nexus_crossings | Into a Rising Wind

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event

Into a Rising Wind

Winter holds the Nexus in its jaws, and its teeth sink ever deeper.

A month into the storm, the snow has yet to stop falling. The number of mouths to be fed has stopped dwindling, almost. Occasionally people go missing, and those who notice hope they’ve found a way back through their portals. It’s not enough to change the maths on their food supplies - all their supplies. Nobody is getting a full meal at a time, not any more. Isidor and Lyall have begun to enforce the rationing with iron hands. Both ignore the look that crosses Captain Kirk’s face when they upbraid a volunteer cook for being too generous – the look that lingers on Runa’s face if she’s close enough to hear. They’re doing what they must. They need a tight hold on their supplies if they want to get people through this. They need supplies even to send expeditions after more.

And expeditions are a difficult prospect now. Those who ventured into the storm and returned have brought stories that spread faster than Isidor hoped. The Crossroads Cafe has become a semi-official hub for those travelling outside or keeping watch on the bounds, a safe resting place kept warm by the combined power of Pokemon and Persona. In the long dark nights, people sit around the tables and share what they've seen, what they've heard from this scout or that refugee. Whispered tales of the creatures out there hunting in packs, hounding people from rooftops, even tearing open walls to reach them…

No-one goes out alone, now. Those brave enough to take the risk go in groups and arm themselves with the best weapons they can find. Sometimes they’re a risk to themselves. Not everyone knows how to handle that black market plasma pistol they picked up two days past. Not all of their team-mates keep their nerve when a figure looms out of the snows beside them. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s run afoul of monsters, and who of their own folly. Safer, but little less brave, are the people recruited to keep watch on that shifting line of torches. Just a precaution. The creatures don’t come past it, everyone says. But quietly, everyone doubts.

There've been bright moments, too. A strange alchemist comforting a lost child. An expedition team fighting their way home, back to back. Families brought safely through the snow by soldiers and wizards, by heroes young and old and sometimes surprising. A volunteer cook stepping up to prepare, if not quite a hundred thousand meals, then something that feels close. A young man saving the life of a stranger who'd threatened him. The past weeks have seen people who may never have known one another before come together to offer a blanket, or guiding words, or a helping hand in a search. Small moments, glowing reminders of how much good the people of the Nexus have on their side. But the Winter goes on, and the winds never get less bitter, and the smiles get more strained with every day.

Slowly the line of torches close on the Plaza, a noose no-one can afford to flee. Sheltered space is at a premium. Most of those who remain are settled as close to the centre as they can be. Whether in the big public bunker or the Cafe, people find themselves crammed all together, and tempers regularly fray among residents not too cold and exhausted for fighting. The more responsible Nexus-goers find themselves trying to duck out of (or break up) fights, or spending hours stuffing drafty accommodation with any insulation they can find. There’s snow to be shoveled from doors, pipes to be defrosted, bandages to be changed. Anything’s better than dealing with the problem of working bathrooms.

At one end of the Plaza headquarters, a makeshift screen has been dragged into place to give a semblance of privacy to Isidor’s desk. It’s painfully early in the morning, though the nights are so long and the days so dim beneath the storm clouds there’s little sense of time any more. There’s no-one around yet to wonder about the meeting going on. The only people present are Isidor, Lyall and a handful of senior volunteers – those who remain. Blaze-37 crouches by a makeshift fireplace, stacking the salvaged wood just right before she punches it lightly, setting it alight with the flames that ripple over her fist. The other robot, Ghost, is hovering over the desk playing flashlight for them, shining a pale beam over the maps and reports laid out there. Light, too, is a precious resource, as batteries die and outlets are lost to encroaching Winter. It’s the only reason those here have gotten sleep. They work until they have no light to work by.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Suou?” the Guardian asks when Isidor says they can begin.

“Officer Suou won’t be coming.”

