It was already night, and a uniformed figure with an all-white military suit, and only a red “R” on his chest, wearing a face painting with an “A” also in red, was under a bridge, dark and empty. , and he shouted:
- The world will pay for everything it has already taken from me! I, Typeface, the terror of war, oppression and greed of this world, will put an end to all who dared not support the victims of this corrupt system, where people are treated as less than they are, and as proof of that, I will go after the brightest among the less, and I will return the brightness to all people smaller than her, and I will climb a ladder of wrath, where each rung is a symbol of power shed…
- Cut! Cut! — Screwball's unmistakable voice sounded, and she, her drone and a few more mercenaries with their civilian disguises, came out of the shadows — Gordon, not cool. This is supposed to fit in a short, man. The speech was even cool, but you need to take care of it. A little less Whiplash and a little more Red Skull, eh? More catchphrases and less monologues.
- I always wanted to be an actor, you know? — Gordon Thomas added, showing a smile — But I don't think I'm cut out for the role of a war veteran.
- I'm paying you, Gordon, no matter what you think, just do your job — Screwball snapped — Screwball needs an archenemy, be glad you're going to be my recurring.
They all organized themselves again, and then Screwball started another live, her drone accompanying her as she pretended to be hidden, on a stealth mission to find that archenemy she had designed.
- Guys, I'm in a confidential location. I'm tracking rumors of a terrorist who plans to recreate an attack on the three powers of the United States. Listen… I think I found him — The Drone turns to the scene below the bridge, where Typeface walks slowly, holding a fake communicator to his ear.
- Yes, a ton of C4 explosives, two militia groups and a napalm tank… Yes, sure, I'm waiting for her to show up… Yes, excuse me — He made it as if he had turned off the radio — Screwball! I know you are there! Reveal yourself!
- How did you know? — She came out of “hiding”, striking a dramatic pose.
- I'm Typeface! The Master of Armament and War. For a long time I wanted to repay everything the government of this country failed to do and took from me! It's time for everyone to pay! And it's not going to be a cheerful and public figure, sponsored by more than five famous brands, that will stop me!
- I'm everything you despise, isn't it?
- Yes! You are a symbol of what I antagonize. It's time for me to erase that symbol once and for all!
- You want a little help, Screwball? — An intense light shone on top of them, red with white eyes, it was Spider-Man's symbol — Did you like my spider-signal, by the way? I remembered your favorite hero and I couldn't miss the chance.
- Spider-Man! — Screwball yelled.
- Spider-Man… — Typeface muttered, changing his manic expression to one of anguish.
- I had even forgotten that my shooter did that! Oh, and this too — Spider threw a web at the drone, obstructing its lens.
- I'm in! — Ned replied on the communicator, already taking down the drone as soon as he accessed its base functions.
- You didn't say Spider-Man was coming! — Gordon shouted, cowardly.
- What are you doing here, spider?! — She yelled at him, bewildered and clearly angry — Wasn't the humiliation I put you through enough?
- It ends now.
- Oh, what did Spider-Man come to do with me? — Her voice was pleading now, reaching out for the bracelet — Isn't it?
Her face wore a sadistic expression, even beneath her helmet's orange visor. He knew he was being recorded somewhere, by something, somehow, he could not give room for bad luck. He quickly released webs that immobilized all the mercenaries that were helping with the production, and then only him was left with Screwball and Typeface, the latter who started shooting his machine gun in the direction of the arachnid. He quickly dodged, and with a simple web shot, disarmed the mercenary, who started to run, he easily would have pinned Typeface too, but then Screwball started to attack. He had landed on the roof of the bridge next to her, and she started to attack, but not with her usual sticks, this time they had blades on their ends, they weren't sticks anymore but scythes. He had to deftly dodge her attacks, but he also had to restrain himself from attacking her violently. Unfortunately, that limited his map of actions, and eventually, she managed to slash his left shoulder, which made him jump away from her, and then she gave a smile.
- Oh, come back here, Spider-Man! You will not run away from justice! — Her gaze was obsessive, she really enjoyed hurting him.
- Chair nerd... — He whispered — Is it too far?
- I've practically just begun, Spider-Man. You will have to hold her.
