Quoted By:
<span class="mu-r">“Hey, those digital billboards can get pretty filthy.”</span> you complained.
<span class="mu-r">“Mhm. Especially when that ‘pesky Spider-Man’ graffitis it with his webs.”</span> she said, grabbing a remote and turning up the volume on the wall mounted flat-screen.
A man on TV was reviewing the events of your scavenger hunt with Arachne, and criticizing you for your “blatant display of vandalism”. They were calling you a menace!
<span class="mu-r">“Oh, come on! That’s not fair. That stuff dissolves after a few hours.”</span> you argued.
<span class="mu-r">“Yeah, but they don’t know that.”</span> Arachne put in as she removed a slice of pepperoni pizza and shoved it into her mouth. <span class="mu-r">“To them, you’re just a hooligan in a onesie.”</span>
<span class="mu-r">“People were literally cheering me on as I did it.”</span> you said.
<span class="mu-r">“Yeah, but none of them were caught on camera.”</span> Arachne said with a shrug. <span class="mu-r">“Anyway, you should probably head upstairs. Web’s waiting for you.”</span>
You did so, but not before grabbing a slice for yourself. As you headed up the long, winding staircase, you glanced at the portraits and photos lining the walls. The one in the parlor room hanging above the fireplace was a family portrait with a massive frame. In its center, sat an unsmiling family. A little girl and her two parents flanking her from both sides. Other than that, and the occasional solo portrait, you never saw any other pictures of the little girl’s parents. There were far more of a young woman, presumably the young girl from before, and who you believed to be her husband. These portraits were in stark contrast to the ones from earlier. They were smiling in every photo. But as time went on, their expressions were becoming more brittle, their faces wrinkled and lined with age. Until at some point, you stopped seeing the husband entirely.
Before you knew it, you had followed the trail of images to a spacious room with all sorts of blinking machines and actively busy devices lining the walls. Various wires and metallic poles jutted out from every corner of the room, leading into one giant, golden throne, where one old woman sat in the back of the room. She wore a dark red blindfold, and she wore a form-fitting bodysuit of a similar color. It should’ve been disgusting, but she was in surprisingly good shape. Her shoulder length hair was a dark shade of silver, and her fingernails were long and sharp like talons.
<span class="mu-r">“I’ve been expecting you, Benjamin.”</span> she said, gesturing for you to come closer.
(Cont.)