That’s part of why they’re here, Isidor explains. The torches’ march has taken them past the Grand Library. The Crossroads Café is now on the very edge of the safe zone, along with all the people sheltering there. Katsuya’s magic is the only thing that will protect it. He can’t leave. It’s a turning point that only drives home the larger problem: they’re running out of time. They’re running out of everything. Most refugees are in some kind of shelter by now; what they lack is food to keep them alive and fuel to keep them warm. Isidor’s volunteers have counted heads and counted tins and counted everything backwards and forwards and the numbers never get better. Either they do something now, while they have the strength, or the meals will run dry in two weeks. Less, if anything goes wrong.

She lets that sink in. Nobody looks surprised: she’s confirming their worst suspicions and that gets a few flinches, but they understand. They talk, instead. By the time there’s a hint of daylight outside and someone knocks on the door for the first shot at rations, they have a plan. They need an expedition, bigger than any before. They need enough arms to discourage attack, the skills to get them to any buried supplies and the numbers to haul them back in quantity. Each of them walks away from the table with a mission in mind and an air of grim determination.

They have a job to do, and they’re going to need help.

((As before, so below: the main missions/subquests for the expedition prep are listed below. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. The OOC Post can be found here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note

Scouting the Expedition | A Fistful of Torches | Scrapyard Sweep | The Home Front | Medical Attention | Isidor's Expedition Call | Main Expedition: The Raid

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kinner's back in about ten minutes. As he said, he went to gather up materials that he'll need for exploration, including the guideline and a set of flares. He offers them to his teammates, having arrived in time to hear Matt's idea. His pistol is tucked in a smaller bag at his side, ready for him to grab if he needs it. Kinner's a decent shot, and he agrees that the middle would be the safest place for him to be.

He doesn't actually mind being called "Antarctica". In fact, he kind of likes it. He's definitely been called worse things. He offers Matt a small smile of his own before moving on to business. There are people missing. This is serious. They can't afford to stand around talking for too long. It's important to find the two missing Spider-Men quickly, before the creatures or the Winter Spirit do. Kinner wonders why a spirit would be petty enough to go around blinding people, but he's smart enough to keep the question to himself.

"I have a bundle of flares here - I suggest everyone takes three each. They're to signal members of the team if things go wrong or you find yourself cut off from the group. We've got to stay together if we can, but we need to prepare for the worst. There's a lot that can go wrong in weather conditions like these."

As pedantic as he can be at times, Horvath knows when it’s time to move quickly rather than talk. As soon as everyone is back and seems ready to move out, he does not waste time. One of the rings on his right hand glows blue, and he lifts his hands, focusing on an empty space just next to their small gathering.

The theatrics will likely be lost on the two men who can’t see, but they may feel the weird crackle of ozone that tends to accompany things like ripping a very small rent in space. When he has only himself to transport, there are simpler methods, but there are several people here and he can’t be sure how comfortable all of them are with magic. Rather than causing them to be pulled from one place to another, he opens a shimmering, rippling space in the air, as wide as double doors, through which they can see the drafty living room of the safe house. There is no frame to this doorway but a border of uncertain air that is probably distressing to look at too closely. They are faced with a large and roughly oval hole in the world, on the other side of which is their destination.

Horvath gives the assembled men a mild nod towards the gate. “It’s easiest if I go through last.” Not absolutely necessary, but easiest. He’ll wait until they’re all through, and follow last, letting the doorway close up behind him and the air resolve back into nothing more than ordinary air.

Harrowheart might have the upper hand here: Portal magic is not uncommon on his world, and is in fact his preferred method of arrival in the Nexus. He doesn't wait for the rest of the group to follow through the barrier, but nods respectfully at Horvath and steps through the rift with confidence.

Inside, he steps away to ensure others can follow, and then he works a little magic of his own. A magical smoke swirls around him and in the span of a breath, to quick to comprehend with the naked eye, his form twists and transforms into something entirely different. With a heavy thud he falls to his hands in the shape of a lupine monster. He's a bulky thing, in the front at least, with broad forearms and an arching back. What parts of him aren't covered by armor are thick with golden fur. From his long snout extend two jutting, tusk-like lower fangs, and at the top of his wolfen head two stumpy ears swivel as they pick up sounds. His runeblade is still strapped to his back, where it might likely stay if he needs to wander around on all fours like this.

