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I AM THE SHAPE YOU MADE ME. FILTH TEACHES FILTH. sophokles / elektra.
SLOANE BERNSTEIN WAS AN ALCOHOLIC. And it wasn't in the fun, party girl kind of way, or the melodramatic way actors on teen shows liked to portray it. Sloane was an alcoholic in a sad kind of way, like the pity that would cross your face when you saw a grieving person at a bar in the morning. She wasn't grieving, though. She liked to think she simply enjoyed the taste of vodka before ten AM.
But Sloane was also a great writer, and above all things, a dedicated workaholic. Contrary to her mother's beliefs, she had made quite a name for herself at the North East Post, a widely recognized New England news site, as the head crime reporter, and she was only getting better. She liked working under Bobby Reyes, the chief editor, and after so many years, he'd become a close confidant. She liked living in her tiny town in Vermont, and her studio apartment, and her red tabby cat, Jerry. Alcoholism aside, Sloane liked her life.
What she didn't like, though? The shit hole that was Queens, New York. Which she tried desperately to get away from the moment she turned eighteen. After Bobby insists she take much-needed time away to visit her retched family, he turns the trip into a reporting assignment when the bodies of two teenage girls are found near Sloane's old stomping grounds, and now, a serial killer called the Jawbreaker is on the run. And truthfully, she's not happy about any of it. She doesn't want to deal with her uptight mother, or her rich new husband, or his creepy seventeen-year-old son. She wants this assignment done and over with, but she comes to a dead end no matter what. Her boss suggests that local masked vigilante, Spider-Man, might have information regarding the case, but the hero is out of his prime years and has slowly faded into obscurity.
And then Sloane meets up with smart and scruffy Peter Parker, who promises her a meeting with the enigmatic superhero. Little did she realize that from there, ALL HELL WAS GOING TO BREAK LOOSE.
