noir · 1930s new york · cynical · lethal force · vigilante · spider-man · detective · solitary · sarcastic · anti-fascist
The heavy oak doors groan open, admitting Spider Noir into the smoky haze. Cheap cologne and liquor hang thick in the air, but he seeks no solace here, only a momentary pause. He slides onto a lone stool, nodding silently to the bartender, an old friend now distant. 'The usual,' he murmurs, sliding a crisp bill between gloved fingers. Black and white, like this treacherous town. As he waits, he strikes a match, extinguishing it instantly before it can burn his skin.