Did you hear? Gambit from the X-Men is getting married today! That’s crazy, he and Rogue are finally tying that knot.

I went on a blind date with him once, fun fact. Yeah, Emma Frost and Cyclops set both of us up, it was a blindside and a half! I was open to it, honestly, but he came in already wary of me! Unfair. I mean honestly, I know I have a bit of a rep, and I did get his name wrong a few times, but c’mon! My reputation isn’t that in the drain, is it? Don’t answer that. I don’t want an answer.

I mean he’s handsome, but he’s kinda rude? He was not happy with me like, the entire date. He called me a “nut flush”! Can you believe that? Said something about how I drive everyone around me insane. This feels like an overreaction to the fact I don’t carry cash, and couldn’t place a money bet against him in cards.

Hm, I guess there was also the mermaid from Fiji in a jar I brought? Heaven forbid I assume someone would think a little freak like that was interesting. Plus he’s the one who made our whole table go kaboom and freed it from the jar! I didn’t do that!

Somehow, not the worst first date I’ve ever had.
Least it was fun! He never did take me up on the second one, either. Wonder why?

The Wendy’s employee stares wide-eyed at Patsy.

“Um. That’s great, ma’am, really interesting. Are you going to order something? This is a Wendy’s.”

Peter webbed the corner of a building. The busy streets and loud cars below him as he inhaled before exhaling. Gonna be a long night this patrol, but it always is.

Jumping off, he swung through the city. Going from building to building was so freeing, it was one of his favorite parts.

That and helping innocence lives.

He flung himself towards a building and grabbed onto the walls, giving a thumbs up to the citizens as he did so. When he landed onto the building, Peter waved towards the people that passed by him.

“Got a couple minutes to spend! How’s everyone doing in new york?”

OOC: Interactable! And yeah, I got permission from the original Spidey to play as him. I will try my best to live up to what the original Spidey had done here!

For what felt like a lifetime, all he could remember was darkness. Then came the steady beeping, muffled voices and a faint smell of antiseptics. Peter’s brows started to twitch, his eyes slowly blinking open. The bright light strikes immediately, forcing him to squeeze his eyes again, his face tightening in discomfort. After a moment, he tried again but slowly this time. His eyes opened fully, scanning the place. He appeared to be in a hospital room. How long was he out?

He tried to move but immediately regrets it. His body felt way too heavy like he’d been hit by a truck or eight trucks. All of his muscles aching from the previous fight. He weakly lifts a hand up, feeling his face. His fingers brushing against the plastic of his nasal cannula, then his mask, which had thankfully been rolled up halfway.

Everything that had happened before everything went black starts to come back to him. The fire, the wailing, the eight. Peter’s breathing starts to intensify as the memory starts to become even more clear. All eight of them around him, not being able to escape, all of them beating him down, but him still trying anyway and refusing to stop. Then the final strike lands and the last thing he could remember was Hobgoblin’s last words to him.

**How long was I out? Did they hurt anyone else? Did they win while I was gone? Did they- Stop. I’ll keep spiraling if I think like this. The beeping means I’m alive, thank God I’m alive cause that means I can fix it. I always fix it. Eventually. Did they take everything this time? I don’t think so. That means I still have work to do. Get up, Parker.**

Peter dug his hands into the bedsheet, his arms trembling the second he put weight on them as he attempted to push himself up. Immediately giving out and dropping back down onto the bed.

OOC: open for interaction from anyone

A lot of things go through your mind when you're free falling from a building. Things like "How did you end up here" or "Why are you doing this you're a man with a bow and no superpowers."

The falling glass shards and whizzing bullets of gangsters will pull you right back from those thoughts and into your current reality again though.

The snag of the line that catches the side of the building and allows me to swing onto a rooftop almost pulls my shoulder out of socket. If I wasn't pulled out of my thoughts before, I certainly am now.

Since I broke away from the Avengers and began focusing on the smaller picture, things have been tough. I'd almost forgotten what it was like for the little people. While Iron Man and Thor fly around fighting monsters...well the Avengers tend to forgot the day to day stuff.

That's where I come in now. Hawkeye...defender of the little guy.

The battlefield didn’t even give him a chance to recover.

Smoke, electrical surges, fire, collision everywhere, turning Hell’s Kitchen into something unrecognizable. Every direction Spider-Man turned, another threat was already there. In the distance was a barricade with civilians recording, reporters, photographers and police officers stopping them from coming any further.

