"I'm talking to a spider."

"Not just any spider kiddo," The spider riding on her shoulder replied in a low whisper, his voice heavy with barely contained laughter. She'd missed the joke.

"Clearly," Mari irreverently mused as she pondered what form of fatal psychosis she was currently suffering from. Holding her hands in front of her, she stared with wonder at the claws that had replaced her finger nails. She was no psychiatrist, but she was fairly certain you had to be all kinds of crazy to think that you had razor-sharp, feline claws. Talking spiders were a whole other ballgame, but one she didn't want to think about at the moment. The spider, Mr. Nancy, as he called himself, had promised her that she could definitely, probably, cut through steel with her claws. Provided she hit hard enough. As long as she believed. The souped up reflexes that made her feel like she'd just ingested an ungodly amount of Speed were supposed to help. At least in theory. Mari hated the pompous spider already. At least some of the time. She had to admit the cat eyes were pretty cool, she'd always wanted to be able to see in the dark.

"Check yourself, before you wreck yourself, Mari," Nancy teased. "I'm the one that is going to help you make something of yourself. Oh, the chance that I have given you! The power, the unlimited power! You owe me. Be grateful!"

"I don't owe you shit, bug eyes," Mari hissed back, "You're the one that got me into this mess. You're the one who's going to get me killed."

She Flattened herself against the wall of the alley and she fought off the urge to throw up. The smell of several weeks worth of rotting garbage burned her eyes and a puddle of ominous fluid threatened her shoes. Someone had forgotten to bribe the local trash racket. It was a personal tragedy for Mari, given her temporarily enhanced sense of smell. Mr. Nancy had called it a minor problem, a side effect of her inability to fully control her abilities. He'd told her that he expected her to do better next time. He'd alluded to bear claws, shark teeth, and wings. Mari had no idea what he meant. But it felt impossible to refuse him or to shut him out. The spider had a way with words and there was a strange power in the stories that he told her. She could almost feel the webs that he wove in the shadows and the silk strings that pulled at her limbs.

"I can't have my chosen servant wasting her powers. You've got to prove yourself worthy of my gifts. You have to earn my advice."

"You want me to prove myself? To a spider? Couldn't you just have asked me to catch a fly? That seems like something a spider would want to see."

"I'm not a spider. I shouldn't have to keep telling you that. Besides, I have bigger, juicier prey in mind for you, my young friend."

"Did you forget the part where drug dealers have guns, lots of guns?"

"You want help? Then let me tell you a story-"

Mari groaned, wishing for a swift death. It had only been a week, but she was already tired of the chatty spider and what he saw as valuable advice.

"Once upon a time in Gotham, a man, a man far more mundane than you, dressed up like a bat, a giant bat, and fought crime one punch at a time as a nocturnal detective. Now how is that for a story?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say Nancy," Mari replied with an unapologetic roll of her eyes. "Next you're going to tell me that's there's a long-lost civilization in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean."

"Well, since you mentioned it..."

"Nancy, just tell me what you want."

"I want you to do the right thing."

"You want me to punch a drug dealer in his stupid face?"

"I want you to punch several drug dealers in their stupid faces."

"Hey Nancy."

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you."

"That's the spirit, Mari. Channel that rage. Now go! There's your chance! Your only chance!" Nancy shouted as the street lights flickered, then suddenly died along with power to most of the city block.