16450/Black Vans and Black Nights

Black Vans and Black Nights
Date of Scene:	28 July 2024
Location:	Clinton (Hell's Kitchen), Manhattan
Synopsis:	Ghost-Spider webs up some bad guys while Spider-Man mimics Deadpool from afar.
Cast of Characters:	Ghost Spider, Spider-Man

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Ghost Spider has posed:
Ghost-Spider perches on the edge of a rooftop, her suit black-and-white suit making her little more than a wraith against the inky blackness above Hell's Kitchen. It's the middle of the night, around 1 AM, and the shadows thrown by the few streetlights are deep and long. Even this late, the air has a sticky warmth that clings to everything, and the distant hum of traffic is punctuated by the occasional wail of a siren. The scent of exhaust fumes, garbage, and hot asphalt fills the air.

Below her, a neighborhood normally bustling during the day is eerily quiet. Neon signs flicker intermittently in closed storefront windows, casting an otherworldly glow on the cracked pavement. The electronics store she's watching is closed, its metal shutters pulled down and secured. A single streetlight buzzes and flickers above the sidewalk, adding to the sense of desolation. The only movement comes from a sleek black van that pulls suspiciously up to the curb, its tinted windows giving away nothing.

Gwen's been tracking this crew for weeks now -- small-time crooks with a knack for high-tech heists. Tonight, they're going for this place, "Earl's Electronics," and she's not about to let them get away with it.

The van's doors slide open, and four men spill out dressed in black and moving with practiced efficiency. They head straight for the electronics store, oblivious to the figure watching them from above. Gwen's fingers tighten around the edge of the rooftop, her senses heightening. She can hear their murmured conversation, the jingle of keys, the click of heavy chains with hooks being dragged across the concrete sidewalk.

They're not a particularly subtle bunch.

She leaps from her perch, the wind rushing past her as she descends, and lands in a crouch on the roof of their van, her movements silent as a cat.

"Hey, boys," she calls out, her voice laced with playful menace. "Not sure if you realize this, but those shutters mean they're closed. You're gonna have to come back and buy your new X-Box tomorrow."

The leader whirls around, his eyes wide with surprise. "What the hell are you?"

"Seriously?" Ghost-Spider sighs. "Nothing? Not even a guess?"

Spider-Man has posed:
It's late. After midnight to be sure and both he and Gwen are out on patrol. Separately, as they could cover more ground that way and, let's be real, she really didn't need the backup. Not that he did, but of the two of them he was more inclined to block with his face. It was sheer coincidence that brought him into that alley when the goons were hashtag just goon things and she was way on top of it. So Spider-Man perched on a nearby rooftop to keep an eye on things and finally get to snack on his 7-11 rollers. So tasty, so bad for him. A good thing Gwen was doing hero-work so she couldn't give him crap about his late-night snack.

He wanted to give her some encouragement but the hashtag just goon things might be armed with hashtag firearms and those could potentially ruin a lot of people's days.

Ghost Spider has posed:
The leader's eyes narrow, confusion quickly morphing into anger.

"Get her!" he barks, pulling a sleek silver pistol from his belt. The other three thugs scramble, their hands going to various weapons -- one grabs a crowbar, another pulls out a taser, and the last one goes for a set of brass knuckles.

She springs from the van, flipping gracefully in mid-air and *thwipping* out a web-line that snatches the pistol and jerks it out of the man's hand. She snaps it to the side, yanking it towards the building and then sending another wad of webbing out that traps it in place.

The thug with the crowbar swings at her as soon as she lands, but she's too fast, ducking under the arc of the weapon and delivering a swift kick to his midsection. He crumples, gasping for breath, and she thwips out three more wads of webbing -- two that stick his feet to the ground and a third that splats in the middle of his face.

"Serious question," she asks while that guy struggles, the taser-wielding thug lunging at her. Electricity crackles ominously, but Gwen rolls into a back-walkover, shooting out a webline to the guy's ankles and yanking him onto his back with a thud. Another *splat* pins the taser to the guy's own chest. "What are you guys doing with all this stuff you're stealing? It's not like we're talking high-grade military tech or anything.. is there really that big of a market for black market TVs and gaming systems these days?"

The leader grabs the crow bar out of the hand of the first man she webbed up and throws it at her. It flips end-over-end, but she just turns her body slightly to the side, letting it fly right past her and hit the side of their van with a clang that makes her wince.

"That's going to leave a mark..."

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter chewed on his treat and watched the action. Goddamn it was hot watching her move, but now was not the time for Naughty Peter. Now was Spider-Man time. "Great job! You got this!" he called, unable to hold the enthusiasm back. "These chucklefucks are probably either looking for a quick buck on the resale market or they've got kids themselves." he pointed out, probably not-at-all helpfully. "Either way, they should have realized waaaaay back into their childhoods that stealing is _bad_." he pointed out.

Ghost Spider has posed:
The leader snarls, frustration etched across his face. "Shut up and fight!"

Gwen shrugs nonchalantly, her eyes darting around to assess the situation. The thug with the brass knuckles is already making a move, charging at her with a growl. Leaps up and flips on top of the van, then jumps again over his head and thwips out enough webbing to pin him, face first, to the side of it.

"Really, though," she continues, her tone almost conversational as she shoots another web, pinning the brass knuckles thug to the side of the van. "I'm genuinely curious about the economics here. Do you guys have a spreadsheet for this kind of operation, or is it more of a grab-and-go situation?"

It's then that Spider-Man's voice cut into the action, and her attention turned towards him, her mask-eyes narrowing slightly. "That's... colorful," she muses dry, not sounding particularly enthused. "Do we get the Deadpool-style commentary after midnight now?"

"Spider-Man!" the leader shouts, his eyes going wide.

"Oh, so _him_ you recognize," Ghost-Spider sighs.

He doesn't dignify her with a response, opting instead to charge at her with brute force. She was, after all, between him and a hasty getaway in his van. Gwen lashes out a strand of webbing that gathers his ankles and sends him sliding, face-first, across the sidewalk to land at her feet.

"Ghost-Spider," she informs him, just before shooting out a couple more webs that attach his arms to the sidewalk. "The name is Ghost-Spider."

She does the same for the guy that had the taser that was just getting to his feet, pinning him in place, and even as she does, the sound of sirens grows louder. She _might_ have sent an anonymous text message while she was up there watching the van.

The flickering streetlight casts eerie shadows over the scene, and Gwen steps back, hands on her hips, surveying her handiwork. "Well, boys, it's been fun. Good luck with New York's finest. And don't forget, like Spider-Man says, stealing is bad."

There's a couple of disgruntled groans, but Ghost-Spider is already shooting a web-line up to the top of the building and pulling herself back up into the night, swinging towards the guy in the red-and-blue pajamas.

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter followed her, thwipping his own way in the same direction she's heading. "Nice job with those guys." he said conversationally. "And yeah, I ran into Wade earlier today. Man, he is a _bad_ influence on friendly neighborhood Spider-Msns." he said. Then he remembered that he had a bite or two left of 7-11 roller and chowed down on that mid-thwip. After moving his mask out of the way, of course.

Nobody wanted to use their mask as a junk-food strainer. That just wasn't on.