1/2
[She hears their voice calling to her, but her head is swimming with a flood of thoughts and feelings. All she can coherently understand is that she is not alone, and that she must stand up. As she starts forcing herself back up by using them to balance on her unreliable legs, PM begins looking around desperately, wondering why she can’t smell her enemy or hear him-]
[Because, she realizes, she is still in the post office. She has both of her hands, and they are bloodless, ringless, clutching Venom. That's not right--she should have her wings. She should have her sword. She should be fighting.]