Victim 1: Sam Alexander

"Hey, Pete, what's up?" Sam greeted Peter at his locker.

Tightly gripping his locker, Peter peered up at Sam. He scowled at his shorter friend. Sam raised an eyebrow, wondering why the ever-optimistic Peter Parker was in a sour mood.

"Jeez, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?" Sam asked, taking a step back.

"I'm fine, just tired," Peter stated bluntly.

He went back to organizing his locker, a task Sam had so rudely interrupted. Taking the hint, Sam continued down the hallway to who-knows-where. Peter didn't particularly care. Right now he needed Sam to stay away. Everyone just needed to stay away. He had an insatiable desire for solitude at the moment. This made going to school difficult.

After slamming his locker shut, he left the school building and then the campus all together. He wandered off into the city. Thousands of meaningless faces passed him. He quickly strode through the crowd as if he had somewhere to be. The presence of other people still bothered him, even if they were strangers.

Soon he reached a dead part of the city near the outskirts. Crumbling apartment complexes and abandoned warehouses galore surrounded him. A few shady-looking groups clung to the allies and shadows. However, a couple children also played in the barren street.

Peter glanced around before entering what used to be a smelting plant. From the interior, the building appeared to be miles long. Few windows let in small streams of light. Only a few large pieces of obsolete machinery remained.

As he walked on, he noticed large buckets. One hung down from near the ceiling. Slipping on his web shooters and pulling out a flashlight, he swung up to get a better look. The bucket had to have been twenty feet deep or more and maybe just as wide in diameter. The whole thing consisted of a thick and heavy metal.

Suddenly, he had an idea. Sam would find it rather hilarious.


Yanking on Sam's arm, Peter exclaimed, "Sam! I really need to show you something ASAP."

Sam rolled his eyes. Peter actually managed to half-drag him when he didn't budge at first.

Sam started walking with Peter and asked, "Whoa, calm down, Parker. What is it? A new video game!? That would be awesome."

His eyes sparkled.

"Yeah, sure. Limited edition RPG or something. I hid it somewhere for you to find," Peter brushed off.

"Wha-Why?" Sam asked, now feeling semi-crushed.

He hated working for things. That took, well, work. Video games were supposed to be something relaxing. The process of attaining them could at least be less stressful as well.

"Because…You're really great at finding things," Peter desperately tried to reason.

"Ugh, whatever. This better be worth it or I'm going to disorganize your comic books again."

"You better leave my comic books out of this!" Peter shot, remembering the horrific incident.


The two young men entered the now very dark, abandoned plant Peter had visited previously. Sam used a flashlight Peter gave him to see. He stared in confusion at the machinery around him. Peter gestured for Sam to search.

"Go on, your game is out there," he assured, smiling in the dark.

Sam shivered and glanced back at Peter. His gut told him this was a bust, but his hopes for a new videogame took over.

He sighed, "Okay, but this building gives me the creeps. Couldn't you have just hidden it in the helicarrier?"

"It'd be even harder to find with all of the hidden compartments they probably have."

"Err, good point," Sam muttered before wandering off to search.

Peter now smirked. Perfect. While Sam was distracted, Peter thwipped a web and climbed up to the bucket he had rigged. He had used a series of chains and webs to hold it upside-down with the open side facing down towards the floor. All he had to do was get Sam to stand under it.

"Hey, Sam! You're sure taking a long time finding that," Peter mocked. "I hid it in a really obvious spot."

"Whatever. This place is huge. Give me a hint," Sam groaned loudly from far away.

"For starters, it's near me."

He heard Sam heave an annoyed sigh. Sam sprinted over to where he heard Peter's voice and began walking all around. A couple times he falsely excited himself when he found old, water-damaged magazines.

Sam blabbed, "What is this? Wow, it's a 1950s LIFE magazine with Marilyn Monroe. This is some ancient stuff."

"Sam, just look under me. You're taking way too long," Peter mumbled with a face palm.

Shrugging, Sam threw the magazine and obliviously walked under the bucket. He looked around, trying to find any rectangular shapes indicating a disc holder.

Holding back a snicker, Peter simultaneously cut the web holding the bucket in place and released the chains holding it up. A deep urrm followed by a loud, metal DUMMM could be heard as the massive bucket slipped through the chains and landed over Nova.

