to breathe, the folded-finger jab to his solar plexus relieving him of that power in a burst of pain so strong that stars flash in his eyes.

Sadly for him he can't cry out in pain. That would require breath and he has none for the nonce.

Dinah's leg hasn't been idle while her hand jabbed, mind. Without even bothering to look, her foot lashes out behind her and takes one of the teens smack dab in the ass, so hard that you can actually hear the tailbone crack. (Or snap. Semantics.) A combination of stunning pain and the impact sends the teen forward face-first into a dumpster. If he's smart he'll stay down and feign death.

The other one behind her, the one with the knife, was never going to have the blade land. Dinah was already spinning and practically folding her spine backward to evade the blade, ready to catch the wrist of the hand holding it to break it.

Spidey's web ball ended the threat and thus the excuse to brutalize him.

"You're that Spider-Man guy the talking hairpiece keeps foaming at the mouth about, aren't you?" she asks, not even bothering to look at the two remaining 'threats'.

Apparently she doesn't feel threatened.

"Thanks for the help. Shows you've got the right attitude, intervening like that. Good to have you."

What an oddly friendly conversation to have after the three brutalisations in rapid succession.

Spider-Man has posed:
It is definitely eye-opening for Spider-Man, even given that he was pretty much expecting something exactly along these lines. Which is still much preferable to the bone-breaking and scream inducing event that it was for the rest of the young punks in the alley. Indeed, he barely has time to reach the alley floor, droping into a crouch and slowly rising back up before it is pretty much over.

Short, nasty and brutal. Probably a little appropriate considering that it would normally be the Devil of Hell's Kitchen that would be dealing with this lot. He couldn't have done it any better. And while Spider-Man prefers an approach that doesn't leave the baddies in moaning piles of pain, it is hard to deny just how very effective it all is.

"That's me," he agrees, dipping his head towards the scary blonde woman politely, that masked visage sweeping across the narrow little passage they stand in and the downed jackasses that now populate it. Definitely no threats left here. Even his one contibution to the evening looks on the verge of gibbering as he tries to press himself flat against the alley wall and go unnoticed. When he lets out an involuntary little whimper he promptly clamps his free hand over his mouth as if afraid of attracting Dinah's attention.

Definitely no threats there. Maybe there is something to the whole makiing criminals afraid thing. Sheesh.

"It was the least I could do. I mean, it really looks like you needed my help," Peter says somewhat sardonically.

Black Canary has posed:
Dinah turns her head to look at the two standing (and now gibbering in fear) boys staring wide-eyed at the brutal mayhem machine that was unleashed upon them.

"Boo!"

It's not even that loud, but it terrifies the two and has them turning tail and fleeing back the way they came. The one that came at her with a knife then gets her attention.

"Normally I zip-tie them up in 'human centipede' order," she says. Nothing like a little A2M to humiliate crooks, is there, especially when delivered by a pint-sized pugilist who looks like she belongs on a dance pole? "But I guess that's a bit redundant with your sticky juices there."

She juts out a hand.

"Black Canary," she says by way of introduction. "And hey, no way you could know they were the ones in danger, not me. Don't knock yourself out." Beat. "That's usually my job. Now you in good with the cops, or should I be the face when they come?"

Spider-Man has posed:
Most of them don't look like they could run if they wanted to. In all likelihood most of them will be heading to the hospital for medical attention shortly after being booked. But one of them looks like he might still be able to use his legs and if in answer to her words, Spidey lifts an arm and lets another mass of webbing fly, leaving him good and stuck in place. "I'm not above leaving a few of my catches in an embarassing position or three when the mood strikes," he agrees, the mask he wears hiding his features. Still, it's almost possible to 'see' the smile in his voice.

His hand is offerred in return, shaking hers briskly and dipping his head slightly. "Spider-Man," he offers up. "But then you already knew that," he notes drily. "Actually, I was fairly certain that those boys were in for a rough time, but better safe than sorry," he admits cordially. And in truth, he didn't know just how far she might go which made it that much more important to make his presence known. "And it depends on who shows up. I probably shouldn't linger unless you want to see a couple of uniforms scream at me about being a menance and try to get their guns out before I disappear up the wall..." he admits ruefully.

