Felicia Hardy realized immediately that she was completely outmatched.
Super-soldier serum or not, the sheer mass, speed, and trained ferocity of the Russian meant she couldn't win a straight fistfight. Sergei Kravinoff wasn't just a man; he moved like an apex predator. Good thing she brought an over-powered teenager as backup.
"Professional, perceptive, and well-equipped," Kraven rumbled, his deep voice echoing across the cavernous atrium. He stepped forward, the dead lion pelt draped over his massive shoulders shifting with his muscles. "You do not look like a common thief, little cat."
He lunged.
Felicia flipped backward, her boots pushing off the hardwood floor. Kraven didn't slow down. He intentionally clipped the oak banister with his elbow as he passed. A hidden mechanical gear clicked. A rusted steel spike shot upward from the floorboards directly beneath Felicia.
She twisted violently mid-air, narrowly clearing the lethal trap.
Kraven utilized his superhuman momentum. He leaped forward, sweeping his heavy hunting spear in a brutal, horizontal arc. Felicia didn't have the space to dodge. She raised her forearms, bracing her reinforced bones for the impact.
CRACK.
The thick wooden shaft of the spear shattered completely against her forearms.
Kraven skidded to a halt. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the splintered weapon in his hand. He looked back up at Felicia, a new level of respect gleaming in his eyes. "An American super-soldier? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Or did the Pentagon send you?"
Felicia just smirked, adjusting her stance.
Kraven didn't wait for her to answer. He hurled the jagged half of the spear—not at her chest, but at a specific stone tile near her boots.
Click.
Another pressure plate triggered. Felicia threw herself flat against the ground. A heavy iron crossbow bolt carved through the empty air where her head had just been, embedding itself deep into the plaster wall. She scrambled back to her feet, but Kraven wasn't pressing the attack. He was buying time. The massive Russian vaulted over a suit of medieval armor, hit a hidden panel in the woodwork, and vanished into a secret passage.
"What kind of paranoid freak fills his living room with tripwires?" Felicia muttered.
She tapped the side of her tactical goggles, trying to switch to infrared tracking to follow his heat signature. The HUD flickered, static filled the lenses, and the system died. A localized electromagnetic jammer.
A small, metallic cylinder rolled across the floorboards from the shadows.
Felicia's eyes went wide. She grabbed the banister and vaulted over the edge of the stairs.
BANG.
The flashbang detonated. Blinding white light strobed against the walls. Felicia landed hard on the ground floor, keeping her head tucked.
A second cylinder bounced right between her boots.
She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears. The second explosion rocked the room. A high-pitched ringing pierced her eardrums. White spots danced behind her eyelids. She stumbled backward blind, relying entirely on her spatial memory to retreat.
Something wrapped tightly around her waist.
She was suddenly yanked upward. Her stomach dropped as she was hauled fifteen feet into the air. The blinding white spots cleared just enough for her to see the massive white lenses of a black mask.
"What took you so long?" Felicia gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Turns out the chimney was heavily booby-trapped," Peter whispered. He was crouching upside down on the ceiling, holding her securely with one arm. "Sorry I'm late."
"Be careful," Felicia hissed, rubbing her aching eyes. "The whole house is rigged."
"Yeah, I noticed."
Peter's suit tech was jammed, too. But he didn't need electronics. He let the symbiote peel back a layer of his visual cortex, shifting his eyesight into the alien's thermal spectrum. The freezing mansion lit up in shades of blue and orange.
He saw Kraven's blazing red heat signature moving rapidly behind the walls.
Then, the signature stopped dead.
Peter's Spider-Sense screamed. It felt like an ice pick driving directly into the base of his skull.
Move.
Peter released his grip on the ceiling. He grabbed Felicia and dropped like a stone. The second their boots hit the ground floor, his Spider-Sense flared again, vibrating with even more intensity.
The floor is rigged too!
Peter lunged sideways, hauling Felicia with him. He slapped his free hand against the vertical wall, anchoring them both sideways just as the room tore itself apart.
The ceiling panels above split open, dumping a massive, choking cloud of white lime powder. A split-second later, the floorboards they had just been standing on completely gave way, collapsing downward to reveal a ten-foot pit lined with rusted iron spikes.
Felicia dangled from Peter's neck, her feet swinging over the deadly drop. She looked at the lime powder settling over the spikes, then up at Peter's sleek black suit. "What a weirdo, right?"
"Actually," Peter muttered, his white lenses narrowing as he scanned the destruction. "Don't you think this is a little strange?"
"The medieval spike pit in the foyer? Yes, Peter. It's a bit odd."
"No, look at the lethality of it all," Peter explained. "These traps are meant to deter, not execute. If he really wanted to kill intruders, he would have rigged shotguns instead of crossbows. He would have dropped mustard gas instead of lime powder."
Felicia raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Your thoughts get awfully dark when you put on that black suit."
What does the suit have to do with it? Peter thought, mildly offended.
Peter leaped off the wall, clearing the pit and landing safely on a solid stretch of marble flooring near the hallway. He gently set Felicia down on her feet. He took a step forward and raised his empty hands, palms open.
"Mr. Kravinoff!" Peter shouted, his voice echoing through the dusty, trap-riddled manor. "We apologize for the intrusion! We don't want a fight! If you'll hear us out, you'll realize we are not your enemies!"
A heavy mechanical switch clacked in the distance.
The grand crystal chandelier above them suddenly buzzed to life, bathing the ruined atrium in warm, yellow light.
Sergei Kravinoff stepped out from the shadows of the second-floor landing. He looked down at them, his hands resting casually on the oak balcony railing. He didn't look angry. He looked intensely curious.
"If you are truly not my enemies," Kraven rumbled, his gaze locking entirely onto Felicia, "then the Spider must explain why an American super-soldier is breaking into my home in the dead of night."
Peter stepped slightly in front of Felicia. "She isn't an American agent, Kraven. Her super-soldier serum was stolen."
Kraven tilted his head. His polite, theatrical expression vanished entirely, replaced by a look of intense, predatory fascination.
PS: Fun fact for you Marvel history buffs! Peter's deduction about Kraven's traps being non-lethal is actually a great nod to the classic 1994 Spider-Man: The Animated Series. In that show, Kraven wasn't a straight-up villain; he was a noble hunter with a strict code of honor who frequently teamed up with Spider-Man. He prefers the thrill of the chase and testing his prey, rather than just outright murdering them with modern firearms!