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aa_natasha 8/16/2012
It's well past dusk, but not yet into the wee hours, which means that there are still people out and about in New York City. The west side isn't quite bustling, but nor is it quiet - especially when a shout breaks the silence, followed by a sharp call of "Thief!" and "Someone call the police!" It's hard not to catch sight of the criminal fleeing the scene - a slight, dark-haired woman rounds the corner and barrels past several passersby, including Vance, with a light-footed run that takes her around a corner and into an alley.
Vance has been wandering the neighborhood this evening, it being far enough off the beaten track as to get somewhat more than its fair share of crime after dark. When the shout goes up, he is crouched on the firescape of an abandoned building, watching the area. He springs into action as the woman comes running past, jumping down to the street and sprinting after her. He follows her into the alley, and now that they're alone, no one else immediately in audible pursuit behind them, her feet suddenly leave the ground. She can run all she likes, but it's tough to make progress treading air.
Tsk tsk. When Vance reaches the alley, there's no one there. The woman has vanished into thin air - or possibly just up the wall. Natasha lands behind Vance with remarkable silence and swings a leg up in a sharp kick toward his head.
Vance is totally expecting to be lifting her feet off the ground, that is. He is envisioning it happening. Visualizing. He is ready. He thinks he is doing it, but then it turns out there is no one there. Stupid. If she completes the motion, he gets kicked in the head and staggers forwards, but turns quickly and makes a lifting motion with one hand, again attempting to lift her off her feet and hold her.
Natasha is fast, but outrunning teke is hard. She takes advantage of the stagger to cut down toward his legs with a sweep that will knock him flat on his back - but do little to stop her rise into the air. Her brows sweep upward as she does and she stills, looking bemused.
Her rise into the air includes an abrupt, shuddering drop as he hits the ground hard, control lost for a split second. He catches it again just before she hits the pavement herself, and lifts her higher again, sitting up and then getting to his feet, rubbing at the back of his head. He's dressed in dark jeans and a dark hood sweatshirt, a baseball cap (with a stylized MB on it that is probably for the Milwaukee Brewers but thankfully unrecognizeable as such and so useful to his purposes) pulled down low to shield his face.
Natasha waits this time, though that split second is likely long enough for her to do some real damage if she'd wanted. She tilts her head at him, gaze flicked up and down and up, and then fixes him with a disarming grin. "Not bad," she approves from her midair hang, apparently unphased. "Bit slow, and you've got tunnel vision, but that can be trained out."
Vance frowns. Not that she can see, since he does his best to keep his face out of sight. But maybe she can feel it. It is a very frowny frown. "I'm not interested," he says. He twists his fingers, and turns her upside down. "Drop the purse or phone or whatever you stole," he demands.
Natasha's grin spreads a bit until it's positively cheeky. She tips her head toward the pocket of her rather tight jeans. "Come and get it," she invites on a purr.
Vance snorts from under the brim of his hat. "Thanks, but no thanks," he replies. Another hand gesture, and whatever is in that pocket starts trying to slide out.
Natasha folds her arms over her chest and kicks one foot a little. "Tsk. Not very dedicated to the job, are you? All that power and you're afraid to come over here?" Her green eyes flash in the dim light as she turns her head.
Vance frowns some more. It is an even stronger frown than the last one, practically beaming across the alley in its frowniness. He continues trying to tug the contents of her pocket out with his powers, the cloth itself instructed to turn itself inside out. But in the dark he can't really see even an outline to tell what is in there, and so it is not a very impressive display. Things move, but get caught, and so finally he does step over, though he doesn't get within an arm's (or leg's) length before stopping. He makes a different, grabbing sort of gesture, and pins her arms to her sides, movement suddenly significantly more difficult.
"Oh, there you go," Natasha approves, tilting her head down to watch him. "Smart boy." What's in her pocket is small, and those pockets are /tight/. It takes a bit of effort to wiggle it free, and when he does, it's nothing but a slip of a card with a circled logo printed in black and white on one side. Patient, Natasha waits.
Vance holds her still with his mind, and sticks fingers into her pockets. He almost seems apologetic about the intrusion, but irritated when all he finds is a card. "Where's the stuff you stole?" he asks, turning her rightside-up again a little bit more roughly. He looks at the card, then, and frowns, just holding her still as he ponders it for a moment. "Where'd you get this?" he asks, looking at the number.
"They order them for me special," Natasha answers with a quirk of her lips. "Put my number on them and everything. I brought it just for you, Mr. Astrovik." Her brows raise a touch. "I think it's time to put me down."
Vance takes a quick step back when she says his name. He is not very good at pretending not to know what she is talking about. "Who sent you?" he asks, not quite letting her down just yet, "Did Stark send you?"
