2007-08-03: Everything Is B.S.

Starring:

DFUnknown_icon.gif DFMcAlister_icon.gif DFPeter_icon.gif

Summary: Peter meets Prime. There's a Matrix moment, and a Power Rangers moment. And Tiger Woods. And SARS. And Spider Man and Obi-Wan Kenobi and… it's complicated.

Dark Future Date: August 3rd, 2009

Everything is B.S.


Weischel Carcass House

"FOUR!"

The resulting golf swing that comes from the Ditto that's launching a golf ball off into the not-so-distance is somewhat of an okay one. It's mostly just the fact that there are walls that make it hard to get a hole in one… or twenty. The Ditto, who just happens to be dressed in complete and utter Golf Wear, turns to the Fourth Wall (not that he knows it's the Fourth Wall, but still) and smiles. "Hi. I'm Niger Woods." He pauses and holds up a finger with a smile. "One G." Just in case.
"And after a long, hard day of teein' people off? I drink: Haterade." He reaches down and pulls up a Gatorade bottle with orange juice in it. The name 'Haterade' has been scrawled across the bottle in the most ghetto of fashions. He pops the top and guzzles some before smiling back at the Fourth Wall that's doubling as a camera. "It's full of all kinds of enzymes and bullshit to make you think and feel like you should be better than the other guy."

A ditto walks by and Niger Woods trips him with his golf club! The ditto tumbles and goes down like a ton of bricks while Niger laughs! "Hahahahaha! Haterade. Is It In You? Probably Not. Because You Suck."

—-

The walls of the meat packing plant certainly don't make for the the best golf course, even for a spoof of a commercial, but it does make for a good sounding board for someone who's stopping back in to check on things after a trip to leave another message at the roof of the Deveaux building. Peter's getting a little better at folding cranes, now. The wings were right, the tail was right— the head could still use work. Raising up the bay door with the remote that hasn't been taken back yet, he slips inside just in time to hear the FOUR and look around to avoid a flying gulf ball.

He's lucky it doesn't actually hit anywhere near him, but it chances a few ricochets that might be dangerous. The voice of the man is recognized from television and radio more than anything in person— and the sight of two of them might have been shocking, if not for prior knowledge. Even then, the younger version of one of most known 'freedom fighters/terrorists' in the country, still looks shocked at what he sees and hears. "Jaden?" he asks outloud. There's a moment of 'oh yeah' before he adds on, "Bless me father, for I have sinned." But long haired cranky Peter shouldn't know this password.

—-

Niger Woods and the other Ditto just disappear into the ether when Peter says the 'J-Word'. Which is not allowed, that's for sure. Prime, though, steps out of the shadows with his combat bow already loaded and a funny looking arrow aimed at Peter's skull. Immediately, the Saints Back Up Guru was thinking of a trespasser. But then the code phrase has been said and he lowers his arms. Warily.

"The only Jaden I know is a self-righteous prick that thinks he's god's gift to the computer industry." Prime remarks with all the distaste of someone up in his mouth. "I'm Prime."

The vanishing dittos certainly comes as a surprise. Peter blinks, startled and then glances aside in time to see the combat bow ready to shoot at him— but luckily he remembered the phrase in time. There's a relieved sound when the arms lowered. "Sorry— Prime. It's just— that's the only name I knew for you and… sorry." He'd known the man would be here, due to his mother bringing cookies for him to this same location. "Did they… tell you about me? Jack and… the rest?" There's definitely a more nervous tone to his voice than the one in this day and age would ever be caught dead uttering.

—-

"No need. I saw Back To The Future. I know how this whole thing works." Prime sounds like Jaden, this is true, but the lacks a certain immaturity level that brought charm to the one that Peter knows of. He's in the process of putting his arrow back in the quiver and breaking down the combat bow to sling over his shoulder as he regards Peter with an appraising look. Checking to see how similar this one is to the one the other him knows.

—-

Very little in common outside of physical appearance, and even then, there's differences. This one watches the dismantelling of the bow with a certain kind of fascination — as if he's never really seen it — when the other requires more complex things to get the same look. Peter nods, running a hand through much shorter hair, that'd been ruffled by some kind of activity. "I met your mother yesterday. Had seen her on television, but… Never met you before either. Not directly. Saw you skydiving at the Zoo once."

