Post by METTLE on Nov 14, 2021 6:58:01 GMT
Spider-Bite's words, to an onlooker, may have seemed as though they bounced right off his shiny metal exterior. His gaze and expression remained impassive. But within, the mechanisms turned.
He'd almost immediately stilled the piercing anger that had come with being called a fucking nerd in big blown-up web lettering. That was no reason to hurt anyone. This wasn't honor culture, where insults were paid for in blood. He was a businessman, doing business. And what Spider-Bite described was something worth listening to, something he had gone over time and time again in his mind when deciding to embark on this path. He didn't kill heroes, but didn't advertise that, either, because someone would no doubt take advantage. There were also numerous regulations he'd imposed on his recruits when it came to collateral damage. (An eye in the back of his head, invisible, glared at the hole in the wall he'd created).
The superhero stepped closer; the milky-white eyes that dotted his black mask had dilated to their normal size. There was a pause.
"I'm listening."
His team had a lot of things to offer. Miller had street sense beyond what Mettle had - longer experience dealing with crooks. Flood Jr. was crowd control and muscle put together in one package. Shockman was the perfect scout, and occasional assassin - insofar as they went about not killing certain targets.
But they really had no conscience, did they.
If he learned anything from Crumplezone, it was to be flexible. To be like water. That was how he'd made himself into the deadliest metahuman alive. But there was more to good business than deadliness, wasn't there.
Spider-Bite had potential to develop into an archenemy. That was something he simply could not afford. And even then...what he was saying made sense. He'd made an offering - an offering of advice. And he was a virtuous man, honorable. Willing to step into harm's way to help others. He could never hate that.
"You're hurt. I have a medic," he said, looking around at the assembled crowd. They began to disperse - it was a busy day. They had things on their mind.
And now...I offer up collateral. He has to have a reason to think I won't just betray him.
Mettle let the silver fade from his skin. All at once it morphed away, vanishing and leaving only flesh in its place. A rare sight in the Bronx. He stood before Spider-Bite a shirtless twenty-year old, not a silver juggernaut.
"We can talk, once you're stabilized. Set up some ground rules. I don't want bad blood between us. You're a good man."
He extended a hand, no powers involved.
"Truce."
He'd almost immediately stilled the piercing anger that had come with being called a fucking nerd in big blown-up web lettering. That was no reason to hurt anyone. This wasn't honor culture, where insults were paid for in blood. He was a businessman, doing business. And what Spider-Bite described was something worth listening to, something he had gone over time and time again in his mind when deciding to embark on this path. He didn't kill heroes, but didn't advertise that, either, because someone would no doubt take advantage. There were also numerous regulations he'd imposed on his recruits when it came to collateral damage. (An eye in the back of his head, invisible, glared at the hole in the wall he'd created).
The superhero stepped closer; the milky-white eyes that dotted his black mask had dilated to their normal size. There was a pause.
"I'm listening."
His team had a lot of things to offer. Miller had street sense beyond what Mettle had - longer experience dealing with crooks. Flood Jr. was crowd control and muscle put together in one package. Shockman was the perfect scout, and occasional assassin - insofar as they went about not killing certain targets.
But they really had no conscience, did they.
If he learned anything from Crumplezone, it was to be flexible. To be like water. That was how he'd made himself into the deadliest metahuman alive. But there was more to good business than deadliness, wasn't there.
Spider-Bite had potential to develop into an archenemy. That was something he simply could not afford. And even then...what he was saying made sense. He'd made an offering - an offering of advice. And he was a virtuous man, honorable. Willing to step into harm's way to help others. He could never hate that.
"You're hurt. I have a medic," he said, looking around at the assembled crowd. They began to disperse - it was a busy day. They had things on their mind.
And now...I offer up collateral. He has to have a reason to think I won't just betray him.
Mettle let the silver fade from his skin. All at once it morphed away, vanishing and leaving only flesh in its place. A rare sight in the Bronx. He stood before Spider-Bite a shirtless twenty-year old, not a silver juggernaut.
"We can talk, once you're stabilized. Set up some ground rules. I don't want bad blood between us. You're a good man."
He extended a hand, no powers involved.
"Truce."