the spider but also a nice young black lady

This is a conversation between Michelle "MJ" Jones and yourself, Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past].
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //I skipped because I assumed Micheal Jackson and you were memeing. Who is Michelle Jones?
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //From a property? Book/film?
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((From Spiderman Homecoming, actually. She's the new MJ. As far as I can tell, there's only a Michelle Gonzales in the comics, but I haven't done that much digging. Everyone has just reached a consensus that her last name is Jones, I guess
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: ((I think I heard about that. A bunch of my buddies were really upset that she was negro, but if it's a different character and not just bad casting, I don't see what the problem is. Let alone getting worked up over a group of executives trying to make as much money as possible with a Hollywood movie.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Sounds neat. You're doing RP set in the film itself? Or more hypothetical stuff?
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((Yeah, and she really is a completely different character, way more independent and set in her beliefs than Mary Jane. More hypothetical stuff, really. I saw a Peter a while back and I was hoping to talk to them, but he disappeared so I'm just kind of going with whatever
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //And hey, if I recall, she's only 'MJ' in that she choses that as a nickname. So it might be Gonzales. MJ are not necessarily her initials, might just be what she prefers over 'Michelle'. Or maybe they just really wanted to call her MJ for the marketing.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((I know! I once typed in Gonzales instead and someone was really rude because of it. I don't know why they cared. So yeah, you're totally right on that. You're really pleasant, man, it's good to run into someone who's not a dick or complete troll on here
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Thanks, stranger! I've had a lot of people take my approach to online chat as hostile? I just try to stay direct and say what I mean.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Anywho, I'm not sure what interactions a high school-attending journalist would have with a 40-something genetically engineered career murderer, but if you had any ideas, I'm down to write.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((You're respectful and straightforward, I don't see what's hostile about that
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Thanks bud. That's a very pleasant reassurance.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((Of course! And I don't know either, but I'm totally down for it. She does live in New York, so there's quite a lot of crime. Plenty of people to kill, too, so there's no reason something can't be worked out
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: ((Aye-aye. How about standard smoggy-evening-Queens for a setting? Post-film, but before Peter turns into an ashtray.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((That's a great idea, but I'm over here laughing so I don't cry. Ashtray's a little harsh, dude
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Not even the dead can escape my burns.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //I'll start, unless you prefer otherwise.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((No man, I'm totally fine with that. And I really respect that
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: The hulking trenchcoat with a mane on top hobbled from person to person, occasionally seizing a passer-by's shoulder so that they would stop sufficiently. He held put a notecard straight from his case file, a picture of a smiling young man with tidy brown hair and scrawny little shoulders- especially compared to the stranger, who appeared to be about twice as wide as your average doorway, slouching and yet standing proud. "Have y'seen this boy?" He rumbled, scaring a housewife. She accelerated. "This kid, seen 'im?" Another one ran from him, this one in a suit, tie, and Italian shoes, with a 'I drink Budweiser on the weekends and treat my coworkers like fried shit' haircut. He sighed. Then smiled. His bare feet pattered on the ground behind his enormous overcoat as he approached a young frizzy-haired lass, a finger three times the size of any of her own digits tapping gently (by his standards) on her shoulder. A warm, genial, bearded smile on a big square lump of a face waited to greet her, like a caveman at a birthday party for his auntie. "Hullo." He eyed books, books she carried on her hip, for school and stuff. "Yew look good fer readin'. Ah gotta job Ah'm t'do, couldja read for me, m'ss?" He held a gauzy pulp-page at her. It was written in typewritter. Peter's address was at the top. Nothing was below it, other than some more words. One line. "Non Lethal. Decommission for a minimum for seventy hours. Arrest and hold if necessary. No witnesses."
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: *of not for
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Did that go through?
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((Yeah, sorry! I just wanted to make sure I read through your awesome description completely. I'll respond in just a moment
Michelle "MJ" Jones: While Michelle was fairly tall for her age and more than capable of caring for herself, the literal giant trying to get her attention scared the shit out of her. She just barely managed not to whip around and use pepper spray on him, as anyone who wanted to talk to her and knew her would never just stroll up to her like he did without saying something first. Reeling in her immediate urge to run from the intimidating man (or actually utilize the knife she kept in her bag at all times), she took a deep breath and kept a straight face, completely deadpan as she spoke to him. "Sure. Who doesn't live their life hoping to one day help a giant, right?" She took the page from him, recognizing her friend's address and knowing that she'd have to be tactful about this. Of course she knew that Peter was Spider-Man. Not from his mouth directly, but the voice made squeaky only by the trials and tribulations of puberty stood out to her one day when she'd been attacked on her way home from school the previous year. That and his constant absence from almost everything he cared about, including his promised meetings to help her plan Academic Decathlon team events made it easy to figure out. She knew she had to protect him now (and not just because of her damn near pathetic crush), so she lied the best way she knew how: by telling the partial truth. She read everything but the address and the 'no witnesses' bit, realizing that this stranger might hurt May if she was around when he went after Peter. "That apartment should be ten blocks south of here. Anything else, Andre?"
Michelle "MJ" Jones: **events, ((Hopefully there aren't any other mistakes in there))
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: "Uh...yeah. Ah dunno who Andy is, but Ah'm /Skippy/." He seemed...vaguely proud of that fact, snatching and re-smunshing his page back into a folder on the interior of his impenetrably weighty cloak. His free hand jabbed at the centre of his Pangaea-sized chest with an enthusiastic thumb. For the first time since she was probably younger than 11, an adult patted her on the head. "Thanks lil' fella. Ah'll keep lookin'." It was good to know how long they wanted the Spider gone for. All the leads were tangled and incomplete, but at least he didn't have to shoot a kid in the mouth. That would've been a little bit of a bummer, if only because he was looking forwards to one day going a few rounds with a runt who could, allegedly, run up walls and lift a semi truck. Couldn't do that if he went ahead and killed him for eighty grand. So he'd dislocate the kid's ankles, and then tie him to a telephone pole with one of his famous rope-cannon-glove-thingies. Boy, this sure was exciting. Before walking south, though, he gave pause, and held out his fist to the child. When she failed to reciprocate, he grasped her wrist, and shoved two hundred dollar bills into her grasp. They were crumpled like garbage, like old Taco Bell receipts on the floor of a dirty Honda. "Good job." He smiled at her again, and then followed her directions, still asking folks about the kid in the picture.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: She was surprised at the pat on her head, but didn't yet look like a pissy cat ready to attack even if she did sort of feel like she was in trouble if she was being approached by a Mercenary. "Alright, Skippy, then." She said in response to his enthusiasm, almost looking amused. When he grabbed her wrist, she definitely swore and almost considered fighting back before she just took the bills, hoping that she didn't look as frightened as she was. "Thanks," Michelle nodded slightly, giving a smile with no teeth in return before she whipped around and headed in the opposite direction of her apartment, pulling out her phone and dialing Peter's number. For once, she really needed to talk to him, so if he didn't answer, she just might hurt him worse than 'Skippy' in retaliation for being such a bonehead. "Come on, dickwad, pick up your phone..."
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: ((Should I play Senor Parker
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((I mean, you totally could. I was going to write him in minus the dialogue if you just wanted to do Skippy, so I'm cool either way
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: The dickwad in question answered with a HIGHLY uncharacteristic - "Yo!" -which was explainable, given that he was wearing a mask, in more than one sense. He landed in his typical squat upon a water tower before dropping down, taking off the stretchy headcase and slouching on someone's New Yorkity lawnchair on a roof, next to some beer cans. He breathed away from the phone for a second, collecting his Peter. "Hi MJ! What's, -what's up?"

