2012 01 22 Fractious Ninjas

Log Title:
The Spider and the Fly Girl: Fractious Ninjas

Spider-Man and Misty Knight

IC Date:

an unnamed dojo in upper Manhattan

Brief log summary::
After the events of "More Like Nonja", Spider-Man seeks out a martial artist acquaintance for help. He finds Misty instead.


There is no TS in this log::

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It's oh, just shy of seven thirty in the morning. Rush hour for most people, but for Misty Knight, it's the time of hitting the gym to keep her body in fighting peak, and the time of quiet reflection on the things she has going on for the day. "Hey, Butch," she greets the guard who lets her into the little training area she uses to practice her martial arts.
She lets up the blinds so that the morning sunlight, weak though it is, through the New York smog, can come in and warm the place up a little. She even goes so far as to open one to air the place out before she takes a quick few jogs around the room before she begins her stretches.
Normally most people are starting their day at this time, people with semblances of decent normal lives, people like Ms. Knight. For other folks, in particular ones with entirely too active night-lives, their day/evening is still going on. So it's against a pictureseque New York skyline, the sun creeping over the horizon and casting the city in long shadows, that the Spectacular Spider-Man is seen swinging from one skyscraper to the next.
Yet today his trajectory doesn't take him to the university. Sure he has a class to teach in an hour and some, but something's been nagging at his thoughts. That encounter with the assassins of earlier in the morning, something hasn't added up about it. So what does one do when they have questions about the martial arts world? They go to the home of those martial artists. Or at the least, the dojo.
So it's to the locale that Iron Fist showed him once that Spider-Man finds himself heading. The wind races past him as he swings, one hand extending, web-line firing. He releases the hold on one, grips the next, twists… all in a graceful and effortless flow that finally ends with him landing light upon that window-sill.
And all of a sudden there's a Spidey, "Hi, can Iron Fist come out to play?"
Misty looks up at the voice, ready for trouble, and a soft, subharmonic whirring indicating she's powering up the bionic arm, preparing for a fight. The whirring fades back to nothing, though, as she realizes it's not an enemy, but an old and pleasant acquaintance. "Spider-Man. Sorry. Iron Fist's not in this mornin'." And she is no secretary, so there will be no offer of taking a message. "Anythin' I can help with?" She straightens from her stretch and puts her hands on her hips, expectantly.
"Oh, hello Ms. Knight." Spider-Man tilts his head towards her curiously, her reflection gleaming in those lenses of his. He remains at his perch, "Yeah actually, you might be able to now that I think about it. What with your whole daughterly dragonly-ness."
A hand lifts to uncurl as he asks, "May I?" And if he's granted permission he hops off the sill to enter the room, straightening up to stand upright as he cants his head her way. "Daredevil was dealing with this thing with the Maggia, so he asked me to follow these fellas around for a bit. Ninja types. Said they were just casing the city for some reason and I was to tag along after them, get a feel for what's what."
There's something so entirely energetic about the wall-crawler, almost as if he should always be in motion. He opens his other hand to her as if asking her to take the words from him. "Well thing is they tried this attack on a young woman so I had to step in, natch. But there was weirdness about them, and I'm no ninja expert and I figured you know, all you kung fu people must know all the other kung fu people." Alright perhaps some of his humor is slipping in there, but she probably gets his vibe.
Misty of course is willing to grant the webslinger entrance. He's an ally, a cordial acquaintance if not somebody Misty would refer to as a close friend. But that's a thing with her — it takes quite a bit to get into her inner circle. "My daughterly dragon-ness is at your service, Spidey," she tells him, content to keep the conversation casual and lighthearted.
Or at least, she was, until he described ninjas attacking someone. "The Hand, maybe?" she asks, offering the first ninja-group that comes to mind. "I haven't heard about them bein' up to anythin' in particular, sugar, but I can shake the trees for you, no problem." She flashes a brilliant smile at him, grateful for his having given her a new quarry to seek out.
"See, that was my first thought really, kinda." Spider-Man steps towards her and to the side, casually hopping up to land perfectly balanced upon the back of a shaolin practice dummy. He perches there in a crouch, resting his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers as he speaks, "When these guys went down they did the whole disappear in a cloud of smoke suicide thing like the Hand, but…" He tilts his head to the side, looking a little uncomfortable or troubled through his body language. "Well the Hand have that silence thing right? These guys spoke, and made noises at times. I mean I'm not an expert, but yeah."