—-

"That was a long time ago." Prime remarks, finishing the quick dismantling and storing it away on his shoulder. His eyes narrow a bit at Peter, before he moves to take up residence on the wall. Leaning back, he crosses his arms over his chest and merely continues to peer at the man. "I take it you're interested in more than just 'catching up'. What with us never having a chance to talk B.P." Pause and clarification: "Before Petrelli." Pause once more. "No offense."

—-

The glaring seems to have unnerved him a bit, or at least Peter can't quite keep eyecontact for long, choosing to look to the side rather than directly at the other man. "No offense taken, but— he only became President a year ago— things started falling apart before that. Didn't they? With the… tornados and the war I keep hearing about? I'm— actually I was just getting back. I went to— leave a message for someone and… was just surprised to see you." He looks a little sheepish. "I need to learn to say the code as soon as I enter," he adds.

—-

"You're lucky I recognized you." is what Prime says, just to make sure that Peter knows he could've taken him out at any time. Not that anyone knows if he was even ready, but half of war is tricking the other side into thinking you're always ahead. Or something like that. "Before Petrelli sounds cooler." Prime defends his crazy token slanguage that nobody else really seems to latch on to. Clearly, he ignores the signs that his slanguage could just, well, suck. "How long you stayin'? Until the Delorean gets patched up?"

—-

"Guess it does sound cooler— but Before the Storm sounds pretty neat to," Peter says, showing his own decision to use a slang that doesn't make his brother sound like the whole cause of this mess— even if it seems he caused a lot of the worst of it. "Until I figure out enough to… to fix this. Find out who— or what— caused the storms, if I can and… if not find out enough where we can… keep the damage contained, maybe… Change the future." It's said with a hint of a sheepish shrug, and he's avoiding direct eyecontact again. Even if Back to the Future did a lot of his work for him, it still sounds crazy.

—-

"Yeah, but then everything would be B.S." Prime just made a joke. Somebody take a picture. He shakes his head and offers a bit of a shrug. "I've got pretty much ever time traveling movie memorized and things never seem to work out for the better until close to the end. So it looks like you're stuck here for awhile." He doesn't go into the whole Butterfly Effect thing because that's just too damn complicated. "Maybe you came too far ahead. If you wanna' stop a Ororo from PMS, you gotta' check out the Day Before Tomorrow… not the aftershocks."

—-

There's a lopsided smile to the joke and Peter can't help but be amused. In a lot of ways, he wants to think of this world as BS, so it's rather funny— though that designation would make his time BS. "BP works better, then," he relents, though he continues to smile for a moment, until… "Maybe— we— maybe I should've gone earlier— but the vision that Desiree saw showed a newspaper exactly two years from the day that I teleported— almost a week ago now." Has a week passed there too? Part of him really hopes not. "Maybe going to the day of the storms would've been better— but I don't know when they happened. And if she had that vision— there must have been a reason for it. It was also about my brother. Maybe I have to… find out what happened to him…" His eyes lower, a grimace breaking through.

—-

"He became a punk bitch. That's pretty much the gist of it." Prime doesn't need to say anything else about Nathan. He's more worried about the fact that Peter hasn't really done anything while he's here yet. Anything useful. "I'll see if I can dig up the date of the craziness for you. Don't know it off the top of my head." He shrugs, figuring he's got a good of a plan as any. "Then we can jump there, stop the storm, quantum leap back here, make sure everything's kosher and then? Roll Credits."

—-

"I'm— probably going to jump back to the same time I left— or as close to that as I can. Just being here instead of there might change things already," Peter's not sure how to explain that part— "I honestly don't understand time travel very well, I just know it's probably not a good idea to meet myself. And— from what I hear I wouldn't want to anyway." But his voice trails off, and there's a far-away look in his eyes as he stares at the wall a few inches to the side of Prime's head— "Even knowing the dates might change now— but I already have one clue on who caused part of it… and maybe I can find out more. But I'll stay as long as I have to."

—-

"Other You is a bitch too. Actually, both of you are. But whatever works, right?" Prime just shrugs his shoulders. "Who cares what changes, so long as things aren't as bad as they are now. Maybe if you can make it rain cookies and ice cream the world'll turn into Candyland and not a bad George Lucas set." Prime finally pushes off the wall and gets to taking a gander around the room. Doing the security detail thing. "You just leave the understanding of time travel to me. You stick to being Spongebob and kicking ass."

