Quoted By:
If you’re being entirely honest, you’re more curious than anything. If this Madame Web knows about your criminal activity and hasn’t turned you in, then she must want something from you. Better to confront her now, rather than later.
<span class="mu-b">“Mr. Spider-Man? Your order’s ready.”</span> said Mr. Aziz, the owner of this particular pizza joint. He was a middle aged Indian man with a noticeable accent.
<span class="mu-r">“Yeah, that’s me.”</span> you said, reviewing the contents of your order.
Mr. Aziz’s strange look became even more strange when he slid you the bowl of salad. You had the distinct feeling that he was making some snap judgements about your character.
<span class="mu-r">“Knock it off. I don’t like it any more than you do.”</span> you groaned, grabbing the salad and sliding it into the bag that you brought. You turned and waved a hand in the air as you walked out the door. <span class="mu-r">“See ya later, Aziz.”</span>
<span class="mu-b">“Y-you too?”</span> Al barely managed to squeeze out before the door closed shut.
—--------
It took you a much longer time to find Madame Web’s place than you cared to admit, but that was only because you weren’t sure what to expect. Madame Web didn’t live in a house, or some creepy cave like you’d half expected. Oh no. The address that Arachne sent you brought you to the front door of a well maintained mansion.
You were starting to realize why your new hacker friend didn’t work for money.
Feeling a bit bewildered, you crept up to the front door and rang the doorbell. You’d barely had time to hear the jingle echo throughout the large estate before a woman swung the door open to greet you. She wore tight-fitting, torn jeans, a pink tank top, and a dark red leather jacket.
<span class="mu-r">“Oh, yeah! It’s pizza time.”</span> she said, rubbing her hands together maniacally.
She had long, fiery red hair, and facial features that could belong to a cover girl. She was also generously proportioned, but not so much that she could compete with someone like Black Cat or Gwen. Her figure was more slim and lithe, like that of a professional athlete.
She flashed you a wry grin. <span class="mu-r">“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”</span>
<span class="mu-r">“I think you owe me an explanation.”</span> you replied.
<span class="mu-r">“I think we’ve got one of two of those lying around somewhere.”</span> she said, taking the pizzas out of your hands and turning to walk deeper into the estate. <span class="mu-r">“Shut the door on your way in.”</span>
You did so, letting your eyes roam about the room and drinking in the majestic sight before you. The house’s interior was Victorian in design. Early 1900’s to be exact. High ceilings, lots of chandeliers, big fancy furniture, and a roaring fireplace built into the wall.
<span class="mu-r">“Is there a welcome mat for me to wipe my feet too?”</span>
Arachne let out a snort. <span class="mu-r">“As if you’ve been <span class="mu-i">walking</span> anywhere.”</span> she said, looking back at you as she placed the pizzas on the table next to an expensive looking laptop.
(Cont.)