Misty nods, listening, and paces with her left hand on her chin, the right one moving restlessly as she thinks. "That does," she agrees, "sound like the Hand, but only a little bit. The talky thing, that's not their usual stick. I'd say they were wannabes, not worth thinkin' about, if it wasn't for the vanishin' suicide thing. That's serious. Maybe it's a schism, and the Hand is fractious?" It wouldn't be the first time that a major problem group has broken from within over differing styles. "Or maybe somebody trained by the Hand workin' with somebody different. What kinda weapons?" She gives the dummy a slight nudge, nowhere near strong enough to be a hit, even using her human arm. "Same ninja thing? Stars, blades, katanas?"
True to his name, Spider-Man keeps his balance upon the dummy despite its seeming precariousness. He smirks a touch behind the mask, but grants no outward sign of annoyance. Though the way he's able to hold his position is uncanny. It's also perhaps strange that at rest she might be able to consider him at her leisure and realize that he's not as tall as he might seem at times. He's actually fair wiry, not skinny though there is a litheness, powerfully muscled but not bulky. And then there's that almost utter ease with which he moves, an almost liquid grace that he exhibits as he flips off the dummy and lands upon the ground in a three-point stance.
"I was thinking it could be something wacky like that, and also you know how DD is. Like this could have been his way for asking help but not asking help. And well, they had long thin blades, straight-edged." He slowly gains his feet, folding his arms over his chest as he straightens up, brow furrowing in thought as he casts his mind back. "They had other weapons I believe, and they travelled in a pack of six, seemed like two operating elements of three."
Misty listens, watching the wall-crawler move with restless energy from spot to spot in her practice room. From her vantage, this would imply the not-knowing is /really/ getting on his nerves. That, or he also has somewhere to be, but is stopping to chew on this conundrum first.
"Yeah. Always with the image, Daredevil," she agrees, nodding and making a wry twist of her own mouth. "Six. That's a little small for the Hand. They like to overwhelm with numbers unless their MO has changed of recent. I'mma have to do a little askin' around and get back with you. No definite answer is comin' up right this minute. Too many elements that are … kinda off, know what I mean?"
"Yeah, exactly. And to be fair they weren't bad." Spider-Man opens a hand to her palm up as he grants them that compliment at least. Then he shakes his head, "Anyways, if you could like pass the word or see what you could see, that would be super-keen. I have this…" He pauses for an instant as he reaches back to his belt and produces a small thin almost cellphone like object except for its extreme thinness. The object is opened and he tells her, "Comm thing from the FF, you can call me if you like. The number's 555-9999, and yeah I'm totally serious, don't think I'm trying to blow you off. It's like a real number, Reed has this thing set up where it intercepts, I mean last time I tried to give a gal my number she was all, 'omg fake number' and I was all…"
At that point Spidey realizes he's rambling and he stops, letting the awkward silence grow. He then says, "Umm, ahem, anyways. Just gimme a ring?"
Misty goes back to her gym bag as Spider-Man begins describing that he has a way to be reached these days. "Glad to," she says. "Much easier than climbing up on a random rooftop an' hopin' you happen to swing by, or for heaven's sake, tryin' to catch up with Daredevil." She takes the number down and tucks it back in a pocket of her bag. "I'll call Colleen, too, see if she has any leads." The pair intentionally run in differing circles, all the better to cast a wider net over the city. "And hopefully I'll run into one myself so I can get a good look."

"Alright, then I'll head out and let you get to it. Sorry to interrupt your morning." Ever so polite, Spider-Man steps back towards the window, resting a hand on the edge of it and pulling himself up to perch on its lip. He looks across the way at her, her own image reflecting back as he lifts a hand, "Seriously, thanks heaps. The whole martial arts stuff is a bit out of my depth in some ways. Not that I'm not, you know, super tough." He says this with a tinge of self-deprecation that she could perhaps pick up, definitely so if she knew him better.
"Don't sweat it, sugar," Misty says, with genuine kindness. "Us people lookin' out for the little guy gotta stick together." She bobs her head. "I know, you swing with a tougher crowd from time to time. But your heart's in the right place, I can tell. Promise. I'll be in touch." He's leapt up too high for her to try and nudge him again, but she favors him with a bright smile as he jokes slightly at his own expense. She knows what it's like to feel outclassed. Spidey, by all accounts, can pick up a Saturn and toss it. Misty doesn't get that luxury, not even with a bionic arm.
"Take care of yourself, Ms. Knight," And that having been said he simply flips backwards, dropping out of sight as the abyss takes him. A space of several heartbeats and should she look outside she might see his silhouette swinging off into the distance.

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