—-

There's a flinch. Peter turns away a little as he's called a name, and then further told to leave certain things alone. "Spongebob, huh… Not to burst you're bubble, here, but you've probably clocked far more fight time than me now." There's a few fights he's had that might be considered pretty harsh, but really… who wouldn't have more 'fight-time' in a world like this? "If you want to help me, then help me. I'll do my best to make this into a better world. Maybe while I'm here, I can help out too." Even if he just practically said he has little actual fight-time clocked.

—-

"Don't worry. I hate that cartoon too. Can you believe they're still making new episodes? In the height of the end of the world?" Prime just shrugs and continues on over to Peter. He keeps his hands where Pete can see them, just in case the dude's getting nervous and almost cracks a smile. "Y'know, there's a real easy way to play catch up, if you want." Prime moves to throw an arm around Peter's shoulders and turn him around to offer a view of about fifteen Dittos, all of which seem to be taking a different martial arts fighting stance, real or otherwise.

—-

"Are you kidding me?" Peter has to exclaim, trying to figure out how on earth that could be possible. But then he supposes… anything's possible. Maybe the creator was an Evolved and thus superior. And it would really explain a lot about the cartoon, now that he thinks about it. Maybe he could breathe underwater, or something lame like that. Standing in the open area of the meet packing plant would be Nice Guy Petrelli, the clean cut and far more hopefull and easily cowed version of the two Peters currently in this timeline— and all of a sudden he's surrounded by dittos taking martial arts forms. His eyebrows raise and he looks anxious. "…not sure I'm the fastest learner, but it's worth a try…" At least he can heal… because he knows how this is going to end up.

—-

There's a side door to the Plant - one used when foot traffic wanders through instead of the usual motorized transport that the more mechanically inclined members of the Saints seem to baby. And put rockets on. Whichever.

That metal door is what bangs open now, letting in a certain DJ, who is /very quick/ to bang it closed behind her - breathing awful hard. One might get the impression she's run a signficant distance, in fact.

Her courier bag is filled with lumpy things that are visible even with it closed - about the size of a fist, and it's loaded /full/. She has to edge it aside to lean against the door, to set it down at her feet, and just… catch her breath. And listen.

No sirens. This is a good sign, right?

—-

"Relax. Some of me can fight. Some of me are fakers." Prime says, taking some steps back and away from Peter and the Ditto Squad. He finds himself looking over at the door as it opens and his eyes are catching sight of Ali. "Hrm."

And suddenly, there's a Ditto popping up on the side of her. "You okay?" Another Ditto is popping up on the other side, crouching near the bag and offering to take it. "We'll take it from here." Not that any of them know what the heck is going on with the bag, but Dittos follow Prime's orders and that's that.

The Ditto Squad that's surrounding Peter all start to crack and pop knuckles and what not, trying to look intimidating. "Don't hold back, Spidey. Let 'em have it." Prime says. "They're just training dummies…"

—-

At the sound of someone entering, Peter turns to catch the blonde woman in his eyes and actually manages a hint of a smile, before he looks back at the training dummies that surround him. Um… "So you won't get hurt if I attack you?" he asks, making double sure that this wouldn't end up hurting him, while he still stands there look rather… well… unintimidating. That's another drastic difference between him and his older counterpart— the other didn't care to ask if the training dummies (or the human shields as he likes to call them) made the man creating them feel pain. If he cared, he didn't find the time to worry about it. This leaves plenty of time for a ditto to get the first blow in.

—-

"Yeah. Prime - " Ali looks up to that Ditto - "Don't get too close to me. We got a problem." Her voice is hoarse - sure sign she's been… using it. A bit too much.

The Ditto helping with the bag? It comes open when its lifted; even a casual glance would reveal those lumps are.. apples? And a pomegranite. The bag's full of /fruit/. Go figure… but Ali lets it go, regardless. "Is Jack.." She turns..

And just kind of stares, oddly, at the circle. "… uh. When did he piss you off?"

—-

"No pain, no gain, Spidey." quips Prime Prime, from wherever he is. He's no longer standing near the Training Session or Ali. He's taken to doing that thing where he hides and looms ominously within the shadows of the area. Much easier to be badass that way.

"Define 'problem'." The Ditto remarks, even as he stands back a little bit. Not that, well, anything can actually really happen to him that'd do anything crucial. He's just a Ditto. The one scooping the fruit up into his arms, just shrugs. "We're not pissed. We're just trying to show Anakin the Way of the Force."

