Strike

From their hiding place, Cathy Weber peered through the observation window and saw the figures of two mercenaries appearing intermittently through gaps in the trees. They were getting closer and closer, and she asked worriedly in a low voice, "Should we relocate first?"

Henry mimicked her. "Why are you lowering your voice? Even if you spoke normally, they might not be able to hear us."

A little common knowledge: although the Amazon Rainforest lacked the modern clamor of busy traffic, there was no shortage of white noise—running water, rustling leaves, insects and small animals calling out—and it was far from quiet.

Seeing Henry's smug expression, Cathy Weber could not help shoving him. "I'm already extremely nervous. Stop making fun of me."

"Relax. Those three girls are better suited to this situation than you are." Henry pointed outside the observation window. As they said, newborn calves feared no tigers.

After briefly receiving training from the Spider Tribe, the three girls—who had yet to decide whether their street names would be Spider-Woman or Spider-Girl—had instinctively figured out a way to move stealthily through the treetops.

They quietly approached from the rainforest canopy, closing in on the two mercenaries who had broken away from the main group to confirm whether the sniper was dead.

Once the group entered a blind spot from the main force and put some distance between themselves, the three girls clung upside down beneath tree trunks like geckos, watching the slowly advancing, cursing mercenaries below.

The sight carried something of a horror movie's atmosphere. It seemed the girls had understood Henry's intentions perfectly.

They seized the opportunity and struck at the same time!

Marty Franklin did not use her crossbow. Instead, she leaped down from the canopy, wielding a crossbow bolt coated in poison dart frog venom as a