xp_logs | Miles, Matt, and Warren, Friday night

There's no shortage of vigilantes in this new world. Daredevil and Spidey 2 meet the Angel!

January in New York was cold. Freezing cold, but the crisp (polluted) air was what Matt needed after a long day at the office. Who was he kidding? It had been a long week. Running around the city in his leathers made him feel alive, got his blood pumping. "You hungry, Little Bug?" Matt called to his unexpected night time companion. The kid was usually out with Spider-Man, but he'd run into him solo earlier. The smells from a local food truck were amazing and Matt might have to get in on that. Thank goodness the mask Clint had gotten him left his mouth uncovered, even if it was colder that way.

The younger Spider-Man landed a few feet behind Daredevil and nodded. "Left my wallet in my other tights, though." His black and red rubber/Spandex costume didn't provide much room to carry cash. Not that he didn't appreciate the hell out of Gwen for usurping OsCorp's 3D printing facility, but the outfit as a whole did not leave much of anything to the imagination. At least it was surprisingly warm so he wasn't totally freezing his butt off like he assumed his partner was. "But I'm good for it!"

"Yeah, yeah," the kid was in high school, Matt wouldn't let him pay regardless. He didn't make much as a new lawyer by New York City standards, but he could afford a couple food truck tacos. He jumped off the roof without losing stride, launching the cable of his billy club to help curtail his fall into something controlled. He was sweating softly beneath his costume and the air felt good.

Miles was right on his heels and used a thin web line to safely get down to ground level, too. His mouth was watering when he approached the taco truck; he was going to have to wash his mask tonight. He was about to tell Daredevil his order when he realized that the small group in front of them wasn't there to get tacos, too. A food truck robbery? Miles sighed. "Man, I did not think that I was going to have to work for my food tonight," he whispered to his partner. "How you wanna play this?"

Crap. Double crap. "You hit low, I'll hit high," Matt replied with a sigh. Dammit, a snack shouldn't be this complicated, but then such was life. "Two guy's are armed, I'd assume knives and the like for the others. Let's take them out and wrap 'em up for the police."

Ugh, guns were the worst. Miles had been almost shot several times and it always made for a bad night. He had to take those out first. Fortunately, one of these morons was waving around his piece, which made it really easy to grab out of his hand it with a web. That also had the effect of instantly grabbing the muggers' attention.

"Violating the sanctity of tacos," Miles tssked. "Your mothers would be ashamed."

"I'm sure the cost of tacos is much less than bail and other legal fees," Matt agreed, stepping up quietly and smoothly disarming the second gunman by wrenching his arm back and plucking it from his jeans.

The other would-be muggers stood dumbly for a moment before trying to rush the two men with a mixture of knives and brass knuckles. They were prepared for a street brawl, not something like this. Matt was ready and sprang into action, tossing his mugger at Spidey to web.

The entire scene was like a movie. Warren should've brought popcorn. He'd been doing a night flight, more out of a need to destress than to actually patrol, when he'd come across the scene. It was clear that the gang was planning on doing something, but Warren had found himself hesitating. For one thing, the food truck was in a well-lit area, and for another, there were other people. He couldn't risk being discovered, but could he let an innocent person get mugged either?

Fortunately for him, there were two people who weren't having the same conundrum. Warren landed on a building across from the action, and with one leg up on the edge, he crouched down and watched the action.

Spider-Man and Daredevil made pretty quick work of the would-be muggers. It was easy to be all big and tough when you had weapons and outnumbered some poor defenseless schmuck, but throw in a pair of super-powered costumed vigilantes, and you're going to have a bad time. Miles had the group webbed up to a lamppost in no time.

"That was extra lame, guys," Miles chided them. "Do yourselves a big favor and just stop. Look at your lives, your choices, et cetera. Now." He spun his heel and turned to the recuperating red-faced truck operator. "Two shredded porks with everything, por favor. I'm starving."

"Six," Matt corrected, his senses telling him that they had an audience up high. He'd heard the arrival of the winged man, but since he hadn’t interfered, he didn't acknowledge him, "and a beer....and three sodas," he carried cash on him, but he wasn't going to flash his ID for beer. Pulling out a couple folded bills from a pocket, he carefully unfolded then and handed them to the truck operator through the window.

"I can't take that man, it's on the house!" He stammered out, the familiar task of getting tacos helping.

"Then donate it to your church," Matt suggested, "We came for food, the fight was just good timing."

"What a good guy he is," Miles teased, gently (for him) elbowing Matt's arm.

The food came out in record time, and Miles took the bag so he and Matt could climb up the wall of the nearest building and pluck down on the roof for their midnight snack. Miles pulled up his mask just far enough to uncover his mouth and nose, and took a large bite out of one of his tacos. "Oh, and thanks! A well-deserved treat."

"You're welcome," Matt replied, "I picked up a couple extra for the audience up there," he indicated the other man. "We got you tacos!" He yelled over.

Warren was really no good at this superhero thing. He'd watched the entire scene with rapt attention, impressed with the action but as quickly as it started, it was over, and he had no idea where they had gone.

And then he was offered tacos.

Standing up straight, Warren wasn't really sure what he should do. Part of him wanted to bolt, to fly away but they sounded friendly enough, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to talk to them.

Besides, the voice sounded familiar.