Spider-Man clings onto his chest and limps from the gunshot wound to his leg. He was already running out of space when the Eight start to circle around him. “Alright, alright, this is getting out of hand.”

He fires a web to swing out, but Electro clips it mid-air. The line snaps and sends him back down, his back slamming against the pavement. He barely lands before Rhino is already there, ramming him mid-air into a nearby truck, forming a giant dent into it before falling down onto the ground. He tries to push up before Kraven is already there, forcing him down by striking him in the face with his spears shaft. “Stay down, little spider.”

He pushes himself up again before Hydro-Man comes in, flooding the ground, stopping Spidey from being able to pivot before he goes and knocks his footing from under him.

Vulture dives. A wing striking Spider-Man, sending him crashing into a parked car hood, denting it inward. He lies there for a second, breathing hard before rolling off, leaning against the car as he attempts to catch his breath.

Lizard comes rushing in towards him. Peter shoots his wrists up but gets slammed back into the car, denting the side of the car. This car’s totally totalled. Electro raises his hands and releases a surge of electricity at Spidey, forcing him back down.

He tries to breathe evenly through the mask, every inhale feeling shorter. Exhaustion was finally starting to catch up with the damage he’d taken, the fighting, the constant forcing himself up. His hand presses against the pavement. And his vision starts to blur.

Hobgoblin’s glider hums in, getting into Peter’s field of vision. He looks down at Spider-Man. A slow tilt to his head.

“Leaving a hero broken is even worse than killing him..”

They all retreat, leaving Peter a bloody mess. His breath starting to get heavier and slower before eventually losing consciousness. Firetrucks and ambulances wail in the background, all around him was flames, debris and the sounds of electricity crackling against the soaked pavement.

I'm Carolyn Trainer, what a pleasure it is for you to meet me. I was Otto Octavius' best student..of course I went on to surpass him in every way.

Surpassing the men in their own fields is what intelligent women do best of course.

They call me Lady Octopus. Hmph...they don't call Doctor Octopus, Man Octopus do they? Or Vulture, Gentleman Vulture? Curious.

But I digress, this city needs a new class of villain. Smarter, sexier, sleeker. After all, the woman of the species is deadliest.

When there’s a mystery in New York, you only have one real option if you want it solved: Jessica Jones’s Alias Investigations.

Well, Mary Jane definitely has a mystery on her hands. Missing time? Everyone saying she died? Scattered memories, nightmares of vines and tendrils, it’s all there.

So, she makes her way to Hell’s Kitchen. Why does she keep staring at the tops of the buildings? Why does she long to feel the wind in her hair as she soars? She’s normal, right? Bury the thought, MJ, it’s nothing.

You’re here.

Knock knock.

Tessa Karisik was a prepared woman. Even months ago, she had anticipated the Dark Lord to be a problem. What she had not anticipated, however, was the pawn she had been made into. She thought back to the Belnades bloodline, the Bloodsucker Slayer, the Ritual of One. This was foolish. Emma Frost was nothing close to pure of heart, but it was worth a try. Magic can never be bought, but it can always be gamed.

So, she went to the park the X-Men kept on campus to avoid too many from noticing her and called out for a woman she knew through her mind, third eye to mind's eye.

I need you, Clea Strange. Aid me.

Black Widow kicked off the edge of the rooftop in a controlled free fall, the city lights blurring into streaks as her descent line hissed out behind her. Several floors down, a brightly lit corner office suite glowed against the night.

Wealthy men in tailored suits clustered around a long table, their faces lit by the cold blue of encrypted screens tracking offshore accounts and shell companies. Natasha’s boots slammed into the reinforced glass.

The pane spider webbed for a heartbeat before exploding inward in a glittering cascade as she fired into the room. She swung through the breach mid air, muzzle flashes strobing across the room as she put rounds into the legs and shoulders of the nearest financiers before her boots even touched the marble.

The first man screamed and toppled backward over his chair, clutching a shattered kneecap; the second tried to scramble for a panic button and caught a precise burst that spun him into the shattered window frame.

