Thread: Extracurricular Activities [Spider-Man -- Sigr & Virginia]

The decathalon training had been... something. Fun? It might have been fun. It had been hard not to find Peter and Ned entertaining, and being surrounded by people who worked well together and seemed like they were mostly friends. And then it was over and she said goodbye to more people than she'd even known before today. Savannah had done her homework at the kitchen table when she got back to what she supposed she should call 'home' and then excused herself, saying that she was exhausted from this whole normal kid thing. Her adopted 'family' knew the details about her father, but as far as anyone had been told, she'd been the hapless victim hauled from place to place with an increasingly unstable father who kept her locked in motel rooms. Like they'd practiced, she'd gritted her teeth and explained away the scars as his rage and instability, and everyone had bought it. It was a good card to play, people didn't bother traumatized people. So after that she had locked her door and climbed out the window, closing it most of the way behind her. Then it was off to the bus station. Her outfit was just a black hoodie, black pants, red high tops, thin but sturdy gloves, and a red scarf. Of course, it was all set up so as not to attract attention until she was ready to be in 'work mode'. Her sweatshirt was on inside out, to expose a large, cutesy iron-on owl applique and light blue stripes down the arms that she'd carefully attached herself so that the stitching couldn't been seen when it was worn as it was supposed to be. She'd removed the tag carefully and selected a style where the fact it was inside out wouldn't be very visible, especially not in the fading light of dusk and the streetlights of night. The backpack her equipment was being shoved into could be flipped inside out, and under the sweatshirt she had on a short dress that was pinned up. It took about thirty seconds to completely change her look, she'd been timed before. Took longer to flip the backpack around, but a nondescript black backpack was a common addition. She had a pair of glasses with lenses that were just plastic on her face, because that was a detail people tended to focus on that was easy to ignore. Once she'd gotten to the area she'd decided was most likely to be problematic, the teen stopped and took a little time to flip her sweatshirt and put on her fake glasses, reaching up to make sure that her hair had stayed pulled back. She armed herself - poorly, most of the things she'd used had been taken by the police as evidence - and then started walking the streets until something caught her eye. She recognized the body language. From the way their hands were in their pockets to the way they their shoulders were to the way they walked towards the store, Savannah knew it all. She moved quietly across the street and followed the in three men to the small convenience store, catching the door a few centimeters before it closed and slipping in without them noticing she'd been on their tail at all. They were anxious and focused on only one thing, she was small and skilled. The beginnings of the conversation got tuned out while she got one of the retro glass bottles of sprite out of the cooler, and she only focused when she heard the voices start to raise. The demands didn't much matter to her, she was entirely focused on the tone of voice, catching the rising anger and stress. Sighing, she pulled her scarf up over her nose and reached into her pocket withdrawing a small metal stick that, when she snapped her wrist, extended into an almost two foot long baton. Tossing the glass bottle up she caught it by the neck and then sidestepped, took two seconds to line things up, and then let it loose. The moment it left her fingers she was running. The bottle hit the man's hand, and the sound of a gunshot rang out into the street. The bullet had buried itself harmlessly in the wall but she was very aware that she was on a time limit now. The store owner had ducked down under the counter and was probably calling the police, she needed to be far away before they got here. The man closest to her had his hand behind his back and was grabbing something, so he was who she focused on first. The baton caught the man in the soft skin inside his arm, forcing his hand away from where the gun was tucked into his waistband and she kept moving, intent on driving him back and keeping him between herself and his two friends. She also needed to get to the other weapon though, it wouldn't stay out of play very long. Take them down fast, in other words. Her foot lashed out, catching the man she'd already engaged in the side of the knee, and she took the moment he was a little off balance to hit him hard in the stomach with the baton, grab his head, and slam it hard into the counter. Don't move. The click of a gun's safety sounded almost as loud as the bullet would in a few seconds, and Savannah did just what he said. Without waiting for him to say anything she started to raise her hands slowly, glancing at the small CCTV she could see in the corner. He was close enough. She started to turn and then grabbed his wrist, yanking his arm and the gun past her body and pulling him down lower. Her elbow shot out to catch him in the face and there was a crunch that.... satisfied her in some way. It shouldn't have, from a logical human being standpoint she knew that. She got nothing from the whimper though, it was just a sound of weakness that meant that she had a chance. The guy she'd slammed into the counter hadn't become satisfactorily unconscious, so she whacked this one in the throat with the baton and then kicked him in the head when he fell. That worked. Meanwhile the man she'd hit with the bottle was bending down to pick his gun back up as his friend shook off the fuzzy bleariness of the impact his head had made and wiped some of the blood off of his face, having to hang onto the counter to keep his balance as he stood up. Without her father there, Savannah had a bit of a light touch. Not that anyone was going to be calling it that but her. She was out of practice, pushups and drills in her bedroom while she'd been settled hadn't done much to help. There hadn't been room to do the things she'd used to do, nobody to train with for weeks. I had a thought. Maybe once secret identities have been revealed and they're becoming a more stable dynamic duo, Vanna might pick up a spider related codename. She'd be happy to do everything with just hand signals and noises, but Peter likes to talk.