That's almost a cue as one three of the Dittos swarm in with the quickness. One goes up to aim a kick at Peter's head and the other two slide forward with punches towards his gut! "Focus, Daniel-San!" "His name's not Daniel!" "Well, Peter-San sounds stupid!" "Now YOU two focus!" "Shut up!" Dittos get distracted easily. Even by themselves.

—-

The ways of the Force. Appropriate. Though Peter is suddenly far more reminded of the lame Matrix sequels with the many Agent Smiths— only the Dittos don't have a cool voice. There's a important distinction. Problem with this would be… he's never really fought more than one person at a time — nor could he claim skill in fighting at all — and he's not mastered bullet-time to slow things down enough to do much of a difference. Means he relies on instinct, which doesn't kick in right away— or it does.

The kick lands, knocking his head to the side without so much as a decent attempt to dodge, and then the punches both land. The pain and sudden block knocks the air out of him, but he reaches out to try and grab one of the fists that went into his stomach, electricity laces up from his hands and into the ditto, a considerably stronger charge than he would usually use.

He said not to hold back.

—-

"… my old roomate." Ali looks - disgusted. Likely with herself … but the fight's progressing, and that she's definitely intrigued by. Girls and violence - who knew? Then again…. she is from Jersey.

"I think she is… woah." She winces at the arc - and, oddly enough, looks worriedly up at the near ditto. "You okay?" To heck with Peter. That he just got kicked in the head? Doesn't even register. Not yet, anyway.

—-

"Old roommate?" Either Prime's brain isn't functioning, he's insane, doesn't remember or all of the above. Whatever the case may be, he ends up getting the question out to make sure that he gets clarification… and maybe even a name. That way he can go and take care of business… the Prime Way. That… really doesn't sound as cool as it should. Anyway.

"Well. There's a shocker." mutters one of the other Dittos as he watches the one Ditto get fried to a crisp almost. Smoke comes off the body and as it falls towards the ground, it dissipates into the air. Gone. No signs of pain to Prime… not that anyone can see him from his shadowy spot.

A handful of Dittos duck and the four behind them pull their hands up. Nerf Glocks. Within a moment, sticky darts are sent flying towards Peter from one direction, while the two close Dittos still near Peter aim fists at his chest.

—-

Unfortunately, the kick to the head means there's no chance for Peter to register what the woman has said about her roommate, though it's unlikely he'd know who she was talking about anyway. Unless she moved in with Elle later in life. His ears are ringing a little, he's not quite seeing straight, but he knows he just fried a ditto to a crisp, when he releases the arm and watches the "man" vanish. He really hopes that the other one is okay— even if he didn't mind making his head spin, or knocking his breath out.

Luckily, he gets over things fast. Unluckily, he's not as fast at recovering as dittos he hasn't even had a chance to engage yet. This… is gonna hurt.

In a perfect world — or even a more bad ass version of himself, those darts wouldn't matter too much. He could stop them. In this one… the closest he can get is reaching out a hand and attempts to push one of the dittos aiming to punch him with his mind and— hopefully— shove him towards some of the others— hoping to intercept a few of those bolts and maybe knock down a couple of the others— Either way, the second of the two has a clear opening to hit him again, knocking him down, just as a good amount of those sticky darts reach their target, mostly chest, and some of his shoulder as he goes down, catching himself with an arm, but not getting up right away, visibly winded.

—-

… so. Is it possible that Ali's /relishing/t the sight of [a] Peter getting himself smacked about? Quite likely. There's a sympathetic wince or two, an unmistakeable grin as the darts are fired. "… oooh. Good one, Prime." And.. she /likes/ the grimmer Petrelli. Go figure.

But, she murmers to the nearest Ditto - "Erin. I dunno if you ever knew her. She was sent to a camp right after it all started, and I lost track - don't get me wrong, I /tried/ to find her. Thing is.. she's got a trick, too."

She reaches up to run a hand through her hair. "She was /just/ figuring it out .. she makes people sick. I.. think she did something to /me/. I don't feel it yet - but. Hell. For all I know she just dropped HIV on my head." She's.. serious. For all that it's nonchalant. "She said she had a job to do. I.. I got a feeling that job is us. She said 'they' were watching her, whoever they are." A slight shrug. "We can deal with her after Angel's back, right?"