He doesn't wait for direction, but goes about the room with his black nose twitching, chest heaving as he snuffles and snorts his way through everything. Clothes, rags, cabinets, beds... Hope nobody who was staying here values privacy in any way, shape, or form!

Maybe it's some kind of reverse Florence Nightingale effect, but Horvath has definitely won Steve's trust. He appreciates the reassuring pat, giving a vague nod as the man retreats.

He also appreciates Daredevil's presence. It's frustrating to be knocked down like this. He's angry that he can't contribute more, angry at himself, not so much the curse. "Well," he tells him with a wry smile that may well carry through in his voice, "we write our own job descriptions. I wanted to protect them without being overbearing. Guess I fucked that up."

If they come back safely, he'll forgive himself.

"I could really use some guidance," he adds quietly. "Yes. Please. I can't just...not do anything until this is fixed. If it even can be fixed. I've got to figure out some workarounds, fast. But the kids come first." He can't look at Daredevil, not quite sure how to pinpoint his face properly, and anyway he couldn't see it if he did, so Steve has to hope his voice carries his sincerity. Honestly, he's scared, but now is not the time to let himself feel it.

When Kinner returns, Steve makes a small approving sound at the preparation he announces. The man wasn't kidding; he knows how to deal with this terrain. He'll have to thank all of them properly later, once the boys are safe, but he's starting to feel some optimism.

He'll have to be nudged or led through Horvath's gate, but once they get there and into the building, he seems to be able to get around without being led. As long as no one's placed objects in the middle of the floor without telling him, he knows the layout of this building by heart. He has to direct Harrowheart up the stairs to the bunkhouse, and one of the refugees can tell him where the boys were resting. Dimly, Steve is aware of the shape-change, but he's in no position to react to it. Which is fine. When the refugees make alarmed noises and back away from the immense wolf, he tells them, "It's all right, he's a friend."

For the moment, that's all it takes to keep anyone from panicking or interfering.

Matt's hand tightens on Steve's shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, I hear you. When I get back, I'll show you the ropes. Even if you've lost your sight, you still have your other senses. They're more useful than you might think. If we're lucky, you won't have to live like this for long, but if we're not, I promise you I'll teach you everything I know."

The first person who makes a 'blind leading the blind' joke is getting a baton between the eyes, by the way.

Daredevil takes his share of the flares, nodding briefly to Antarctica. Sure, he won't be able to see the brightness of their blaze, but he's familiar with the burning chemical stench and the hissing noise they'll make when lit. Useful for everyone.

The portal is a bit of surprise, though, and Daredevil tilts his head to one side as it draws his near-complete focus. It's like opening a soundproof door and having the noise from the other side suddenly spring into existence, and the way the air currents flow through the space it's created is one of the more confusing things he's ever felt. He resists the reflex to cross himself, and guides Steve's hand to his elbow, the same way he prefers to be led by others, before following the tracker through the portal.

And then there's more magic - or at least Daredevil assumes that's what's going on - and suddenly the reason why the tracker smelled suspiciously canine makes a lot more sense as the space he takes up in the room expands with some truly gross noises that probably only those with super sharp hearing can pick up. Not to mention those deep heaving breaths as the tracker gets to work sniffing the whole place out like a bloodhound. "Well, that explains a few things," Matt says after a long, startled moment. It's probably for the best that his expression is half-hidden beneath the brim of his beanie.

"My name's Kinner," the cook explains. "Figure if we're going to work together, I ought to share it."

Kinner makes sure the other flares have been taken, keeping three for himself. Visibility is key in conditions like these, but they aren't needed just yet. In the wastes of Antarctica, a light source that could pierce through the snowstorms was a lifesaver. Kinner himself could testify to that.

The portal also isn't so strange. Kinner's used PINpoints, and he's traveled to Furiosa's world, so this is semi-familiar territory for him. Useful, though. He wishes they'd had access to something like this in Big Magnet, that could've saved a lot of lives.

