Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
Cpl. Mike Page — The Spider-Man of The Second World War!
Location: HQ, Plaza. Interactions: Archie. Nellancholy Gundam Watcher 27 Mentions: N/A
Location: HQ, Plaza. Interactions: Archie. Nellancholy Gundam Watcher 27 Mentions: N/A
The uniformed Spider-Man peeked at the purple-garbed guy who talked with the Asian girl. The suit's ostentatious colours belied the fact that it seemed significantly more advanced than anything Michael had encountered. In fact, his eyes, beneath the opaque lenses, traveled down to spot a uniquely designed belt. It reminded him of the pouches that they attach to their belts; the mess tins, grenades, ammo - like the bandolier of M1 Garand cartridges tightened against his chest with a safety pin, binoculars et cetera et cetera. This told Michael two things: 1. The Spider-Man next to him is from a timeline further down than he is, likely the 2020s or 2030s, and 2. It is quite clear that either he is an expert in mechanical engineering OR someone else is supplying the technological aspect to his work.
He rotated his shoulder to adjust the way his Garand rested. Michael would, surely if nothing else, like to know more about the tech. It is a pastime for him, though in reality, he'd much prefer the firearm variety of tech as opposed to the general science, but it'd be good to know regardless. He smiled at the echos of his father teaching him how to shoot his revolver as a little boy. And a tinge of sorrow as to how they separated before Mike got shipped off to the front.
Then it was the petite girl's turn to speak and Mike snapped out of his recollection. When she lifted her wrist to display a watch, or at least Mike interpreted it as such, he leaned down to better expect it, tucking a knuckle under his chin. "I see, I see." He titled back. "I owe you a few aces for this, only thing I got on me are these AM-Francs. I doubt they'd get accepted anywhere else though." She explained the significance of the wristwatch's purpose. That is or was Mike's ticket back to the front, he needed, anxiously, to get back there. The front's no picnic, but it's all he has for the moment, that and the Howlers.
When she introduced herself, Mike bowed a bit before he rattled off his name. Her name sounded strange, but Mike's exposure was limited as is, although through no fault of his own. "United States Army Corporal Michael B. Page," With a gloved hand, he dug around in his collar to pull out a nickel-coppery rectangle, rounded on the sides with a notch on the end. It reads out Michael's name, service number, O+ blood type, and personal details like his father's name, Fredrick Page, the street where he lived in New Jersey, and then ending in a C.
He tucked away the dogtag.
A premonition took him over. One that he was intimately familiar with. Spider-Sense! Immediately, Mike took several, easy steps back to allow the flailing object that careened toward them to crash. "Looks like someone got an edge. I didn't know they served booze at a snazzy place like this." He remarked with a clear shit-eating grin under his mask.
He looked to the tensed, stern posture of Aguilar. "Christ, kid, loosen up. I mean in the literal sense, I've seen corpses with rigor mortis less tense. No good for your muscles or when the enemy sees you more strung-out than a rabbit during hunting season." He empathises with his cautious nature, in fact, Mike was as on-guard as well, but he didn't let that show. He snaps his fingers, leathery gloves muffling the snapping sound. "Alright, Miss. LeeGi-eun. Can you just point us as soon as possible to the head honcho so we can get those doohickeys."
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