The church bells hummed with a toll to scare the pigeons away as the common folk of Florencia gathered for Sunday mass. This mass was unlike usual Sunday tradition, however. Guards patrolled the streets, heavily armed with the finest steel from the armory of Roma. Their warmed blades glistened with sunlight, letting the church-goers feel a sense of security while the devious mind felt a little warped to the sanctuary of the slummed nether. Archers patrolled the clay-tiled roofs, their bows already drawn with arrows as sharp as hawk talons ready to swoop down and strike the unsuspecting. Clergymen kept their hands clasped together as they stood to keep the grand doors open. But all paused for the grand entrance of a particular fellow-a man of godlike stature-to the eyes of the Christian followers. Grand Inquisitor Fettuccini-Alfredo strolled casually through the crowds. His elder eyes remained shut as guards led him in. There was an eagerness to flood the cathedral upon noticing this man's arrival. Some of the guards shooed folks away with the blunt of their spears and swords. The doors creaked shut, the bells hummed away... silently...
The market courtyard drew a silence if not for the clatter of chain mail in the streets and the stretching of leather upon the rooftops. An archer wandered off into space. His grip loosening as he began to bore of his duty. Suddenly: a thrust of air nearly knocked him off the roof. The archer dropped his bow and arrow and peered down. Blood! A gaping hole greeted his vision unwelcoming with crimson plasma pouring out to stain his Florencia seal. The archer shivered in fear, too withdrawn to speak. He dropped to his knees to embrace deaths cold embrace. A hand reached around, cupping the man's cheek from behind. The archer only shivered in fear as he watched the hand cup his face. Snap! It was all over. An assassin trotted the roof casually with the finesse of a common squirrel. One by one, the archers fell to his blade, always unaware of the threat. Down below, a guard spit on the cobbled ground before him as he wasted time. "Hmf!" The sudden noise startled him. Looking up, he watched as the last archer finally fell. The guard looked all around him at the other guards staring off into space. "Wake up! Wake up! An assassin is among us!" the other guards perked up immediately. They looked befounded by the sight of the empty rooftops. The trails of blood that snaked down the walls were proof enough that there was a serious threat. But where was this assassin?
Clever as he was, the assassin was already in the cathedral. The guards scrambled out in the courtyard while the hooded man dashingly parkoured his way through cheap construction in the belltowers. He could hear the lethargic echo of Grand Inquisitor Fettuccini-Alfredo. Descending down the wooded beams, he made his way closer to the source. It was obvious who this assassin's target was. He breached the grand hall from the skyroof entrance and carefully made his way across as he hovered at least 100 feet above the churchgoers. The assassin dug his soles into the wall lining and, like a cat, silently made his way across the room with the utmost silence and carefulness. Not once did his foot slip. While no one looked, he slid down the wall and tip-toed his way into an opening in the pews. The guards were focused on the Grand Inquisitor's speech, as were the Florencia folk. The assassin was more focused on the glimmering little trinket dangling on the elder's chest: the symbol of the Templar order. Just the way the trinket reflected sunlight was enough to irk the assassin. Carefully, he moved up a row. And another. And another. Finally, he sat in the very front row while his hood shadowed his face.
But something felt... wrong. The Grand Inquisitor looked all around the room as he spoke and paused briefly as he noticed the assassin. "Was he there before?" he asked himself. His speech became a little stressed. The folks began to look at one another in confusion. Suddenly, it clicked. "A plague! A human plague, if you can even call it that! You won't have me!" the Inquisitor began to flee as guards scrambled around to figure out what was wrong. The folk were uneasy. The doors opened wide as two guards rushed in with one holding the dead body of a freshly slain archer. "He's here! The assassin is here!" Now the folk were panicking. Everyone ran in every direction. Guards were getting knocked down. Grand Inquisitor Fettuccini-Alfredo scurried away as best he could, holding his robe up so not to trip on it. Suddenly, the assassin held his arm out. A web of white strands breached from a contraption on his gauntlet. It stretched as far as the beams above. The assassin pulled himself up and swung towards his target, firing a web to pause his pace. "Spiderman!" the frightened man whispered as he squirmed to get away. The assassin leaped down in front of him, crouched and ready to pounce. "You killed my Uncle Benatori." the assassin whispered. "No! Please! They made me do it! I swear!" the feared man shouted. Suddenly, his ramble was cut off by a blade that was lodged straight through his throat. Spiderman had assassinated his target. The guards were finally able to catch up and began to charge at the assassin, but Spiderman was cunning. He shot web-like bullets from his wrist to incapacitate the armored men. Tossing a smoke bomb down in front of him, Spiderman suddenly vanished. "What? Wh-Where did he go?!" a guard shouted through the fog. Spiderman watched as the reckoning was simply beginning. None were prepared for the wallcrawler.