Everything seemed to hold its breath. Peter simply stared down at his handiwork. He then heard mumbling from inside of the bucket. Deviously smiling, he slid down a web to reach the ground.

"What the hell?!" Sam yelled from inside the bucket, his voice echoing and only sounding as loud as normal talking to Peter.

"Relax, it's a prank," Peter chuckled, knocking on the bucket.

"I can hardly hear you. My leg is broken! It hurts like, oh I don't know, a giant bucket bashed it," Sam shot, now pounding on the bucket.

He suddenly stopped, realizing that the vibrations only rang in his ears. Peter's laughing pissed him off like nothing ever had.

"Let me OUT!" Sam shouted.

"Ah, what? I can't hear you. You're so quiet."

"This isn't funny, Parker. You're taking this too far."

Peter didn't respond, but rather started examining where the lip of the bucket met the ground. It seemed to be perfectly sealed off and deep enough into the ground.

"Sorry, Sam, this bucket is too heavy for me to lift. Maybe Luke could help."

"Crap, I forgot to bring my communicator!"

"Oh, me too."

"Well, get help. Hurry!" Sam insisted.

"Okay, okay. I'll be back."

Sam heard Peter dash off into the distance. Every move Sam made in the bucket echoed. His panting and rubbing his injured leg were all he could hear.

He wondered why Peter had done this. It wasn't like him. Their pranks could be kind of mean sometimes, but they never hurt each other or put each other in any real danger. His gut tensed up again with a bad feeling.

Stupidly he had left his backpack at school along with his cell phone. Curse Peter for rushing him over here. He had no idea how much time had passed. His leg throbbed.

Sitting down, he felt around where the bucket met the ground. He dropped his flashlight when the bucket fell and he couldn't seem to find it anywhere. The bucket seemed to be far in the hard ground. He didn't want to dig through a cement and dirt mixture.

Maybe someone heard the bucket fall. Would they call the police? Or would they assume the old building was just naturally falling apart? For all he knew, falling buckets were normal in this neighborhood. Besides, one loud thud from an abandoned factory with huge buckets may not concern anyone. No one would know he was in here. Only Peter knew.

Sam started breathing heavily. Peter had trapped him in here. What if he took his sweet time? What if Peter wanted to scare him? Where would Sam pee if he had to? He feared not knowing what time it was. Not even day or night could be distinguished with how thick the bucket was.

He pushed his back against the edge. Throbbing in his leg only got worse by the minute. The air inside started to feel warm and muggy. A bucket with a lack of holes suddenly terrified him. How would air get in? Would he run out?

Standing up with a lot of pain in his leg, Sam began banging on the bucket. He hoped and prayed that someone would find him. Little did he know that his banging was hardly audile to passersby on the street. It sounded as soft as a kitten's purr.

"I'm going to die," Sam suddenly murmured.

He felt himself choking on tears. All his hope in Peter returning fled. No one else knew, therefore they couldn't save him. He ceased his banging. Slowly, he fell to the ground. Pain shot up through his leg.

"Son of a-!" he began, his swear interrupted by a sob.

His leg had to have been seriously broken to hurt this badly. Panic ensued as he desperately wanted to leave his metal prison.

"Somebody help me!" he cried. "Get me out of here! Anyone! I'm trapped!"

Sam vainly smacked the bucket a couple more times. Each breath noticeably became harder to take. Dust stuck to his tear-stained face.

"I don't want to die," he sobbed, curling up into a ball excluding his broken leg.

He let his regrets and dreams consume him during what may be his final hours. He wished that he'd done so much more with his life now. So many video games would be left unplayed. He hadn't dated MJ like he wanted to. He'd never see the Guardians of the Galaxy again. His teammates would miss him…he hoped that they would.

All he could do now was cry about it. Banging hadn't helped. Neither had shouting. Waiting was his safest bet.

Seconds, minutes, or perhaps hours passed before he reached his final breaths. They were weak wheezes grasping for any oxygen his lungs could get. His chest stung, as it wasn't enough to sustain him. Slowly, his eyes shut. His body relaxed itself as he prepared for death. He only hoped that it wouldn't hurt. He drifted off, his chest rising one final time before falling flat.

Sam Alexander was dead.