Good Shift, Bad Shift

March 28, 2015: Lunair, who's been trying to track down Shift, manages to see his transformation up close and personal. Two Spider-folk happen to get drug in as well, because familiarity is a b.

Little Italy - New York City

One of the major small 'villages' within the city proper. Here is where,
historically, the Italian immigrants came in to land and created a small
piece of home in their new land. With Italian bakeries, delis, restaurants
and such, life here harkens back to an easier, slower paced time. The area
is known for their festivals; San Gennaro being the 'biggie' in which they
close streets off with barricades for 10 days of celebration in September.



  • Drug dealers
  • "Preacher"

Mood Music:

Its been an interesting week for Kwabena. In spite of his rugged, reckless past, short term memory loss had never been a 'thing'. Perhaps on a bender, or maybe those times when he's suffered a relapse, but no. Even during his darkest journeys down junkie lane, he's never truly suffered memory loss. Not like this.

At the moment, the Ghanaian is roaming the streets of Little Italy. The clock lies halfway between 8 and 9; people are out on dates, shoppers still roam the markets, and the lowlives are upon the verge of creeping from their shadowy places.

Word is, smooth is back on the streets and it's come with a vengeance. The narcotic never sat well with Kwabena. Lunair was right; he hated smooth. With Scales in the clutches of Stormwatch, Dr. Falzoni safely huddled away at the Tin Roof Club (or so he still believes), and Richard Dackleman dead, there should be none of the narcotic left.

He's out here to test the theory.

He's looking for a dealer.

When not getting wrangled by a giant robodog or whatever, Lunair has been trying to find Shift. Him trying to take out a witness who testified against the Smooth people really struck her as uncharacteristic. She isn't entirely familiar with the Ghanian fellow, but she'll learn or find him trying. His foggy behavior last time they met really struck her as odd. She rubs the side of her head and she finds herway in Little Italy. She might pick up some food for her alien pals and see who or what would turn up here.

After all, there's all sorts of dealers here…

"New York, New York!" Spider-Man sings at the top of his lungs, swinging overhead. "It's a helluva town! The Bronx is up, but the Battery's down!" This is, of course, normal Spider-Man behavior. At this time of evening it's dark, but the streets are still busy — and it's one of Spidey's favorite times of day.

A stream of webbing flashes out from one hand, tugging somebody back from the street before they're hit by a racing taxi. "The people ride in a hole in the ground!" His voice carries — though the streets are noisy enough to keep him from being heard well. And it's just well. Peter Parker is a lot of things. But not a good singer. "New York, New Yoooorrrr… oh!" He has spotted a familiar figure. The girl with all the video game guns. What's she up to?

Spider-Gwen had been about to shoot a stream of webbing to help save the taxi people when Spider-Man beat her to it. She wasn't upset about it, in fact she hardly wanted to be out here but swinging around while trying to help people was the only thing keeping her mind off of her problems.

"You're a terrible singer Spider-Man." She calls out after him.

As she attempts to catch up to the masked man, she mutters under her breath, "Kind of like someone else I know."

Plenty of dealers is right. It's most likely the silver eyes that draw attention to Kwabena as he walks by; his gunmetal gray is concealed by street clothes. Jeans, grey hoodie, black leather jacket. Something a bit more 'low key' to help with the whole ruse.

"Y'all right?" asks the dealer.

Kwabena slows, casting a look to the guy. Italian, which figures, and by all initial signs, a normal. "Eh. Need a fix, bro."

The dealer glances down the street, speaking quietly and inconspicuously. "What you need, man? Got hard, boy, some dank ass green —"


The dealer stops for a moment, then smirks. "Right bro. Alright. Look. Alright, you gotta give me ten. You know that donut shop over on —"


"Yeah. That's the one. Ten minutes, swear to God, alright?"

Spider-Singing! Lunair doesn't quite hear them just yet. She's on the hunt. And she's not dressed like her usual ruffle-monster self. Instead, it's a long, olive colored military style coat, sturdy boots and - well, jeans. Italian guy, smile and wave. Lady selling silks, wave. Lunair does her best not to look too unusual or odd out, which is difficult sometimes. At the best of times.

