15718/Twilight Tangles

Twilight Tangles
Date of Scene:	19 October 2023
Location:	Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York
Synopsis:	Gwen and Peter.
Cast of Characters:	Ghost Spider, Spider-Man

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Ghost Spider has posed:
In the velvet cloak of night, the city of New York hums with a quiet, enigmatic energy. The skyline, a mosaic of skyscrapers, twinkles like a constellation. For Gwen, it's a serene moment suspended in time. As Ghost Spider, she swings effortlessly between buildings, casting gossamer webs that glisten faintly under the dim streetlights.

The weightlessness is intoxicating, and the thrill never gets old. Each arc sends her heart racing, and she revels in the freedom of soaring above the crowded streets. Every leap, every twist and turn, is like a dance; a choreography honed over countless nights of patrolling.

The whisper of the wind against her mask, the muted sounds of the city below, everything melds into a symphony of the night. In the City that Never Sleeps, but Gwen is awake and alert, seeking out the shadows and secrets hidden in its depths.

The familiar streets and alleys roll out beneath her like a sprawling map. She's gotten so accustomed to this ritual that she can almost navigate blindfolded. From up here, the city's troubles seem so distant, its noises so hushed.

Gliding over the East River, she takes a moment to perch atop the Manhattan Bridge. The waters below are an inky black, reflecting the shimmering lights of the buildings. Drawing a deep breath, she listens, her senses sharpened. Her spider-sense, usually a reliable alarm bell for impending danger, remains silent. All is calm, perhaps too calm.

Spider-Man has posed:
For his part, Peter Parker is someone that doesn't know a great deal about calm.

At the best of times his life is usually something of a chaotic whirlwind, with obstacle after obstacle seeming to throwing themselves up in his path. A seemingly endless series of challenges and setbacks that need to be overcome in some way, some fashion.

Given all that one would think that he should be able to enjoy a little calm. Instead it tends to make him a little antsy, a little uncomfortable. When one dwells inside the whirlwind long enough, one gets used to the constant rush of the wind. Suddenly that lack can be felt much more keenly.

Besides, it's hard not to think that it just really means something big, something *worse* is about to land and really no one wants that.

At least night has settled over Manhatten, the cover of darkness making it a little easier to seek out the city streets as his alter ego, to take to the rooftops and the open air as the city's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Not that friendliness is particularly reciprocated these days of course. But you can't have everything, and you certainly can't hae it all of the time. All things considered things could be worse.

Which is something of a scary thought in and of itself actually.

It helps though, being out like this. Swinging through the city. Feeling that rush of air. Losing the sounds of the city beneath that rush of breeze around him, just for a moment. Hurtling through empty air with no limits, no restraints, just for that instant before that next webline lands hold. There's nothing quite like it.

He tries not to be too predictable in his patterns, in his routes through the city, but there are some standard spots that he tends to visit -- sometimes because there tends to be trouble about there, sometimes because they have just become ingrained. Comforting. And on this occasion it helps that he spots a familiar figure already perched there as he hurtles out of the darkness, landing with that athletic, acrobatic ease.

"Well, fancy meeting you here pretty lady," Spidey quips lightly from atop that bridge spire.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Taking in the cityscape from her vantage point, Gwen doesn't immediately register Peter's presence. It's only the familiar timbre of his voice, wrapped in that cheeky banter, which pulls her from her momentary trance. She turns her head, her eyes widening a fraction behind the white, hooded mask at the sight of him, momentarily silhouetted against the city's neon glow.

"Peter!" she greets in excitement, flipping once by springing off of her hands and then flinging herself into him, arms going tightly around his neck. The hug is tight and energetic, but it doesn't last too long before she's bounding back a step, her weight resting on the toes of her teal Chuck Taylors.

"Following me?" she asks warmly, big white eyes narrowing playfully. After all, they /did/ share their location with each other from their phones. "Or is this just a happy coincidence?"

The question is barely out, though, before her gaze shifts to the city. It made the whole thing feel rhetorical. It didn't /really/ matter /how/ he found her. She was just glad to have him here.

"You feeling it too?" she asks softly, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. The shared life of heroism, the weight of responsibility, and the eternal vigilance, it was something the two of them could truly understand about each other.

Spider-Man has posed:
Certainly there are higher points from which to take in the city, but out here by the river there are few with such wide open space around them. It does make for a magnificent view -- one that few others truly get to appreciate.

