"Come and meet him"
That laugh - her laugh - touched his ears like pale fingers of ice. She reveled in it. The pain swarming hot through open wounds. The scent of their blood hanging thick in the air. The rush of adrenaline, the cruelty, the dark of a lost life. She was no simple warrior. No assassin from the common rabble. She was death, and she smelled blood. "Introducing me to the family huh?", he rasped, teeth red with blood, the cut on his face running deeper and wider across his flesh. "Kinda forward", he taunted, chest heaving like a laboring tide. He moved, and her feet slid with his, he dodged and parried, clashing his vibranium with hers till a blade slipped through to home in on his chest like a missile - and more blood spilled. A cut stretched deep into his chest, and his growl rolled out through bloodied teeth.
His vision was blurring. The blood shipped to his brain and muscles was little. He felt weaker. He'd lost a lot of blood. No more, he told himself, ruby eyes narrowing into the Pale Spider's one. His grip tightened round the hilt of the sword he held, and he swung, wrist twisting, body turning as a vibranium blade hissed from one angle, two, three, more. He attacked and swung while the dexterous fingers of his free hand made a lasso of the swinging cable on his utility belt's rear. Then, Grimmwald stepped forward and ran straight at her, sword-arm ready to swing till suddenly, at the final instance, his body bent back low like a boneless sack to slide low through her legs. He'd spin round behind her, throw the loop of his swinging cable over her head - and pull till it tightened around her neck. He'd roar, and his muscle tissues'd burn to exhaustion as he yanked and pulled to swing the Pale Spider through the wall of glass windows and out the building.
Shards of glass would follow her fall hundreds of feet to the streets below. She was resilient, she'd survive. She couldn't die. She better not. But what if he failed? What if she cut through his swinging cable and turned to meet his eyes with her murderous spirit? Body weaker and blood leaking, Grimmwald had no choice. He'd dive out the window and vanish with the howling wind.