![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-otoxic.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsAs Clint promised, he delivers new gear to the two Spider-Men. Look out, New York.
It seemed to be getting more difficult for Miles to sneak out of his parents' apartment. He'd come home for the weekend, ostensibly to visit his parents, but really because he had an important appointment to keep in the city on Saturday night and needed an excuse to be there. But his folks didn't seem to buy that he'd gotten used to an earlier bedtime, even on the weekends, and it had been a struggle to finally extricate himself from them and go to his room. He waited another 45 minutes to make sure they weren't going to check on him before he changed into his comfortable red-and-black uniform, snuck out through the window, and rode the top of a passing truck from Brooklyn to Manhattan.
He finally made it to the roof of the Hell's Kitchen brownstone where he, Peter, and Matt's brother had agreed to meet at close to midnight. The other two were already there, and Miles grimaced behind his mask. "Sorry I'm late," he said to them in lieu of greeting. "Bad traffic. Also smothering parents."
Clint suppressed a snort, not entirely sure how he felt about contributing to the delinquency of minors. At the same time, considering how he and Matt had acted when they were teenagers, it wasn't really in him to be a hypocrite - and at least he was providing the delinquents with above-par equipment. They wouldn't die getting stabbed or shot now - or from halitosis. "No worries," he said, giving Miles a small salute. "I've got everything here, if you two are ready to get started?"
"Ready here. So, how do we do this?" Peter asked, scratching his mask. "Do we like rock paper scissors for first pick or something?" He turned to Miles and shook his hand three times, throwing out a rock on the third time.
Miles threw out scissors and hung his head in mock shame. "Ugh, fine," he sighed dramatically. "You can get your cool toys first. Spider-Lame."
Laughing a little, Clint pulled the duffel bag off his shoulder and laid it on the ground before kneeling next to it. "Right, I've got new suits for both of you, in your favored color schemes, as requested. Both are lined with liquid body armor in particular spots that will protect you the most without impeding your ability to move and without adding a lot of weight. Also, the suits themselves are made of a boron carbide composite - it's basically what tanks are made of but it's a hell of a lot thinner, obviously. So it's tough, won't rip or tear like what you've currently got, but it won't stop a bullet the way the liquid body armor will."
As he spoke, Clint pulled each of the suits out, leaving Miles' over his shoulder as he offered the first suit to the red-and-blue Spider-Man. "LB over there requested something for the bad breath issue, so there are filters in the masks to help with that - and also to protect you from various chemical agents that might be used against you as gases - nerve or tear gas, that kind of thing. Also, regular, run of the mill carbon dioxide and other potentially dangerous substances are filtered as well."
Moving up to the eye portion of the masks, Clint said, "I gave you both polarized lenses here, which should filter out bright lights and allow you to pick up shorter wavelengths of infrared, improving your night vision. You've both got two packs of replacement lenses and four extra filters, in case something happens while you're out and about or you need repairs. Also, as a special addition for you," he said, nodding toward the elder Spider-Man as he moved down to the gloves of his suit, "You've got retractable talons." With that, he tossed Miles his suit and finished, "You, obviously, didn't need those."
Letting out a low whistle, Peter carefully took his suit and gave it the once over as Clint spoke. "Wow. So this comes with an instructional manual, right?" He'd seen enough old RV shows that he was gonna need that should one exist or else. "Man, this thing has everything but cup holders. ...does it have cup holders?" He checked just in case.
"What do you need a cup holder for? You free-ball." Miles made a move as if to smash Peter's nether-region to demonstrate just how important proper crotch safety was in their line of work. "How do you even make these, anyway? Do you have a whole lab of fashion designer/scientists?"
"I don't think he meant that kind of cup," Clint said, quirking a smile. "But to answer your question, I know people. Basically the only way to keep whatever we invent from becoming the intellectual property of whatever entity we work for is to make it on our own time with our own resources."
"Yeah, plus the cup is what holds, y'know." He jumped back a little from the feint, Spidey senses tingling ever so slightly. "So that kinda cup holder would be a holder of a holder. You're just jealous I'm a commando anyway." Peter took another look at his suit again stretching and poking at it, before turning back to Clint. "This is some really sick tech though, seriously. We owe you big time for this."