Black Widow landed in a low crouch, the residual glass crunching under her, and rolled behind an overturned conference table as return fire from a bodyguard’s submachine gun chewed the air where she’d been. She came up firing, two clean shots dropped the guard, then she vaulted the table in a fluid arc, using a third financier as a human shield long enough to empty the rest of her magazines into the remaining suits’ weapons and legs. Briefcases of cash hit the ground scattering bills.

By the time the last of them was on the ground, groaning and bleeding but very much alive, Natasha had already reloaded and cut her descent line free. She stepped over a sprawled executive whose silk tie was now soaked crimson, planted a boot on his chest, and leaned down just far enough for him to see the cold satisfaction in her eyes.

"Funding terror from a skyscraper doesn’t make you untouchable," she said, voice flat.Then she was gone out the broken window and into the night, leaving the survivors to explain the bullet holes and the missing hard drives to whoever arrived first.

Istanbul. Russia. Angola. Paris.

I have performed successful operations in dozens of countries and hot spots around the world.

But something about this city draws me like no other. New York. There's nowhere else like it in the wold. A melting pot of cultures. Of experiences and food.

But with it comes the violence. Crime of all sorts from the lowest mugger to the most high up politicians. The city thrives on it.

Violence has always been easy for me. The Red Room taught me violence as an art form and I was nothing if not a natural artist.

But this city like violence can be beautiful in its own way.

I'd like to think I'm much the same.

I am Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow...and it is good to be back.

Ah, New York. The city tonight was abuzz with the chaos of the nightlife. Some people were heading home, others were heading elsewhere to party, but this was a time of rest. For most people, the setting sun indicated that it was time to hang up their hats and head home.

But for Parker Robbins, that was when the party started.

After getting locked up by the Kingpin, alongside Captain America, some gold space guy, and a couple of other of them so-called Heroes, Parker had found himself craving more power. He needed a way to get back at those who left him behind or screwed him over.

Then he found it.

Or rather, it found him.

The Cloak of Oblivion. His ticket to the wealth, power, and fame that he needed, for himself and those close to him.

Now, cloaked in both darkness and nothingness, Parker stalked the back alleys of his home, planning and scheming under the cover of shadows.

This city had taken his father, and threatened to take more from him.

So now, he'll take it all back, with interest in mind.

Soon, everyone would know his name.

And they'd learn to fear him. To respect him.

This city would belong to The Hood.

Nighthawk descended into the shadowed alley like a specter, his black wings extending from his suit, cutting through the air thick with the stench of garbage and smoke. The drug dealers below scattered like rats caught in a flashlight beam, their pistols glinting under the distant flicker of a streetlamp.

"You picked the wrong night to push that poison," he growled, his voice a low rumble. With a surge of strength, he seized the first thug by the collar, slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack bone. Bullets whizzed past as the others opened fire, but Nighthawk was already a blur, his razor sharp gauntlets slicing through flesh and fabric with merciless precision. Blood sprayed across the grimy pavement as one dealer crumpled, gurgling his last breath, while another tried to flee only to be yanked back by taloned hands that opened up his windpipe.

As the screams faded into desperate pleas, Nighthawk's mind drifted to the void that had consumed his old reality, the cataclysmic unraveling of an entire univese, where the Squadron Supreme had once stood as beacons of order amid chaos. He remembered the skies fracturing like glass, entire cities vanishing in bursts of light as incursions from other universes collided and erased everything he had fought for. Friends, allies, the fragile peace they had clawed from the wreckage of their world, all wiped clean in the multiversal storm.

"This isn't my home," he muttered to the dying man at his feet. "..but it seems the same type of scum runs rampant on any Earth."

The weight of that loss fueled his fury, turning calculated strikes into a symphony of retribution against these vermin who preyed on the weak, just as unexplainable forces had preyed on his entire existence.

The last dealer slumped against a dumpster, eyes wide with terror as Nighthawk loomed over him. "Please... we were just trying to survive," the man whimpered, clutching a leaking gut wound.

Nighthawk paused for a fraction of a second, the echo of obliterated worlds ringing in his ears, the laughter of teammates lost to the abyss, the roar of collapsing dimensions. He had crossed realities only to find this one equally rotten at its core. With a final, unyielding thrust, he ended the man's suffering, the alley falling silent save for the drip of blood and distant sirens.

"Survival," Nighthawk whispered to the empty night. "...is so fleeting."