Natasha doesn't /laugh/, but she does look deeply amused. "We're going to have to work on your poker face, too," she says. "Tony Stark doesn't send me anywhere. But he was kind enough to make a nice big fuss about that power you're showing off so carelessly. I sent myself. We're interested in what you offer." Her expression levels, and she gives him a beat before adding, "I'm not going to ask again."
"I'm not showing it off carelessly," Vance protests, "Only when there's nobody around. Who's going to believe some criminal, anyway?" He hesitates for another moment, and then sets her on her feet on the ground. And quickly steps back further, ready to try to lift her again if she takes another swing at him. "Like fighting aliens and stuff?" he asks.
"You'd be surprised." Natasha's voice is low and dry, all amusement gone in the face of business. She folds her arms over her chest and tilts her head at him, considering. "Maybe," she says. "Eventually. You've got a pretty ridiculous gift and your instincts aren't half bad. But there are things you need to learn." She quirks a brow upward and asks, "Interested?"
"Yes," says Vance immediately, without any pause for thought, "I want to help."
"Don't want to think about it?" Natasha checks, dry. "Take a few days? Couple of minutes? Consider the consequences?"
Vance shakes his head. "No," he says, sounding sure, "I want to help. Fight aliens and criminals and save people, like Stark, and Captain America and Thor and everybody. I can help. And if I can, I should."
Natasha watches Vance for several more beats, brows arched, before she gives a shrug and jerks her chin toward the card. "Address on the back. Tomorrow, 8 AM. They'll be expecting you." She starts to turn, then stops and sends him a look over her shoulder to add, "Come dressed to work," before she strides free of the alley.
Vance is an idealistic wannabe-superhero, give him a break! His head bobs as he nods along with her instructions. He lifts a hand at the last, about to ask 'what kind of work?' probably, but stops, and just looks at the card for another minute before tucking it into a pocket. He briefly lifts off the ground, flying in a quick circle as he punches the air in triumphant excitement, and then drops again, brushes off his shoulder, and heads off.
Silly Vance. Figuring it out is probably a test. By the time he leaves the alley, Natasha is long gone.
Vance is ambitious.
So tomorrow Vance gets a fancy SHIELD badge and a training regimen in hand to hand (minus the teke) and firearms. Natasha's report will also indicate that he needs to learn how to judge a situation and have a better awareness of his surroundings, as well as experience a number of different attack approaches. If anyone's anxious to train the new kid.
It's well past dusk, but not yet into the wee hours, which means that there are still people out and about in New York City. The west side isn't quite bustling, but nor is it quiet - especially when a shout breaks the silence, followed by a sharp call of "Thief!" and "Someone call the police!" It's hard not to catch sight of the criminal fleeing the scene - a slight, dark-haired woman rounds the corner and barrels past several passersby, including Vance, with a light-footed run that takes her around a corner and into an alley.
Vance has been wandering the neighborhood this evening, it being far enough off the beaten track as to get somewhat more than its fair share of crime after dark. When the shout goes up, he is crouched on the firescape of an abandoned building, watching the area. He springs into action as the woman comes running past, jumping down to the street and sprinting after her. He follows her into the alley, and now that they're alone, no one else immediately in audible pursuit behind them, her feet suddenly leave the ground. She can run all she likes, but it's tough to make progress treading air.
Tsk tsk. When Vance reaches the alley, there's no one there. The woman has vanished into thin air - or possibly just up the wall. Natasha lands behind Vance with remarkable silence and swings a leg up in a sharp kick toward his head.
Vance is totally expecting to be lifting her feet off the ground, that is. He is envisioning it happening. Visualizing. He is ready. He thinks he is doing it, but then it turns out there is no one there. Stupid. If she completes the motion, he gets kicked in the head and staggers forwards, but turns quickly and makes a lifting motion with one hand, again attempting to lift her off her feet and hold her.
Natasha is fast, but outrunning teke is hard. She takes advantage of the stagger to cut down toward his legs with a sweep that will knock him flat on his back - but do little to stop her rise into the air. Her brows sweep upward as she does and she stills, looking bemused.
Her rise into the air includes an abrupt, shuddering drop as he hits the ground hard, control lost for a split second. He catches it again just before she hits the pavement herself, and lifts her higher again, sitting up and then getting to his feet, rubbing at the back of his head. He's dressed in dark jeans and a dark hood sweatshirt, a baseball cap (with a stylized MB on it that is probably for the Milwaukee Brewers but thankfully unrecognizeable as such and so useful to his purposes) pulled down low to shield his face.
Natasha waits this time, though that split second is likely long enough for her to do some real damage if she'd wanted. She tilts her head at him, gaze flicked up and down and up, and then fixes him with a disarming grin. "Not bad," she approves from her midair hang, apparently unphased. "Bit slow, and you've got tunnel vision, but that can be trained out."
