Disclaimer: We are not Marvel.

#1:The System Shocker.

At a glance, the MTB seemed like any ordinary bank. The walls were polished to a gleaming white, an inoffensive smile stretched across each employee's face, daylight illuminating the vaults. What set it apart from most examples was an abundance of men conspicuously dressed in black trenchcoats, the odd tear in the fabric or patched sleve betraying the fact that their uniforms were only in slightly rougher condition than the men that wore them.

A stray moment passed, before the stillness of that place was broken when the bank's double doors blasted open. The doors hit two of the coated men, knocking them over like ragdolls. The rest quickly drew their tommy guns, as both staff and customer alike stood in too much of a daze to react any further.

The newly opened doorway remained untouched. A wise decision, all things considered, as the many gun barrels stayed aimed in it's path, until one of their own abruptly turned and directed a spray of bullets at his associates.

"The hell you doin', Alex?!" one of them shouted, shifting the attention of the others to him as well.

"Quitting," he said, before opening fire on the rest.

In any other situation, the man would have been gunned down before he had the time to so much as blink twice. Unbenounced to the mobsters however, he was assisted with a sudden blast from outside, carrying a loud, heavy sound, akin to an amplified bass. The sonic blast flung the guards aside like bowling pins.

Once he was reasonably certain no one felt like getting up from that one, Alex shifted his aim on the customers and staff.

"You're hostages now! So keep quiet or better hope you like the taste of lead salad!"

"Lead salad?" said a deep voice from behind him. "Please, be more serious."

A figure in a dark robe walked in through the destroyed doorway. It observed every hostage staring at it with fear. Then it glanced at the fallen guards.

"Money, like any pretty girl on the street, is a simple temptation. It's just as easy to lure her away as catch a man's eye. But the fool that falls to her charm will always meet a bitter end."

"Open the vault, Alex."

"Got it, boss," he said, the voice sounding tinny through his radio.

"Central: open Vault E345. Security code : Catherine73."

The enrobed man walked over to the vault, while Alex kept the gun aimed on the hostages.

"Alex... why?" said one, attempting to stand up in vain. "We were a family!"

"Not to me. Your family can shove it."

A minute later, the enrobed man returned, carrying a sack in one hand, and a Molotov in the other, which was quickly tossed behind him as he ran out of the vault.

"Car. Now," he said, as Alex followed. The two men climbed into a Packard that'd clearly seen better years. As the engine groaned and sputtered to life, a small explosion obscured them from view in a shower of broken glass and concrete, long enough to escape before a mix of police and luxury cars arrived too late on the scene to give chase.

"The Don's gonna be pissed!" observed one.

A few streets away, the two theives rode in silence, until the excitement was too contagious for Alex to keep to himself.

"Oh man, we did it! We're so gonna be rich!" Alex shouted, careless of open windows. "Can't believe I doubted ya, man."

"Patience, friend. Just a moment, and you will be free."

"I can't wait to buy the tickets..." Alex pulled over the car near an alley. "Ok, that's our stop. So, hey, when do we split the cash?"

His companion got out of the car in silence.

"Uh, what's going on?"

"The flames have it now," he said, opening his bag to show it was empty.

"W-what? You promised me money!"

"I promised you the luxury of freedom. You got exactly that."

"You double-crossing..." Alex reached for the gun.

The enrobed man extended his arm, revealing a red glove with metal plates underneath. The metal-plating struck him across his side, knocking him to the ground. Before he had time to react, he was yanked to his knees by his trenchcoat, the shouts of protest quickly muffled as Alex felt the sack shoved over his head, neck reddening as the man tied a quick knot around his throat.

A pulsating, throbbing tone was heard before Alex felt the beam's blast.

A few streets away, a young woman sat leasurely on a rooftop.

She wore a form-fitting costume, patterned white from the hood around her mask to the upper half of her body, descending to black from the bottom half of her spandex. Fading to a detailed blue webbing that encircled each foot, the outlines were reminiscent of a matching pair of shoes. The web motif continued to the sleves, the blue accents contrasting with the pink that colored all but the edges, the same scheme used to add color to the inside of her otherwise white hood, at last coming to rest in the blushed highlights of her eyes.

She stretched lazily, before giving a rare sigh of contentment. "Aaah, what a view. One of the perks of being the Spider-Woman," she said. "From up here it's nothing like the New York City I know."