"For reals," Miles agreed. He pulled off a glove with his teeth so he could run his fingers over the material of the new costume. It was tougher than what he currently wore but no less flexible. "This is a thousand times better than when Warren upped my wardrobe. Don't tell him that."
Clint laughed a little. "No worries. If Feathers wants in on the good stuff, he should get to be friends with the people who make the good stuff. It'll take a few weeks to get secondary suits made, but those are in the works. Same make-up, but with a ultra-durable, fire-resistant mesh polymer woven through. In case you think you might be going up against a pyro or something."
"Or a Charizard." Peter added with a chuckle, belying his age. "Nah, Pokemon aren't real." He paused. "Right?" Hey, he'd seen a lot of crazy things in the last several years, after all.
Miles shrugged. He has no answer for that. "Not gonna lie, I've completely lost track by this point. I told you about those kids that went to Asgard, right? That's apparently real, so why not Pokemon, too?"
"I can tell you categorically, Pokemon are not real," Clint offered, zipping up his now-empty duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
Squinting at Clint, Peter wasn't 100% sure. "Are you just trying to throw me off or..." He waved a hand dismissively then laughed it all off as a joke. "Of course they're not. I mean, it's not like you'd tell me if they were anyway, right? Haha. Ha."
Miles quickly spun a web around his new costume as a makeshift satchel that he slung over his shoulder. "Hate to cut and run but if I don't leave soon then I'm never going to get back home. Are you here for much longer, Clint, or are they sending you back to the Yukon or wherever Matt said you're from?"
"I leave Thursday morning for Alaska," Clint answered. "Dunno how long I'll be gone, but I'll have my friend drop the extra suits with Matt. He can hand them over from there."
"Word. Thanks again, for real. Hope you don't get eaten by a penguin." Miles shook Clint's hand and then clapped Peter on the shoulder. "I'll text you later. We gotta take these babies out for a spin."
"Let me know how they go. If you've got suggestions after the first couple test runs, send me those, too. We can probably tailor them more specifically to whatever you need," Clint said, heading for the fire escape so he could get to the alley below them. "I'll catch you later."
It seemed to be getting more difficult for Miles to sneak out of his parents' apartment. He'd come home for the weekend, ostensibly to visit his parents, but really because he had an important appointment to keep in the city on Saturday night and needed an excuse to be there. But his folks didn't seem to buy that he'd gotten used to an earlier bedtime, even on the weekends, and it had been a struggle to finally extricate himself from them and go to his room. He waited another 45 minutes to make sure they weren't going to check on him before he changed into his comfortable red-and-black uniform, snuck out through the window, and rode the top of a passing truck from Brooklyn to Manhattan.
He finally made it to the roof of the Hell's Kitchen brownstone where he, Peter, and Matt's brother had agreed to meet at close to midnight. The other two were already there, and Miles grimaced behind his mask. "Sorry I'm late," he said to them in lieu of greeting. "Bad traffic. Also smothering parents."
Clint suppressed a snort, not entirely sure how he felt about contributing to the delinquency of minors. At the same time, considering how he and Matt had acted when they were teenagers, it wasn't really in him to be a hypocrite - and at least he was providing the delinquents with above-par equipment. They wouldn't die getting stabbed or shot now - or from halitosis. "No worries," he said, giving Miles a small salute. "I've got everything here, if you two are ready to get started?"
"Ready here. So, how do we do this?" Peter asked, scratching his mask. "Do we like rock paper scissors for first pick or something?" He turned to Miles and shook his hand three times, throwing out a rock on the third time.
Miles threw out scissors and hung his head in mock shame. "Ugh, fine," he sighed dramatically. "You can get your cool toys first. Spider-Lame."
Laughing a little, Clint pulled the duffel bag off his shoulder and laid it on the ground before kneeling next to it. "Right, I've got new suits for both of you, in your favored color schemes, as requested. Both are lined with liquid body armor in particular spots that will protect you the most without impeding your ability to move and without adding a lot of weight. Also, the suits themselves are made of a boron carbide composite - it's basically what tanks are made of but it's a hell of a lot thinner, obviously. So it's tough, won't rip or tear like what you've currently got, but it won't stop a bullet the way the liquid body armor will."