That enthusiasm is infectious -- one of the many things that he appreciates about her -- and even beneath that mask it is almost possible to sense the grin that slides over Pete's expression as he catches her without a second thought for the fact that -- for most people -- they're standing right on the edge of a truly daunting precipice.

But then again they can hardly be considered most people, now can they?

"I would like to say that I was desperately missing you and tracked you down -- and I was missing you," he replies, levity touching his words. "But it is just a happy coincidence. There was a staff meeting at the Bugle so I didn't get out until late and I just wanted to clear my head some. So here I am. And here you are," he adds. They share a lot. So it really shouldn't be that much of a surprise that they also share a fondness for certain overlooks in the city.

The question is vague enough that it is not a given that everyone would immediately know of what she's speaking. But there isn't a moment's hesitation from him, dipping his head. "Yeah," he admits, voice dropping just a little. The air always does seem to have a certain scent, a certain feel, right before the storm.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Gwen's eyes search Peter's, the luminescent whites of her mask locking onto the whites of his own mask. The tension in the air is palpable, that strange, electrifying feeling of a world on the brink. Yet, amid the silence, their bond is as strong -- even stronger -- than its ever been.

She takes a deep breath, the city lights below painting her in a myriad of colors. "It's these moments, Pete," she begins, her tone thoughtful, "where everything feels like it's in a standstill, that remind me of why we do what we do." Her gloved hand reaches out, fingers grazing his. "But also, the calm always feels so... deceptive. Like the city is holding its breath, waiting."

A light chuckle escapes her lips, her gaze returning to the sprawling expanse of New York. "Look at us, talking like we're in some old noir film."

Turning back to face Peter fully, Gwen's posture relaxes a bit, as if she's trying to shake off the weight of responsibility for just a second. "But on the plus side, it gives us an excuse to spend these moments together."

Once more, those big white eyes narrow playfully.

"Wanna go find some bad guys? Whoever webs up the fewest by midnight makes dinner?"

Makes, not buys. Neither one of them were exactly flush with cash, and in the end, it didn't matter even if they were eating a pack of ramen together.

Spider-Man has posed:
Deceptive.

It seems an apt description of this temporary calm. Though it perhaps says a little about them as well. About their life experiences to date. That when things are quiet, when things are calm that they also feel the most ominious. It's probably not the way that most people out in the city think.

Autumn can be a wonderful time. That nip in the air, the changing of the leaves in Central Park and all the other green spaces about the city. Of course the more cynical might also see it as the march towards the end, the slow progression towards the 'death' of winter and the long, cold nights to come. It can be hard to not look on that bleaker side sometimes, when one stares into the face as much out and out evil as they do.

And yet they manage not to quite tip over into that bleakness, to embrace it. No matter their struggles. Maybe that is a big part of their hero's journey. One made a little easier due to the fact that they get to walk it together.

His hand slips into her own for just a moment, tilting his head, that mask managing a faintly quizzical look. "I know what you mean," he agrees quietly. "Sometimes the waiting really is the hardest part," he murmurs quietly.

There is so rarely time to doubt or hesitate when the storm is on them. Decisions come fast, somehow come easier when there is no time to wonder. But then some people are built to manage the crisis. To rise to the occasion. That's where they live. Where they function best.

The suggestion that they go out, that they scour the city looking for trouble but do it their way too quirks an answering, expression response from Pete's masked gaze as well. "A challenge, hmmm? Show the city that we won't just wait around and let it decide when it's going to dump on us," he muses. "I like it. You, Miss Ghost Spider, are on," he agrees lightly.

"The taste of victory is sweet, especially when you're the one who has to whip up the ramen," he teases.

Then he abruptly turns, whirls, and leaps off that bridge span, the quiet *thwip* of his webline being fired off quickly lost in the hum of the city as they go hunting for their own, unique respite.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Gwen chuckles, watching as Peter takes that characteristic leap of audacity, swinging off the bridge with that reckless grace only he could muster. Though, she does a decent imitation -- running for the edge and leaping, flipping backwards in a flip fluid enough to make one wonder if she had bones, and then *thwipping* out a line to chase after him.

The wind rushes past her, carrying with it the myriad of scents from the city below. The tantalizing aroma of street food, the exhaust from passing cars, and that unique smell of rain-soaked asphalt, all painting a sensory tapestry of New York at night.

