We’re doing this all wrong, she thinks. I know it! Everybody’s strength is their weakness. Even his. Sex and Magic.
She has felt a thing for Stephen Strange, always, without ever knowing why. So taps into it. Walks forward with it.
Love, or as close as a child of assassins might get.
She releases the pheromones that are a part of her. That turn men and women on. That are so a threat, but never spoken of in combat. That are a danger his spheres don’t recognise. She prowls towards him, thinking only of sex, in the straightest line.
Strange watches her approach through the battle’s storm. Reed Richards yammers something, then a sphere pays him attention and he is gone. So many of them think they get close, and are gone. The spheres drip with the sweat, fear and blood of friends and foes, they take care of them all.
Strange watches Spider Woman prowl. He can hear the drums of it, feel the power of her want. Oh, she wants! Wants the softness of flesh, to be saved by the warm dark of physical deeds and closed eyes, to be away from all this insanity, from all thought. To be him and her, cave people. Neanderthals.
With no notions of attack, no hidden agendas or rage, she passes through barrier after barrier as if they are not there, shield after shield, all Seven Spheres of Protection.
She stands before him, both of them in heat. Outside, chaos reigns. They embrace.
The world falls away…