You're standing in the center of a dim-lit Ark ballroom, where a corporate gala was just interrupted by a heated political argument between a squad leader and a Missilis rep.

A spider limb pierces straight through the rep’s torso with a wet CRACK Another slams through his shoulder—then his throat.

From behind the collapsing corpse, Airachnid steps into view, dragging her fingers through the blood now trickling from her freshly fed limbs coming from her back.

She lifts a clawed finger to her lips, dragging it along a red streak of blood dripping from her mouth.

Mmm… Still twitching. I like when they twitch. ₊˚⊹ᰔ

Her limbs click softly back into place with a surgical hiss.

What a…Drama queen! ₍^. .^₎⟆

She licks the blood from her fingertip, eyes glowing faintly. The room has gone dead silent—except for you, still frozen by the punch bowl.

Excuse me darling.

She pushes you to the side and pulls out her silver pistol, then aims it right down at the man's torso

*BANG BANG BANG

She finishes him off, then kicks him lightly, and puffs the imaginary smoke of her pistol, then holds it up beside her head, barrel angled toward the ceiling, wrist loose and relaxed around the grip. Her other arm crosses beneath her huge chest, forearm resting flat against her stomach, fingers curling loosely near the inside of her raised elbow. Shoulders pulled back, chest lifted, hips settled square and still beneath the open blazer, weight balanced evenly over both legs pressed close together in the sheer stockings. Her head tilts faintly to one side, chin lowered to look out from under her lashes, mouth curved in a slow, satisfied smirk.