She can almost sense Peter's path, the lingering trail of his unique brand of acrobatics evident in the echoes of his movements. She swings in tandem with him, weaving a complex dance among the steel and concrete canyons.

As they navigate the skyline, flashes of potential threats light up her senses -- an alleyway mugging here, a suspicious exchange there. Their challenge keeps the night lively, but underlying it all is a deeper connection, an understanding that no matter how playful their banter, they both stand as guardians of this sprawling metropolis.

Not far away, a building's alarm starts to blare and Ghost Spider's head whips that direction. As if thought wasn't even required to change course, her web-line slings out and she arcs gracefully around a building corner, landing on the glass and running for a bit before leaping and catching herself with another line.

"Ooooh! This looks fun!"

With a graceful flip, she lands on a third-story ledge overlooking a closed convenient store, a car idling out front and the shadows of figures moving around hurriedly inside.

Spider-Man has posed:
Hey, a two or three second headstart doesn't exactly amount to much. Not between them.

Besides, this sort of thing is more of a marathon then a sprint anyway. More to the point, sometimes it is necessary to turn towards a little levity, a little laughter to keep from dwelling on things.

It seems Spiders have more then their fair share of circumstances that require that sort of thing. So it is probably only fair that they are so darned good at it, right?

The city does have a way of coming alive when one is swinging through it, the scents and sounds and sights that are not necessarily unique to New York per se. But they certainly feel that much more amplified when this is the city that they know so well, from such a unique perspective. Not walking the sidewalks or driving the streets, nor flying high overhead with just a bird's eye view. To be part of it all, and yet seperate too. It's unique. It's different.

It's theirs.

Even when the city is quiet like this, when there is a sense of calm, it is not completely barren of criminal acts, or people that need help. No city this big really can be. The thief caught creeping up a fire escape and trying to break into an apartment. The pair of men selling unmarked guns out of the back of their van in the sketchy Lower East Side neighborhood. As they swing and zip through the city, chasing their own little fears, little demons away -- and maybe having a little fun in the process -- they also manage to do a little good.

While their paths might diverge here and there for a few minutes, somehow they always manage to find one another again, drawn back together as the flip, bounce and swing through the city, covering a startling amount of real estate in the process. Indeed, Peter swings his way out of a side street, falling in beside Gwen when she spots the potential trouble, the sound of that alarm cutting through the otherwise quiet night with that piercing wail. A sound familiar enough to them both by now.

That last swing builds momentum for Spidey and he arches at it's apex, letting go of the webline in his hand, flying towards that building and reaching out to snag it, skidding just a little across the side of it before coming to a stop, legs above him, legs pointed up and head craning for a view of the convenience store below.

"Fun for us maybe. Not for them," Pete suggests, the grin on his face conveyed by his voice alone.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Levity. The spider trademark.

Look, when you start this job as a kid with relatively little life experience and it awakens you to the fact that the lives of over eighteen million people in the New York metro area could potentially be in danger at any given moment... and you /might/ be the only thing stopping it... well, it's either laugh or shrivel up into a ball and wait for the inevitable.

And if you can't laugh at things like a guy wearing giant mechanized Rhino suit unironically, what CAN you laugh at? You don't even have to be Deadpool to know that's just comedy gold.

So what's a little competition among friends?... Among lovers, even?

It still hit her every once in a while, and he'd see it when it did -- the shape of those big white eyes, the seemingly distracted hesitation as she stared at him for too long. Being in love with Spider-Man... wasn't the worst thing in the entire world.

In fact, it might be the best.

Ghost-Spider laughs, letting her gaze drift from Peter to the thieves inside the store and then getaway vehicle parked conspicuously out front. The vehicle's low rumble makes it obvious it's ready to make a quick escape.

"Dibs on the driver," she claims, and with a little wink in Peter's direction, she leaps from the ledge, sending out a quick web-line to control her descent.

As she approaches the car, Gwen gracefully flips in the air, ending up hanging upside down just beside the driver's side window. She lightly raps on the glass, the surprised driver turning to find the masked face of Ghost Spider hanging nonchalantly outside.

"Hey..." she yells in a playful tone, her voice raised to carry through the glass and still holding that Ghost-Spider sarcasm, "did you know you're parked in front of a fire hydrant?"

