ArchivedLogs:Amateur Fire Fighters

Amateur Fire Fighters
Dramatis Personae Peter, Ivan, Carnage	2013-03-09 With guest appearance from OH GOD WHAT IS THAT.
Location Queens, Parker Residence
It is around 9 o'clock PM in the Parker household; Ivan's room -- a spare room in the three bedroom house -- has only just recently been unpacked, the sparse (and largely unused) furniture finally put to use. While Ivan is up doing whatever, Peter returns -- the sound of his tapping at the window. When he comes in, he's wearing his traditional red ski-mask, red hoodie, blue jeans -- backpack -- and *stinking* of smoke. But when he takes the ski-mask off, he is grinning as wide as a cheshire cat. "That was /AWESOME/," he proceeds to inform Ivan, before adding: "But I don't think anyone was fooled by the firehat." He reaches back -- a plastic toy firehat is strapped in place just above the backpack. Ivan has been one of /those/ guests; He's been holed up in his guest room almost the whole time he's been at the house, reading. And reading. And reading. And so he is, right now. The only luggage he brought with him- a very heavy backpack of his own - is resting by the side of the bed, and it flops over as Peter enters and startles Ivan enough to accidentally kick it from his spot on the foot of the bed. The backpack's guts, namely books, spill out. The book on his lap is quickly closed when he relaxes again, and the firehat causes him to angle his head slightly in curiosity. Then, his eyes /narrow/. He scans Peter, thoroughly. Did you get HURT. This is important. As if he's somehow reading Ivan's mind -- Peter's gotten to know that narrow-eyed stare well enough to understand it, at least -- he quickly natters as he slings the backpack off his back. "Don't worry!" he tells him. "I didn't get hurt. I didn't even get burned! This one was really easy, the fire hadn't even reached them yet, it was just blocking the stairway -- I guess firefighters would have been able to get them out pretty easy and it's not like they were /slow/ getting there," he continues, "but I figured what the hey I could get them down a lot faster and nobody had to put themselves at risk because yeah I can basically FLY." He is unloading the backpack, now. Various items in his 'superhero emergency kit' pack. A medical kit; a vinegar spritz bottle. A bit of curled, braided spider-web rope that he asked Ivan to help him make -- he hasn't had to use it yet, but you always need rope, right? Also, there's a book in there -- a little singed -- entitled 'SHOEBAG', by some lady named MARY JAMES. It is marked as being for a reader much younger than Peter. "The smoke's getting to be a problem," Peter tells Ivan, continuing his non-stop natter, "so I'm gonna see if I can put some sort of -- light, small filter? -- in the mask. Maybe we could use spider-webbing mixed with charcoal? I dunno how well that would work. I also wanna test to see if your spiderweb is flammable, 'cuz if it is I don't think we should make a suit out of it, at least not when I go out hunting for fires..." oh God he will not stop TALKING. He'll have to at some point, or he'll miss Ivan's quiet, "I do not know," accompanied by a thoughtful stare. For /some/ reason he'd never considered setting them on fire. His eyes flit between Peter's hands, the items now unloaded, and then back to Peter's face. He scoots back a little, un-narrows his eyes, and smiles. Somewhat weakly but genuinely. Then, simply, "Are you happy?" Peter blinks at that question -- he is half-way between unloading the webshooter cartridges (there are only three left; Peter makes a quick frown at the sight of their dwindling number. HOW WILL HE EVER SURVIVE?!) when Ivan asks it. He cocks his head, as if puzzling over it. And then, with perhaps a bit more volume than he intended: "Of COURSE!" Peter puts the cartridges down and proceeds to grip him by the shoulders. "IVAN. I AM BEING A SUPER-HERO." Then, he loosens his grip, cheeks coloring. "I mean, you are helping. I totally couldn't do this without you." Ivan's eyes widen when he is grabbed and he inhales sharply, but the smile stays. Even growing just a teensy bit! Enthusiasm! It's infectious. "You are welcome." He blurts out before he can think about it, before very briefly seeming a little taken aback when he realises there wasn't actually a 'thank you' preceding that. But he recovers soon enough, his own face growing slightly redder. "I mean--." But hell. It doesn't matter. He sits up straighter, promptly looking a little proud. "You are being a SUPERHERO." Again, this is blurted out without thought. His smile does not falter, but he does wince slightly at the sound of his own voice being ever so slightly louder than he's used to. But /YAY/. "YES and you are helping and we are going to beat the crap out of ALL the fires," Peter states, eyebrows *crunching* together. He has given this a lot of thought, apparently. "We can save people from fires the WHOLE BREAK. It will be /awesome/. Maybe we can see if we can take classes on being volunteer firemen! So we know all the stuff we are supposed to know. But then we will be /super/ firemen in SECRET and it will be awesome." And then: "This break is going to be /so/ awesome." He has said that word quite a number of times, now. "This will be the best. Break. EVER. We are going to have SO MUCH /FUN/." Somewhere else -- somewhere deep beneath the bowels of the city, in a rancid sewer -- someone -- some*thing* -- giggles. It is red and horrible and currently dragging... something else... behind it. As it does, the red and horrible thing chortles with near-euphoria: "You and I," it giggles, "are going to have SO MUCH /FUN/."