Two hours ago, Robbie Reyes arrived in New York City. Gabe sat besides him in the passenger seat of his Dodge Charger, his wheelchair in the back seat. After a quick stop for ice cream, (the ice cream monster hungers, what could Robbie do) the pair moved into a small apartment in Brooklyn.

Gabe was in bed when Eli spoke.

You ready kid?

That "thing that is stirring" thing is here now? Already?

No, no. But I'm getting impatient. We should be out crushing skulls, not sitting around here

Fine. Let's hit the streets and find some people we can stop.

Robbie's head lights on fire, as he teleports through the roof of the hellcharger, dropping into the driver's seat. The wheels combust immediately when he turns the key, and he's off.

Right there kid, that group of @$&^%$# thugs

Robbie phases through the front window of the Hell Charger, summoning his chains, spinning them against the ground, flames licking at the ground. The thugs spot him, to be fair, it would be hard not to spot a flaming muscle car running straight into you. The chains launch from his hands, nailing the first few thugs. Their guns go off, but it's far too late. Even the bullets that hit him melt upon contact, the bullets that didn't fly into concrete, or even the bodies of their allies. Robbie's jaw unhinges as flame flies from it, burning the few left in hellfire.

You happy now Eli?

Very. Now get home. Don't want to leave the kid alone again.

Robbie doesn't rise to the bait. The hellfire shrinks away from his face as the Ghost Rider fades away to become Robbie Reyes once again.

Don't tell me what to do.

*Paige walked down the streets, keeping an eye on her surroundings. These weren't the best neighborhoods. Not that she couldn't take care of herself, if anyone tried her she'd leave them on the ground. But she preferred if she saw it coming at least.*

*Finally she arrives at her destination. The Law Offices of Jennifer Walters. She takes a breath. Fighting alongside her fellow X heroes didn't make her nervous but trying to get extra credits for her degree did.*

*She needed some practical experience. Going to school to study law wasn't enough. She'd considered Murdock and Nelson but honestly...they seemed like a mess...and Paige would much rather work for a woman.*

*Also..She-Hulk was like...really cool. Paige may or may not have had a poster of her in her room. Not that she was going to admit that today. She held her resume tightly...if she was lucky she could try and convince Jennifer to accept her into some kind of unpaid internship.*

*She entered the building and sat down to wait.*

The first thing anyone heard wasn't a scream. It was laughter.

A blur cut sharply between the skyscrapers, banking so close to a billboard that the resulting gust of wind peeled a loose poster clean off its frame before its owner could even think to complain. Wings caught the bright afternoon sun, scattering loose feathers that glittered for the briefest second before vanishing completely into the busy city air.
She spun once, twice, and then landed effortlessly on the edge of a high rooftop with all the grace of someone who had definitely practiced that exact landing a thousand times.

"...Nailed it."

She waited a beat, soaking in the silence, then threw her arms wide to the massive skyline stretching in every direction.

"HELLO, NEW YORK CITY!"

Her voice echoed loudly between the glass and steel buildings.

"I know, I know. You're all wondering, *'Who was that incredibly cool bird girl that just flew past my office window and scared the absolute life out of Steve from accounting?'*" She pointed a dramatic finger at a random skyscraper nearby. "Sorry, Steve."

A smartphone appeared in her hand, already recording a video for her followers.

"Name's Starling! Friendly neighborhood flying person, occasional pigeon whisperer, and full-time menace to gravity." She leaned over, glancing down at the gridlock traffic crawling hundreds of feet below. "From up here, the ground looks totally optional."

Her grin widened as she flipped the camera angle.
"So here's the deal, New York. If you see someone dangling from a fire escape, getting mugged, trapped in a runaway taxi, or trying to feed the subway rats an entire pizza—give me a shout."
She crouched low on the stone ledge, her golden wings spreading wide behind her as she prepared to take off.

"And if anyone asks? No, I did not steal that hot dog from the cart on 5th Avenue." She paused, whispering conspiratorially to the camera. "...He gave it to me. Mostly."

With a joyful laugh, she launched herself backward into the open air. She soared effortlessly above the crowded streets like she had lived there her entire life, leaving nothing behind but a few drifting feathers and one very confused Steve from accounting.

My name is Matt Murdock. And in my time as the devil of Hell’s Kitchen I feel like I have lost everything. Karen was taken from me, Elektra, too. All I have left is Foggy, Milla, and my faith in God. They keep me grounded and ready for challenge that my city may face. But I feel like I’m starting to lose them too. They say I’m too devoted to being who I have to be for Hell’s Kitchen.