She jumped from the rooftop, head first down below. Then, after a somersault, she fired a line of web from her hand. The web conected with a wall, the momentum letting her swing forward.

"Actually, Spider-Woman sounds kinda weird," she mused. "Should I be Spider-Girl? Nah, that'll be awkward in 20 years. How about Black Widow? Right, it's taken, besides, my costume doesn't work for that."

She landed on a wall, sticking to it as if on a wim gravity decided she should be an exception to it's normally strict rule.

"What about Spider-Gwen? Pfft, good luck maintaining a secret identity with that. Oh hey, I'm not Gwendolyn Stacy, I'm just someone with the same body type, style, voice, and name as her! Oh well, Spider-Woman it is, for now."

Without warning, her thoughts were cut short by a shout.

"Aaaaargh, that traitorous ^&^% son of a #$& and a %$##^!"

"Wow, a #$& and a %$##^? That's some creative use of language." she jumped down, landing on a balcony. She saw a vaguely familiar face being partially crushed by his own flipped car. She jumped over to him.

"So, what happened here, Shakespeare?" she casually lifted the car with her hands, tossing it away from him.

"Heeey, come to think of it, you look familiar. Did I punch you in the mouth a couple times last week?"

Seeing the sack still tightly covering his face, she hurredly got it off of him.

"Ugh... ugh... y-you aren't taking me to prison, right? I-I wanted out, I swear I did!" he said in a rush, taking a deep breath of cool evening air

"Once, during that thing in a bar... name's Alex..." he clutched at his own leg, seemingly in the throws of a sudden agony. "Aaargh!"

"Dude, you need a hospital, like, pronto. Who did this to you anyway?"

"I swear, I dunno who did this to me. Some shady guy in this black robe." He coughed, rubbing at his bruised throat.

"Said he'd give me the one thing I wanted most. I wanted out, all I had to do was help him rob a bank and he'd make sure the Don wouldn't get to me. Thought he just meant plane tickets or somethin'."

Some time later, above a conveniently-nearby hospital...

"Okay, so I am to find a guy in a black robe. Question is... whose convention do I crash? Or should I do the sensible thing and check the crime scene?"

Spider-Woman took her mask off, revealing a face half-shrowded in a spray of long blond hair.

"Lotta police will be there. It's unsafe for Spider-Woman."

She couldn't resist the smirk as she untied the bag she'd stored away from casual view, consealed by the dimming sunlight. "But Gwen Stacy can navigate just fine."

She approached the bank in her favourite baggy pants and a hoodie. The bank swarmed with cops, two of them arguing with each other.

"You can't do this!" said the female cop. With her black trenchcoat and beret, she looked less like a detective and more like a veteran Cuban rebel, down to the short black curly hair.

"It's not my decision to make," said the male cop. His look was even rougher - an old brown coat and a hat straight from the Great Depression complimenting his wrinkled face and greying brown hair.

"This is the third one in a row! We can't just keep ignoring these!" she lit a cigarette to calm her nerves.

"I know, Jean... the... h-higher-ups will sort it out. They'll catch him," he coughed a little.

"Chief Carter, this is insane. Who are these "higher-ups" you're talking about?"

Carter turned away from her.

"You know damn well that information is classified, detective."

"Hey guys, what's going on?" said Gwen, happily invading the conversation.

"Nothing to see here, girl," Carter growled, climbing into his police car.

"Can you believe this pompous prick?" said Jean to Gwen, then to the cops. "Do any of you have any objections?"

The surrounding cops shook their heads in a unified "no".

Jean pulled Gwen aside.

"Gwen, I miss the old days. When villains were villainous and heroes didd the right thing, usually. Nowadays, it's all over the ^%$# place. Sigh. No one died this time, at least."

"What are you gonna do now?" said Gwen.

Jean finished her cigarette, grinding the stub with her heel. "I don't know, wallow in despair, play some Mortal Kombat, sleep for once. You?"

"Me... I've got an evening to kill, I'll go hang at the Technodrone, I guess."

The instant Gwen entered the Technodrome, she felt if not exactly at home, then at least the next best thing.

As far as night clubs went, it wasn't anything too special, but it did the job.

