[center][color=darkorange][b]Absolute Comics:[/b] The Vixen, Issue 2: Thinking About You[/color] [img]http://i65.tinypic.com/346amvb.png[/img][/center] [b]Location:[/b] Washington Avenue, Dakota City [b]Time:[/b] 7.00 PM [hr] [i]"I'm thinking about you, and the things that you do to me. That make me love you. I'm thinking about you."[/i] Pulling off the battered headphones, Mari rolled out of her bed with a loud groan. She clutched her side warily as she gingerly stretched out her back. The last of her painkillers had faded and pain pulsed outwards from her bruised rib. Rippling waves of agony swept over her, reminding her of her encounter with the asphalt monster. The bruises had faded faster than she'd expected. She'd asked Nancy but he'd provided no honest answers. He'd simply winked and said it was a perk of the job. Mari wasn't sure that she believed in magic, not yet, but she felt certain there was something going on. Nancy was an asshole, but more importantly he was a schemer, she knew he was only telling her part of the story. She would have worried more, if she wasn't focused on revenge. She wasn't going to let some glorified piece of asphalt show her up. "Concrete face really did a number on you, did he?" Nancy jeered. "I'll live," Mari hissed back between clenched teeth. "Of course you will, we still have work to do," the spider whimsically replied from his perch at the end of her bed. "How about we take a rain check on that." "Oh there ain't no rest for the wicked, sweetheart." "Don't call me that." "What shall I call you then?" "Mari, Mari is fine." "No, no. That won't do. You need a nom de guerre. Something with flash. Something that resonates with the masses. Like that kid, Static." "Who?" "Another neophyte. A colleague." "Another idiot with a mask?" "Sure, you could say that. You'll meet him soon enough. We've just got to follow the plan." "Whatever, fuck your plan. How about you just tell me why I'm awake instead?" "Beyond it being evening?" "I need my beauty rest." "Well, no time for that my dear apprentice, my web has been tingling, I can feel it. We have an appointment." "An appointment with who?" "An appointment with some new friends." "Friend friends or friends-with-guns-who-aren't-really-friends-at-all?" "The latter of course," Nancy replied with a Cheshire Cat grin. [hr] Mari dove beneath the wide, clumsy swing of the bat. [i]They were so slow, so weak.[/i] Dancing forward in a blur of motion, she raked her claws cross across the right arm of the bat-wielding hooligan. The bat cluttered to the ground and the hoodlum staggered backwards, disarmed, and clutching his arm. His face was painted a shade of white, equal parts fear and pain, and it filled Mari with an unfamiliar feeling of pleasure. She could smell the blood that dripped onto the pavement. "Pick it up," Mari commanded, kicking the bat towards him. His eyes darted towards the other scumbag that lay sprawled across the pavement, but he made not move to pick up the bat. "Don't play with your food," Nancy chided. She didn't want to listen to him. She'd listened to him enough. He'd told her to be discreet, to be cautious, to take things slow. She didn't see the point. He'd asked her to make some new friends, to make some noise. She was going to do this her way. More importantly, she was enjoying herself. She felt in command. She could smell the fear emanating from the wannabe-gangster as she began to slowly circle him. It felt good, so good. "Tiny, step back, I'll handle this," a woman's voice said. She could smell the burning ashes as the door to the trap house slammed shut. Mari eyed the woman that stepped forward into the street light lazily. She yawned loudly and fidgeted with her ski mask, "I'm not here for you, any of you. I just need you to call for help. I need you to get me the concrete man. I've been thinking about him." "How about I just kill you instead?" The woman offered, spitting onto the pavement. "You can try."