'Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a Spider can-'
The MP3 earbuds were abruptly torn from his ears by the opposing gangster. Peter didn't even bother with using his reflexes to dodge the hit - the hit that had been coming towards his face at a speed reminiscent to that of a disabled slug. He hated the song, anyways - what sort of old man somehow managed to have a bunch of girls write this shit? Furthermore, why did they even write it when he left the whole 'Super-Hero' scene only a while after arriving? It was confusing...but he had other problems to deal with right now. Not much of a problem, but sort of a problem. When Fury had given him the assignment to join the 'Thunderbolts', he had been surprised and quite a bit hesitant...and yet he agreed without a second thought. Regular assassinations in SHIELD was beginning to get boring, especially since he hardly ever gotten a partner that was worth his or her salts, which often ended with him having to solo the entire mission himself. Once more, not a problem, but for the month to week-long missions, it was a really annoying thing. Now, he was headed towards the under-water submarine base, dressed in his 'civilian' attire...just regular jeans, sneakers, and a dark crimson hoodie. He had been taking the alley-ways, for a quick access to the sewers - where, there, he could just take the sewer passage into the Gulf of Mexico - but that hadn't worked out. Not with this clown.
"You not takin' me seriously?!" Oh, how he hated Louisiana. He came all the way to this state just to use their interesting sewer system, and this is how they paid him? He didn't even bother responding; a flick of the finger, and the thug found himself embedded into the alley's wall, head bursted like a grape. Peter spared the body one brief glance before continuing his walking through the dingy alley-ways. The sewer grate was located underneath a dumpster, and after a quick kick to send it skidding across the ground, Peter stomped down on the metal grate, sending it bending into the sewers, with him following after it. "Heh, this works." He murmured to himself as his feet automatically adjusted on the bent metal, landing in the disgusting sewer water with only a minor splash - minor footwork easily allowed him to dodge the nasty droplets of water.
Spraying two thick cords of web on both sides of the sewer walls, Peter grabbed hold of the strands, before taking a deep breath and moving himself and his sewer-grate-board backwards in the water. Exhaling, he tugged viciously, allowing himself to let out a chuckle of mirth as his superhuman strength blasted him and the 'skate-board' blasting into the long, maze-like sewer tunnels, skidding along the water at a speed that no human would accurately be able to track. Crouching on the sewer-grate, Peter smirked, grabbing the edges as a drop approached. Just as he and the grate was about to fall, he leaped with the grate, sailing through the air from the speed and power of the jump. The air was stale and stinky, but the adrenaline was fun.
As he grinded along the concrete walls and railings on his sewer-board, Peter could hear the sound of rushing water, along with the smell of fresh sea-salt and seagull droppings. Sure enough, within a few minutes he and his board was flying through the air, like the constant pourage of sewer water into the Gulf of Mexico. Eyes easily adjusting to the sudden exposure to fresh sunlight, Peter dropped the grate and flipped mid-air, sharp eyes immediately pinpointing the best place to land - there. With the grace of a master acrobat, Peter landed, in a crouch, on a sturdy piece of drift-wood. Sitting so that his legs were in the water, he pulled up his jeans, to around knee-level, before rapidly kicking and kicking with his feet, legs instantly becoming a blur, while he and the drift-wood began to blast through the water like a jetski. The submarine, Fury had told him, was flat-out deep underwater, in the Gulf of Mexico - it was a test of skill and creativity to find and get to it. Heh...he was Spider-Man. Nothing was too difficult for him, with a bit of hard-work.
Eventually, he found it - the water currents were warmer around this area, and if one shoved their head underwater and looked down, ignoring the sting of sea-salt, they would see an incredibly large shadow farther in the water. Leaping dozens of feet into the air, off of his drift-wood, Peter flipped upside-down and formed a sharp stick with his lean figure - within seconds he pierced the ocean's surface like a high-caliber sniper round, feet kicking bubbles upwards as he began to use his full-speed under-water. He reached the hatch, lazily flipping through the water as a self-defense underwater-laser blasted from the hatch's handle and sent steam flying high. Clicking the hatch once, he allowed it to prick his finger and absorb some of his blood, before opening the now unlocked hatch and falling into the air-pocket, feeling the dry, crisp air of the submarine flash sudden heat across his form, instantly drying him.
"Useful." Peter observed, walking away from the upper hatch entrance and heading down a metal staircase. A few people milled about - mostly scientists whom gave him confused looks, but since he was in his civilian attire, Peter only gave them raised eyebrows of his own. His cabin was Cabin 3-A...3-A...3-A. He already had an underling send for his stuff, since taking it with him would've been a chore, so his costume and equipment should have been in...Yep. He opened his cabin's door, locking it behind him as he kicked off his clothing. The room was small, quaint, and bare...just how he liked it. Folded neatly was his costume, with a crimson duffel-bag sitting beside it, on his cot. Peter cracked his neck, before approaching the lightly armored outfit. "Baby, how I missed you." His voice, cool and calm, broke the silence of the room, as he began to get dressed.
"Briefing in 25 minutes. I repeat, Briefing in 25 minutes."
Well then.
