Rooms

Mouldering.

I can't say that's a word heard very often.

[locked to jason t.]

Hi. I bet you're getting tired of this, but I need to talk to you about Carnage.

[locked to mj w.]

[...] Hey.

[Gwen hadn't slept well, and it kind of showed.

Sitting at the breakfast table of the Gramercy apartment that had seen mutants and tiny Gods alike, she was track-pants and a long-faded shirt from Midtown high, the thumb-holes indicating it had probably belonged to one of the many precursor Peters. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and her cornflower blue eyes were slow-blink sleepy. She nursed some green tea, which was warm but offered limited caffeine benefits, and she was considering a protein pancake. The sun was just beginning to think about warming up the sky, and she flipped the pages in the book she was reading on host/parasitic relationships, as if the words on the page were going to somehow provide some heretofore unknown insight to Carnage's psyche.

She'd begun work on a new containment unit, and the thing was in the corner of the kitchen, pieces of pieces, and she should really go steal the old one from Stark Tower. She could just ask Mr. Rogers, but she wasn't inclined to do that, and her dad would forgive her from his grave if she resorted to theft this one time. She didn't have her own lab anymore, and building anything as complicated as a containment unit was kind of beyond her currently available materials. They should probably get the suit repaired too, since it might be the only way to get the symbiote off whoever it decided was good enough to permanently host it.

Thinking about that made her shudder, and she flipped the page on the book and then headdesk'ed, cheek against the crisp pages as she gave up on reading altogether.] Why does training have to happen so early? [Yep, that was totally whiny.]

WHO Spidey & Black Cat.
WHAT spidey's got a bee in his bonnet about a certain thief.
WHEN recently!
WHERE Marvel: NYC.
WARNING nada~
( It was funny how putting on the mask could make all his problems go away for a while. )

[Locked to Harry O]
We should talk in case Did you buy that yacht yet, Harry? The tide predictions are super favorable for late April.

[Locked to Jason T]
Hey, James Dean. I hear you're totally in the loop now.

[Call to Peter P]
[About an hour after this, as she leaves NYU. Ring.]

[Peter & Gwen group lock]
[While staying up with Gwen as she does nerd science shit.]

Carnage took my ability to track it. We're going to have to figure out a way to lure it someplace. Pete, have you been able to sense it at all?

[Cindy M]
[Pos-it left on her stuff:]

yo roomie hit me up on the journals: flash t.

[Steve R]

Can I get some advice?

[Instead of replying here & here, he just posts anew.]

[Locked to Peter P + Gwen S + Flash T]
This is your op. I trust your judgment. I'm sorry if I bludgeoned you earlier. If you think it's safer not to go public about Carnage, we won't. I'm not sure how helpful I can be, but if you need anything, let me know, logistics, backup, just name it—and please update me. I'll talk to Tony and see if we can work to provide resources or anything else you might need. Is there anyone else you do or do not want to bring on for assistance? (And hello, Flash.)

[Locked to Tony S + Bruce B + Bucky B]
Where are we with Insight? How can I help? I'd like to include both Carters in our discussions, since both are intimate with S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA, if everyone's okay with it. Natasha and Barton too could be assets when it comes to navigating S.H.I.E.L.D. internally.

[Locked to Jason T]
Hi, Jason. Do you have a minute?

[After this, in a flurry of locks.]

[Locked to Peggy C]
[...] Peggy? Are you [...] really here? Please b

[Locked to Sharon C]
Sharon?

[Locked to Bucky B]
Hey, Buck?

[Locked to Tony S]
I think [...] something happened. I'm [...] back?.
ETA: You lost the symbiote?
ETA 2: You didn't notice you lost the symbiote?

[Locked to Selina K]
Selina, are you okay?

[Locked to Gwen S]
Gwen, [a little uselessly] it's Steve.

[Locked to Pepper P]
Pepper.

[Locked to Avengers (Bruce B, Clint B, Natasha R, Tony S, Thor) + Wanda M + Peter P]
[...] Can I get a roll call?

[Locked to Preston R]
Are you okay? [Crossed out when it bounces back. He even thinks at him, hard, but to no avail.]

[From the Passages hallway. As Maddie Kate R.]

Fuck.

[After this. A few hours later, since obviously he doesn't go straight home.]

[locked to gwen s.]

[...] Hey.

[locked to flash t.]

How's it feel to be out of the hospital?

[locked to mj w.]

Are you still m [Nothing sent.]

[As Cindy M]

I hope I didn't miss the welcoming basket. Muffins. Wine. Maybe some cheese. Yeah, that woulda been nice.

[locked to harry o.]

Yo.

[locked to aubrey r.]

Hey, so, you don't know me, but I know a friend of yours. Kitane. Got a minute or is this a bad time?

Who: Gwen and Pete
What: Museums and a confession? Maybe.
Where: American Museum of Natural History
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Bad puns?

It would be a vast understatement to say Gwen didn't actually have time to go playing around in a darkened museum, but she was still young enough to be able to logic away poor choices by blaming them on immaturity, and she did precisely that when she arrived at the American Museum of Natural History after closing, where she knew the night custodian well; he'd been a good friend of her dad's, an old war veteran with a white beard and a face that looked like it remembered trenches way too well. But Gwen had known him since she was small, and he was the same in this world as he'd been in hers. As a result, this was her third post-closing foray into the darkened museum. She'd taken Hels there one night last year, and Harry had first kissed her in front of Cro-Magnon man. Tonight, the custodian (Uncle Bob) gave her a grandfather's smile, and he let her in the service entrance and promised to let the "dorky kid" that followed her in the same way.