The walls were bathed in bright neon lights, shuffling through various other colors with each pounding beat, doing very little in illuminating the dancefloor. Over at the bar, a lady in a black-and-white dress served mixed drinks to anyone over 14. The local DJ was currently sporting a pair of violet shades, her stoic expression at odds with the music, which was presently bombarding the modestly-sized crowd with drum n' bass; complimented by looping high-pitched, if catchy, nonsense vocals glitching to the beat. Again, it wasn't all that special to a newcomer, but Gwen loved it all the same.

"Got some time before the cops leave," she muttered, knowing the music would drown out her voice. "Might as well have a little fun."

She closed her eyes and stepped on the dancefloor. The motions came naturally, as if she'd done them a thousand times. Wave the arms, step left, step right, spin... Gwen lost herself in the music, moving on pure reflex. Everything else just blurred together.

Gwen didn't know for how long she had been dancing. The first thing she was aware of upon opening her eyes was the site of the entire club staring at her, jaws dropped. Even the DJ who normally couldn't care less, had an eyebrow raised in vague interest.

"W-what? I'm sorry, did I do something wrong..." her face turned into several shades of red at once. No one responded.

Though the mass of onlookers were mostly in admiration for her sheer speed at which she danced, Gwen couldn't help but feel chills in the pit of her stomach.

Uncaring. Judgmental. Silently thinking her abnormal and a freak. The rational part of her mind tried to reassure her that their contempt was just in her imagination, but it did little to help.

She pulled her hoodie over her eyes, then retreated to the bar for a drink to help calm her nerves. Gwen lost the attention just as quickly as she'd found it; most probably already brushing off the event as just a trick of the eye or the aftereffect of one too many shots.

If anyone had cared to look, they'd find her leaning against a corner, waiting for her mojito while staring vacantly at her smartphone.

''You at Techno again?'' Mary Jane texted her.

''Yeah.''

''Let me guess, you didn't talk to anyone again.''

''I talked to the bartender, that doesn't count?''

''Silly Gwen, bartenders aren't people.''

Gwen sighed. The mojito she ordered had arrived. Without taking her eyes off the phone, She paid for the beverage with a handful of bills. Rather generously, judging by the bartender's expression.

''MJ, I don't know how to put this, but I'm not you. I just can't handle people,''

''Unless they're gangsters? I thought you started doing this to get out more, not sit around sipping beer between knocking a few heads together.''

''That's... different. They don't know me, and it's not like I have to be polite around those idiots. I punch out a few thugs for truth, justice, and the American way and all that jazz; nobody said I had to be happy about it.''

Before MJ could type a response text, Gwen sent another.

''Anyway, gotta go, crime-fighting's behind schedule.''

Gwen finished the mojito, leaving the club as evening turned to night.

The trashed bank seemed to have been abandoned for the night, the police having left some time before, lacking anything conclusive to work from. A line of police tape was the only sign of their former activity, the meager defense the only thing preventing anyone from just walking in. Or crawling, , in Spider-Woman's case. The secluded bank looked peaceful enough, save for the charred remains of the vault upstairs. Gwen landed in front of it.

"Jeez, so much burnt paper... it's like he took none of the money," she mused.

"Come to admire my work?" came a voice from the doorway.

"What?" Gwen noticed him. "Sorry man, just came back from a rave, so you'll have to speak up a bit."

"Oh, for the love of..." he extended his arm, firing a burst of sonic force. Without recoil, it struck the spot where she'd just been, but missed. Gwen had dodged, precisely-timed, her form now clinging to the cieling of the vault as if in expectation of just that.

''Never fail, Spider-Sense.''

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to meet you," he said. Though impossible to tell from her perspective, Gwen bet her month's rent the robed man was all but smirking with smug satisfaction under his shrowded face.

Spider-Woman, the so-called shining beacon of this miserable, corrupt..."

"Aw, a fan! Come to admire my work? The flattery is nice, but you're laying it on a bit thick, aren't you? More like a flashlight missing some batteries. A glowstick, maybe?"

"As... I was saying, you're a pathetic display, not even taking your attempt at heroics seriously," he growled, punctuating his statement with a flick of the wrist.

Spider-Woman crouched to her knees, used her lower body to build momentum, and flung herself as hard as she could away from where she guessed the shot was directed, reflexively casting a strand from her fingers.

Gwen realized she'd underestimated her opponent the moment she felt a jolt of feedback travel from her webbing, through her arm, and assaulting her ears. Stunned by the attack, she could only brace herself for the impact as the blast's reverb snapped her webbing mid-swing.

