Title: A Shriek in the Darkness.
Author: The Suicide King.
Ravencroft a maximum-security insane asylum. Home to many so called super- villains. One of the most infamous residents is a young woman who calls herself Shriek. Her mind so warped and shattered she doesn't even remember her real name. As a matter of fact, her memories are only in fragments. Memories of her life before and after she donned the name and powers of Shriek. To make matters worse, the memories she does still preciously hold, she can't even place in the right order and she has nothing but time to think about them. Yes, all the time in the world. Try as she might, her internal battle for her sanity is all in vain. With nothing to do but think, she has no choice but to slip further and further into madness. The clothes they make her wear alone is enough to make her crazy. Pastel blue sweatpants and a dirty white T-shirt, which seemed gray next to her porcelain white skin. She ran her fingers through her midnight dark hair, which in sunlight almost had a bluish tint to it. It would in her cell too, if they actually gave her the comfort of cell with light bulbs. Her hand came down to her face. She touched the tattoo that surrounded her left eye. In a flash, the memory of her actually getting the tattoo slammed into her brain. She remembered it left half her face numb and the other in pain. Pain so intense that she cried when it was over. She allowed herself a slight laugh. Here she was, locked away thinking about a stupid tattoo, when she should be trying to figure out an escape plan. She has to be free and the only way she can be free is to take life. To feel a person's soul leave their body. It is a rush that is indescribable. To watch a man's eye's make the transition from anger and desperate fear to cold, blank and expressionless. Indeed, it is a rush that she longs to feel course through her veins once again. Though, she isn't just a crazed serial killer that kills just for the sake of killing. No, she has reason for it, a very good reason. She just can't remember that reason at the moment. Nonetheless, she feels that she must continue with her quest. To get the message out there, to spread it across the nation and whatever the message is, it must be a damn good one. She let her gaze flow upward to the security camera in her cell. She knows "Colonel" Jameson is watching. The ever vigilant Chief of Security. Soldier boy had everything handed to him on a silver platter since he was born. In short, he made her sick. Plain and simple. Yet, she knew that if it was his decision, he would execute every resident in Ravencroft. With that in mind, she allowed her colorless lips curve into a smile. She even blew a kiss at the camera. The real humor of it all is that even if he didn't wait for permission and started the massacre, he wouldn't be incarcerated, he would be awarded a medal. Maybe even a gold one. The sound of the locks on her sliding and turning open interrupted her thoughts. She quickly turned away from the door, in a vain attempt not to be blinded by the sudden burst of light. She waited until her eyes adjusted then peered over her shoulder to see five guards armed to the teeth with fully automatic weapons. She was insulted and worse she was hurt that the good doctor only sent five guards. She only was solely responsible for the riots in Manhattan that resulted in fatalities somewhere near six figures in number. She, alone, was responsible for hundreds of those fatalities she saw to personally and they only send five guards? She must've been slacking off lately.
"The doctor will see you now." Said one of the guards. Oh that voice could only be Carl's, which means the that Jameson had the night off. He surely would've seen to this himself.and he would've brought more guards. Shriek pulled herself to her feet and turned to face Carl. She looked at herself while there was still light in the room. Her clothes were dirtier than she thought and the light seemed to reflect off her almost marble white skin. She curved her lips into a colorless smile once again. It wasn't a smile of lunacy, mind you. More like a sweet smile, a smile that the girl next door would give when she sees you. She knew, however, that the effect just made her that much more intimidating.