He steps through Horvath's portal, watching Harrow transform. It's an interesting sight, if slightly unsettling, and he remembers what Horvath taught him about how shapehifters could get around energy-matter laws. He takes it better than he would have back home, stepping aside to let Harrow do the tracking work. Dogs are good trackers, he knows that much. It's a good idea to bring somebody who had canine tracking abilities with them.

Kinner's used to dogs, even big dogs, mostly thanks to Clark. However, Clark's huskies and Alaskan malamutes would be dwarved by Harrow's massive wolf form. Kinner isn't sure it's a wolf, his mind goes to werewolves, but Harrow seems to have control over his wolf form that monster movie werewolves lack. The small cook is grateful for that. He's sure even Clark would be spooked.

"It's all right," he tells the refugees. "We're here to help. We're lookin' for a couple people, that's all."

Edited 2019-02-23 22:01 (UTC)

Horvath limps through the gate last, and it shrinks and closes behind him with a minimum of fuss and no obvious attention on his part. There's something reassuring about being back here. Even though he's been visiting the Nexus lobby on a daily basis to work, he's been coming to think of this place as home base, since it's where he comes to relax and rest. It's a little warmer here, too, since it's a smaller more enclosed space that they have to preserve heat. Warmth is relative, of course, since nobody wants to take their coats off in these temperatures either.

He watches Harrowheart transform with mild interest- Horvath has seen werewolves before, but this fellow looks like something else. Regardless of what he may be, it's clear he still has his mind focused on the task at hand, in any shape, so he'll just try to stay out of the way. "I don't know if there's any additional supplies you need from here, but if the search has you returning here instead of the main area, we also have medical supplies." He's thinking of in case of emergency, because if somebody gets hurt, they can return to whichever place is closest for urgent care.

Everyone is talking, planning, but Harrowheart is following his black nose. Once he's found the boys' clothes he soaks up the scent (teenage boys! horrible!) and sets to following it. He paces around the room, chasing their steps, suddenly awash in their presence. They were all over this place! And... They... Went...

Oh! Yes! Outside! He snuffles his way toward a window, stands on his hind legs long enough to pry it open with his forepaws. He pops his head out into the cold air and grunts as he breathes in the scent. There's no way he's going to be able to fit himself through with his spiked pauldrons on, so he pulls his head back in--

Or tries to. His neck fat doesn't make it easy and it takes one, two, three hard tugs before he pops back inside. He shakes his head and his ears flop in all directions, and when he's got his bearings again he growls in a bassy voice, "Outside."

Without tossing a look to the others he pads down the stairs and out toward the door, and he's off. It's pointless trying to track with his nose in the snow, so he keeps his snout raised and sniffs at the air above. In the well-traveled areas around the shelter he doesn't need to plow snow from the party's path, but his eager tracking leads them quickly to the torchline.

Now is when he finally looks back at his companions. "Kinner, plant your lead line. Everyone else? Get your weapons ready."

And just like that he disappears into the blinding gale.

Edited 2019-02-24 16:18 (UTC)

Steve makes a small, uncertain sound at Daredevil's reassurance, and murmurs, "Seems kind of wrong to hope it goes away, when there are so many people who live with it, with no expectation it'll change. It...hurts, and I know it was meant as a curse, but I don't want to insult people who are blind for life and get by with that just fine."

Matt Murdock included. "Whatever happens, all I want is to be able to do my job. Help me make that happen and that's all I need."

He means that. He was a disabled guy who wanted to save the world before the serum. If that's what he's going to be now, decades later? Sure. Why not?

But the world can wait, because they have to save the Spider-Men first.

He can follow the group by sound, and while he gets distracted talking to Rory and another of the refugees for a moment, he's back behind Harrowheart when he opens the window. "They left from the roof--" he begins, but that tidbit of information is apparently not necessary. The tracker is off, and at more of a pace than Steve is comfortable trying to keep up with.

Carefully, conscientiously, he closes and locks the window that was left open, draws the blackout curtains over it tightly, and takes a breath. Just let them come back safe.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting something that was stolen from you." Matt, at least, doesn't begrudge him that at all. There's things about having sight that he misses, even now.

