1964-09-02 - Alley Cats
Summary: The White Widow tosses down the gauntlet for an aspiring fashion designer.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
gwen-stacy gary 

It was a depressing sort of evening.

In previous occupations, it was easy to not think of the little guy. There were a lot of things to worry about, but the wounded masculinity of a minimum wage divorcee wasn't something he ever needed to quite consider. Most days he could forget; Days when he bummed a free meal off of more successful, and pity-feeling army buddies weren't certainly the highlight of anything. Hands shoved into the pocket of the best slacks one could find at a Salavation Army might have had, Gary trudges into an alley, a short cut towards the meter he parked his car at. He checks his watch a bit anxiously and picks up his step, eager to avoid a ticket.

You can spot a victim easily, if you know what to look for.
Maggie smiled as she quickened her pace slightly. Lily was on the other end, ready to pounce. They pull this off, they are in the gang for sure.
Lily does have a rouch grace and beauty, even in the jeans and t-shirt. She looks over to Gary, then says wryly, "Hey there, stranger. Looking for a good time, or a cheap thrill?"

Gary glances up from his watch at the voice, eyes flitting down againt to check the time. His other hand slips out of his pocket. The man gives a slow shake of his head, "You might want to try combineing the two into one package, maybe calling it an inexpensive or 'value' thrill." He says with a feigned boyish innoncense, "Might work better from a marketing standpoint." As he approaches, he starts to move to the side, looking ready just to brush on by, "But alimony comes first, no thanks."

Lily places a hand on Gary's chest, stopping him momentarily. "Sorry, honey."
Then the other hand grabs Gary's shoulder and SLAMS his back against the brick wall, and then the switchblade is up in Gary's face, swaying slightly.
The other woman, a suicide blonde seeming ready to upgrade to HOMICIDE blonde, smirks. "WE come first. Wallet, watch, rings, anything else. We're in a hurry."

Gary oofs, air getting knocked out of him as he's shoved against the wall. His hands go up, somewhat instinctively, in the universal sign of surrender, palm facing outward, about chest height. His eyes cross, briefly, at the fast-acting knife, "Hey-hey." He says, affecting a voice shake, "I can't-you've got me shoved up against the wall, my wallet's in my backpocket, I can't get it when you've got me all-out like this." He says, his hand crossing, fingers fumbling with his watch briefly, eyes twitching over to the one who /didn't/ have the switch blade, trying to catch sight of her hands.

Maggie smiled. "Shouldn't be that hard, no-balls." She turned her head to Lily, smiling…
And then the smile died.
Lily…wasn't there. Somehow, in all the activity, Lily had just…disappeared. Had she lost her nerve? Impossible. Lily ate them raw with coleslaw.
Maggie looked back to Gary, but now looked a little rattled. "Grab your wallet. SLOWLY. You do that too quick, you'll get a Glasgow smile…"


And suddenly there is a thin line attached to the switchblade, on the side of the blade. There is a moment when both Maggie and Gary can see it clearly, and then it is jerked upward, disappearing into the darkness overhead.

Gary raises an eyebrow at the dissapearance of one of the women. Eyes shifting back to the switchblade, he nearly jumps as that thin thread fwips down… and the switchblade vanishes into the air. For a moment, the criminal and victim likley share some measure of disbelief. Without looking down, Gary simple steps forward, a foot hooking forward, getting around and behind its opposite of Maggie's, before sweeping forward in time with a hearty shove, aiming to send the assailent flying to the ground, "I'm starting to think you've never even /been/ to Glasgow!" Gary says, his voice filled with a faux-disbelief of the fact, even if its distracted, as his eyes scan the alley warily, the most immediate threat no longer one due to a confluence of… strangeness…

