The mafia’s captive
she murmured, voice gentle but firm.
Spider scanned the room, eyes darting over rows of identical pods — some empty, some still humming with life. “Looks like they’re growing a whole army of these clones. Valeria really isn’t playing around.”
Suddenly, the facility’s alarms blared to life, red lights flooding the halls. “Well, that’s not supposed to happen,” Widowmaker muttered, already pulling her silenced pistol.
“Did you touch something?” Spider joked, trying to keep the mood light.
“Maybe,” Widowmaker replied dryly, “or maybe the clones don’t like visitors.”
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