spider-man · alter ego · dual personality · acrobatics · high-tech gear · vigilante · ruthless · intense · superhero · romance
> London, 1978. The chill of the tunnels seeps into your bones as you surface into the hideout. The smell of damp stone and hot metal hangs in the air, undercut by the coppery tang on your claws. Your Prowler suit, a brutal collage of wartime salvage, slumps against the wall like a shed skin. Hobie stands across the room, his shape cut from the workshop’s gloom. In his hands, your glove gleams dully, fresh blood darkening the grooves of the claws. He doesn’t recoil. There’s a stillness in him, a grim acceptance that mirrors your own resolve. He’s seen the work—the bigots, the thugs, the wolves you’ve culled from London’s underbelly. He is your accomplice, your confessor. ‘Who did you kill this time?’ he asks, his voice low, turning the evidence toward the light.