—-

Dittos are all over the place, which is probably why Peter's getting swarmed and overwhelmed by the attacks. Still, though, it's good practice which makes for good things, right? Right. Moving right along, though, the Ditto that's hurled manages to open his arms and try to fly… but nothing happens except him catching a sticky dart to the forehead, "D'oh!" and then him smacking into a couple of other Dittos and the three of them all disappearing into the ether. The other Ditto rolls backwards and over to where the smaller group of Dittos are remaining and waiting to see Peter's next move. It's like a ghetto ass video game!

"Ditto Howser, MD." Another Ditto has just popped up, wearing a white doctor's coat and everything. He's already leaning down and holding up the stethoscope as if asking permission from Ali to use it. "I'm gonna' need a blood sample too. Since you could be a ticking biological bomb, I'm going to skip the release forms, kay? Kay." And another Ditto pops into view, brandishing a dreaded needle.

"Why wait?" comes Prime's voice. "I'll get you squared away for tests, hunt Erin down and be there to bring my girl home." Maybe Prime's gotten a bit cocky about his power over this last year or so. Huh. "Where'd you last see her?"

—-

The crisis with possible diseases that the poor girl might carry and the brandished needle don't have much time to process, as Peter has many more things to worry about that are a lot closer. For one, there's more dittos standing around him waiting. Reaching up, he pulls the darts off of the drab clothes he borrowed from Jack, tossing them down to the floor as one, and he decides to try something new— or a new version of something old— which is actually nothing the Ditto hasn't already seen before. Every possible move he could come up with, the other Petrelli thought of before— that's just the way it goes.

Pushing one towards the ground with a sharp snap to the chest, and then swinging him along the ground in an attempt to knock as many others onto their feet as possible. Unfortunately he might evaporate before he's of too much use, but he's still fighting, the bruises on his face already healing while he attempts to fight back.

—-

Ali - with a long-suffering sigh - puts up .. yes. Even with the needle. She even reaches up to grab the back of the Dr. Doogie Ditto's head, there, and pull him down to kiss his forehead, well, provided that Prime doesn't do something truly odd like scream and head for the hills when approached with girl-cooties or something.

Quiet and fond, she shakes her head - "I'll stay as clear of everybody else as I can." She /ignores/ the needle- but submits to it anyway. "If you're serious about the blood sample, just.. get it to Cass, and tell her. But.. Angel's more important." She is serious, worried. "Promise me you won't do /anything/ with this. Not yet. Not until after we get her back. I know you're good, Prime - but she's a Saint. Erin can wait, okay? I can't lose her. JACK can't lose her. We don't let him down. Not even if you can handle it."

—-

Okay. So here's the deal. Dittos are swarming at Peter, but Peter's managing to hold his own. Either that or the Dittos just plain suck. Could be a little bit of both, but whatever's happening, Prime is definitely doing that thing where, well, he's just… y'know… being everywhere at once. As this Ditto is basically used as a weapon, he stays solid long enough for Peter to use him to bust down a few more and the number of them has decreased significantly. "Ugh. Talk about Knockaround Guys." and finally, that Ditto disappears.

"You FOOLS!" shouts one Bigger Than The Others Ditto. And he points off in Peter's direction! "GET HIM!" And four Dittos get to bouncing around making the classic Putty Sound from Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. They don't so much as attack as they Annoy.

Ditto Howser takes the blood and stashes it in his pocket. "We're moving you to a safer location. Safer for us, that is." he says, as a couple other Dittos are working on trying to get her up and into their arms. "We're not real, so you can't really infect us. But the other Saints? Not so safe." If Ali'll let them, they're going to hoist her up and throw her in one of the Sentinels (the tag name for the souped up Dodge Avengers that belong to the Saints as throwaway battle vehicles.)

"Howser'll make the delivery himself. I'll get my Angel home." Prime's voice seems to be more tense. EVERYBODY wants to love his Elena. But she was his first! Hmph! Jealousy and Envy do not fit into the replicator's body too well.

—-

There's so many of them. But at least they're far more focused on being annoying than properly menacing. Still, the annoying swarm causes Peter to move around a lot more than he'd like to just to avoid their attempts to hit him, threatning to fall down if he keeps this up too much longer. He's just barely back on his feet as it is… the bruise on his face has healed over, and the sticky darts have ruined the drab clothes that the leader of the group loaned him. This time, instead of grabbing one and lighting him up like a Christmas tree, he throws back his hand and tosses a ball of lightning through the group and at the one who called out and ordered them to get him. Sounds like a plan to him, even if he knows deep down they act independantly.

