In another room in OsCorp Tower, a vent falls from the ceiling, and onto the floor. It clanks when it does.
Silver Sable swings out, drops her long rifle, and lets herself fall to the floor. She looks around, leans her rifle against the wall near the door, opens the door, looks around, closes it, and gets to work.
She fills her bag with loot. She'll need all she can get, if she's going to wreak genocide on those awful Turks like they've wreaked havoc on North Macedonians, Montenegrins, Romanians, Kurds, Afghanis, Kashmiris, and the like.
When she's ready, she prepares to leave. She gets on her comms, and asks for Crimson Dynamo's twenty. She doesn't answer. She panics, a bit, when Doom doesn't answer, either.
But she can't give up. She just hates to leave Nemirovsky and Doom behind...but the cause will die if she gets caught.
She bursts out, and looks around. There's a window at the end of the tunnel. She smiles, signals her jet, and runs towards it. It gets bigger, as she approaches it...
Alas, an elevator opens near the end of the hallway. Norma steps out, and blocks Silver Sable's path.
Silver Sable stops, grunts, and aims her rifle at Norma.
Norma smiles, flaps her black bob, and snaps her fingers. Behind her, her air force of Gobloids appear.
"I call it my Green Legion," she tells Silver Sable, "to rival Stark International's Iron Legion. There are still a few bugs to work out, but... I do believe they're combat-ready. I just saw some security footage. Your male companion, the king of Latveria, has been assassinated."
Silver Sable screams in rage, raises her rifle, and takes a shot at Norma...with a silver sniper bullet.
One of the Gobloids flies in the bullet's path, of course, and catches it. And he eats it, with his mouth open, for spite. He giggles evilly, after he has.
"Just how primitive do you think I am, Silver Sable? I am Norma Osborn, CEO of OsCorp. And the Osborns have never bred a single dunce." She raises her brows. "Can you truly say THAT much, for the so-called precious 'white people' who you deliberately slaughter Turks, all over the world, your own Symkaria included, to protect?"
"HEY," Silver Sable shouts. "You're white too, in case you sometimes forget!"
Norma spreads out her arms, in a confused stance. "Do I look like a victim to you?"
Tiny, through the air, Mite-Man balloons from Norma's downblouse to the ass of Silver Sable's suit. She's sure got a huge ass. Or rather, to Peter, it LOOKS huge, from down and back here.
Peter's not sure who this Silver Sable is...but she looks fascinating. He decides to follow Silver Sable around, to see what she's up to...if Norma doesn't kill her first.
Now, that seems very likely. Even so, Silver Sable throws her bag to the ground. From it, a pack of robo-wolves springs, and assembles behind their pack alpha: Silver Sable.
"Looks like we're more evenly matched than you suggest," Silver Sable grumbles, "NORMA. Now, let us pass! As a CEO myself, I'd hate to become responsible for the death of a fellow one...especially a fellow WOMAN one!"
Norma giggles. "Don't flatter yourself, little old sable." Behind her, her Green Legion fires up its armament. "You know I like my robot wars just a little on the urban side."
Her Green Legion giggles, and assembles right in front of Norma. Across the divide, the robo-wolves assemble, bare their fangs, and raise the prosthetic hair on their backs.
Tiny as a mite, Peter perches on Silver Sable's knee, and watches what unfolds...