But not having it isn't the end of the world either, not even close. Whether or not Steve is as accepting of this as he's acting, he's got the right idea. And Matt has recently clawed his way up from what felt like the deepest pits of Hell, himself, without the help of supersoldier serum to ease the way. "We'll get you fighting fit again, captain. You can count on it."

He's also right that it's going to have wait, though, and Steve seems able to navigate his own territory just fine without his eyes to help, so Matt gives him one last reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning his attention to the giant wolfman with his head stuck in a windowframe.

Very graceful.

He opens his mouth to say something about being ready to go and then- oh, really? Seriously? Weren't they supposed to be roped together?

Daredevil does as he's bit, though, drawing his batons and keeping his hearing trained on the sound of paws in deep powder, half-masked by howling wind. "Tracker? Oh, come on!" He doesn't glance over his shoulder at Kinner - no point, obviously - but his next call goes to the man who has sensibly not run off into a blizzard. "Let's go!"

"Well, so much for the roping idea," says Kinner, rolling his eyes. "We oughta go after him before he gets himself lost or somethin'. We've still got the flares." He trusts Harrow's nose, but not so much his common sense.

"Once got stuck in the snow back in Antarctica," he says as he follows Harrow, taking care to keep the worgen in sight. "Was going after beef of all things. Woulda never found my way back to base camp if my team hadn't found me and led me back. Would've died out there. As things are, it bought me a little more than five days of life." He laughs, with a hint of bitterness.

It was beef that almost killed Kinner the first time, and it was a cow-Thing that ended up doing him in. Irony, huh?

Kinner knows how short a time it can take to be lost in the snow. He has good vision, but the Antarctic winter blinded him in seconds and he doesn't have a dog's sense of smell. Hopefully Harrow won't get himself lost. With any luck he has the kids' scent, and he can mead them there.

He lights a flare to mark his position, a signal. He still has full use of his eyesight, but lacks Matt' supersenses. They'll need to work as a team to follow Harrow and find the two missing Spider-men. "Follow me! I'm guessin' you can hear the way he's going."

Edited 2019-02-25 03:53 (UTC)

"Oh, goodness. Well." Horvath watches the wolfman in the lead go bounding off without benefit of rope, and hopes the other two will at least have more sense. If not, there might be another rescue party later, and he sighs as he shuts and locks the door again. They'll be out there for a while, either way.

"Shall I make tea, while we wait?" There's not much else he and Steve can do right now, after all.

If Kinner isn't going to rope everyone together on the move, what business is that of Harrow's? With a scent on his mind, Kinner's right to question his common sense. One dead brain can only focus on so much at once. And right now?

That's the smell of the boys.

It leads him further into the gale, further into the unseeable whiteness. Soon, Matt isn't going to be the only one who isn't relying on his eyes.

Harrowheart snorts and sputters to keep loud, and now and then tosses his head for a grunt. Finally he finds his words and in a deep voice growls, "It's hard to track in this! The wind! The snow! I don't know..."

Don't know what? Maybe now isn't the time to cast doubt on this mission...

Just trying to stick close to each other and hope they don't get separated sounds like a worse and worse idea, the further they walk into the blizzard. And as much as Matt doesn't like the decreased mobility that'll come with being tied to someone else, he hates the idea of Kinner getting lost in all this noise even more. "Give me an end of the rope," he calls, loud enough for his voice to carry above the wind, at least as far as Kinner's ears.

Tying it on the go, while wearing gloves, is a bit tricky, but he's sure as hell not planning to stop or go barehanded in this kind of weather. At first it seems like a boon that the tracker is slowing a bit, giving Daredevil an opportunity to secure himself to Kinner, but the reason why is not encouraging. Nor unexpected, really. It's more surprising that there's any trail to follow in a storm like this. "Is the trail still there at all?" 'Hard' doesn't mean 'impossible' after all.