Black Canary has posed:
Dinah winces at Spider-Man's description of his relation with authorities and pats him on the shoulder. "Well at least you know you're doing good, even if people are being thankless about it. I'll be the face, then. Sing your praises. They're not going to do much to me. Not when I've got a League ID. And Alpha Flight. And SHIELD. She's a busy little birdie.

"Or we can just leave them here with a note and go find somewhere else to...

That thought doesn't complete. Because in the mouth of the alleyway, someone else is darkening the little patch of gray that marks the dark street beyond.

"I HEARD YOU TWO WAS COMIN' IN AND MESSIN' IN OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD!"

The man with the loud voice is large. In all dimensions. And has, it seems, strength that goes beyond even that as he punches the corner of the brick building at the edge of the alleyway and knocks a good half-dozen bricks off.

"You're gonna wish you'd stayed in your neighbourhood," he growls as he closes in on the pair. "Keep yer noses out of ours!"

Spider-Man has posed:
Hey, there's a few officers out there that believe in him, believe that he does more help then harm, believe that he can be trusted and relied on and called upon in a pitch. It could be worse all things considered.

Still, it's nice to find someone who doesn't immediately buy into all the negative press. You'd think that in this day and age, with people so cynical about the media, that there might be a few more. But that doesn't seem to be the way his luck runs. Ah well. Such is life, as he has come to understand pretty darned well.

"I appreciate that. I won't tell you no, I could definitely use a little positive word of mouth," Spidey admits, one hand coming up to rub idly at the back of his head. He just knows better then to count on it doing much good. Still, it beats the alternative. "As far as notes go, that's what I normally do. I mean, I keep a few on me just for that purpose..." he says, reaching for his belt, starting to rifle through it.

Which of course is the moment when they are interrupted by a beast of a man. Spider-Man's head snaps up and he abandons that hunt for a note, instead lifting a hand towards the hulking figure. "Yeah, I can see that you have a real concern for your neighborhood and not making a mess," he snarks, head bobbing towards the shattered bricks just punches out of the wall. "Real civic minded. That's you,"," he adds in that oh so winning way that he has.

Ready to fire off that webbing, he doesn't. Not quite yet.

Black Canary has posed:
Dinah bows and sweeps her arm in the direction of the big bruiser. "After you," she says. "I mean it's only fair we both get some fun tonight."

Fun. She's in this for the fun.

"If you get in over your head just holler and I'll help out, OK?"

There's a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. She knows what she just did.

And then she just leans against the wall and gets ready to watch. Peter gets the impression that she wishes she had popcorn.

Spider-Man has posed:
While Peter Parker might be a little adverse to showing off or making any sort of spectacle, things change a little when he slips on that costume. And while he might not have the desire to be quite so brutally efficient as his newest acquaintance, that doesn't mean he objects to showing a little of what he can do.

"Well, if you wanted a show all you had to do was say so," Spidey replies, well awate of just what sort of position she's put him in. While he's not advesrse to getting a helping hand, he's fairly certain he won't need it here.

Fairly Certain.

He starts to trot up the alley towards that hulking figure, angling his way towards the nearest of the two walls. And he just keeps going. When he hits the wall he simply starts to trot along it instead of the ground, slowly climbing upward even as he approaches the beligerent strong man.

He does not hasten to close the distance and instead flicks out his wrists, bursts of webbing shooting out towards the giant's eyes. "What the --" the man exclaims, reaching to tug the obstruction free and finding it rather difficult. So Spider-Man adds to the hassle, two more web bursts basically gluing the man's hands to his face, leaving him very much open and exposed.

And all the while he continues to climb the wall, running across that vertical surface like someone out for a late night jog. The distance closed now, he leaps from his perch, bringing a swinging fist across the man's jaw in a haymaker before taking advantage of the fact that those strong hands are still straining against his webbing to bodily hefting him up over his shoulder and crashing down to the pavement in a suplex.

He did get his start as a wrestler afterall. MAybe some dreams never entirely die.

