Peter Bono | G. Maxine
Vegas was a really fucking weird city, man. And it smelled like a combination of weed and ass. That was really the only way to describe the scent that just every so often wafted right into your nose and settled there for a good thirty seconds filled with cringing.
What was even weird? Aliens. Alien invasion/attacks in a city like Vegas was just so -- well, it was kind of predictable so why would they want to go there where they'd be expected? Maybe the lights were like a beacon, kind of like moths being drawn to flames?
"Shit," she uttered under her breath, and took off running. Her Spidey-sense was kicking into high gear as she turned around. "Heads up!" She called out to some guy in a costume that she thought was probably supposed to be some kind of Greek god. He also had a cigar in his mouth. She aimed her wrist and tried to release her webbing but nothing happened. Just kind of an anti-climactic puff of air. "Ah, man. I never thought I'd want the humidity from town but dry heat is not cool right now." She ran for the smoking Zeus and managed to knock him out of the way before a street lamp fell over where he'd been standing. "Hey, go in there," she said, and motioned to Caesar's Palace. "You look the part."
She ran back out into the street where there was some strung out guy in a Spider-Man costume. "Oh geez, are you this world's Spider-Man? Please say no." The guy was high as a kite and said something about the rapture coming so she just shoved him toward Caesar's too and kept running.
"Oh my god, Sonny Bono are you this world's Spider-Man?!"