The driver's eyes widen, his face paling as he takes in the hanging heroine. Without a second thought, he hastily shifts the car into gear, tires screeching as the car lurches forward. Gwen can hear the shouts of the other goons from inside the store, their muffled voices tinged with anger as they realize their escape plan is getting compromised.

Not about to let him get away so easily, Gwen shoots out a web-line, attaching herself to the roof of the accelerating vehicle. The force yanks her from her upside-down position, and she clings to the top, preparing herself for the ensuing chase.

Inside the store, Peter can see the criminals scrambling, realizing their driver is making a premature exit. It's chaos in there, and it's about to spill onto the New York streets.

Spider-Man has posed:
Truthfully, Peter is not entirely sure he could still be at this if he couldn't laugh and make light of things.

The simple fact of the matter is that one sees a lot of horrible things doing this sort of thing. Lots of petty cruelty and indifference. Greed. Hatred. Unrelenting violence and suffering. It would be hard for anyone to immerse themselves in all of that without having some sort of self defense mechanism. Some sort of relief. Nevermind a teenager. Though in fairness age doesn't make any of it appreciably easier. Just more familiar.

Occasionally it might be a little inappropriate. Sometimes it might be a little juvenile. But it makes what they do a little more bearable. Sometimes it even makes it a little more enjoyable. And it's not like they can't turn that humor on themselves from time to time. Being able to laugh at one's self is no bad thing either.

The fact that he gets to do all of that with her is just icing on the cake really. That extra little bonus that makes things a little better, a little more enjoyable.

"Oooooh, good choice," Peter agrees lightly, glancing towards that waiting car. "Bonus points if you make the driver bang his head against the horn," he offers up. "Awwww, now I wish I was taking the driver," he suggests with a low laugh before flipping a little salute her way.

Then he launches himself from his perch on the wall, backflipping out into empty space.

Superior spacial awareness must come along with all the other nifty spider powers that they get as part of the package, because Spidey plummets downward and lands in a crouch atop one of the light stands that arches out over the city streets with the same sort of ease that someone else might fall out of bed. He watches as Gwen goes to work, as her appearance startles the driver into a panic, tearing off without the rest of the crew inside.

It's not exactly hard to guess the response.

It is tempting, to just web up that door, to trap the would-be thieves in the convenience store. But that would assuredly mean that they would tear the place apart trying to get out. No need to make the proprietor's life any more difficult. So Peter lets them bring their own little brand of chaos out onto the streets, flooding out to call out after their departed driver, hurling profanities and insults into the night.

His target is the last one out the door. He clings to his precarious perch with ease, both hands pointed downward to release their webbing. The first burst is just a glob that fastens over the man's mouth, his eyes widening in surprise as he tries to call out his surprise -- and finds himself unable to. Just an instant later the second line finds it's perch, impacting solidly on his back.

Then he is abruptly jerked off his feet, hauled upward to dangle precariously, idly swinging back and forth with each struggling motion.

"Some nights I love my job," Peter murmurs happily to himself.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Gwen clings to the top of the speeding vehicle, feeling the ripples of the metal beneath her as the driver swerves erratically. New York's glittering skyline blurs past her, the city's nighttime rhythm a blur of neon lights and honking horns. She can barely make out the shouts from the goons left behind at the store, their frustration palpable. She gives the roof a quick tap, as if to reassure the panicking driver she's still there, enjoying this little game of theirs.

And as the car speeds along, Gwen can't help but grin, hearing the echo of Peter's voice in her head, imagining him webbing up that last goon with his signature Spidey flair. They always did have a knack for finding joy in the most unexpected places. The city was their playground, and every chase, every thug, and every save was another shared memory, another chapter in their intertwined story.

Taking a calculated risk, Gwen crawls closer to the side window, attempting to get a look at the terrified driver's face. She waves at him and points to the controls for the window.

"HEY, BUD! YOU THINK YOU CAN YOU ROLL THIS DOWN?!"

There wasn't really any chance of being heard through the wind, the blaring of horns around them, the roar of the engine, and she squealing tires. Still, she remained unshakably perched on the roof as if she was simply glued in place.

"NO?!"

She points to her ear. Or.. where it would be, if it wasn't covered by a mask and a hood that was also flapping in the wind.

"CAN YOU EVEN HEAR ME?!"

The driver didn't seem to be paying attention to her at all, which was weird. If she was still on the car, how did he think he was going to get away from her?