Gwen was dressed down, because skirts and dresses weren't going to work very well for what she had planned. And she had planned. In her Gramercy apartment, there was a list with the pros and cons of all possible conversation routes for "I kind of stole your superpower gig," and while she'd memorized them all, they were mostly forgotten now that she was actually walking through the darkened halls of the museum with Peter's suit in the backpack she had slung over her shoulder. Said suit had been swiped while Peter half-dozed in some general education class that had been way too easy to locate for the girl who attended the same university as him and had some pretty sweet spidey senses working for her these days.

After much consideration, she draped Pete's red-and-blue footsies over the neck of Anatotitan, and she webbed herself up to the ledge of one of the tall windows in the Hall of Ornithischian Dinosaurs. Sitting on the sill, she waited, her iPhone earbuds tucked in her ears and Ms. Carter's 80s playlist playing.

[She should've worn pants. That's what she thought. She was trying to impress Flash, but she really should've worn pants. The sheer black of her tights let in the wet night air. It was like 44° and windy, and her mustard yellow skirt kept fluttering up, some stupid looking bird's wing, as she tromped from the subway station to the hospital. It was probably the waving that caught the attention of the two men in the alley in the first place. She had a thin coat on over her sweater and skirt, with the hood drawn up, obscuring well-known red, but the purse she had in her hand was branded, and it, as much as the skirt, acted like a flag—come and get me, boys!

Easy prey, it read.

She really should've worn pants.

The side street she took was almost entirely clear, and it was only the jostling of a grimy, dirty-nailed hand on her arm that jarred MJ from her reverie of how great things were going to go in Flash's hospital room. The grip was strong, and as she traced it, wide eyed, to the man it belonged too, some snatch of fear muted her.

She didn't know if they recognized her, but even if they did, it was whatever now. They had her and either they tossed the fishy back into the churn of Midtown waters or they used the chance they'd seized.—The two men went for the carpe diem, rather than 'release the carp.' (Not that she was a carp. That was just me being clever. MJ Watson would be something better than a carp. She was, like, a sea goldie blitzed in red. Def.)

A pocket knife to the white apple of her throat, one man with his hand on her arm, the other snickering about the shortness of her skirt, and she stood there, so useless. She knew Gwendy would know what to do. Flash too. Harry. Even Peter. But her? She tried to wrest her purse away, she kicked at the men with icy blood in her veins, but with just a knick and a small thread of red and the unbearable, dirty, disgusting pressure of something hard against her ass as one of the men circled behind her, they reminded her quickly that she was not the one in control. It was all she could do to stutter out a:] Please—take whatever you want. Just—just let me go.

[It was like a cliché. She was begging, and she should've been ashamed, but she didn't have it in her.]

[Private to Peter P.]

sooo MJ has nooo fucking idea you're Spider-Man? Still? That's fucked bro.

[Private to Harry O.]

thanks, man.

[Immediately prior to going to Flash's hospital room here.]

[Group lock to Peter P, Mary Jane W, Harry O]
Flash is awake.

[Locked to Jason T]
Hey, Flash is awake and got moved to Cornell. But [blink] can we maybe do something that doesn't involve staying in the hospital?

Who: Gwen & Peter
What: Waiting
Where: Bellevue Hospital
When: At some point after this
Warnings/Rating: Some blood mentions

( Staying in the waiting room with Peter and Mary Jane just wasn't something Gwen could do. )

[The last time Flash remembered being really happy was the months leading up to his high school graduation. It wasn't that his life turned to shit after, no a job with the Thunderbolts and being trusted with one of the most dangerous aliens in the universe was an honor and a privilege. But, being an adult is responsibility. It's worrying about money, food, if you're good enough, if you've done enough. Being an adult is regret, guilt, pessimism and feeling small. Being a teenager? At least for Flash Thompson? Was happiness. He had confidence, he didn't live with his asshole dad anymore, he was going to graduate with the help of the best friend he'd ever have. High School was bliss, was a warm feeling around his shoulders. And, for disrespecting Silent Hill as much as he did, the town decided to just give it to him.

What looked like a rowdy high school hallway to him, was actually a complete nightmare. He was wandering around the old school house like a crazy person locked away in an insane asylum. He brofisted shambling monsters of sewn together flesh. He talked to people who weren't even there. The gun he had was still on his hip and his backpack of nearly depleted supplies was still on his back. The girl running this place must have really thought this was funny, because it let him walk around safely idiotic like this for hours.

Finally a bell rang. It was LOUD and SHRILL and it sounded like an alarm more than a school bell. Flash's clouded eyes looked up at it and he started walking to math class, which was just down the hall from him. He opened the creaking old door splattered with blood. The classroom looked like a monster had ripped through it. Blood on the walls, broken desks thrown around the room. Someone had written "LOOK INSIDE AND YOU WILL FIND" over and over and over again until there wasn't any room left. Flash saw math problems he didn't understand and he sighed as the teacher (a shambling corpse with long, thick nails and no face) started scraping at the chalkboard.]

[During this.]

[Locked to Peter P + Gwendy S]
What's going on with Flash? [...] Why is he acting like Harry?

ETA: [Locked to Harry O]
Harry?

[Locked to Pepper P]
Ms. Potts, I need to let someone know, in case Peter and I end up as insane as our friends. We're going into the Silent Hill door to get Gwendolyn and Flash.

[Peter P]

Dude, I know this is uncool, but can I copy your math homework? I was busy last night with shit. Just don't tell Gwen, she'll kill me.

[MJ Watson]

What are you doing this weekend? Want to go crash a frat party with me?

[Public]

srsly how many more days until graduation??