Maggie is just startled enough to go forward, crashing to the dirty street, and for a few seconds is unable to orient. Then she gets herself to her feet, and pulling out a small, almost ladylike .380, pointing it at Gary. This was going to add ten years to her sentence if she got caught, but no witnesses is no…
Then another THWIPP and her entire gun hand, gun and all, are encased in webbing. She looked up at where it came from, and another thatch of webbing covers her mouth. Not her nose, though.
Her eyes go wide with shock before she is yanked up into the darkness above the weak light in the alley.
So…that was why the other one disappeared.
A voice comes from overheard. "Shame, shame…your father is NOT going to be happy, Mags…"

Gary freezes, glancing down the barrel with some degree of familiarity. It was less fear and more a bit of shame. Of all the indignities, he was gonna buy it in a mugging gone bad. His muscles tense, preparing for a desperate movement, before the whole damn package zips away into the sky. He reaches up to scratch his head, glancing down at himself and patting away to make sure he didn't miss getting stuck in all the exciting, before glancing back up to the darkness of the alley's high walls, "Don't suppose it'd save my masculinity if I said this's never happened before?" He calls out to the mysterious voice.

The voice replies, "Hang on, gent. Have to tidy up." A pause. "You know, I can guess what you;re saying, Mags, so save it for someone who will believe you."
And then someone drops out of the darkness.
It's a good 40-50 feet, the kind of height that guarantees broken bones, but the…woman…landing in a crouch rises again without any sign of dropping from a height that has a 65 percent chance of killing you on impact.
The masked face tilts as she holds out her hand, the watch dangling from it. "Yours, I hope."

Gary starts to take a step back as the demon-thing that ruined two bandits in quite short fashion lands in front of him; His heel pads against the brick wall behind him, and he decides he's far back enough. Reaching forward slowly, he accepts the watch, eyes remaining on the spidery-gal's-or well, the big eye things sewn into the costume. He turns the watch to catch the light, peering at the case back for a moment, for a telltale scratch or two, "Yup." He says, raising it to his ear, satisfied its still ticking, before working on putting it back around his wrist. He glances up to the sky again, briefly, "Thanks. I had a plan, but uh… yeah, thanks. What did you do to Bonnie and Clydette?"

The woman looks up. "Oh, they're going to hang around for awhile until the cops show up. I figure being caught with a gun still in her hand is going to curtail Bonnie's plans for awhile." She smiles wryly under the mask. "You okay? I figured I got the knife before she started carving, but…well, no damage, right?"

"You called the cops?" Gary asks, moving away from the wall and towards the mouth of the alley, his back towards it, at least getting an exit in line. He does give a relieved sigh, "Oh good, for a minute there I thought you might be one of those… err…" He holds his finger in the shape of a gun, across his chest, clicking his tounge twice, "-kinda vigilantes. Thought it mighta been a bit much for those two." He points up in emphasis. A glance back down to his body, "Nothing's wet, don't hear any hissing, so I guess the sidewalls are fine…" He doesn't seem all that shakey for just having violence threatened.

The woman nods. "I'm called the White Widow." She shrugs. "The good names were taken. Anyway, yeah, I've found it a lot easier to sleep at night this way. Well…you look like you're in good shape. MIGHT want to avoid alleys in the evening, from now on. That's just asking for trouble. And around here, asking for trouble is like asking for an opinion. There's a lot of people willing to give it to you."

"Sounds like a rough day at the copyright office." Gary replies, rubbing the back of his neck, "Some people just use whiskey. You sound a little young address morality-induced insomnia with a drinking problem. I suppose this is heathier. More aerobic." He says stepping away, back towards the mouth of the alley, "And who doesn't like a healthy discourse. Careful with your hobby, kid. Bullet's tend to skip the opinion's and go straight for physics." He starts to turn, "And uh… thanks again. I don't know what I'd do if my alimony was /late/." He gives, before slipping away.

Widow watches him go, frowning. HOBBY? No WONDER the guy's divorced.

She fires a webline up, waving to Lily and Maggie as she passes. "Guys can be really dumb, ya know that?" she says wryly to them.
They don't answer, but glare at her as she swings away.

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