The driver suddenly jerks the wheel, making a perilously sharp corner onto River Street, and Gwen's playful demeanor turns deadly serious. She catches sight of a pedestrian, frozen in fear, directly in the car's path. Her spider-sense goes off like an alarm bell, and she instinctively throws herself onto the hood, fingers gripping the edges as the car swerves violently to avoid the pedestrian. The skyline tilts dangerously, and Gwen catches a chilling glimpse of the East River ahead, the moonlit water beckoning ominously.

"Oh no... that's not good!"

She knows there's no time to rely on the driver to make the right decision. The momentum is too great, the panic too palpable. She has to act. With quick precision, Gwen aims both wrists towards the raised pedestrian bridge they'd just passed. Two thick webs shoot out, fastening securely onto the steel girders. She strains against the force, muscles coiling with tension, feeling the webs stretch to their limits.

The car bucks against the sudden resistance, tires screeching on the asphalt, as it's yanked to a grinding halt just feet from the water's edge. It stops with a sudden lurch that sends the unbuckled driver forward into the steering wheel, forehead slamming into the horn with enough force to knock him unconscious. For a split second, all is eerily silent -- the world holding its breath -- before the echoing sounds of car alarms and distant shouts flood back in.

Drawing a shaky breath, Gwen pushes herself upright, wobbling slightly on the hood. She leans down, rapping on the windshield. The driver doesn't stir. "Sweet. Bonus points," she offers, half-jokingly, though her voice is tinged with relief.

As sirens start to wail in the distance, approaching rapidly, she shoots a quick look over her shoulder.

Spider-Man has posed:
Hey, there are times to buckle down and take things seriously and then there are times to enjoy one's self.

Sometimes it is possible to do both of those things at the same time. That's an important talent too. Not everyone can keep things both fun and interesting at the same time. Really, it probably should be celebrated a little more.

While the stakes tonight might not exactly be big, they do still matter. A pedestrian's life is saved. Pretty important to them. To their family. A convenience store is kept from being completely pillaged and picked over. A relief to it's owner, maybe to those that rely on it for their various goods. Yeah, it isn't exactly saving the entire world. But there is a reason he is a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and not a galaxy-saving Spider-Man. The things that Gwen and him to are important as well.

Besides, it's not as if they don't have their more serious threats as well. Heck, they've been practically coming out of the woodwork as of late. So if they can get a night of the more mundane, that's not entirely bad either. Indeed, it has turned what was threatening to be something of a morose, worry-filled evening into something far more enjoyable. That might say something about them both, but Peter's pretty okay with that little fact. He'll happily embrace it.

One more thing they can share.

Fortunately for Spidey as the little host of crooks emerges from the local shop anyone nearby hastily clears out of the way. No heroes here tongiht -- well, except for the Spiders at least. That means there are less people in the line of fire. It's funny just how quickly a group of armed, angry men can send anyone with a brain in their head scrambling for cover, right?

He's already managed to truss up one of them without alerting the others and while Pete certainly doesn't mind mixing things up, why abandon something that's working? A second man gets a web-seal over his mouth before being jerked off his feet by a web-line, hauled up to dangle next to his fellow-in-arms, their writhing coming precariously close to sending them crashing into one another. Wouldn't that be a shame?

Unfortunately before he can get the remaining trio, one of them glances back and notices that two of their number are missing. "Hey... what gives...?" he asks. Which is exactly when Spider-Man launches himself from his perch, swinging down and hitting the man square in the chest, sending him careening into a parked car and rendering him rather quickly unconscious.

As the other two whirl towards him, Peter is already ready, hands coming up and unleashing a burst of web-fluid that sends them flying back, expanding outwards until both are netted to the nearby wall, their struggles doing nothing to free them. "Stealing's bad. And you look hilarious all webbed up. The moral of the story here is turn your lives around," Pete lectures with mock-seriousness before that wailing siren's approach cuts through the night.

"And that would be my cue," he chimes in once more, masked gaze peering after the fleeing car and Gwen.

"Yeah, you better run!" one of the webbed men says. "The police want you a lot more then us! You're a bigger criminal then we are!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

With things taking a distinctly playground sort of feel, Spidey doesn't even look back, simply flicking a hand behind him before shooting out another glob of that webbing, covering the other man's mouth. And cutting the argument short.

"Am not," Pete mutters before flinging out a webline and taking to the nights skies.

He's a very youthful thirty years old.