Operation: Roll Out

[initiates]

Date & Time: January 31st - February 4th, Present Day Exsilium Time
Location: Neo Las Vegas, in what formerly was called Turkey.
Characters: All Transports!
Summary: Transports have been sent to Neo Las Vegas to gather information on the origin point of the United Earth and the UE AI. Conference sabotage and the rest is expected and invited!
Warnings: Gambling and alcoholic beverages quite likely! Please PM the mod account for anything else.

By day, the landscape isn't desert, precisely, so much as it is dry. Winter's settled in and found in the biting chill of the wind when it finds you standing on the street. Hovercars and taxis thrum down the cobblestone streets, cavorting and honking like a noisy crowd of inelegant, overweight geese. Men walk by on stilts half in make-up, on their way back to their stage for the next night. Walks of shame are taken proudly in this district, one of the few approved and sanctioned vacation zones in the United Earth.

Evidence of law enforcement can be found all around, but they seem altogether too pleased to be there too. Talk with any one of them about crime rates, and they're liable to laugh at the idea. Those who come to gamble know the house is rigged to win. It's not about making or breaking the bank -- people whose funds dip too low are politely escorted back to their rooms and given a set of normal playing cards -- but it is about enjoyment.

Of the flesh too, and it'd be difficult to find anyone working in Neo Las Vegas who suffers from modesty, or anyone visiting who seems unwilling to politely ask visitors and staff if they'd like to keep them company for the night. In fact, Transports may find themselves needing to turn down multiple such requests! The refusal is always taken well. These are people looking to have a good time, and that's all.

No chance taken, nothing gained, right?

At night, the city really comes alive, the lights in all the hotels and casinos turning the Neo Las Vegas Strip into a carnival of sensation. Drinks and recreational drugs are freely passed around, men and women engage in a variety of sexual and other hedonistic excesses without regret, and the beautiful interiors and ostentatious or playful exteriors of the buildings hide and reveal a rich tapestry of events, delectables, and desires waiting to be fulfilled.

Neo Las Vegas is a fun place, and it is a safe place, and it is Where the Conferences For Our Future Are Made. Playtime is on, gang.

Comments

[mallarkey]

[ "Aunt May," huh. He's tempted to ask, if only because that makes it sound like Peter grew up without his parents-- which would be, maybe, part of how they get along so well.

He leans his hand on the wall, watching Peter curiously before he gives the room a cursory look over. ]

All right, something everyone knows back home. Mine's-- [ He's sober enough to be having second thoughts, but it's too late for that, probably-- ] Well, kind of the opposite, but don't let me interrupt.

[unmasking]

In the room. Just in case someone hears. [He waves a hand toward the door. But that's only stalling, isn't it? Stalling, so he waits until they get inside, and once they are, once the door is closed, he paces over to the window.]

Back home, I was a superhero. [That's only the beginning. Peter doesn't know how else to go about this, but he knows just leaving it there might mean they miss the next part, that he somehow gets around it.] Only there was this guy. This jerk. His name was Norman Osborn, and he thought it was his god-given right to ... kill me. Before that, he thought he owned me. That kind of guy. Anyway—[His breathing hitches for a moment, because he's not typing this to someone. He's saying it to a friend.]

He succeeded.

[mallarkey]

[ The words hang in the air, echoing strangely, or at least it feels that way. Feeling a little like his knees didn't work anymore, Doug -- no, Wayne, it's always just been Wayne -- almost sits down on the minibar because he might otherwise lose his balance, but he manages to recover, simply standing in place.

Shit.

It's one of those things that hits him in several folds, but it's the death Wayne latches onto immediately more so than the superhero admission. It's weird, and it's surprising, but he's talked to people that turn into cars and has such trained himself to deal with "weird." But the rest... if he wasn't already sobered, he would be now. Death is like that. But Peter's so young.

He thinks about Pete. Pete, Doug's friend, not Wayne's, that Dale had murdered and Wayne had helped to bury the body. He thinks about what lengths he went to hide the murder of a man he had liked, had felt sorry for, who was killed because he just got a step too close. (All of it's too close, like Dale is in the room; Wayne at least feels like he can understand perfectly.) He thinks about Sammy, only a few years younger than Peter here, saying Dad, thanks for not abandoning me back there. This kid-- this Peter was not his son, but just like Pete he was friends with a different man than he thought he was. Sammy's words help ground Wayne again, insist to him that he can't abandon Peter right now. He's talking to a dead kid. One that knows he's dead, has nothing to go back to, and can't do a damn thing about it. ]

Hey.

[ He's not really sure what he's going to say, yet, but he'll figure that out. First, he walks over to pull Peter into a hug because it seems like the right thing to do. ]

Nobody owns you. All right? You're-- you're not... nothing. [ It feels meaningless to say, almost, but he does mean it. He thinks about Sammy again, even DiDi (sorry Cael), and instinct takes over. ] Isn't your fault.