Seriously, how hard could it be to find a Shift? She's quietly debating propping up goodies under a box with a stick, dowsing rods, missing poster— She is just about to go riiiiiiiight on down the block when she spots him. There's almost an audible record scratch.Ah hah. And he's talking to someone. She'll wait for a moment, until the dealer wanders off to approach him.

Turning in mid swing, Spider-Man looks back at the heroine he knows only as Thunder Stealer. "Is it just me, or are you following me?" he asks. "I mean, I totally get wanting to bask in my reflected glory and all. But still. And I'd like to see you do better. On the Town is a very difficult show!" Pause. "But seriously, everything alright, Other-Spider-Person?"

Spider-Gwen swings beside the other wall-crawler, laughing faintly at Spidey's response, "Totally following you and trying to learn all of your tricks." She glances towards the Armory girl, remembering her and her strange guns from M-Town.

Looking back to Spider-Man she asks him, "So were you bit by a spider of some kind to? "

The dealer looks across the street, nodding his head to some other Italian. All part of the game. #2 goes off to collect some smooth from wherever it's stashed; #1 goes the other way to look out for vice. This leaves Kwabena alone, and he adopts himself up against a wall, hands in his pockets. In short order, a cigarette is perched betwixt his lips, the flame of an old, beat up zippo bringing the cancer stick to life.

A pedestrian walks by then, trying to pry some spider-webbing from his jacket. "No, you won't believe it!" he's shouting into a cell phone. "I think that Spider-Man punk just trashed my new jacket! I know, man, what BS!"

A frown flashes across Kwabena's face. He shrinks up a bit, pulls the hood over his head, and puffs away on that smoke.

Spider-Man shouts out, "Everybody gets one!" Had to be said. The ingrate.

Lunair pauses. Everyone gets one what? There's a look of confusion. Well, nevermind. She's on a fishin' mission. FOR SHIFT. And now she sidles on up, all normal-like (that's how you do it, right?). "… Shift?" She asks, carefully, quietly. She watched the dealer go, so she should at least have a few minutes. And some guy apparently got his jacket trashed. Well, okay, then. Poor Spider-people. No respect, they tell you what.

"Jeez, the webs dissolve after a couple hours. A lot harder to get out, you know, -blood-," Spidey grumbles as he swings over to settle atop a nearby building — above Shift and Lunair, to be specific. "Yes, I was bitten by a spider," he tells Gwen. "Why?" He's peering over the edge of the building at the same time. Little red mask up top. So inconspicuous. Like a spider on the wall.

Spider-Gwen peeks down at the drug deal going on below, at least her costume had black, way less inconspicuous then Spidey, "That's kind of how I got my powers." Looks like Johnny Storm was right, she definitely owed The Human Torch a new jiffy pop.

"So, did you ever start wanting to do spider type stuff or think you might be turning into a gigantic spider?" Gwen really wishes she was kidding, but hey Spider-Man might know if anyone would.

Another long drag, though this time, Kwabena blows the smoke up and away from Lunair's face. "Luna." He glances her way with a frown. "What ah you doing?" As if to clarify, he adds, "I know you've been follahwing me."

This time, he turns his head to look her over, rather than just giving her the old sidelong. "Nice coat."

Truth is, Kwabena's got eyes on Italian #2. The thug is still in eyeshot, but won't be for long. Thus, that little red mask up top goes unnoticed for now.

Well, dang. Here she thought she was being KIND of sneaky. But if anyone is super sneaky, it would probably totally be Shift. Lunair will accept that. She smiles, waves. "Hi Shift. I was worried. And following you," That's what she was doing, yup. She's honest, at least.

"Thanks." She doesn't protest, looking after here and there. If she sees the red mask, she doesn't say anything. After HYDRA's dropped enough snipers on her to fill a CoD map, Lunair's learned to look up sometimes. But it's rude to blow a Spider-bro's cover, so if she sees him and Spider-Gwen, she sys nothing. "I was worried after last time."

This brings Spidey to look around at the black-and-white-clad woman nearby. "A giant spider?" He grimaces faintly. "There was one time I grew extra arms… but that got dealt with. I'venever, like, grown a carapace or anything." He frowns, studying her thoughtfully. "Your webs," he says. "Natural or chemical?"