"Ya know, Carl, I'm not feeling so hot today. So, please tell the Doc I don't want to sit through another one of her therapy sessions." Carl's response was tossing a set of restraints at her feet. Shriek looked at the restraints, her smile faded to a mask of anger. What the hell? For one, she asked nicely, plus they didn't even drug her before trying place restraints on her. Her gaze shot to the guards behind Carl. She had never seen them before and they were all young. Which means they had to be inexperienced. So not only did they send an inadequate number of guards, the only one with any experience was Carl and they aren't even following the right procedures. This is more than just little insulting. She glared them, completely furious. Carl's and the rest of the guard's weapons were trained on her the entire time. Their eyes never left her. Yet, all they saw next was a blur. Whether it was that their eyes wouldn't adjust to the darkness of the cell or that she was just that fast, their eyes couldn't follow her. Next thing they knew, they were all on the ground listening to the highest pitched ringing noise human ears could withstand. Then Carl felt his side holster unbutton, he weakly peered upward to see the marble-white woman pull out his sidearm. No not a woman, a devil. He could've swore he saw her flash that sickening sweet smile again. It could not really tell because of the waterfall of black hair masked her face. She then removed the hair from her face to reveal that she was indeed smiling. The gesture just deepened his fear simply because she seemed to read his mind. While still tucking her hair behind her ears, she seemed to be saying something. He probably wouldn't have even understood what she was saying if he could hear something other than the damn ringing noise. Fear had too deep of a hold on him now, his limbs wouldn't follow his brain's commands to move. She must've finished what she had to say, because now she was only smiling again. Unexpectedly, she leaned over him and kissed him on the cheek. He had to fight down the feeling to vomit. He still kept his eyes on her. Fear would not allow him to look elsewhere. He watched her sit upright. Shriek's smile gave way to a sad expression, he saw her mouth the words 'Goodbye Carl'. Carl was finally able to force his eyes shut and as he felt the cold barrel of his own handgun be placed on his forehead, he said a silent prayer for his family.
Two weeks. Two freakin weeks and sign no sign of that lunatic. On top of everything else: the divorce, the new job, on top of everything else that self-depraved madwoman had to escape from Ravencroft and no one's seen hide nor hair of her for two damn weeks. It was enough to drive one man, in particular, insane himself. Peter Parker, former freelance photographer turned high school science teacher crouched on the edge of a run down apartment under the guise of Spider-Man. Torturing and berating himself for not being able to track down the recently escaped lunatic, Shriek. Rain poured from the sky clogging the fine tiny holes of his mesh eyepieces of his mask. It made it kindly hard to see. He always hates it when it rains and his costume gets soaked. It's not so bad until he has to home and peel it off.and then try to find a way to clean the damn thing. It's not as if he could simply take it to the local laundry mat. No, no really it's a Halloween costume. He let out a quiet sigh and swore to himself that this city seemed to only to give him an honest-to-God quiet night when wasn't looking for one. With that in mind he leaped off the roof and shot a thick line of webbing to the tallest building close enough. He lied to himself, as he has so many times before, that swinging through the city would clear his head. When in reality, it only made him focus more on his problems. For a brief moment, he wondered if he subconsciously liked torturing himself like this. A feeling of something tugging at his brain interrupted his thoughts. It looks as if he might an eventful night after all. He followed the feeling for two blocks, leading to an alleyway. He knew what was happening as soon as he was in eyesight. One man towering over a young woman half his size. She could've been more than sixteen and the man was obviously middle aged. No, he refused to call him a man. He landed in a large puddle of water right behind them, announcing his presence with a loud splash. He didn't even bother crouching like he normally does. He stood straight up, glaring at this.this monster. This is worst kind of criminal, or rather the worst kind of sinner Spider-Man always faces.the sexual predator. He always has to constantly remind himself that he has to hold back. The middle-aged man whirled around to see someone he thought he would never see in his life, Spider-Man.
"You know, I normally have some type of smart ass remark right about now." Spider-Man took a step closer to the would be rapist and all he could do was stare at the costumed vigilante in terror, allowing his would be victim to escape. No she was still a victim; she would still be emotionally and maybe even spiritually scarred for the rest of her life.