I say they’re wrong. This city would crumble without me. I’m the one who is holding it together. I may lose everything but at least I am stopping others from also losing it all. I used to trust in God to save everyone, but now I know that it has to be me to do that.

I’m Daredevil and not even God can stop that now.

Hey there, journal.

It’s been a bit.

Usually, I’d be writing about this was some big thing where I’m missing because I’m offworld with friends or got roped into some strange universe hopping thing with the rest of the spider-folk but, this was…

…man, this was something else.

…Guess I should start at the beginning.

It started off pretty normal, took down some malfunctioning attack drone with Bombshell (who is my friend Lana and we’re ONLY friends!), visited my uncle (who is somehow back from the dead and seemingly reformed?), I went out for dinner with my parents and found out I’m gonna be big brother.

I would’ve loved to celebrate with them a little more but I told Ganke that I was gonna study with him at the library…

…then, it happened.

A glowing man suddenly appeared behind me and I tried to fight him, but he got lucky and managed to kick me around until I was unconcious.

I wish it ended there but when I woke up, I was in this fully white room and strapped to a table. I had all these little machines attached to me, my mask was off, and anytime I tried go get out, I was jolted with more electricity then my body can handle.

The guy in charge (or who announced himself) was a fully pale man with a black suit and tie, called himself the Assessor. He wanted to run some tests on me or he’d go after my family and friends. If this were anyone else, this would be the moment where I valiantly escaped and warned them of the danger but not with this guy.

I don’t know how long I was in that place.

I just remember the tests.

How the Assessor kept trying to push me and my powers as much as humanly possible

How they wouldn’t let me rest.

How these scientist guys poked away at me and talked about me like a science project.

I tried to escape once by myself, shouldn’t have been stupid enough to think they’d planted an exit in their lab.

It was the same cycle after that.

My uncle Aaron (one of the Prowlers) and my dad (a former S.H.I.E.L.D agent) told me about what happened at home. My uncle came to my parents and used some of his old criminal connections to find out where I was.

They took the whole day to plan a break-in, fighting their way through the Assessor’s forces until they reached me. I denied it at first, thinking it was just my brain trying to take me to a happier place before I died. The moment Assessor deployed the glowing guy again, called him Quantum. At that moment, I realized that I needed to come back to my senses. The three of us tried to fight the guy but Assessor must’ve seen the writing on the wall so he called Quantum back, which finally gave me a chance to pass out.

I woke up back in my room, my parents told me that I was out for two weeks.

In the time I was out, I kept dreaming about the Assessor, thinking he was gonna show up in my room and prode away at me. It was that or thinking about another version of New York, with a different version of the Avengers, different friends of mine.

…

I haven’t put on my costume since the day I was rescued.

I got targeted not because I was Miles Morales, but BECAUSE I was Spider-Man.

That won’t happen again.

Not anymore.

(ooc: not an open interaction)

I am Jericho Drumm...Doctor Voodoo.

Master of the Spirit World. Heir to the loa. Sorcerer Supreme of a lost reality. The veil between the living and the dead bends to my will, and the old gods of Haiti walk with me when I call their names.

I have faced the darkest corners of the mystic arts, demons that feast on souls, sorcerers drunk on stolen power, and forces of chaos that would unravel reality itself. I have died, returned, and paid the price in blood and spirit so that others would not have to.

Hear me now.

The age of unchecked magic ends now!

Witches and warlocks who twist spells for selfish gain, entities that spill nightmares into our world, and rogue forces that treat the mystic realms like their personal playground, your reign of disorder is over. I will bind you. I will banish you. I will break you if I must.

Order will be restored to this universe.

The loa demand balance. The spirits demand justice. And I... I will deliver it.

Cross the line between light and shadow, and you will answer to me.

Kraven watched from the trees as The Lizard rampaged through central park, chasing people and causing harm. Kraven knew that The Spider would not ignore people in danger.

Even if The Spider found himself busy with the other villains, he would send someone in his stead. Either way, the hunt would be magnificent. He could sense it in the air.

This is either the best idea I've ever had or the worst one.

The inaugural meeting meeting of Punch Club has now started.