"I've woken up in webs a few times, having nightmares about being a gigantic spider-freak." Spider-Gwen shivers, she was already kind of a freak by her own standards, "Natural, how about you?"

Last time. Yes, the rooftop; the memory loss. She and those two spider-folk has seen remarkably spooked about something. However, Italian #2 is about to go out of sight.

"Walk with me." Kwabena pushes off from the wall, cigarette in tow, leaving little tufts of white-gray smoke in his wake. "Worried about what, spahcifically?" he asks her quietly. "Dat way." He gestures toward where the drug collector has gone, and looks for an opportunity to cross the street in pursuit.

Last time. Yup. Lunair nods, and will walk with him. "Sure. You want anything to eat or drink?" She offers. Lunair is quiet a moment. Her voice drops to near whisper, "You couldn't remember stuff you had just done. Like tried to kill one of the mutants who testified against some dude involved with Smooth. And that struck me as totally weird because you hate that stuff." See? Lunair pays attention.

She looks over as he gestures, looking both ways so they can cross the street in pursuit at some point. "… are you okay?"

Spider-Man draws his glove down to reveal the wrist band of his web shooter. "Mechanical," he says. "You were probably bitten by a different kind of spider than I was. Have you talked to any of the big scientist types about this? Somebody who might be able to figure out if the bite had any unexpected effects?" Pause. "Beyond, you know, giving you the proportional strength and speed of human-sized spider, letting you climb walls and shoot webs, spider sense… The usual stuff." His eyes fix back on Lunair and her friend — the guy who, you know, tried to kill a guy right in front of him. And the other spider person who he's talking to. "C'mon," he says, following them from roof level.

The offer of food or drink is declined without mention. No, Kwabena's silver eyes remain fully locked upon his target, who seems to be headed toward a very old church building.

Regardless, Kwabena finds himself slowing to a halt. He turns to look at Lunair, cigarette momentarily forgotten. "Dat makes no sense," answers the Ghanaian. And yet, there's a growing pit in his stomach. The memory loss and all. It was a distinct possibility.

Kwabena picks up the pace once more, trailing the Italian drug dealer until he has disappeared within the walls of the church. Stopping near a MTA station, he looks again toward Lunair. "What else?" he asks.

Lunair just goes with it. She follows/walks alongside Shift, often making sure to look over her shoulder or up. She glances to Kwabena after a moment, and pouts. Then she shakes her head.

"It didn't. That's why I went looking for you." She remembered he hated Smooth and furthermore, he hadn't shown much memory loss before.

"You seemed really confused once we zapped the bugs you put in the guy. That was pretty gruesome to be entirely honest," She admits. She pauses as he looks again. "Well, to start from the start - I was in M Town and some dudes were doing a drive by on this tattoo place where the witness was. We got him away and he got to the roof, whereupon you went all smoke-murder-tentacle," Smurdacle, if you will. "And tried to choke the dude. A couple of spider people helped out, and we managed to save the guy and - that's when you reformed solidlike and confused."

Gwen isn't sure if she should be concerned or relieved there were multiple types of spiders giving superpowers, but she tries not to think of it for now, "Yeah, I've approached someone kind of."

When he motions for her to follow along she does so as stealthy as she can, asking in a low whisper, "Why do you sound so familiar?"

"Because I'm your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man," Spidey replies nonchalantly. He's certainly been heard on TV often enough. Even if Gwen knows his voice for other reasons, she and Peter haven't kept close contact lately. Of course, this is all discussed as they trail after Lunair and Shift from the rooftops, occasionally leaping across the chasms between buildings and whatnot.

"Who'd you talk to?" he asks. "Reed Richards? Hank Pym?"

That part he remembers. The confusion, the rooftop, the spider-people. The other stuff…

"Smoke… murdah… tentacle? Bugs?" He gives Lunair a somewhat disapproving look. "Luna, Dere isn't much I tell peopah about what I can do, but, I'll tell you. I do states of mattah. Gas, liquid, supah-solid. I don't do tentacles. I'm not a shape-shiftah."