As he spoke, Clint pulled each of the suits out, leaving Miles' over his shoulder as he offered the first suit to the red-and-blue Spider-Man. "LB over there requested something for the bad breath issue, so there are filters in the masks to help with that - and also to protect you from various chemical agents that might be used against you as gases - nerve or tear gas, that kind of thing. Also, regular, run of the mill carbon dioxide and other potentially dangerous substances are filtered as well."
Moving up to the eye portion of the masks, Clint said, "I gave you both polarized lenses here, which should filter out bright lights and allow you to pick up shorter wavelengths of infrared, improving your night vision. You've both got two packs of replacement lenses and four extra filters, in case something happens while you're out and about or you need repairs. Also, as a special addition for you," he said, nodding toward the elder Spider-Man as he moved down to the gloves of his suit, "You've got retractable talons." With that, he tossed Miles his suit and finished, "You, obviously, didn't need those."
Letting out a low whistle, Peter carefully took his suit and gave it the once over as Clint spoke. "Wow. So this comes with an instructional manual, right?" He'd seen enough old RV shows that he was gonna need that should one exist or else. "Man, this thing has everything but cup holders. ...does it have cup holders?" He checked just in case.
"What do you need a cup holder for? You free-ball." Miles made a move as if to smash Peter's nether-region to demonstrate just how important proper crotch safety was in their line of work. "How do you even make these, anyway? Do you have a whole lab of fashion designer/scientists?"
"I don't think he meant that kind of cup," Clint said, quirking a smile. "But to answer your question, I know people. Basically the only way to keep whatever we invent from becoming the intellectual property of whatever entity we work for is to make it on our own time with our own resources."
"Yeah, plus the cup is what holds, y'know." He jumped back a little from the feint, Spidey senses tingling ever so slightly. "So that kinda cup holder would be a holder of a holder. You're just jealous I'm a commando anyway." Peter took another look at his suit again stretching and poking at it, before turning back to Clint. "This is some really sick tech though, seriously. We owe you big time for this."
"For reals," Miles agreed. He pulled off a glove with his teeth so he could run his fingers over the material of the new costume. It was tougher than what he currently wore but no less flexible. "This is a thousand times better than when Warren upped my wardrobe. Don't tell him that."
Clint laughed a little. "No worries. If Feathers wants in on the good stuff, he should get to be friends with the people who make the good stuff. It'll take a few weeks to get secondary suits made, but those are in the works. Same make-up, but with a ultra-durable, fire-resistant mesh polymer woven through. In case you think you might be going up against a pyro or something."
"Or a Charizard." Peter added with a chuckle, belying his age. "Nah, Pokemon aren't real." He paused. "Right?" Hey, he'd seen a lot of crazy things in the last several years, after all.
Miles shrugged. He has no answer for that. "Not gonna lie, I've completely lost track by this point. I told you about those kids that went to Asgard, right? That's apparently real, so why not Pokemon, too?"
"I can tell you categorically, Pokemon are not real," Clint offered, zipping up his now-empty duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
Squinting at Clint, Peter wasn't 100% sure. "Are you just trying to throw me off or..." He waved a hand dismissively then laughed it all off as a joke. "Of course they're not. I mean, it's not like you'd tell me if they were anyway, right? Haha. Ha."
Miles quickly spun a web around his new costume as a makeshift satchel that he slung over his shoulder. "Hate to cut and run but if I don't leave soon then I'm never going to get back home. Are you here for much longer, Clint, or are they sending you back to the Yukon or wherever Matt said you're from?"
"I leave Thursday morning for Alaska," Clint answered. "Dunno how long I'll be gone, but I'll have my friend drop the extra suits with Matt. He can hand them over from there."
"Word. Thanks again, for real. Hope you don't get eaten by a penguin." Miles shook Clint's hand and then clapped Peter on the shoulder. "I'll text you later. We gotta take these babies out for a spin."
"Let me know how they go. If you've got suggestions after the first couple test runs, send me those, too. We can probably tailor them more specifically to whatever you need," Clint said, heading for the fire escape so he could get to the alley below them. "I'll catch you later."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}