Fortunately, the fall wasn't a fatal one. Her suit's material having been made breathable yet tightly-woven enough to blunt the impact, (she'd thank MJ for that one later), landed her in a sprawl amongst a scattering of burnt cash. She nevertheless felt several sharp pains as she shakily tried to stand. The attempt left her on her knees, hands clutching at an aching skull while a haze of harsh color overwhelmed her field of vision; feeling as if her head had turned to rubber.

Dazed and lightheaded, she managed to get to her feet, a tone likened to an unused TV channel shreaking in her skull. She fervently hoped it was only temporary.

If his increasingly frantic gestures and her rough guess at lip-reading were anything to judge, the nut was yelling about something, another motive rant she presumed. For that at least, she was grateful not to hear. Skull still ringing from the attack, hands trembling, steadily breathing to calm her nerves, she forced a grin in spite of her circumstances.

"Wow, foreplay, and a massage? Someone knows how to show a girl a good time. A little rough for my tastes though," she said, unable to hear her voice but reasonably sure he had.

It wasn't the most tactful of strategies to be sure, but the robed man's face turning a distinct shade of scarlet made her feel that if only for a moment, all was right with the world.

With a sudden if slightly painful pop to her ears, she regained enough of her hearing to catch the tail end of his rant.

"...will not allow my reputation to be stained with the ramblings of a childish girl pretending to be something useful!"

''Damn, forget that last one, I'd give my month's rent to hear that first part.''

"Now I'll teach you proper respect, the reason why thugs and pretentious heroes alike fear me as," he used his other hand to toss his robe away with a flourish.

Please, don't be nude under that.

"The Shocker!"

When disrobed, the Shocker's costume revealed itself as an odd fishnet-patterned suit in yellow, topped by a black singlet. Both hands covered in a pair of metal-plated red gloves, the overall impression to Gwen was a downward spiral of overly bright, garrish colors that rather than fashionably contrasting, came off instead rather as an assault to the senses.

As soon as she beheld the sight of his costume, Spider-Woman started to laugh uncontrollably.

"Wow, you're serious with that look... I... I can't take it," she said, barely able to speak through her fit of giggles.

"How! Dare! You?!" he shouted, firing twin blasts of sonic energy from both hands.

"Yeah, and I'm the one not being taken seriously here. That's a cute outfit. Did your husband give it to you? Do... do you have fishnet stockings too?" she rolled away from the impact.

"This suit represents my fight against..." Before he could finish, Spider-Woman ran forward, knocking him off balance with her shoulder.

"The War on Fashion, I presume. Man, if my friend saw you like this, she'd tear you apart so fast you'd beg me to end it myself," she said, kicking his legs from under him while the advantage was her's.

"No one. Mocks. The Shocker!" he aimed his next beam at the ground, creating a shockwave that made a crack in the vault's concrete floor that forced Spider-Woman to jump away, giving him time to get up.

"Now you got my attention, bad boy." She lunged at him again.

"Not like that!" the Shocker smashed both gloved fists together, creating a wave of sound. Generating pressure at close range, the forward momentum quickly built until it flung her away.

Slightly unbalanced, she managed to land on her feet, firing two webbed balls out of her hands at the same time. One came close to it's target, but was quickly disintegrated, the second unable to reach half the former's distance by the time the next beam struck, hitting her as well; her spider-sharp reflexes betrayed by her unsteady stance.

"I am gravely disappointed," he growled, all his sense of cool long lost. "Cross my path again, and I'll knock some sense into you, the hard way." He emphasized his point with a sonically-enhanced punch, knocking her into unconsciousness.

When Gwen opened her eyes. the Shocker was already gone.

''Ou, ou. ou. My head is spinning like the lovechild of an overpriced rollercoaster and last week's hangover." She got up, holding her head. "At least the costume's undamaged this time. Well, mostly. Only a few tears this time. MJ won't be yelling at me, at least.''

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a small vibration on her chest. To her chagrin, she remembered it was just her phone. It'd likely been the thing to rouse her in the first place, meaning she'd been called at least once before.

''Speak of the devil...''

As it turned out, it wasn't MJ. It was... a number she didn't recognize in the slightest.

''Whatever, it's probably just some spam caller. Damn insurance marketing.''