[unmasking]

[One of Peter's greatest gifts, one way or another, is his ability to take responsibility for something. Mary Jane, Gwen, even Aunt May—they've gotten on his case for it, on his case for his tendency to jump to apologizing, because he always feels responsible. It hasn't actually occurred to Peter that it might not be his responsibility that he died. It might not be his responsibility for why Norman Osborn and his band of evil jerks decided that they needed to go after him, that they needed to be let out.

Or that it might not be his responsibility to keep his aunt, his neighborhood, from dying.

So when Doug says it, it's weird to him. It barely settles in before he's hugging back, because hugging isn't hard. Hugging is precisely what he did before he made false promises to both Gwen and Aunt May.

He holds the hug for a long moment before he pulls back.]

Trust me, I told him that he didn't own me. He got the hint at the end there.

[mallarkey]

[ Hugging isn't hard, but it's always been a staple in the Malloy family. To show that they were a family, were there together and would not be separated. This is different, but not terribly-- the point is the reminder that someone else is there, maybe.

He exhales quietly, slowly, pulling back himself and rubbing a hand distractedly through his hair. When he talks again his throat feels a little dry, but he goes on regardless: ]

Good. Good... gotta make a stand where you can. [ He looks at Peter, still uncertain, still... jarred. ] What kind--

[ He takes another step back, clearing his throat. ]

What kind of superhero were you?

[unmasking]

I don't kill. [That seems to be a good rule, one that others don't necessarily adhere to. Even the heroes of his own world don't adhere to it.] And I dress up in a costume. Spider-Man. Ever heard of him? [From what he's gained via osmosis, there's at least a chance of it.]

[mallarkey]

[ Wayne's never been very comic-booky, but Spider-Man's not very obscure, either. Still, he shakes his head, sitting himself down (finally) on the minibar and slouching forward. ]

Decent people shouldn't. Not on purpose. Wouldn't have taken you for anything but decent -- at least. [ He smiles faintly. It's hard to picture, honestly -- the abstract is one thing, but he can't really picture the reality of someone being a superhero. Let alone this kid, his friend, Peter. ] ... Why spiders?

[unmasking]

It wasn't my idea. [That's the easiest thing to admit. Being Spider-Man was someone else's label. Getting the costume was just a matter of adding on webs, and then in time, it was MJ taking over those duties.] But I got bit. Right here. [He motions to the spot on his hand.] And I thought I was gonna die—I seriously did. And then Mr. Ownership decided to kill me, only ... [Peter shrugs.

He didn't die there. That's the hint to that statement. There would be a lot of things to come after that.]

I can still do all of it.

[mallarkey]

[ He looks when Peter indicates his hand, frowning a little but nodding to demonstrate that he's following. He glances up at Peter's face again while he continues, listening passively for the moment.

No easier to picture, regardless of the elaboration, but a little easier to grasp. Wayne figures for now, at least, that's good enough. ]

What's all of it? You spin webs, or... just climb them? [ It's a little joking, but also genuine. He pauses, then adds: ] Y'know, you don't have to-- if it's hard to tell me all this, I'm not... wouldn't be offended.

[unmasking]

No, no, it's—[Oddly enough, he musters up a smile while he looks at Wayne. The idea of it being hard is there, but he wants to talk about it, he wants to be honest. One more person who knows is better than no one knowing.]

I want to tell you. And I developed a batch of my own stuff. That's ... when I first told a bunch of people I needed stuff, chemicals, that's what I was looking into. I needed more webs. I climb them, but it's all a very precise science. [One that Peter can clearly do quickly in his own head.]

[mallarkey]

[ Wayne manages a smile also, eyebrows raising as the pieces come together. The lab stuff; it did make sense. Here he'd just been assuming Pete was only a teenage science whiz. ]

Can't be much opportunity to use 'em, is there? How's that work in a place like this, the whole... super thing? Must at least keep you honest. [ A pause. ] I mean -- you know what I mean.

[unmasking]

[Something recognizable crosses over his features at Doug's words. Must at least keep you honest. It's not that which gets him, but the fact that he's had to give it up. Keeping the webshooters on, keeping a costume around—it's more of a routine than a need.

He hates it.]

I haven't been. [He manages a shrug, but it's stiff, as if his shoulders don't know what they're doing.] I've been playing scientist instead.

[mallarkey]

[ There's a pause, something in the look on Peter's face, that causes Wayne to purse his lips slightly and drop his gaze. He rubs at his mouth, more like an addict trying to distract himself than a man in thought.

He says quietly, after a moment: ]

S'good too. Place like this has use for certain kinds of people. [ Another pause, more tense. ] Others, well-- just... won't work for everyone.