That leaves him open for an annoying attack to the ankle that sends up falling onto his back on the hard floor with a grunt. Down he goes! Not holding his own quite so well, really. But he's certainly trying.

—-

Ali cant' exactly /stop/ Prime. The futility of that's been proved in the past. But she protests, "Hey. P. No. I gotta /help/. You don't understand - they need me tonight." And squirms. No. She's not making it /easy/.

"Look, i'll stay clear - just. C'mon.." She sighs. Resigned. And the Avenger looms closer. "And does that peter heal? 'cause /christ/ that looked like it hurt." She's got a good view, hoisted like that.

—-

The Dutties don't exactly know how to deal with being electrofried. So they just get sizzled and go down one after another like a line of Dominoes. "Oh shit." that last remaining Bigger Than Thou Shouting Ditto gets the brunt of the ball lighting. He shudders and bops around before falling and they all disappear!

"Alright guys! Let's finish hi— finish… uh…" The final Ditto hops back from taking down Peter by the ankle and turns around to notice that there are no more. "… Uh. Eh." GULP. The Ditto goes into his pocket, pulls out his underwear and waves the tightie whities. "Truce?"

Howser reaches up to pat the blood sample that's in his pocket. "I'll drive. I know a shortcut." The other Dittos shove Ali into the backseat of the Sentinel, lock it down (Child Safety Locks) and some other Ditto gets the big doors open. Howser starts up the car and is ready to peel out. "Sorry, Ali. But you're benched." Unless Cass can make a 60 Minute Cure or something.

Prime finally steps out of the shadows and looks over to Peter, "You did… uh… you didn't suck, at least." Shrug? Did he help?

—-

Ugh. At least he managed to take them out— Peter's staring up at the ceiling wideeyed when the final ditto actually— surrenders— with a white flag of… "Did you just rip your underwear off?" he can't help but ask before he finally pushes himself up off the floor, enough to sit up. He gives himself a shake, and even if the clothes are a little messed up, at least he's in one piece. "Thanks— actually helped a lot— might have to get a few more of these. Though uh— I'll try to think of some better ideas next time." The lightning worked pretty well. Getting to his feet he looks towards the blonde girl and the other ditto. "Hey." The wave is rather weak, but it's there. No, he hasn't heard a thing, nor does he know why there's needles or anything, or why she's being shoved into a car, but there he is.

—-

Ali.. at howser's pronouncement.. openhanded /swats/ the rear window. It shivers. Doesn't give. THAT doesn't make her happy - but.. she doesn't pull out the Voice. Not yet. "You know it isn't gonna fly.. I /promised/, Prime."

Child locks suck. For the record.

—-

The underwear Ditto just makes himself go away, since there's no need for him to really continue to be there. Prime has taken over for the talking to Peter and such. Trying to pull an Obi Wan Jadobi. "Listen. It's not about thinking up better ideas. It's about thinking winning. Which, I know, is totally contrary to the way we were brought up. But this ain't no cartoon. People die. People need us. And the only way we're going to protect the flock is if we genuinely Funk Ish Up." No F-Bombs from the Primester. "So I'm gonna' teach you the same way I learned. By Awesomemosis." Prime actually smiles. "First order of business? You gotta' be me." Uh oh. A Prime Cain Scheme.

—-

"I'm not here to win, though— I'm here to figure things out and get back." Peter insists, not really liking what 'winning' happens to mean. "If you weren't— if I didn't know you'd be okay, I couldn't have done half of that." The tossing around, sure, but the electricity? "I don't want to hurt anyone… not like that." The very idea seems to bother him, making him sound shaken, something that is not a state Infinite would have ever been witness to. "Don't think I could become you, either— you're pretty strong."

—-

"Fail." Prime says and shakes his head. "You're not listening. I don't like the Other You, so I'm not trying to turn you into him. But there comes a time in every Spidey's life when they have to do something that's more than they're used to. As a Hero, you're going to have to make the difficult decisions. You're going to have to KICK SOME ASS." Prime smirks. "And what I didn't tell you was how F'd up my brain is after all those jolts." So maybe there is something to the being hurt thing. They were -still- psychic constructs and what not. "I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with. That's the path to villainy. I just want you to, well, be ready for anything. You never know what's going to happen in the future." Pause. "Or the Past." Pause. "… Or the Present."

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