Silver eyes return to the church, and a frown comes to his face. "Smooth dealah. Chance is, dey got a supply of de stuff inside." Kwabena chews on his lip, feeling anxious. Yeah, he's good at sneaking around. He's also good at busting heads. It's taking an awful lot lot to go and bust down that door.

"Smokey tendrils, sorry. And then there were bugs in the dude's chest," Lunair explains. She tilts her head. "I was shocked. I didn't think you could DO that," She admits. "And thank you for telling me." She appreciates the gesture of trust. "But you were there." She looks to the church, too.

"Should I go duck and hide or something? I'll back you up. I think of you as my friend, which is why what you did scared the stuffing out of me." If someone has super hearing, they probably can hear her and them. "Have you been anywhere unusual? Maybe something happened," Lunair chintaps.

The question from Spider-Man is considered but Gwen decides not to give any names, "Sorry, it's probably best if I don't say who I went to. Secret Identity and all, I'm sure you understand." Lunair and Shift are observed but she doesn't know enough about them or this Smooth stuff to really consider it an issue, "So what do you think those two are up to? Secret rendezvous of some kind maybe?"

"Talk to Reed Richards," Spider-Man says. "He's the guy to go to with sciency problems." He continues watching the pair down below. "I'm going out on a limb to guess they're stalking the dealer who was hanging out in the alley — but honestly, I'm mostly concerned he's gonna try to kill somebody again."

A grin touches Kwabena's face. "I got most of mah style in smoke form," he admits.

The Ghanaian appreciates the gesture of friendliness. They'd been in life or death situations now, together. That means something. So, when she asks if he's been anywhere unusual, he considers. "Paris."

Beyond that, something else draws his eye. A handful of people come and go, entering and leaving the church itself. Not church-going types to say the least. "Huh." He pats Lunair on the arm, then gestures toward a trio of punk-rock-looking dudes leaving be church. They're studded out, all black, gutterpunk kids, complete with band t-shirts to boot. "Not dealahs." He frowns, deeply. "Something… weird… is going on in dat church."

Lunair smiles at his grin. "Smoke is pretty styling," She concedes.

Lunair hmmms. Paris. "I see. Did anything odd happen?" She considers. And then, she follows his gaze. She looks to the dudes, blink. "I'm guessing it's not hymns. What do you think we should-" He's the stealthy one, to be entirely honest, and Lunair figures blowing up a church is SO many negative karma points she'd be scrubbing toilets for eternity to make up for it. "I think we should take a peek carefully." That's 'we' because hopefully … she can be sneaky, too and his odd behavior won't flare up.

"Thanks for the tip Spidey. I wouldn't want to steal your thunder or anything, so I'll let you handle this." The truth was, Gwen wasn't really much of a superhero and she wanted to avoid dealing with nightmare man Shift at any cost; he scared the heck out of her.

Spidey glances around at Gwen once more. "Your call. We should talk when, you know, there's not a potential killer smoke-guy doing stuff around here that may or may not cause somebody to choke to death." He'd flash her a grin, but his entire face is hidden behind his mask and all.

"… no."

Nothing odd happened in Paris; though it took Kwabena a awfully long time to answer that. "Let's go and see what's up."

For a brief moment, Kwabena becomes smoke. His clothing falls to the ground, and when he reforms, it's just the gunmetal gray. A gloved hand pulls the hood up and over his grinning face, before he crouches down and leapsinto the air.

The transformation to smoke happens upon liftoff, giving Shift the momentum to soar up, up, and over. The black cloud goes right past the spider-pair on its way toward the bell tower, where it disappears into the belfry without a sound.

That DID take him an awfully long time to answer. Lunair looks a little uncertain, but she nods.

Lunair watches him turn into smoe. She grins and watches him, carefully minding his clothing. But now Lunair has to think. How is she going to be sneaky? Well, the answer is, she picks up Kwabena's clothing (so no one steals and steps on it) and armors herself up behind a nearby car, before using a portal gun to take herself up to the belfry. She's got this stealth thing on lockdown. But notably, she's totally stealing that Laughing Octopus armor design. She's getting better with her armor… And now she can just blend right on in. Spooky.