And then Spider-Man leapt behind her, and she continued her scythe attacks. He waited patiently between the criminal's strokes, and at just the right moment he leapt back, and suddenly hurled his webs, which clung to the scythes, and with a single tug he sent them out of her reach. She looked a lot angrier now, and the webhead had to admit, he feared what would happen next. She raised her right arm, and the paintball cannon opened, her smile was ecstatic, and completely insane. She started throwing the balls and jumped onto the roof of the bridge again. His spider-like movements were almost indistinguishable from the darkness of that place in the middle of the night, he had good luck not making her field of vision clear. She started demanding that he come out of the shadows soon, and when she saw that he didn't answer, she started walking towards the scythes that he had disarmed.
Since he couldn't give her any room to feel relaxed, he quickly asked Ned about the progress again. With no positive response, he had to intercept the two-faced vigilante again, jumping between her and the scythes. Not before long, the balls started flying again, and he had to rely on his reflexes to dodge the flurries, catching one in its webs before it even exploded, and redirecting another to hit Screwball's feet. She snarled, and opened another launcher in her left hand, squirting some kind of solvent to loosen the feet, and as she did, Spider ran to the scythes, and broke them with his hands. The influencer started to clap her hands, standing while her solvent worked on her glue paint.
- Congratulations, spider. Let's talk, what do you think? I'm reasonable, I want to hear what you want with me now.
- Only if you turn off whatever recording is running.
- Privacy? I respect that — She tapped her arm controls again — Done.
- Just a moment — Soon he whispered to Ned — did she really turn everything off?
- No — came the answer.
- Good — He went back to talking to her — What else did I come here for, if not to arrest you.
- Arrest me? Hahahahaha! You can't arrest me, mister canceled number one. I have the whole internet eating out of my hand, I have the power to control people's opinion, you can't stand up to me. You should have stayed with me.
- You could have been a real hero. Now you're preventing people who really want to do good from doing it because you don't want to lose your sponsorship.
- What I do is art, spider. My name is proof of that, how do you distract the average American public in the midst of a crisis? Screwball Comedy, something much more meaningful about the kind of audience we're pleasing. And one more thing, I help a lot more people than you ever could. I give people jobs like, oh, is that Typeface?
Soon, Spider shot another web, disarming Typeface, who was hiding behind a lamp post. Screwball huffed, dissatisfied, and he walked over to him.
- I promise to go without resistance if you don't punch me, Spider — He was shaking.
- Look what you did! One of my best mercenaries turned into a crybaby, you know what I'm going to have to do?!
- No… — Typeface started shaking, horrified.
- Calm down... What is she trying to say? — Spider-Man pointed out, having no time to react.
Screwball threw one of her paintballs into poor Gordon's face. His face was covered in the gun’s colored-glue, and he kept trying to get the compound off his face, desperate for air. Spidey ran to try to help him, but realized that he couldn't touch the paint, since Gordon's own hand had invariably stuck to it at the slightest touch. Then, Spider rushed at Screwball, who was still waiting for the solvent to act, and grabbed her left arm, trying to force her to fire the solvent at the man. With a loud "Let go of me!", she pushed the helpless Peter Parker to the ground, who could do nothing but watch poor Typeface choke to death. The hero's wrath had just been awakened, he clenched his fists, knees on the ground, while Screwball finished freeing herself from the trap, and walked slowly towards the spider.
- I can't let anyone know what happened... I liked him, Spider. I'm going to have to do the same to you.
- Peter… What happened? — Ned murmured.
- You killed that man! — He replied to both.
- I don't like to kill, webhead. But sometimes I need to it.
- He wasn't even the first?!
- No, but with luck, you'll be the last one.
- It’s finished — Ned said to the communicator — There's no going back, I have access to everything about her, end it now.
In an almost supernatural leap, Spider-Man charged towards Screwball, and with a punch, cracked her visor, making her stagger backwards. Still clearly stunned, she spat out a tooth, and glared at the arachnid, blood pouring from her mouth, her eye dark with intense rage. She ran towards him, and the two engaged in a brief but bloody battle. With swift jabs, of what Peter assumed was karate, she ferociously charged at the hero, but she didn't stand a chance against her opponent's superhuman powers. In a quick movement, Spider-Man punched her in the stomach, she was frozen, which gave him the chance to knock her to her knees with a sweep, and immobilize her, tying her arms and legs with his webs. Soon, she was unconscious, and Peter asked if he should take her. Ned advised that no, they hadn't leaked all of it yet, so Spider-Man left, taking the unburst ball of paint with him, just in case he needed to prove what had happened.
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