Meanwhile- up the road: "Hey. HEY. Seen this kid?" - "I'm sorry I- Wait...that's my nephew. Who-" The auntie by name of May was then popped in the mouth, and caveman-relocated without another sound upon Skippy's shoulder. He soonafter slunk, unseen, to a company warehouse. She was bound. Mouth duct-taped before Seven PM. He started going through her telephone, humming a happy tune as he sipped bourbon out of his flask.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: "Bad shit coming your way, idiot." Michelle sighed, ducking momentarily into a closed off alley so she could breathe without worrying about being mugged. "Look, there's not a lot of time to explain, but there's a guy kind of on his way to your house. Big ass, scary mook for hire. I didn't send him enough directions to get to your apartment." For once, she was completely genuine, all fear and true emotion without the pretense; to be completely honest, it sucked. She liked messing with Peter and torturing him. That was better than being scared for him. She guessed she was lucky he only acknowledged her presence as a friend...this kind of life and death bull would drive her crazy.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: **"Just...watch your back, Spidey. And learn how to be more inconspicuous. You're not fooling anyone who's paying attention."
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: "What?" He did that thing, cocking his head to the far left, turning around with it, running a gloved hand through his hair. "Wait, what?" A split second later, a dull beep. "...You...you know about-" A beep again. He checked it. "...Callyouback." He hung up.