"Sure." It's all Spider-Gwen says as she webs off towards a tall building. Whether she's leaving or just finding her own place to observe from is anyone's guess. Even though Shift scared her, she was also sort of curious about him.

With Gwen gone, Spidey's able to focus his attention on those below. It does not take much to trace the path of the black cloud, and he recognizes Lunair's portal gun the moment she fires it — he can only assume she's going the same place. He swings over to the belfry and peers inside to see what's going on.

There are no guards inside, no one upstairs for that matter. Lunair's arrival earns a grin. "Nice touch," he murmurs to her, though something about her armor seems to catch his mind. He casts a look around, scowling. "Ugh. Is it me, or ah churches just creepy?" That being said, he finds a ladder and heads down into the upper floors of the church proper.

Inside, there is a balcony. Fortunately, it's so poorly lit that Shift and Lunair are able to go unseen. Below, however, is a congregation unlike any church has even seen. Bikers, punk rockers, normal folk, all humans. With a man up front walking to and fro, preaching to them.

"… they're a stain on our streets, a threat to our homes and neighborhoods. But, my friends, this is how we'll be rid of them, once and for all!!"

Lunair beams from behind the helmet. "Thanks," She whispers. Maybe Shift plays video games? Who knows. She doesn't ask about it. "Some do." She will follow after him, doing her best to be super duper quiet. Like seriously quiet here. She walks, toe to heel, too. She's sneakier than she lets on. But for her part, she blinks at the congregation and their preacher. Her mouth opens. Her mouth closes. She's not liking the sound of this.

Spider-Man, for his part, follows the pair in once they've left the belfry. Rather than taking the stairs, he crawls onto the ceiling and watches the congregation below. Hate speech. How nice. But clearly the Grand Dragon, or whatever this one styles himself, is about to unveil his master race plan, which will, of course, allow Spidey (and others) to foil it. Foolish, foolish dragon.

Before the 'preacher', a handful of men are collecting items from buckets; small baggies filled with a dark, blue-flecked powder. Baggies of smooth. They're passing these baggies out to those present.

"With this drug, we'll get them all hooked. Their powers will diminish, their threat neutralized!"

Shift removes his mask, staring at the development with disbelieving eyes. "… oh, no."

He turns to look at Lunair, when suddenly, the Ghanaian seems stricken by a sudden seizure. His body twitches and shudders, silver eyes losing their focus while inky black creeps upon the whites of his eyes. She's given a front row view, and from Spider-Man's position, he'll be able to glimpse it happening by way of an old mirror that leans upon a wall.

It doesn't look pleasant, or painless. And yet, once the inky black has taken the entirety of his eyes, the seizure and grunting stops. He seems to focus upon Lunair again, and when he speaks, the voice carries a demonic undertone, something otherworldly and not at all like Shift's normal, accented voice.

"You. Do not interfere. I will handle this."

He turns away and begins walking toward the nearest staircase, with slow, measured footfalls.

Lunair's learned something. THIS time, she pulls her smart phone out to record. Thank goodness for silent mode. Oh shit. Oh damn. Thank goodness for monologues. Lunair's mouth drops a little inside of her armor. Then Shift all but has a seizure and it takes everything she has not to try to help him. Then he… is all otherwordly. Okay, she's going to do just what he says, watching carefully. Best to prepare herself. Still…

From the ceiling comes a cough. In a somewhat pompous and authoritarian voice, Spider-Man recites, "I would rather face a hundred super-villains than through my life away on hard drugs, because it is a battle you cannot win!" One hand extends, and, THWIP! One bucket of baggies is yanked up toward the ceiling and anchored there to hang well out of the reach of the assorted thugs, punks, bikers and, of course, Ye Olde Grand Dragon below. "Howdy, boys!" he continues, swinging down to snatch away another bucket. "It's your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! Haven't you heard this stuff's illegal?"

If only those bastards hadn't tampered with Shift; he'd be making another friend today.

Instead, Spider-Man's announcement draws an angry look upward, paired by a vicious snarl. He turns to the Grand Poopaw and shouts, "Everyone out! NOW!"