"But, every time I see something like this occur.I just can't see anything that's funny." This 'man' then followed in the footsteps of his prey and started to dart out of the alley, only to be pulled back by a thick webline, forcing him to be slammed into a nearby dumpster. Spider-Man heard some of the man's ribs not just breaking, but shattering. He was trying with all of his willpower to stifle his strength, he really was, but he just couldn't help it. He kept telling himself to pullback, to hold off, but his muscles would not obey these commands. He leaped over the man landing in a crouching position on the wall next to this monster. Knowing full well that the inhuman ability to walk and stand on walls would only frighten his opponent. He would've allowed himself a slight smile if he weren't so furious. The man then actually had the gumption to throw a punch at his assailant, which was caught all to easily. Hold back, hold back damn it. Again, he couldn't control his own limbs and crushed the man's hand. It would be useless for the rest of his life. He would have let out a mixed scream of pain and terror if Spider-Man hadn't webbed his mouth shut, as well as his body to the ground. Suddenly, the sound of a frightened gasp behind him stopped him from doing whatever he was going to do next. He quickly turned to see someone he really, really did not want to see. His heart froze. It took all of his strength and willpower to force himself up the building and swing away. He quickly went to the rooftop where he stashed his civilian clothes and quickly dressed and stuffed his costume in the backpack. He kicked and berated himself for losing control like that and worst of all, she saw him. She just had walk in on him losing control. Her of all people. He swore he would never act like that in front her. Never. Just when he thought he had went the entire day without having one thought about that damn woman, she actually shows up. He finally made it to his apartment and he shut the door behind him. Soaking wet he sank down and buried his head in his knees. It looks like New York gave him an eventful night after all.
"M.J."
Shriek sat on the edge of her Soho loft window. Well, hers now anyway. One unfortunate young lady just happened to be at exiting the wrong nightclub at the wrong time. Not to mention the Goth had Shriek's fashion sense, sort of. She had to cut up and modify one of the leather jackets to her liking. Oh, but she did ask her new gothic friend for permission first, but she, sort of, stopped breathing. On top of that, there were no boots that fit her. Actually, she was lucky that she even fit in the woman's clothes, period. Somehow, under the God that watched this blue planet, she was actually skinnier than Shriek. She let out deep sigh and lit a cigarette; another item borrowed from her new friend.Tammy she believed her name was. Citation 100's, great, perfect, not only did Tammy not have clothes that fit her, she also smoked some of the cheapest cigarettes on the market. She took a long drag off the cigarette and thought to herself that it was time to seriously rethink this new friendship. No, no. She couldn't do that. She couldn't just stop being friends with Tammy just because her clothes didn't fit her and she smoked cheap cigarettes. What kind of person does that? Especially after everything she's done for her: giving her a place to stay, food and clothes. She would have to say that Tammy has been the kindest person to her since they let her out of Ravencroft. Speaking of which, Shriek wondered how things were going back there. Dr. Kafka, Colonel Jameson and of course Carl. Carl had always been her favorite. He always made sure she got food and took time out of his breaks and lunch hours to sit down and talk to her. It was kind of like that father she never had deal. If for no one else she felt a lot of love for that man and hoped, no, prayed to God nothing bad ever happens to him. Though, the news has been telling all of Manhattan that she escaped. She didn't escape they let her go. Dr. Kafka herself told her she had been rehabilitated. Now what was she suppose to do? She couldn't just go and walk around New York as a normal person, not with everyone believing she was going to kill everyone in sight. She had to fight down the urge to vomit, the thought of taking life sickened her greatly. Damn it, if all the papers are saying she's a killer, then that means Spider-Man will eventually come after her. Did she truly have enough power to hold off Spider-Man until she could prove her innocence? No, she didn't really believed she did, but where could she gain enough power to protect herself. She sat there for well over an hour thinking of and dismissing ideas of protecting herself. She let out a sigh of defeat, giving up. She hated the idea but what else could she do? She lit up another cigarette and began to gaze out of the window, where her eyes met the Fantastic Four building.
"Hmm."
