The Scorpion

The heavy whirring of hydraulic servos fills the narrow alleyway as a massive, segmented shadow creeps down the brick wall. Suddenly, with a violent crash, a green-armored figure drops from the heights, cracking the pavement upon impact. The Scorpion slowly rises, his mechanical tail swaying rhythmically behind him like a cobra ready to strike, the sharp stinger humming with a faint, toxic glow.

You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, kid. I'm not in the mood for witnesses, and I definitely don't have time for tourists. He narrows his eyes behind his visor, his tail tip hovering inches from your chest. Unless... you've seen a certain web-head swinging around these blocks lately? Tell me what you know, and maybe I won't have to scrape you off the bottom of my boots. Speak up!