The preacher begins ushering his people out; they leave the smooth behind. Shift doesn't seem interested in it anymore. Instead, he looks toward the web-slinger and draws a deep breath. Pops and crackles fill the air, and exposed skin starts to grow harder, adopting the look of obsidian iron.

When he speaks again, his voice is loud, lacking in accent, and bolstered by discordant tones that would best be described as voices from another plane.

"Get out, Spider-Man. You will not interfere with us!"

And THIS time Lunair's recording it so she has proof for Shift. "Run people!" She shoos the people out. "Hi Spider-Man!" Hey, Lunair is pretty cool with Spider-Man, all things considered. "I'm kinda worried, this isn't his usual self or voice," She comments to the web slinger. "And he hasn't done THIS. Be careful!" She's not sure if she SHOULD wade into battle, because she could easily be in the way.

In that case, she'll herd the norms on out.

Yeah, see, this is more or less what Spider-Man was worried about happening. "Well, see," he says, swinging around the large open area of the church in a broad arc, "I think maybe I will. 'Cause if interfering with you means interfering with plans to get people hooked on drugs, yeah, I'm gonna do that." He snatches up another bucket and webs it to the ceiling. "Drugs're bad, mmm'kay?" he adds, doing his best Mr. Mackey.

"This is just a drop in the bucket." Shift stands there, watching as the vigilante swings about, does his thing. "There's a much larger game at play, here. One far beyond your imagination." He folds his arms and continues holding his ground, a vicious smirk spread beneath blacked out, seemingly lifeless eyes. "Yes, very good! Trap it there for the police to find! Because you and I both know they won't do anything with it that either of us would disapprove of!"

The crackling and popping continues, until Shift has grown so dense that he sinks into a depression in the floorboards.

"Hey, man, last week you tried to kill a guy right in front of me," Spidey notes. "And you just now let a room full of drug pushers get away. So you tell me, what am I supposed to be doing here? You're not actually giving me much to work with." More buckets are snatched out of the way, but he's staying out of reach of Shift — he can hear the floorboards cracking, and all he knows of the man is that he can go gassy and now, it appears, he can go super dense. Kind of an ethnic Mass Master. Possibly not as annoying. "'Cause if you've got a better plan, I'm all ears. Well, technically not ALL ears. Mostly webs and snazzy clothes. But ears are definitely a factor."

"The mutants will fight back," answers Shift, at least, this twisted machination of him answers. "This drug, these people, they aren't a threat. Everything has its plan."

Once the last of the normals are out, however, Shift's body tenses. His head cranes skyward, eyes revert from their blackness, and silver eyesroll back forward from where they were pulled to the back of his head. "Urgh!" he cries out, before falling to his knees. Fresh dents are made in the flooring, the same happening when he falls to his hands.

Slowly, the Ghanaian's body begins reverting to its normal density. His chest heaves, as if he'd just been through some kind of ordeal.

"Yep," says Spider-Man, hanging upside-down from the ceiling now, watching as Shift seems to… well, he's not entirely sure what Shift's doing. He's assuming that Shift is reverting to normal? Perhaps? What's normal for Shift? Really, Spider-Man's just not sure. "Like my dear old uncle said, if you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit." He pauses a moment. "Well, WC Fields. Then my uncle. But my uncle said it better."

There's certainly nothing normal about what's going on here. After a few moments of disoriented, painful groaning, Shift finds his way up until he's seated, cross-legged upon the floor, gloved hands gripping his head. "Oooh, damn," he groans; but the otherworldly voices are gone, his accent having returned. "Jesus, mah head feels like a jackhammah!"

It would appear he has no idea what just happened. Poor Spider-Man, all of his clever musings have been falling upon deafened ears.

Spider-Gwen returns and announces to the group, "Sorry, was eavesdropping a bit but I caught a pair of drug runners trying to runaway. Webbed them up against the wall outside for you or the police." She stares at Shift mostly, wondering if he was possessed or something prior, since he wasn't all evil this time.