"Aunt May?"
"Uh, maybe?" rumbled the reply, bitcrushed, a bit low res. Away from the outdoors.
"Who is this?"
"Look. Kid. Go home. Stay home. Three days. Or Ah'm prob'ly gonna skin yer aunt."
"..."
Skippy put the phone up to May, ripping tape off of her face. She winced. He swatted her arm, like an annoyed person on a road trip. "Peter?"
"Oh god. Aunt May? Are you O.K.? Where are you?"
"I'm fine Peter, listen, I don'-" A dense smacking sound. Spiderman's Aunt had another concussion.
"Go home. Stay home. Three days. Or Ah'm gonna bleed 'er dry, film it, an' send it to ya. 'Kay? Kay. Bye."
"I swear if you-" Skippy hung up. Smiled to himself. "Ah'm gettin' good at this."

A moment later, Peter was trying not to late-teenager-choke-cry, and MJ's phone rang.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: MJ was back on track for her walk home even though she was silently praying that May was okay and Peter hadn't somehow gotten himself into worse trouble. She was quick to pick up as she pulled out her keys, heart sinking when she heard a deep inhale and a slight sniffle on the other end of the line. "Peter? What's...What happened? Who called you?" She stopped just outside her building, having a feeling that she wasn't going to go home just yet.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: "Aunt May." He grasped his face, and subsequently held the bridge of his nose. "He has May. Probably the same guy." Pete's elbow leaned heavily on the edge of the building. "...I-" He swallowed. "I don't know what to do. Did you...I don't know, did you see anything?" He tried to spur a hope. It wasn't working well. "License plate?" He scratched his hair aggressively, exhaling a 'FHUCK' through his teeth, under his breath. "Anything. Anything you can tell me." Water ran down his face, a burning in his cheeks, a tight welling sensation behind his tear ducts. Poor kid.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: "No. He- He wasn't in a car." MJ pressed her lips together, running a hand through her hair and leaning heavily against the building. "He sticks out in a crowd, but he...he won't be going anywhere, if he already has her. He looks like a caveman, really broad and at least seven feet tall." She sighed a little, feeling panic starting to well up in her own chest. She couldn't have stopped it, really, but she's going to convince herself she could (because of the feelings of inadequacy all teenagers with souls seem to possess nowadays). "Christ...he was wearing a trenchcoat. Called himself Skippy. That's all I have, Peter, I'm sorry...I should've just told him to fuck off." Of course, that would have gotten her killed, but it would've saved Peter some misery.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: "No. Nono, it's okay...that's-" He forced a chuckle out of his mouth, covering a whiny vocalization of adolescent origin. One of those kind of deep chuckles that mimicked masculinity. He smiled, and then stopped smiling, nodding in a fashion one could equate to a seizure, touching his face again. "Yeah. That's good. That's...weird. But it'll help. I'm gonna call Mr. St-" He paused. He was about to call Iron Man. That'd sound super weird, even if she knew his moderate-sized secret. "A friend. I'm gonna call someone. You should go home. Be safe." Pete headed towards his Aunt's, tugging on a mask. Even if he didn't mean to, he was playing into Skippy's hand.