Black Canary has posed:
"Nice work!" Dinah calls out as she watches. "Wrestling. Nice. Not really my thing; closest I get is some jiu-jitsu or aikido. Very stylish, though."

Her voice comes closer as the man struggles--apparently the concussion intended isn't happening; must have a head as hard as the bricks he punched out--to free himself without tearing out his own eyeballs.

"I'll get you you little piece of ..." A well-aimed pebble hits him in his open mouth, preventing him from getting that whole word out.

"Hey, watch your fucking language, Buddy! The spider's a friend of mine!"

Spider-Man has posed:
He might have been showing off. Just a little.

Leaving the beast of a man on his back, squirming and struggling to right himself without any hands, Spidey casually leaps back to his feet and starts to walk away, seemingly indifferent to the various curses and insults thrown towards his retreating form. It's nothing that he hasn't heard before afterall. Many, many times.

"Everyone has their own strengths. I don't have anywhere near the trraining you do with martial arts," he freely admits. That much is obvious. "But I'm a lot faster, more agile and stronger then your average bear, Not to mention, well, lets call them instincts. Out the wazoo. So I play to my strengths. Just like you I'd imagine," he says lightly.

He does watch as a suddenly flicked pebble flies by and abruptly cuts off that stream of insults and threats being hurled his way. A certain someone has his back again it would seem.

"You're gonna make me go all gooey inside," he says lightly before his words grow a little more sincere. "Thanks."

Black Canary has posed:
"Hey, I know what it's like to be alone, Spider-Man. And Hell, even though I'm sometimes accused of not playing well with others..." She turns her head and stares in a particular direction, muttering under her breath. "...thanks Batman, for that sterling assessment..." Her head turns back to Peter without the darkness. "...I do actually understand and even prefer to have people who have each other's backs." She puts on a concerned frown. "You sound like not a lot of people have yours. That sucks."

She glances over at the struggling behemoth. "What do we do with him now? I mean I figured to wait around for the cops and get a bit of publicity here in NYC, but ... I don't really want to wait around with that jerk making noise like that. How 'bout we leave one of your notes and blow this popsicle stand. Know any good underground fight clubs?"

Spider-Man has posed:
Hey, someone gets it. It's always nice to see that's the case. Even for Superheroes.

"I appreciate that," Peter says with quiet sincerity, dipping that masked visage her way. "And for whatever it's worth it seems to me that you play just fine with others," he adds. "I might be a little biased though, right at the moment, but I feel like my opinion will stand up," he asserts in a lighter tone.

At the mention of leaving their object lessons for the evening for the local authorities to pick up, Spidey nods his head. "Sounds like a plan to me," he asserts before turning away, walking back over towards the hulking figure. The others are more or less secure, but this guy, he could possibly break free. He coughs, but even now he's still trying to curse out the two vigilantes and Spider-Man stands over him for a moment. "Don't you know your neighbors are trying to sleep. Manners," he says before unloading several layers of webbing over the downed man's mouth. The same goes for his arms and legs, pinning him to the pavement until it's all he can do to squirm. Only when he's fairly certain that the man is definitely not going anywhere does the wall-crawler pull out one of his notes and deposits on him. "Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," he says, flipping a insolent little salute before turning back for Dinah.

"Done and done. We can clear out of here now. I can't say that I know of any underground fight clubs, but I suppose if we put our heads together maybe we can find one," he says, his tone a little dubious.

Stranger things have happened.

Black Canary has posed:
"Nah, if you don't know you're not into them," Dinah says with a shake of the head. "How 'bout ... I don't know ... pizza? Licensed is perfect, but if not, I've got a flask. I always get a bit hungry after a workout."

She looks Spider-Man up and down. "That whole walking on the wall thing has GOT to be convenient. I mean really, I need to climb or use this grapnel I borrowed from Batman and conveniently forgot to return." She slaps her hand. "Bad birdie!"

The irrepressible grin makes it back to her face, paired with mischief twinkling in her eyes. "I mean I've got great cardio, but come one! How do I get kit that lets me run sideways on walls like that? Let's talk over pizza. I'll swap boots that walk like that for my autograph."