and I'm dying to figure out what she's hiding

[spideyguy]

Alright, so maybe this wasn't his best idea.

It's just that Peter has been chasing this crime ring for a while now - the Devil chased them out of the Kitchen and when they scattered to the wind, they ended up all over the city. Their strength is less so than it was now that they're not centralized, breaking off into factions, but it makes the whole thing that much harder to track down and totally eliminate, especially when there are so many different spokes of the beast now - in short, it's a fucking mess. DD has been helping him a bit with intel and the occasional backup call, but he doesn't venture much out of the kitchen on his own, so Peter has taken point.

He ended Tuesday night of last week with three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, but it gave him a massive break in the whole thing - a location where some of the main operators would be. Surveillance for the next few days helped him figure out that it was a nightclub - a very exclusive one, from the everything about it; the clientele, the guards at the door, the blacked out windows on the cars. Friday night, he tried getting close enough to hear something - but if he gets too close in the Spidey outfit, he knows they'll scatter again. This might be his one shot to blow this whole thing wide open, and he can't be hasty about it.

So he waits. Peter watches, and tries to figure out what to do.

Like he said, he never claimed this was a great idea. It was just an idea.

Peter knew Tony decently enough. Iron Man had bigger things to worry about than street crime, but when hoards of aliens or robots or whatever-the-fuck flood the streets, they were bound to cross paths. They'd even shared pizza on a rooftop once, Peter sure got a kick out of that one. When you fight doomsday threats with someone, you just have a certain kind of rapport kind of...built in. This crazy fucking plan he's hatched is definitely stretching the limit of their relationship, insofar as they have one at all, but Tony is the only person in Peter's dinky little burner phone that could possibly stand a chance of getting him in there.

So he calls him, and nervously explains what he's trying to do into Tony's answering machine. Peter's left wondering if it's really his phone at all, but given that he didn't ask for it, Tony gave it to him and told him to call it if he ever ran into any trouble above his pay-grade, Peter's holding out hope that it was valid.

The plan is simple: it's an exclusive, elite club where you have to know someone who knows someone who knows - whatever, you get the picture. Peter's reasonably confident Tony can either bluff his way in, or find an invite. He's been watching for a few days now, and he doesn't think anyone will look twice at him if he's...well, if he's hanging off Tony's arm, some little plaything of the week.

"I know how it sounds," Peter tries not to plead into the phone; he's trying to sound confident, not embarrassed that this is the brilliant solution he's come up with. "But I think it's the only way to get in there and figure this out. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

He takes a deep breath - he's also exposing his secret identity for this, only to Tony, but still. It's that important. "I hope you'll be able to help me, Mr. Stark. I'm planning to try Saturday. Just...let me know."

And if he's going it alone, attempting to flirt his way in the door (he has no idea how he's possibly going to do that), well, then, he's going it alone.