"Listen guys, I really think if we all just relax and you put the guns down, we can have a--oop!"
She swung out of the way of submachine gun fire, depositing herself in the rafters of the warehouse she'd found these lowlifes at.
"--or you can not listen to the super nice lady trying to save you a trip to the hospital." Trinity finished, voice flat in a way that even behind a mask, one could tell her annoyance. "O-kayyy, let's get this done then!"
Her webs made quick work of the rifles of two of the men providing suppressive fire, tugging them in and sticking them to the wall whilst she swung into a air-somersault and pivoted so her feet caught onto the ceiling, webs firing and grabbing those same two men, trapping them against the ground.
A few of the gang members were actually using their braincells correctly and trying to take cover; a shame she was more nimble than them. They were stuck to walls and floors and sotrage containers in just a few short minutes.
Once she'd located the illegal cargo, contacted the authorities and requested an RA, she was off. Her slinging took her through the evening air, swinging her legs to help propel her forward with each downpass.
A vibration in her jacket pocket had her pausing, sticking to a building wall well above twelve stories and pulling her phone out.
'Yola β€οΈ is calling...'
"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuuuuheyy, baby!" She hummed, phone pressing to her masked ear while she sat against the side of the building thousands of feet in the air.
"Market, yeah, we ran out of those Belvita cookies I like so I figured--"
"Why is your suit not in your closet?"
The heroine's voice died in her throat, brain working in overdrive to make a quick lie; something to get her girlfriend off her back for a few seconds while she swung back home and snuck in.
"Huck has it, he wanted to make some adjustments."
"Farm Boy has your suit."
A rustling sound was heard over the line before--
"Is this suit invisible? 'Cos I don't rememebr getting one, webhead." Huckleberry noted, voice a bit echoey in a way that hinted at Yolanda being on speaker.
Trinity mouthed a silent 'motherfucker,' eyes rolling skyward as she chuckled a forced sound.
"Musta lost it in the wash! I'll look for it whe--"
"--yes, ma'am?" She coughed softly, back ramrod straight as her girlfriend's dubbed 'pissed off' voice came through.
"You fractured three ribs only a few days ago and you're flying through the city again--"
"I don't really fly, babe--"
"Sorry." She hissed out with a wince at the flat tone of the surgeon.
"I want you back at your apartment in five."
"I'm like--like twenty minutes away, Yola!"
A snorting laugh from Dennis in the background as Yolanda's serious as sin timbre peaked back through.
"Guess you better get swinging then, Spiderwoman?"
With that the call ended, leaving Trinity to abuse every last bit of web fluid in her cannisters to get home.
Even Spiderwoman couldn't beat Yolanda Garcia's ire.