► Jusqu'à ce Que la Mort, Nous Sépare -- @orphees ◄
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Cornered. Trapped. Those are two words the spider never thought she’d be. She is prepared for such situations, of course. She was trained to endure rigorous combat and even potential capture and torture; she will gladly call on that training in the event that the airship she’s called out for with her distress signal leaves her stranded.
But she can’t help the frustration that pulls down at her lips as she stares at the dead end of the subway tunnel -- the one that was supposed to have an exit. Whoever is responsible for this out of date map on her visor is going to have a very, very bad day when she gets out of here. The spider whips around, eight eyes searching the darkness for the heat signals that were pursuing her. She managed to out pace them somewhat but now with her halted progress... they’re catching up.
So be it.
Widowmaker gets down on a knee, reloading her rifle and shouldering it.
Let them come -- she’ll pick them off. One. By.
One.