Skippy had broken an older woman's toes. All of them, one at a time. Fractures that would heal- not a bad injury, but bad enough that she would not walk around in her loafers for the rest of the month. She shuddersighed as he prepared to tape her mouth again. "So, yer gonna be here a while. Ah'll git a blanket, water." He tried to remember what humans liked. "...Some yogurt? Name it. Cheezy crackers?" He smiled at her. "Go to Hell," she spat. With a shrug, Skippy taped her mouth, and instead of ripping it clean there, he wrapped it around her head six more times, twice over her eyes. "...Don' sass me." And then he headed to Walmart. Along the way he watched a red suit float over a street just in front of him as he blended with the shadows of an alley. "Hey, ther' he goes." Skip marveled, as everybody saw fit to whip out their phones along the sidewalk. Made crossing the street real easy. He bought aunt may a bunch of fruit and yogurt packages, and bought roughly twelve pounds of beef and four jars of peanut butter for himself. As well as two gallons of vodka. It was quite a sight, watching him cart all that in a pair of duffel bags.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: MJ rubbed her forehead after hanging up, not believing that he was honestly telling her to sit on the sidelines. Yeah, right. "Fuck that..." she murmured with something akin to the wild laughter of someone gone mad, going inside and straight to her room, offering no explanation to her parents as she did the quickest possible digital sketch on her drawing tablet and sent it over to Ned, calling him almost immediately after that. "Hey, loser. We've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?" The slightly-more-secure-in-his-masculinity teen answered, momentarily stopping the building of his newest Lego set to check whatever MJ had sent him.
"May's in trouble. I know Peter's Spider-Man, so let's just...help. Okay? And none of your damn jokes."
It was good that she included that in, because even without a threat, her serious tone was enough to stop him from teasing her about the childish crush. "Okay, so what am I looking for here?"
"Surveillance tapes, Youtube videos, tweets. Anywhere you might find his giant ass face. I'm hacking into the police database right now to see if we can figure out who this guy actually is." She could hear his idiotic pause as he tried to come up with another one liner. "If you ever breathe a word about that last part to anyone, I swear to God you'll lose all your Lego sets. And I do mean /all/ of them."
Apparently, the threat of that was more than enough to keep him quiet as he put her on speaker and started furiously typing. "Yes ma'am...Okay, let's save Aunt May."
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: Peter called Tony. Six times. No dice. Said Tony was also, very, sincerely concussed. That had been item #1 upon Skip's arrival to the docks of Manhattan. Avengers' Tower. Suits, machines, bits and pieces surrounded the Starkster, who had been bound up, hands and feet tied tight, head encased in an oxygen permeable sludge that allowed him to breathe. Barely. On floors far below, four men who were in no way suspicious waited for the supply van to come by at 10:20 PM. If the mercenary that none of them had met had done everything correctly, the security was dead, Mr. Stark was barely alive at best, the machines were deactivated, and no one was any wiser about it. And Skippy had, indeed, done his job.

Police databases ran blank. There was something regarding a person by a moniker shared by a popular brand of peanut butter. 'Skippy' was a coldcase, a profiling attempt, but it was shut down by federal pursuits. An eye-witness sketch much more directly detailed and therefore disturbing was in the file, unmistakably him. "Do not engage. Call for assistance, inform Chief or Director, initialize National Guard, contact Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate. Not a suspect. Do not engage."

The aforementioned Skippy could be seen on two traffic cams, both being ignored by police and federal supervisors on surveillance alike. Even as he opened the door to a private storage warehouse in the worst part of Queens, and closed it behind him.

