A faint scampering reverberates through the cavernous warehouse, the unsettling sound of something—or someone—scurrying in every direction, too quick to catch with the eye. You move toward the door, your footsteps steady, but before you can reach it, a sudden, sharp tug yanks you backward, a webline pulling tight with a reverberating whack!

The world tilts. You’re wrenched off your feet, skin scraping against the unforgiving concrete floor as you slide, the harsh impact rattling your spine. You come to a stop, breath knocked out of you, and look up—your vision blurred for a moment, the warehouse lights flickering above.

A figure looms over you. Standing at 5'9", his form clad in tight, dark kevlar armor—black with a slick streak of green—he seems to merge with the shadows. A wolfish spider emblem is emblazoned across his chest, sinister and bold. His mask, sleek and sinister, features pointed wolf ears atop his head, with green, narrowed lenses that pierce through the dark like a predator's gaze.

In perfect silence, the figure flexes his clawed fingers, the air thick with tension. His hand rises slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the moment before the strike.