Re: [Starter] Marc Spector
Up on the neighboring rooftop, Edith watched in dour silence as the thugs vanished underground. A cellar could mean a lot of things. Could be one of many little hidey-holes they have around the area. Could lead upstairs into the building itself as a back entrance. Could have a long tunnel that lead to a whole other building, as was so often the case for the speakeasies and runners. No matter what though, it was trouble.
"Alright, we need cover. Tong and the Mafia talk to each other..." Edith muttered aloud. She couldn't afford to be seen outright, not when there were people after her. She needed a mask.
All at once, the dark fabric of Edith's blouse surged up from her shoulders like a fluid rather than cloth. It warped and wove its way up, joining with her hair to shroud her entire head, to form into a cowl and long cape down her back. Like a negative of Marc's own garb, rendered in inky black rather than bone white. "Nope! Nuh-uh, nah! Absolutely not." Edith insisted from under the appearance of Moon Knight. "These are like his religious wear! That ain't somethin' to mess with. No wearin' stuff from religions what ain't ours."
The cape wound itself around Edith's form as her dark clothing shifted once more. The mask pulled away into a habit instead, as the rest pulled down into a long, modest nun's garb. Edith just rolled her eyes. "Oh, we got jokes now? Real funny, smart-ass." she grumbled as she looked herself over. Actually, it wasn't a bad look. She liked the boots. But it was no help to her in the moment. She needed a proper disguise, something that covered and protected and...
A smirk lit across Edith's lips as her dark clothing flowed like fluid once more, to fully shroud her entire body from head to toe. She was left in the dark vest, striped trousers, and goggle-set mask of one friendly-neighborhood wall crawler. Given Edith's slim figure, she passed rather well for a man anyway when none of her other features could be seen. She gripped about to test the stretch of her gloves, and her smirk remained in full from behind the cover of her mask. "This'll do. Hope you don't mind us takin' your look for a while, Web-Head..."
"Spider-Man", such as it appeared, hopped down from the edge of the roof to land deftly on the battered alleyway below. She crept to the cellar, not perturbed by the lock that secured it at all. Edith set her palm flat on the lock and, unseen from outside, more of that viscous matter flowed off her to fill the lock and grip into its mechanisms. With a dull clunk muffled by her hand, it unlocked and the viscous Symbiote-matter retracted back into her. Now or never... Edith ever so cautiously drew open the cellar door to peer through the gap, not yet ready to delve inside until she could scope it out a bit from outside.