Come on out, kid.
You guys are gonna laugh.
No one is gonna laugh.
[Hughie sighs heavily and walks out wearing Webweaver's supersuit. M.M, Annie, and Kimiko are unable to contain their laughter.]
Guys, come on. You–You promised!
[texting to Hughie] You're like a Times Square Elmo.
[laughing] Oh, my God.
Okay, you know what? [removes mask] Fuck you guys.
[coughs] How did a junkie like Webweaver score an invite to this anyway?
Don’t know, but A-Train said he’s on the list.
God, why does he wear it so tight? [sniffs] Smells like ass sweat and broken dreams in here.
Good. It’ll hide your scent from Tek Knight. You don’t wanna give him any tells.
Wait, Tek Knight has super smell?
Yeah. Smell, vision, taste, touch. He’s like Sherlock Holmes on meth.
I don’t like this. He’s gonna make Hughie–
How else are we gonna find out what Sage is cooking? [to Hughie] Just gotta work fast, kid. Take these bugs, put ’em all over the party, and lure Tek Knight back here as soon as you can.
Okay.
We’ll take care of the rest.
Oh, God. Okay, comm check-ins every two minutes. Just say something, okay? Anything.
Yeah. Copy.
In Webweaver’s voice, motherfucker.
Uh… Copy, dawg.
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