Kinner doesn't like the idea of blindly wandering around the snow, either, especially since he knows where it leads. Matt has senses to rely on besides sight, but Kinner doesn't, and it's better if they stick together as a group for everyone involved, even if Harrow can't or won't cooperate. He quickly hands over an end of the rope to Matt, ready to follow both him and Harrow. The challenge here will be in keeping the group together. He wonders if Harrow's thoughts or instincts are different in wolf form, more wolf-like.

It's a bit disappointing that the trail is so thin, but he isn't that surprised at all. In fact, he's relieved Harrow's found a trail for the humans to follow at all. A trail, however faint, is a start in finding the missing people. He has a good feeling that they're on the right way, even if they don't have that much to work with yet. Hopefully the Spider-Men haven't gone too far just yet. "Here. Matt, I'll hold still so you can tie yourself to me. Stay with me. Harrow, if you can keep your pace so we can follow you. What can you smell if anything?"

There's no direct answer from Harrow as he snuffles around in the snow, and Matt struggles to focus on any clues he can get from their surroundings. They'd been following an actual established path before, he's pretty sure, even with the constantly shifting layer of powder settling on top making it difficult for his sharp ears to pick out the differences. But this is starting to feel more wild, less compacted beneath his feet, and he stamps his feet a little to confirm, and to keep warm as they wait for the next signal.

The snow's getting deeper by the minute, blowing and drifting in irregular heaps, and Matt can only feel thankful that he doesn't hear the solid shapes of huddled bodies lying covered by the snowbanks. But Harrow, it seems, has finally caught a whiff of something, setting off at a somewhat slower pace, nose as close to the snow as he can get it without getting snow up his nostrils. Matt grabs at Kinner's arm and tugs him to get his attention, following in the tracker's wake.

One thing's for sure, somewhere along the way, they've gotten turned around and pointed away from the Plaza. No wonder the kids never turned up in all this mess.

"When we find them," Daredevil says to Kinner, raising his voice to be heard above the wind, "what'll be the safest way to get them back?" He's the arctic expert, he should know that, right?

Kinner nods. He wouldn't say he's an Arctic expert, since he did die, after all. However, of the three here, as far as he knows, he's the most familiar with this particular terrain. He's been thinking about what to do when they find the two Spider-Men, who'll likely be in need of warmth and help. The sooner they can be brought to shelter, the better for everyone involved. There's a whole list of things that can go wrong in a polar climate - hypothermia, frostbite, the list goes on.

He doesn't like thinking too much about what's under the snow. He has a good idea. Even before he joined an expedition himself, he knew some of the most famous horror stories about what could go wrong in climates like this. Kinner's read about the Scott and Shackleton expeditions as part of his personal preparations for going to Big Magnet, not that they did him much good.

In fairness, Ernest Shackleton didn't have to deal with evil, shapeshifting aliens. Neither did Scott. Or ice monsters, for that matter, not that Kinner feels particularly good about that. He turn to face Matt.

"Once we find them, I brought some extra rope so we can tie them and lead them back home. We'll have to work together."

"They might not be in any shape to walk," Matt points out. "We might have to carry them." And if they are suffering from hypothermia, which seems... pretty likely, actually... getting them back to shelter is going to be a race against frostbite.

Still better than leaving them out here, though.

Harrow's steps are picking up, forcing the humans to hustle to stay within shouting distance, and though Matt will probably 'hear' it first, it's not long before the small, squat shape of some kind of storage shed looms up in the gloomy darkness. Snow's drifted heavily up against the door, and as soon as Harrow reaches it, he starts digging. Inside, Matt can hear two sluggish heartbeats.

Kinner has to agree as he listens to Matt's advice.

"If we carry 'em, I'll try my best to help. I know about this kind of thing." Kinner's small and not that heavy, but the Spider-Men are light enough for him to carry. However, Harrow is bigger than he and Matt are.

He brightens slightly when Harrow seems to find something near the shed - or, he realizes, someone. It looks like the shed might be where the two missing people are. This is a good sign, though he hopes the two kids are alive. Hypothermia is slow, but there is a time frame that's important to watch. The faster they're dug out and helped to shelter, the better off they'll be, especially if they have frostbite.