Vance frowns. Not that she can see, since he does his best to keep his face out of sight. But maybe she can feel it. It is a very frowny frown. "I'm not interested," he says. He twists his fingers, and turns her upside down. "Drop the purse or phone or whatever you stole," he demands.
Natasha's grin spreads a bit until it's positively cheeky. She tips her head toward the pocket of her rather tight jeans. "Come and get it," she invites on a purr.
Vance snorts from under the brim of his hat. "Thanks, but no thanks," he replies. Another hand gesture, and whatever is in that pocket starts trying to slide out.
Natasha folds her arms over her chest and kicks one foot a little. "Tsk. Not very dedicated to the job, are you? All that power and you're afraid to come over here?" Her green eyes flash in the dim light as she turns her head.
Vance frowns some more. It is an even stronger frown than the last one, practically beaming across the alley in its frowniness. He continues trying to tug the contents of her pocket out with his powers, the cloth itself instructed to turn itself inside out. But in the dark he can't really see even an outline to tell what is in there, and so it is not a very impressive display. Things move, but get caught, and so finally he does step over, though he doesn't get within an arm's (or leg's) length before stopping. He makes a different, grabbing sort of gesture, and pins her arms to her sides, movement suddenly significantly more difficult.
"Oh, there you go," Natasha approves, tilting her head down to watch him. "Smart boy." What's in her pocket is small, and those pockets are /tight/. It takes a bit of effort to wiggle it free, and when he does, it's nothing but a slip of a card with a circled logo printed in black and white on one side. Patient, Natasha waits.
Vance holds her still with his mind, and sticks fingers into her pockets. He almost seems apologetic about the intrusion, but irritated when all he finds is a card. "Where's the stuff you stole?" he asks, turning her rightside-up again a little bit more roughly. He looks at the card, then, and frowns, just holding her still as he ponders it for a moment. "Where'd you get this?" he asks, looking at the number.
"They order them for me special," Natasha answers with a quirk of her lips. "Put my number on them and everything. I brought it just for you, Mr. Astrovik." Her brows raise a touch. "I think it's time to put me down."
Vance takes a quick step back when she says his name. He is not very good at pretending not to know what she is talking about. "Who sent you?" he asks, not quite letting her down just yet, "Did Stark send you?"
Natasha doesn't /laugh/, but she does look deeply amused. "We're going to have to work on your poker face, too," she says. "Tony Stark doesn't send me anywhere. But he was kind enough to make a nice big fuss about that power you're showing off so carelessly. I sent myself. We're interested in what you offer." Her expression levels, and she gives him a beat before adding, "I'm not going to ask again."
"I'm not showing it off carelessly," Vance protests, "Only when there's nobody around. Who's going to believe some criminal, anyway?" He hesitates for another moment, and then sets her on her feet on the ground. And quickly steps back further, ready to try to lift her again if she takes another swing at him. "Like fighting aliens and stuff?" he asks.
"You'd be surprised." Natasha's voice is low and dry, all amusement gone in the face of business. She folds her arms over her chest and tilts her head at him, considering. "Maybe," she says. "Eventually. You've got a pretty ridiculous gift and your instincts aren't half bad. But there are things you need to learn." She quirks a brow upward and asks, "Interested?"
"Yes," says Vance immediately, without any pause for thought, "I want to help."
"Don't want to think about it?" Natasha checks, dry. "Take a few days? Couple of minutes? Consider the consequences?"
Vance shakes his head. "No," he says, sounding sure, "I want to help. Fight aliens and criminals and save people, like Stark, and Captain America and Thor and everybody. I can help. And if I can, I should."
Natasha watches Vance for several more beats, brows arched, before she gives a shrug and jerks her chin toward the card. "Address on the back. Tomorrow, 8 AM. They'll be expecting you." She starts to turn, then stops and sends him a look over her shoulder to add, "Come dressed to work," before she strides free of the alley.
Vance is an idealistic wannabe-superhero, give him a break! His head bobs as he nods along with her instructions. He lifts a hand at the last, about to ask 'what kind of work?' probably, but stops, and just looks at the card for another minute before tucking it into a pocket. He briefly lifts off the ground, flying in a quick circle as he punches the air in triumphant excitement, and then drops again, brushes off his shoulder, and heads off.
Silly Vance. Figuring it out is probably a test. By the time he leaves the alley, Natasha is long gone.
Vance is ambitious.
So tomorrow Vance gets a fancy SHIELD badge and a training regimen in hand to hand (minus the teke) and firearms. Natasha's report will also indicate that he needs to learn how to judge a situation and have a better awareness of his surroundings, as well as experience a number of different attack approaches. If anyone's anxious to train the new kid.