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She was panting. Out of breath. The worry forming creases above her brows. Perspiration clinging to her torn, elastic mask like a spiderweb.
She had no strength to lift herself up and hide her vulnerability. But dusk was leaking its color on the city below, and the spider was feeling the cold creep into her skin. With what little suit was left covering her, she preferred if she didn’t have to stay any longer on the desolate rooftop. Additionally, there were bigger problems than just the cold.
There was the problem with her ankle, which was bruised and growing swollen in deep scarlets and blues. The open slits on her tummy throbbing with uncomfortable intensity, but thankfully they had stopped bleeding an hour ago, and she had found a spare towel she kept for the sweat that sometimes sweltered in her bodysuit to clog the opening. She could manage to lose a bit of blood with how little there was dripping. But there was her head that concerned her the most— something wasn’t right. The light entering her eyes was too bright, the sounds of 6 PM traffic were more intolerable than usual, to the point that it sounded like steel planks crashing onto another.
Her heart was thrumming in her head.
“Breathe, Spidey… breathe.” Her voice could barely pitch higher than a whisper. This wasn’t good at all.
This wasn’t her first rodeo in dealing with the aftermath of a bad fight. She’d only been ‘Spidergirl’ for some good 6 months, jumping from roof to stoplight to skyscraper to catch a snippet of danger— to protect her fellow civilians from best-friends-turned-to-lizardmen, rich men’s henchmen, and vultures. Of course she’s lost her fair share of fights, but they always felt so little in comparison to how many she won. Nevertheless, the rough of it was always how to get back home to her lonely 500 sq. foot apartment. EMTs were always out of the question. After all, Spidergirl didn’t exactly get a paycheck from protecting Brooklyn that could spare her the expenses on ambulance fees. And while it wasn’t hard to Google ‘how to make a torniquet (with pictures)’, it was a struggle to talk herself up afterwards to get herself back on her feet and swing home.
But her situation right now was bad. Bad as in, she needed a CAT scan and a bottle of Advil.
She wouldn’t have been so worried if she had felt her quick healing powers take effect. But that villain… something had happened to her that had left her feeling so human. So afraid.
The pink hued clouds were the last she would see of the day for the next 12 hours. While New York’s Brooklyn would be awake regardless, she knew that the night brought on horrible terrors, like getting peed on. She could… nod off for a while… just for a while. To rest for the journey back home, which was about 15 miles north. For only a second… her head felt so heavy on top of her scarred shoulders. She lifted her mask up to the bridge of her nose to breathe in the night air, and for a while she saw it cloud in front of her before she began to lose consciousness.
—
Goosebumps pricked her skin, raising her out of sleep. She could barely move her neck. From what she guessed, it was almost midnight; the moon was giant tonight, shining so close to where she sat. But not enough to expose the injured spider in the dark. She was relieved, because only a few feet in front of her stood a woman.
She wore a tight, black, bodysuit, fur stitched onto her collar, ankles, and wrists. It almost glittered alongside her white hair, which was loose beside the two cat-ear shaped buns on top her head. Her pale skin only showed at the neck, and above that, Spidey couldn’t quite make out. She knew that if she didn’t have her spider sense to wake her from a deadly sleep, she would have been a rotting corpse.
Thankfully, the pain in her ankle and in her head had subdued enough to attempt an escape. But first, she would need to observe the woman and make sure she wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings.
But the spider didn’t need to feign any distractions; the ‘cat-lady’ was busy tinkering with a watch on her wrist. It seemed to glow brighter with each touch. And with the increasing glow, it would be harder for her to see Spidey as she slowly climbs to her feet, and hobbles near to the edge of the rooftop.
Her first attempt in getting up resulted in a gasp as she stumbled back down. “This awfully feels like I’m in college again and drunk because of peer pressure…” she thought, holding her breath in case the lady had noticed. She didn’t.
Second attempt, and Spidey managed to get herself onto her feet. With her hand clinging onto the wall next to her, she began to hobble toward the edge of the roof.
So close. A flick of her wrist, and her webs would shoot out…
But than her right foot with the bruised ankle gave out from underneath, and she felt herself creep over the edge and begin to fall.
The rush of blood headed toward her head as she almost went head-first from the edge and to the ground.
Almost.
Her hand had managed to catch onto the ledge, and her entire weight depended solely on her grip, with strength that was vanishing every second.
Suddenly she felt the disgusting warmth of liquid trickle from her knuckle to her exposed chin. Blood. Blood from the point of a heel, a heel that belonged to the woman from earlier. On top of her hand that held onto the roof’s ledge for dear life. Spidey tried to lift her head to see who this exactly was— but she was only met with a stunning pair of crystal eyes. Beautiful, encapsulating, and seducing. Spidey felt her heart pound in her ears, and it wasn’t only from the adrenaline.
“You’re quite a mess, little spider,” murmured the cat-lady.
Spidey fumbled for words. Should she ask for mercy? No, no, that wouldn’t look good if this lady was a sadist (she probably was). She could also easily let go, and that would be worse than having her hand punctured in the middle as Spidey would lose her grip and fail to do anything but fall. A clever quip would be perfect right now, as it is in all situations that are frightening and terribly close to death. But the spider strained to find something to say.
Anything, anything. Say something.
“Your eyes… they’re gorgeous.”
The cat-lady smiled, cruel and lovely. “In all the worlds I’ve traveled to, I’ve yet to find a Spiderman who hasn’t fallen for my charm. I almost feel bad.” At this, Spidey felt the weight reduce slightly from her knuckles.
“Oh well.”
Pleading silently to whatever strength was left in her, Spidey tensed her body as the cat-lady released her heel, hoping she would survive the fall.
But she never hit the ground.
She opened her eyes to find a hand wrapped tightly around her left wrist, with nails so long they pierced through the fabric of Spidey’s suit. With tumultuous effort, the spider tried to breathe, but how could she with how her heart had stopped? She felt her vision go blurry, and all at once she was on top of the rooftop again, trying to stand only to find her knees buckling under the weight of the night.
“I’m not done playing with you, little spider,” drawled the lady. “And unfortunately, I have to ask for a favor.”
Spidey chuckled, glancing at the heels of her ‘savior’, covered in blots of blood. “I’m guessing I’ll be cat food if I don’t say yes.” With all her might, she inched her head up to face the cat-lady.
“Who are you?”
“Funny you should ask, as you always knew me so well. But you wouldn’t know that, now, would you?”