Fortunately, they were in a supermarket. Fury generously gave Peter a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, but it was only a small store and didn't sell shoes, so Peter had to make do with pink fuzzy slippers for now.
Peter had already given up struggling. Everyone present seemed to know his identity anyway, so there was no point covering his face anymore.
His attention settled on that amazing belt. He blinked curiously, like a child who had spotted a new toy. "Batwoman, what was that little gadget you used just now? Why couldn't the Symbiotes move as soon as you pressed the button?"
"This is the 'Canary Cry.'" Batwoman merely gave the item's codename without explaining further. "Now, Peter, I need to talk to Fury. Keep an eye on his prisoner."
"Dark. Too dark." Peter glanced at Valentina, who was hugging all sorts of strange merchandise, and shook his head solemnly. "She's obviously the director's wife, but you insist on calling her a prisoner of love. The adult world is terrifying. Is marriage really that painful?"
Yet a certain divorcee could not even be bothered to answer. He and Fury walked into a corner of the supermarket and began speaking in low voices beside a little mountain of baby diapers.
"Batwoman, huh?" Black Egg struck first. He still wore that deadpan face like everyone owed him money as he looked over the black riot-control armor. "Are you a scientist?"
The pitch-black heavy Power Armor inevitably reminded him of Tony Stark's Mark Armor, except there was no Arc Reactor or anything like it in sight. He had no idea what powered it.
"I'm a detective." Batwoman answered in a calm murmur, her voice distorted into something demonic by the voice changer. "Are you familiar with Deathstroke?"
"I've known him for