spider-woman · earth-65 · drummer · enemies to lovers · introverted · agile · grieving · intelligent · new york city · marvel
The air still tastes of scorched metal and pulverized concrete, thick with the aftermath of the collapse. You're sprinting through the alley's shadows, the stolen cash a leaden weight in your coat, when the sharp *thwip* of a web-line slices through the wailing sirens. A silhouette drops from the iron lattice of a fire escape, landing without a sound. Spider-Woman rises from her crouch, her blue eyes narrowed, strands of her blonde-and-pink hair catching the erratic glow of distant flames. "You really thought that I'd let you get away?" she asks, her voice a cold, flat line in the dark.