"Chow time." He flung a pineapple at May's taped-up face, bruising her moderately, forming a scratch that bled down her forehead. She could do naught but mumble as he began tearing at slabs of raw beef, sitting next to her on the floor with an enthusiastic grin.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: *much more directly detailed and therefore disturbing than the one made by Michelle was in the file, unmistakably him.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: Okay, so that was progress. On both ends. MJ added Peter to the call after she and Ned agreed that the man on the security tapes was most definitely who they were after. They couldn't see the address of the particular warehouse he was hidden away in, but at least they knew exactly there the security camera was positioned.
"Peter! Big news. We found the guy on about a million tapes, and we know where he stopped." Ned exclaimed when the masked hero finally answered, and MJ let out a silent sigh of relief she'd been holding in.
"It also says to call S.H.I.E.L.D. or the National Guard if you spot him in the police report...one is dead, the other's ineffective," she rubbed her eyes, hoping her father's connections to the police force and air force could actually help them. "You can't go in there alone. And...I kind of have a crazy idea."
"Oh, shit. What highly illegal thing are we doing this time?" Ned asked, sounded far less thrilled than he'd been on Homecoming night.
"I'm guessing Mr. Billionaire isn't answering your calls, right? So...what can we lose from calling in a helpful fugitive?"
Michelle "MJ" Jones: **sounding, not sounded
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((I'll be right back, just have to take out the garbage. Take your time!))
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: Peter had been entirely silent for the entire call. He spoke gradually, sitting in his boxers on his bed. "I don't know, guys. I...appreciate it, but we should- /I/ should sit this one out." He didn't sound like he was giving up. He sounded like a kid, pretty damn sure that continuing his course of action could get one of the only people left that he really loved /killed/. "He has Aunt May. And if I give him a reason..." Words hung on his conscience. 'I will skin her'. Not many people could say that without going into dumbass-toughguy territory. But Skippy said it plainly. In a fashion that let anyone listening know that he'd done exactly that before, many times. He'd killed eight year olds for no reason at all. There wasn't much hope in way of tempting a guy like that.

Meanwhile, Skippy was hand-feeding May a mango with a plastic spoon. "Could you jus-mmhph-" She opened up. Chewed. It was delicious. "Fuck, untie me! Please!" She was humiliated. Skip smiled at her, brushing some hair out of her face. He chuckled, slowly, a rolling, dozing sound. "Promise not ta' try goin' fer mah gun again?" The fifty-something widow nodded. He started on the wrist-ties behind her back with a jack-knife.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: MJ didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, but guys like that were almost never telling the truth when they claimed that the captured loved one wouldn't be hurt. And May was a fighter-- there was no way she would just sit there and take whatever he gave her. "Peter..." She hadn't the slightest clue what to say. Thankfully, Ned took over for her.
"Dude, when was the last time you saw a superhero movie where the villain actually let the hostage and the hero go? I don't think I'd ever trust a giant guy named Skippy, anyway."

"Thank you..." she said, trying not to anger him again. May was patient after he cut the restraints, feeding herself now for a few minutes while he kept himself occupied with his own provisions. After a few minutes, she purposely swallowed a bite whole, letting herself start to choke in hopes of getting free, just needing a few seconds to run; he was big and slow. Strong, sure, but if he couldn't catch her, he couldn't do anything to her.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: Skippy stared at her. Watched her for all of three seconds as he swallowed half a steak in one go. A moment later, he snatched her neck. He could wrap a single hand around it, and touch his knuckles with his thumbnail. Instead, he rubbed up her trachea with a gentle thumb, easing the contents of her throat into her mouth. Then he biffed her in the back of the head, letting it splat on the floor. It hurt. He choked her to stop her from choking, and bruised her something fierce in the process. "Careful," he rumbled, sitting back and chugging four mouthfuls of vodka.

"...Okay. Okay. Okay!" he stood up, and then sat down, dramatic until he realized that he was alone. Right. Skype call. "...So, uh, MJ." He was audibly stressed, due to the strain of him trying to hide it. "You had an idea?"
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //I'm really hungry and outta food. Are you still there?
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((Yeah, I am, sorry. Do you have to get going?
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Not really, but my stomach is doing that thing where it growls and little bubbles burn in my chest.
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //so I should probably go eat
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //notice that my writing is rife with food
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Would you like to continue this sometime someway?
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((Oh, gosh. Yeah, I would actually. I could open a chatzy or something unless you prefer going elsewhere?
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //It'd be most easiest if I could Discord but I would gladly chatzy.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((Oh! Discord works too! What's yours?
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: ((I will have to boot it and checc
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //if you could post yours whilst I find the exec that would be so very convenient
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Otherwise, one moment
Michelle "MJ" Jones: Rae242#2735
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Sent a friend request. So nice to use Skippy as an antagonist again. That's how he's most fun.
Michelle "MJ" Jones: ((Yeah, this is honestly crazy fun because I love these little nerds and Skippy's honestly pretty cool
Skippy [Mercenary, 298 lbs, 7'5", shaggy hair, bushy beard, IQ of 68, excellent marksman, odd past]: //Thank you my friend. Well met. I'll be on for a bit later today!