Taking a running start, he jumped across the gap between the rooftops, his wings stretching out a bit for some extra stability. Landing gracefully, he smiled, his mouth visible through his mask. "I'm okay on the taco front, my friend, but I appreciate the answer. That was a very well executed mission down there. I'm impressed."

Miles would never not be impressed with Daredevil's complete situational awareness. He'd had no clue that they were being watched, particularly not by yet another mask (how many were there? This was supposed to be Spider-Man's city!) with wings of all things. But DD didn't seem bothered and his spider-sense was quiet, so he assumed it was safe.

"Hi!" he greeted the newcomer, waving the hand that held the taco. "I'm Spider-Man. Nice to meet you. Cool wings."

He didn't quite know how to respond to that, so he simply nodded his thanks. "I'm ...Angel." Even that sentence sounded strange. It was a name that had been given to him during a rescue in university, and it seemed to have stuck. He rarely voiced it though.

"Daredevil," Matt introduced himself. It was definitely a strange thing to call himself, but it was also accurate. He bit into a taco happily, "You sure you don't want a taco? There's plenty," even vigilante superheros needed to eat sometimes! "So what's your game? You just like to fly?" It wasn't safe being a mutant here, but those wings had to be tough to hide if not completely impossible.

He waved off the taco. Flying on a full stomach wasn't fun.

"Wouldn't you fly all the time if you could?" Sometimes Warren wished he could fly all day, and never have to touch the ground. It'd be nice. "And I don't know if I have a 'game' per se. I fly, and if I see trouble, I help and then go on my way. You two looked like this wasn't your first time around."

Miles stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth and plucked the other taco from Matt's hand. If this new guy wasn't going to have it then Miles would be more than happy to take his share. "Pay attention to the news, buddy!" he said between bites. "I might only be Spidey number dos but I'm not new to this. I've been on the cover of the Bugle twice!"

"So modest," Matt replied drolly, wondering if he had ever been on the cover or photographed. He wasn't going to ask. Hopefully not though. "New York's a big place," he pointed out, "there're a few of us who come out when we can," he personally faced a time crunch with his work and everything so he was only one once or twice a week at most.

"I don't read the Bugle." And then some more silence. His secretary was responsible for going through the daily newspapers, and finding the articles that Warren needed to read. He rarely read for pleasure. "But that's interesting to note, that there's more than one person who does this. I hadn't bumped into anyone before."

He thought some more, amid the sound of the tacos, before continuing. "Do you know most of the people who do this? I'm relatively new, in case you haven't noticed."

Angel's voice was familiar, but Matt couldn't quite place it. Hopefully, he would figure it out and it wouldn't be one of those things that kept circling his brain at 3am. "Spoken like a Times and Post man," he joked, but there was that air about him that suggested that he only read a certain caliber of newspaper and everything else was just drivel. Matt had braille subscriptions to the Bugle and the Times, "There aren't that many, but we recognize each other generally, yeah."

"World's a dangerous place," Miles added. "If it's not jackholes with guns and no respect for other people then it's mutant terrorists and crazy mad scientists like that Lizard guy a couple years ago. Someone's gotta do something, and the pigs in blue sure as hell aren't. So there's us."

It wasn't often that Warren found himself unable to say much, but here he was, about to ask a question he couldn't even answer himself.

"Are you both mutants?"

"Nope, radioactive goo," Matt was being a smartass. Then again, he used sarcasm as a defense mechanism sometimes. "Pretty sure radioactivity can't give you wings. Too much Redbull?" he snapped his fingers, "You could be their spokesman and face for their advertising campaign! Or well, wings."

"It was just a question." Warren felt stupid for saying it, and even stupider for the reaction he got. "I should go." He stepped back and spread out his wings, stretching them out.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Miles admonished his partner. "Although I should probably get home soon, too." Before his parents discovered that he'd sneaked out yet again. And it was a long way back to Brooklyn.

Oops. Matt hadn't meant to do that. Mutancy was a touchy subject given how killing a mutant was generally perceived as a good thing. Matt smiled, "See you both later then. We're around, Angel," he said, "just keep an eye out." He didn't want to admit it, but he should get going to. It was a Friday night, but he had work to do at home this weekend so he wouldn't be too far behind on Monday.

Warren nodded. "Right. Until next time. Daredevil. Spider-Man." Even though he didn't need to build up speed to take off, he couldn't help but show off a little bit. With a running start, he launched himself in the air, his wingspan impressive against the night sky. Within less than a minute, he was already a small speck, almost indiscernible.

Maybe the next time they met, he'd be able to talk to talk more. Maybe.

"That's pretty darn cool," Miles said, his mouth full with his last taco. "We're gonna have our own Justice League if this keeps up. I'll be Robin. Tim Drake, though. I'm not wearing Dick's or Jason's booty shorts." He swallowed his food, belched (mouth covered, though, he was no animal), and pulled down his mask. "Thanks again, Diablo. See you soon, I'm sure."

Giving Spider-Man a little wave, Matt gathered their trash. He'd find a place to deposit it, "Who's that make me then?" he asked. He'd read comics as a kid, but it had been a while a long while. He'd leave that sort of thing to the kids.

"Blue Beetle. The Ted Kord version. You're not cool enough for Jaime."