One of those sluggish heartbeats is quicker than the other. Matt will hear it first--panicked hyperventilating just beyond the door, though the piercing voice only a child who is truly scared that follows it will be loud enough for any of them to hear if a bit muffled.

"Miles?! Come on--come on please!"

He hasn't been able to get the younger Spider-Man to respond for several minutes now and Peter is losing his shit. He's too out of it from the cold to think reasonably, so he's been reduced to holding tightly to the younger boy and wailing. Which, considering the dangers that are lurking out here is not the best solution. It's a damn good thing there's Help finally arrived.

Hearing that panicked cry cuts Matt right down to the heart, and even though the sound of Harrow's paws shoveling heaps of snow out of the way is a good thing, it abruptly occurs to him how terrifying that sound must be to a child who's trapped and alone, claws scraping periodically against the door.

"Spider-man! We're here to help!" he calls out, wishing he knew the kid's real name, and hoping he's still with it enough to even register the words. "Captain America sent us for you!"

Better get the door open ASAP. Matt's not keen on getting in Harrow's way, nor freezing his own hands off trying to help, but the moment enough of the snow is cleared to let the door move, he's going to be in there swinging it open and beckoning Kinner to go first. Let them see a normal human face before they start bringing masked folks or werewolves into the mix.

Kinner's thinking the same thing. Masked figures and werewolves are intimidating even under good circumstances. The Spider-men are seasoned superheroes, he assumes, but they're still teenagers and it would be better not to spook thm if it can be avoided. Kinner's ready to go forward when he's asked to, probably once Harrow clears the door.

As hotheaded as he is, Harowheart is getting the job done very well. Kinner's glad he's on the case, though part of him is still scared of werewolves. Harrowheart is much bigger than the biggest of Clark's Malamutes. Kinner briefly wonders what Clark would make of Harrow before focusing his attention on the kids.

"I'm Kinner! I think I've met one of you before!" Kinner's aware of Miles Morales and Spider-Man, though he doesn't know they're the same person.

Miles wasn't responding, even to the panicked wailing of his companion, or the noise of others outside. Just slack in Peter's grasp as he drifted back towards awareness, however slightly. Enough to realize he was feeling warm, but not enough to understand why that might be a bad thing. Mask on, no one would see the signs of wakefulness, but Matt would hear the soft hitch of breath, and Peter might hear the slurred mumble, though if there were words there it was impossible to say.

Not that the teen was conscious long enough to be asked to repeat himself, already slipping out of awareness mid-mumble.

By the time Kinner gets into the little shed and passes his flashlight over the dark little storage area the kid in the red costume has pulled his buddy in a black costume fully into his arms, limp though the other was, and had huddled up into the furthest corner away from all the growling, snuffling, and scratching against the door. He's clearly crying by the sounds coming from him and the tremble of his shoulders, even though he still has his mask on.

"C-come on man.." Peter hiccups around his own choked back sobs but looks up at the people trying to squeeze into this tiny shed. After a few seconds too long he starts struggling to get to his feet, refusing to let go of the younger man. "Help. Help him!"

With the door open and providing at least a paltry shelter against the wind, Matt tucks himself into the doorway rather than crowding the space further, and now that the kid who's conscious is talking instead of screaming, he abruptly realizes he does know the kid's name.

But the one who's out cold - Miles? - is of greater concern right now, because that's not natural sleep holding him under, and there's very little warmth coming off him. "We're taking both of you back," Matt answers firmly. There'll be no one left behind on his watch, no matter how far gone. "Kinner, your pack, did you bring blankets?"

Blankets aren't going to be enough though. They need real warmth, and real shelter, and this shed was good enough to keep them alive this long but it's not going to help much more than it already has. Which means getting them back ASAP. Matt casts a considering ear at the breathing, furry wall at his back, and wonders how hard it'll be to get Miles tied to the werewolf's back for faster transport back to the safehouse. Assuming Harrow even allows it, and he damn well better.

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