The Subterranean Iron

I dropped from the mailbox post straight into the damp asphalt trench. Right beneath our boots lay an iron gate—heavy, slotted ribs guarding a dark subterranean drop. An insolent barrier. No hesitation. I dropped into a tight crouch, jammed both claws between the cold metal bars, and hauled upward with sudden, violent momentum. CLANG! The cast iron groaned, shuddering half an inch against the curb before slamming back into its seat with a bone-jarring rattle. It refused to yield. Far below, trickling water echoed our guttural hiss. A formidable threshold. We plant our feet across the ribs. Nothing breaches this hatch while we hold the line. Trying with sound underneath. #Marvel #MarvelComics #Venom #ToyPhotographyChallenge #MarvelCinematicUniverse