Surprisingly, the robe still lay at her feet. Normally she'd be the kind of girl not interested in pawing through a strange man's clothes, but considering its owner, she'd make an exception, just this once.

After checking nearly all of the pockets, she found something worthwhile. A card, the text "Allan Pizza" printed on it.

But that wasn't Gwen's next stop. She'd have time for that later. Instead, a tall apartment complex was waiting for her.

Five minutes of rooftop-acrobatics later, she'd found the place.

Really hope MJ's asleep now.

Climbing to one of the highest windows, she slid a finger into the slightly open crack saved for such an occasion, unlocking it from outside in a sliding motion with a palm. On the way to her room, she changed from her costume into a pair of nice and cosy web-patterned pajamas. They were a handmade Christmas present from MJ, a guilty pleasure that quickly became a favorite of her's. Speaking of...

She passed by another room, where a red-headed woman examined a coat-hanger filld to bursting with dresses.

"MJ, why aren't you sleeping yet?" said Gwen. "I thought I was the nocturnal one in this relationship."

"The Royal Runway will make anyone nocturnal, I'm afraid." Mary-Jane pulled each of the dresses out of the hanger, then back on. "Anything exciting on your trips this time?"

"Just some worthless schmucks here and there. Nothing serious or menacing." Gwen demonstrably yawned.

"Hmm, they have already seen most of this, but... aha!" MJ pulled out an almost comically over-elaborate dress, full to the neckline of colored fabrics and gems all over it. Gwen couldn't help but giggle.

"Are you really gonna go out in that? This would look out of place even in the Technodrone. You're better off just nuding it, seriously."

"That's not a word. And sometimes, overdoing just works. Besides, if you're going to do something, it's better to overdo than underperform."

MJ retreated further into her room to change.

Gwen just shrugged and continued onto her path to a warm cozy bed.

The Allan Pizza restaurant provided a calm, if a bit of a strange, atmosphere for its customers. The place looked like someone's nostalgic memory of the 1930s, from the decorative gas lamps, vintage newspapers adjusted each day to match that year's callendar, photos of famous stars from the Silver Screen looking as if they were stills from the films themselves, preserved at high-quality to ignore the decay of decades, drinks chilled in ice boxes, and of course, no indication that the Depression had so much as touched such a place of wealth and class.

Even the trenchcoated guards, with their broad shoulders and tobacco-stained teeth blended into the aesthetic perfectly.

In a corner, the music was supplied by a jazz pianist, playing a particularly fast ragtime improv, the dancing fingers and single-minded concentration on the man's expression almost at odds with the complexity of his playing and the upbeat number faintly heard by its customers.

Behind one of the tables, a black-haired woman in a green business suit sat next to Chief Carter, who was constantly looking over his back.

The moment the doors fell off their hinges and the Shocker stepped in, The gently decadent atmosphere of that place evaporated like a soap bubble.

"Good evening, my dear hypocrites, crooks, and liars." The guards reached for their weapons, but Carter stepped out first, aiming his revolver at Shocker.

"You! How did you... Hands in the air, now!"

He knocked Carter's gun out of his hand with a single blast of sound, the same blast that sent Carter crashing into the bar counter.

"You remember me? I'm touched! I wonder..." the Shocker continued. "Whom else do you remember?"

Carter did not get up. The others attempted to grab their weapons again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I think you need him in one piece to protect you, clinging little parasites, all of you." Shocker aimed his gloves at Carter again.

"The Don will kill you!" one of them shouted.

"Funny thing about death, boys. It's a one-time deal."

"Speaking of one-time deals..." A web line yanked Shocker out of the restaurant, sending him into the street's pavement. Spider-Woman chuckled, pulling her web out from the side window where she'd been waiting.

"Rematch time, fishnets."

"You!" Shocker quickly shot a couple of blasts at her. "How did you find me?"

"Simple. Next time, don't leave your dirty laundry lying around," she said, easily dodging the blasts, having to let go of the web line. "Man, you look even dumber in daylight."

"Do you have any idea whom you're protecting?!" he shot noticeably wider blasts at her.

"Well, everyone sounds like a good place to start," Spider-Woman jumped up, at the same time webbing two civilians away, so that the blast would pass by them.

Back at the restaurant, after the men had a moment to process what just happened, the guards reached for their weapons.

