ii. david

THE SPIDER FOLLOWED the dull ringing in her head to an alley way just twelve blocks from her home. She was on the wall, watching man kick a kitten, calling it worthless. If the Spider didn't know any better, she would have assumed the man to be taking his frustrations out on the poor creature. She inched closer.

"You worthless fuck!" the man shouted, the kitten meowing in pain. The cat was calling its God. The Spider wondered if cats believed in God. "Fucking meowing and taking it without fighting back. You're a coward. You're fucking nothing."

The Spider had enough. She lunged, and if the man could see her teeth, he would've seen the poison dripping from them. She was mad. She pinned the man to the ground, hoping that his God doesn't save him.

The Spider hoped his God let him die at her hand.

The man screamed, clawing at her mask. The Spider did not let him scream much longer. Her hands wrapped around his throat. She didn't know why she was angry. The Spider didn't know if it was the man's words or his act toward the cat, but she wanted to kill him.

The sounds of bones cracking brought her from her stupor. The Spider backed away, hands shaking.

She'd killed another person.

Blood stained her suit. The cat mewed weakly at her feet. She bent down, cradling the cat in her arms. The black and brown creature nuzzled into her suit. The Spider was reminded that she was human in that moment. She sat in the murky alley, whispering sweet nothings into the cat's ear.

Her hands shook as she pet the creature's head. The Spider's gloved hands stained the cat's fur. It reeked of blood, human feces, and death. The Spider was very well acquainted with these smells. Only four years ago, she was in the position of the cat.

"I will name you David," the Spider whispered to the cat. It put it's paws on her chest, nibbling at her mask. "Because you are strong like the boy who took down a giant. We are giant killers, David."

Her tone is gentle. She'd heard this sort of tone in films with families. The Spider was going to care for David.

She scaled the roof tops of Brooklyn, David in arm. The cat was pretty bad of, and she had intentions of fixing that. The Spider inched closer to a pet shop, on the hunt for supplies.

She wasn't a thief. The Spider had left over money from a part time job at the local bodega. Around fifty dollars in her pocket, she stepped into the store. David mewed in her arms, so she placed him in her basket.

"Are you looking for anything, miss?" a worker asked, clearly running on a couple Red Bulls. He was staring at her like a spider-themed vigilante was a normal thing to see. Maybe it was. Who was she to judge.

"I need cat pet supplies," she whispered, gently swinging the basket where David lay back and forth. "For my cat, David."

"Follow me."

The pair wandered the PetSmart, placing a variety of items in the basket. David wandered beside her, clawing at items he wanted.

The Spider happily purchased what he wanted. The employee charged her less than what was owed, something along the lines of a thank you for protecting Brooklyn.

The Spider hoped the employee had a lovely rest of his life.

She scaled the buildings of Brooklyn, David meowing in her backpack. Her sneakers scuffed against the brick apartments of the red light districts many buildings. She leaped from roof top to roof top.

The Spider loved nighttime in Brooklyn. The calm but loud environment was different from the lab. The Spider did not miss the lab. She fought a gag as she landed on the roof of her apartment building.

The mere memory of the lab was enough to cause a shiver down the Spider's spine. The hands, the light, the food — she did not miss it at all.

She couldn't breathe. The Spider pulled off her mask. The air tasted artificial. She was on the table. The metal against her back, the hands on her arms. The Spider choked on the bile in her throat.

She was being subjected to a test. Another test. The Spider clawed at her arms, trying to pull out the tubes. So many tubes. Goawaygoawaygoaway—

The gentle mew of David rang in her ears. Then it wasn't one sound. It was multiple. She heard conversations from all over the city. It hurt. She pressed her hands to her ears.

"I love you." "Are we on for twelve thirty tomorrow?" "That's the spot, Mary." "Watch where ya driving, punk!" "You got it, tiger." So many sounds. It burned into her skull, dragging her thoughts around into slush.

David pressed his paws on her chest. The Spider opened her eyes. The sight of David's black and brown fur warmed her heart. David's mewed again, pressings his paws on the emblem on her chest. The Spider ran a gloved hand on David's head.

"Hi, David," the Spider whispered, picking up David and raising him over her head. She giggled as David licked her forehead, brushing aside blonde and brown bangs. "Thank you for finding me."

She wasn't alone now. It was her and David. Like it used to be her and Danny. The Spider had another friend. She would have to introduce David to Donny sometime. Maybe Donny would like her cat? Hopefully.

David nibbled at her nose. The Spider laughed again. "You're an angel."

Maybe God was answering prayers.

He had given her a friend.

THE PROWLER DESPISED Archnae. She was fast and elusive and incredibly annoying. He couldn't land a hit without being webbed up to a pole. She was everything he hated in a woman.

"What are you up to, Prowler?"

Speak of the devil.