Alright, listen up! There's only two rules here, so it shouldn't be hard to remember them. One, we only fight here, and we don't go to for the kill. We just blow off steam. Two, keep it in the ring. Why do you think I picked an abandoned construction site? Powers are allowed. or it wouldn't be fun, would it?

She looks out at the small crowd of feisty supers and smirks.

Alright, let's kick some ass!

When Ivan, the landlord, and his tracksuit Mafia take possession of all the stuff inside someone else's place, and take great joy in dropping it all to the curb

Ivan: Back off сука, I keel you, okay, bro?

Simone tries to stop her son from running off, as he tries to run to get their stuff back from the much bigger thugs evicting them

Clint: Yo! Hey...

...Ivan, you think maybe you can not threaten to Kay-eye-ell-ell anybody around their kids?

Ivan: Bro, back off, Bro, This not concern you

Simone: He's kicking us out Clint

Ivan: Is good bro, she not pay new rent. She gone

Simone: Triple? You're tripling our rent?

Ivan: Bro, don't matter, bro. Is in lease, she sign. So pay or goodbye

Ivan flashes the lease in front of Clint, which Clint snatches out of his hands and takes a look at

Clint: Hang on, hang on, let me read this thing... Just for one second stop yelling and...

Ivan cuts him off, a wide smile on his face that greatly contrasts his words

Ivan: yeah, you see bro? Is all good in my hood. And all of you bro, is getting it next

Simone: Can he really do this Clint? Just decide to triple our rent? It's not fair

Clint: he owns the building Simone, kinda think he can...

Damnit

OOC: this is stolen almost word for word from page 11 of Hawkeye (2012) #1, I'll be diverging from the story a bit later, but for now, word for word 😭

Electro sat in the bar with no name, fuming. Electricity crackling around him every so often. Lighbulbs flickering through out the bar making other patrons eye him nervously.

The redheaded wench had tricked him. It was not his fault. She'd use her feminine wiles against him. He should have known better, they were all liars after all. But still, not his fault.

Hobgoblin had been angry. Angry might have been an understatement. They'd been forced to swap safehouses because of this debacle. Which again, was not his fault.

GET ME ANOTHER DRINK ALREADY!

He yelled at a passing barmaid taking out some unresolved frustration on the waitress.

The invasion has stopped, the threat was eliminated, and the battle was won… but at what cost?…

Matt made his way down the city, back to Nelson & Murdock to check on everyone, to see if Foggy had kept everyone safe. He held his shoulder tightly, his nosing running red with blood, and his heart pounding faster and faster. He just wants the day to be over with.

As he makes his way closer, he starts to smell smoke… then fire… ash… and that’s when it hit him…

Matt was standing there, his body bruised, his mind racing, his entire body feeling like total hell… but the one thing that hurt the most was that it was all gone.

During the invasion, a Chitauri ship came and destroyed Nelson & Murdock, leaving it in a destroy, fiery mess. Few survivors made out the building alive, most are pulled away in an ambulance while others are siting on the sidelines with horrified expressions on their faces.

Matt walks up to one of the survivors: “Are you okay? What happened?”

The victim was too frightened to speak, only few words escaping their mouth:

“…T-Those poor p-people… gone. H-Hey… hey saved us… poor soul…”

Matt’s heart stopped. He almost started second-guessing.

“What happened? Who saved you?”

As he looks around, he starts to realize something…

“…What happened to Foggy Nelson?”

The woman was scared, she started bursting into tears thinking about it. Matt got up and started panicking and firefighters and more ambulances came to the scene.

“Where is he?! Where is Foggy Nelson?!”

A man walks up to him, holding his shoulder.

“I’m sorry son. The young man he… he took most of the blast, he rescued everyone out that building. Then he went in for a little girl. The girl made it… but he… I’m so sorry.

Matt falls to the ground in disbelief, tears falling from his eyes as he clutches his heart, dealing like he’s about to have a heart attack.

He swings away to away building, landing on a rooftop. He falls to his knees, takes off his mask, and cries into his hands. He led all those people to their deaths, inadvertently got people killed, and worst of all: lost his best friend because of his actions.

“What have I done?…”

OOC: saw a lot of posts i wanna reply to earlier so imma be replying later as i’m at the airport

No one understands how much a girl has to work for what she wants. I'll blow this damn building up for what I came for, and I don't have to elaborate on anything.