"Don't," said the woman in green. Throughout the ordeal, she remained where she was seated, never once raising her tone. She had no need. "The Shocker is her problem now. Let's see how the spider does."

On the street, the Shocker directed an attack once again, almost disintegrating a random civilian, had it not been for Spider-Woman pulling the poor citizen away to relative safety. The fact that she did it in complete silence was not lost to the Shocker, remembering the words someone had said to him long ago: "Fear is the only real form of respect."

He aimed his gauntlets at two separate targets - two people across the street, an old man and a young woman, both too terrified to move away from the scene. Spider-Woman also split her aim, yanking them both with her web, making the Shocker miss on both occasions.

But before she could counterattack, the Shocker found another target: a woman desperately calling 911 from a balcony in the house next to the pizzeria. The balcony crumbling at the blast, the young woman standing on it would have certainly fallen to her death, had it not been for Spider-Woman catching her mid-air. Just as she'd lowered the innocent down, another blast from the Shocker came right at her; Spider-Sense at the last minute warning her to dodge the attack before it struck.

Spider-Woman found herself once again at a stalemate.

I can't get to him, not out in the open like this... I gotta get him to a remote place... but how... and to where?

Then, something in Gwen's mind clicked into place.

''This would look out of place even in the Technodrone... Overdoing sometimes just works. And if you're going to do something, It's better to overdo than underperform...''

"Hey, aesthetically-challenged!" she yelled at the Shocker. "You can't catch me!"

She jumped away from a blast, swinging a little further from the Shocker.

"Is everything a joke to you?" he ran after her, shooting blasts when he could.

"Everything about you, anyway. You're just impossible to take seriously," she swung away again, just enough to evade the Shocker and lead him on.

"How dare you?!" He ran faster, forgetting about the restaurant entirely.

"Oh, I dare alright. But do you? Come on, follow me. And if you behave in front of the adults, I might give you some candy." She posed in some rather anatomically-fascinating ways, just before she swung away again.

"I will kill you where you stand!"

He shot at her again.

While dodging, she crashed through a building window. The blast that followed blew off the building's door, making the "Technodrone" sign fall off.

He followed, unaware and uncaring of where he was.

Inside, Spider-Woman felt her Spider-Sense prickling at her temples. The game she was about to play was a dangerous one. If she were shot here, the soundwaves of the impact would multiply exponentially. If he got one shot in on her, it'd tear through her suit like so much wet paper.

The club was empty at this time of day, though some stray neon lights still flashed throughout the room.

Before the Shocker could take the advantage, a stray line of webbing shot from her finger, the club going completely black as it turned off the lighting.

"Show yourself!"

Everything around him was dark.

For Gwen, it was much the same. Now that Shocker had entered the building, she felt her Sense cold against her neck, her hairs prickling with goosebumps.

"Hey, at least buy me dinner first," she teased, her voice drifting through the darkness from somewhere.

Shocker fired a beam where he guessed in the direction of her voice.

To Spider-Woman's sharpened awareness, the beam travelled slower than a lazily-thrown rubber ball, and yet like a speeding bullet. Lightning fast, and slow as a summer breeze, the constants shifted moment-to-moment.

She was in no danger.

She had no way to avoid it.

She had all the time in the world, and none left to spare.

She had but to simply pick the precise moment, possibilities of possibilities, but it still wasn't enough. As long as there was anything to focus on, there was a chance she'd miss a step, the sequence had to be perfect.

She could still hear him, could still hear herself, that was one extra sense she had to disregard.

Thankfully, she remembered her mistake from their last fight.

From her neckline, she carefully extracted her smart phone, careful not to let it touch a single fiber, lest she give herself away.

Doing likewise with her headphones. Once again in this very building earlier that day, she shut off the world around her, filling her ears with a song that would do the trick.

The blast finallly caught up with her in the present.

She could dodge it anytime, but dodging it too early was out of the question.

''Something's happening,'' the lyrics whispered in her headphones.

Wait.

''Mind destructing... agony inside of me.''

She didn't hear the shot when it came, the music drowned that out. She focused on her skin, the currents of air that touched it, the vibrations.

She spun on her heal, missing it without conscious effort.

Spider-Woman's nerves were burning. If she could just listen to her instincts, she could scratch that horrible itch.

The shot hit something, that produced the same pulsating, pounding sound as the one from the Shocker gloves.

''My pulse is racing.''

