IC Inbox | Ryslig

[summonthesuit]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, HASNOFEAR. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 13.15.15.14 *** HASNOFEAR has joined 13.15.15.14 <HASNOFEAR> Hello! This is Steven Grant! If you need something, just leave me a message and I'll get back to you asap!

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[summonthesuit]

[Oh Beck. Buddy. You've been around Spider-Man too long. Steven's still smiling, but now he's shaking his head in a bemused manner as well.]

Bullet to the head? What do you take me for? I'm not that kind of person, now am I? [His fingers tap at the side of his glass.] Look at me, I'm the only English Naphil in town. I've got no chance of pulling the wool over anyone's eyes. ...Dunno why I even would. I reckon back home it would've mattered more, what with all the bureaucracy involved, but here? We've all got superpowers here, don't we?

[thegreatmysterio]

[More like 'been around SHIELD too long'. Trying to stay one step ahead of those guys has lead to some extra warranted caution about this kinda thing.]

Hey, I've seen those- [He vaguely gestures at Steven.] Marks on you! I don't know what kinda... secret agent shit you could have done off the clock back there. Anyone would have loved having that brain of yours on tap.

[Quentin would have, ergo: he says it with absolute surety. But then his gaze drops away from Steven, towards the floor. Uncertain.]

...You think these are superpowers? Not some... [He blows out a breath.] I wouldn't say curse, but, it's... There's gotta be a catch here, right? I don't think Captain America had to, y'know. [Another vague gesture, jerky and uncomfortable. 'Eat people' goes unspoken.] That was at least science. This shit? Magic. That's... way messier. The gods around here don't help either.

[summonthesuit]

[The mention of 'marks' hits Steven a little harder than it should. Secret agent shit sounds about right; that's roughly the same as mercenary shit, right? But deep down, he knows that's not the only origin those scars could have. Some of them are just too old. Either way, they're Marc's marks, not his.

The way the conversation continues isn't helping any, either. He huffs out a large breath, shifting in his seat.]

It is messy. But it's still powers, innit? [There's a brief pause, then he plunges onward.] I know all about gods, trust me. Mr. Knight got his powers 'cause of a deal with Khonshu. Egyptian god of the night sky. The old bird needed an avatar to exact his personal brand of justice on Earth. But yep, that came with a price. Marc was the one paying up, actually.