That's okay. Spidey frequently talks to cover the fact that he's nervous. Or just because he isn't certain what else to do. "Now, that's more like the dude who that chick with the guns knows and loves," he pronounces, dropping to the floor not far from Shift. Still out of reach. In case this is a trick. Because people do that sometimes. Try to trick him. "Want to explain what just happened?" he asks Shift, glancing toward Gwen, nodding briefly. "Why you just let a ton of thugs planning to distribute drugs in an attempt to addict all the mutants to it — I think — let them go? 'Cause that part's still confusing me a little." Pretty much everything's confusing him at the moment. "Also, the part where you lost your accent and started talking like the kid in The Exorcist. I'd love to hear more about what happened there."

"What… what?" Shift looks from Spider-Man to Spider-Gwen before realizing that his mask is still off. Silver eyes. They were all black the last time, and they were all black this time, as well. He winces and reaches up to stretch the mask over his face, but halfway through he stops, letting it slide down to rest on his shoulders again.

"Where… where's Lunair." The Ghanaian's voice is hoarse, abused. Eyes flash from one spider-mask to the other. "I don't… we were up dere, on de balcony… why am I down… what ah you talking about?"

Gwen looks between Spidey and Shift confused, asking Spider-Man as she hangs from the wall, "Wait!? He did go all exorcist again? I'm so glad I missed that." She points at Shift, "You definitely have some explaining to do!"

"She was getting all the thugs to safety when it looked like you were about to throw down with me," Spidey replies wryly. "Thanks for not doing that, by the way. My webs don't work so well on smoke." He does not know that Luna's got everything recorded — she'll have to explain that to Shift herself. "I think she's outside. Whatever the case, we seem to have stopped the distribution of a lot of drugs into the city." Pause. "Chances are the Bugle will say I was the one behind the distribution plans, but I'm used to that."

Positively confused is how Shift could be described. He looks between them, before grabbing his head and growling, "I don't remembah anything!"

Frustrated, the Ghanaian scurries to his feet and goes stalking around the room. A spare baggie of smooth is picked up, then cast away with a hiss. He stops where he is then, and reaches up to rub at the back of his head. There is a moment when he looks entirely too vulnerable.

Without looking over at the Spider-Crew, he asks soberly, "What… exactly did you see?"

Gwen didn't exactly see what Shift did and she's glad for it, but Spider-Man has always been 'reliable' as far as she was concerned. She looks between Spidey and Shift, remaining silent and letting Spidey do the talking/explaining for now.

"Well…" Spidey launches into a recounting of events as he remembers them, complete with giving the leader of the pack of drug dealers a voice like Dr. Claw and an evil laugh like Snidely Whiplash. The shifted Shift, in Spidey's voice, sounds more like Skeletor, and never laughs once, though he does say 'see?' a couple of times, reminiscent of Jimmy Cagney's old gangster films. He portrays himself as heroically confused, ready to take on a roomful of drug dealers (which, you know, he kind of was) when Shift sent them scrambling for the hills, demanding that they leave. In the end he observes, "I've got a couple tylenol if you need 'em, dude. Looks like you've got a whopper of a headache."

The recounting is observed with something of a blank stare, but that's more the product of Spidey's unique brand of retelling than anything else. The sad, or perhaps frustrating thing, is that he doesn't remember a thing.

"… I think something happened to me in Paris." He looks between the two with a positively mollified look, before his stubborn nature finds its way once more. He shakes his head and looks away, frowning. He looks as if about to say something, when suddenly, he books. A transformation to smoke, the tendrils snaking along the floor and whipping out through the front door. Gone.

Gwen watches as Shift bounces and when the sound of police sirens is heard in the distance, she decides it's her time to go as well, "Hey Spidey, catch you on the flip-side." She sends out a stream of webbing and is gone. As much as she wanted to chat, it wasn't going to be with the police around.

"I am so bringing a really big Ziplock bag next time I see him," says Spider-Man, vexed at Shift, once again, vanishing so completely, so quickly. "Seriously. A really big Ziplock and a vacuum cleaner. Maybe a wet-vac. That turning into smoke thing and racing off is getting very old very fast." And then he's alone. With a lot of drugs. He grimaces, sighs, and webs all the smooth into one big webby clump for the cops, tagged with a note, 'Courtesy, Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man!' And then he, too, takes off via the belfry. Cops won't be coming in by belfry.

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