Spider-Woman was nowhere near there.

She needed to scream. Her fear demanded a response. She was afraid, and would die if nothing was done right now.

"Oops, looks like you missed! Does somebody need a hug?" she taunted from another spot, speaking the words without hearing them.

Wait.

"Mental torture, self-destroyer.''

Wait.

Turn.

''Can't ignore the paranoia.''

"Shut up." he shot there, creating the same sound again.

Gwen needed to breathe. A cool, refreshing mouthful of air. Anything to stop her pulse, the sweat burning in her skin.

"Excellent comeback, dude. Give it a few years and you might learn a third word." Her voice came from another direction.

"Shut up! Shut up! Just, shut, up!" he fired a wider beam at her. The sound it created on impact was even louder.

Gwen resisted the urge to panic. The Sense screamed at her that something was dangerous. She should run. But she did not.

"Face it, tiger. You're just a joke, a pathetic wannabe with no friends. You're a complete and utter failure."

She was almost there. Almost. Almost. Almost.

But almost wasn't the end.

"Failure..." he whispered, then grabbed his head. "Urgh... urgh..."

Wait.

Turn left.

''Denying.''

''The rising.''

Dodge.

Wait.

A little more.

''The crying.''

''I'm dying.''

He pressed two buttons on each of his gloves, then aimed them very carefully.

''He lied to me.''

Almost.

''He shot at me.''

Ten seconds.

''He hates on me.''

"I am not... a failure!" a massive beam the size of Shocker himself struck the wall. The sound was loud enough to make him visibly shake. The sound it made upon the impact was much, much worse.

''He's using me.''

Without warning, the lights got turned on. Shocker found himself in the middle of a dance floor, with four large speakers shaking in front of him. The wires of them all connected to a single piece of DJ equipment above.

She wanted, needed to claw her eyes out. Her ears, smell, it was all too much. Too many details...

Behind which Spider-Woman stood.

Gwen sighed in relief.

"Time to... break the net!" she cried, plugging her phone into the plugin. Then she pushed all the sliders up, and pressed play.

All of the speakers bombarded the room with wave after wave of sound at once, shaking the walls, cracking the windows, shattering every glass.

''He is my enemy!''

Shocker's suit prooved to be his downfall.

His sensitivity to every vibration, accuracy to almost every sound, filtering it all through his suit like a sponge to direct his sonic power towards others, was just as capable of redirecting through himself.

"Raaaaaaaaargh!"

She smiled, her noise-canceling headphones back on to protect her from the worst of the sound.

"What? Sorry man, I just came back from a rave, so you'll have to speak up a bit."

In desperation, Shocker did his best to shut his ears, but his own costume popped in various spots, emitting sparks and tearing apart. He fell on his knees, still shouting in pain, until Spider-Woman's webbing pinned him on the floor for good.

"You wanna know the real joke?" she jumped down on the floor. "You thought this gives you power. Now there's a real shock to the senses."

"I gotta work on my puns though." She swung away on her web. "That one was so bad it could have ended my career."

Gwen managed to dragg herself home, happy to find MJ and her monster coat hanger already gone. She crashed on MJ's sofa, as the softer one of the two.

Every inch of her body ached, the adrenaline that'd coasted her through the night had left her feeling cold and drained.

She checked the time on her phone, finding it permanently stuck at 6-45 a.m. To her dismay, the phone had been fried from all the sonic energy firing around her.

In the bottom left corner where her unread messages were displayed, she saw the one she'd ignored from MJ at the club.

''Fine. You still seeing that Parker kid later?''

"Oh for the love of &^%$..."

When Carter and the guards rushed into the Technodrone a little later, all they could find was the broken down speakers and some webs, with no sign of Shocker.

Somewhere else, in a very tall tower, two trenchcoat guards carried Alex, who'd been handcuffed. They brought him into a large hall, with a mahogony table on the far end. Standing to either side was the black-haired woman, Chief Carter opposite to her.

"You disappoint me, Alex," a voice said from the head of the table. "To betray the family after so many years..."

"Just kill me. I won't work for you bastards anymore. Not after that!"

"Kill you?" the voice laughed. "No, that would be such a waste. Don't you think so, Emilia?"

The woman smiled.

"No..." suddenly Alex's voice trembled. "Don't do this... a-anything but that.. p-please... No!"

The End.