The black and pink suit glimmered in the midnight moon light. She tilted her head, hanging upside from a pole. For some reason, whenever they fought, Archnae always smelled of roses. 

"Oh fuck off," the Prowler grumbled, scouting his latest robbery. "Go spin yourself a web and get a new victim, araña." He jumped to another building's rooftop.

"No, sorry." She swung over to him. She landed right beside him, staring at him. Holy shit, she was annoying. And fast. "Now, don't commit the crime if you're not willing to do the time!"

The Prowler groaned. "Dios mio, are you just spitting corny shit?" He raised his blaster, squinting one eye through his mask as he shot at a moving vehicle. Uncle Aaron had gotten intel on some alien tech. The Prowlers wanted them. Now.

"I say completely reasonable things, Prowler." She swung down to check the flaming car. He watched her pull out the people in the car, tilting a masked head at the stuff in the trunk.

The Prowler leaped down, grabbing the tech quickly. Archnae just stared at him, like she was trying to figure him out.

"That isn't yours," she pointed out, launching her web at the case. The Prowler wondered where her webs came from. She had no visible tech on her.

"Well, boo hoo," he teased, ready to go back to his uncle's apartment. The Prowler adjusted his helmet before walking away.

"Boo hoo is mean." Archnae said, walking beside him. She was shorter than him, even with her pink Converse. A super hero with pink Converse had to be a joke. Who even was this chick? "Just hand me the tech. We can go home."

The Prowler laughed, his voice changer making his voice sound so much deeper. It rumbled around them, enveloping them in his mad laughter.

"You're kidding me, right?" Archnae was staring at him like he'd grown extra limbs. "I stole it. You ain't good at this vigilante shit, muchachita."

Archnae disappeared from beside him. The Prowler hated when she did that. She had this tendency to just disappear. The case in his arm felt empty. He went to check his arm and let out a string of Spanish swear words.

"I'll be handing this to the Brooklyn Police." She dangled the case full of alien tech in front of him from a web. If he could see her face, the Prowler sensed she was smirking at him.

Or maybe she wasn't.

Archnae never seemed like a gloating type. She was more of a blunt force trauma to the head. She was always so serious and the Prowler got disturbed whenever she tried to make a joke. It seemed unnatural coming from her lips.

"Mhm, sure," the Prowler grumbled, snatching it back. This was how their nights typically went. He steals something, and she tries and takes it back.

The Prowler hated Archnae. He hated her demonic costume and powers. He hated her annoying laugh that made his ears bleed. He hated her ability to sneak up on him.

He hated everything about Archnae.

He lunged, grazing her with her blaster. She yelped. Her gloved hand instantly went to her hip. The blaster incinerated part of her suit. He could see just the faint coloring of her undershirt. However, the sound of her in pain was music to the Prowler's ears. He snickered. He bolted.

The sound of Archnae following after him snapped him out of his victory. She was swinging from light post to light post. Her flips were far to graceful. She was like a little bug he wanted to step on.

Squish her so she'd finally leave him alone.

He just needed an over grown fly swatter.

"Go away, Spider," the Prowler groaned, sliding into an alley. He climbed up to the roof, tucking parts of the tech into his suit. "Mind your buisness and be a good little demon."

Archnae froze, falling in front of him. "I am not a demon." She put her hand on a part of the case tucked in his pockets. "And I have to return these. Thank you very much!"

The Prowler pulled away from her touch. He felt like he was burning under her gloved hand. "Listen, Spider-Girl or whatever, I'm gonna take this. You can go back home to your mami and paint your nails."

Archnae raised her wrist, tilting her head. The Prowler dodged just as she shot at him. Her wens narrowly missed him. He needed a distraction against her. Something to catch her completely off guard.

He looked around and raised his blaster at a small shop. The blaster raised flames from the ground. The air soon reeked of bitter ashes. The Prowler watched Archnae contemplate chasing after him or saving the flaming shop.

"You're a devil," she growled before launching herself into the flaming building. Maybe Archnae was right. Maybe he was the devil. Maybe he was the fallen angel of her story.

Or maybe, the Prowler didn't care.

He scaled the walls of a building to avoid her detection. Archnae was dragging bodies out of the shop. He spotted broken limbs, burned skin, and blood all over Archnae's suit. She was stupidly heroic.

It made him sick.

The Prowler turned on his heel, making sure to get away. The tech rested in his pocket. He'd done his job. Archnae was distracted and he could get away. The Prowler 1 — Archnae 1962.

first authors note of saints!! okokokok so i wrote this just to explore writing but also bcuz my friend is Miles Morales' number one fan. i love my mamas boy prowler. my sweet baby boy <33

incase u scrolled to the end and missed something welcome to alana's horrible spark notes:

david: meow
iaabella: if something ever happens to u, i will jump off the roof of my apartment
&
the prowler: i've got this annoying voice in my head
archnae: h-
the prowler: there it is