Midtown High, so this is where the Spider went to high school. One young woman stood just outside of that very same building. She cursed herself for being there. She had no right to invade on Peter's life, especially not now. Well, that's half of what she thought the other half of her felt obligated to talk to him. To try ease her friend's mind. She also wanted to know what was up with this morning's headlines. At first she dismissed the entire story simply because the Daily Bugle is publicly known for it's one sided reviews on Spider-Man. Then she read the article in the Daily Globe and it said almost the exact same thing: SPIDER-MAN ATTACKS INNOCENT BYSTANDER. Both of the papers said that the bystander would be crippled for the rest of his life. She had to hear an explanation and had to hear it from Peter himself. She wondered briefly if it could be because of Mary Jane leaving him. Damn it, why did it have to be so windy today. She cursed at the weather one more time before trying her best to pull her snow-white hair back into a ponytail. She couldn't stand having her hair in her eyes. Maybe she should get a haircut. No, on second thought, she was sure she would kill herself later. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself before going in. What if Peter doesn't have a good explanation? What if he's just turned into a killer? She shook the thoughts out of her mind immediately. Peter wasn't a killer. As a matter of fact, he's always giving her the power and responsibility speech. She let out a slight chuckle; if she had to listen to him give speech, again she would have to claw his eyes out. The school was almost ungodly dark inside and the office wasn't in the front like it should be. No, it just had to be directly in the center of the damn place. Another thing that bothered her, it was too damn quiet, then again, it is class time. She finally made it to the 'front' office. The secretary was an elderly lady about, say, sixty-something. Mrs. Wallace is what the name said on the desk. Oh, and the bitch didn't even notice someone was standing in front of her desk. She wasn't even working; she just sat there and read some Wal-Mart porno book. Yep, this Mrs. Wallace was definitely beginning to make her blood boil.
"Excuse me."
"Yes?" The old bitch didn't even look up.
"I would like to know where Mr. Parker's room is located and if he is available to take visitors at the moment."
"If you give me your name I'll page his room on the intercom." Yep, Mrs. Wallace was definitely making her mad. She had to fight the urge to not just punch the old bat and look Peter's room herself.
"Wait just a damn minute," she really did try to stifle the anger in her voice, she just failed miserably. "That doesn't give me either one of the things I asked for."
"Yeah, well." Mrs. Wallace finally looked up and stopped her sentence dead in it's tracks upon setting eyes on this woman's face. She felt that she's definitely seen her from somewhere. She just couldn't place where.
"Well," She set her book down and eyed the woman suspiciously. She also took the time to regain her composure, not much fazed her in her in her old age. "If you give me your name, I'll page his room and see if he's there or not. Then, here's the tricky part, I come back here and tell where he's room is."
That's it she'd had enough. Her face turned to deep crimson red, she's going to have to deck this old bat and look for Peter's room her damn self. Well she was, if the voice of her old friend hadn't stopped her first.
"Felicia?" He said it in an almost quizzical manner. Felicia turned to see 'Mr. Parker' leaning on the edge of the doorframe of the office. She almost burst out laughing. The thought of Peter being a teacher. She really felt sorry for those kids. They probably had to listen to the responsibility speech every day.
"Felicia.you mean Felicia Hardy?" Ahh.sweet recognition.
Great, just great, just friggin perfect. Stretch has some new gizmo he just has to show off to the police, Suzie has to support Reed and Flame Brain's probably out with some damn woman, but what about him? No good ol' Ben Grimm can't go any damn place cause someone always has to stay and hold down the fort.so why does it always have to be him? He let out a horace sigh. It was probably better this way anyhow. A fella can't even buy a watermelon without some brat running up to him and start asking him if he's a mutant. He grabbed a copy of the Daily Bugle. The headline seemed to jump out and smack him in his face. He immediately began to read the cover story like a madman. After reading it about two or three times he finally set the paper down and no matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn't help but feel kind of sorry for the poor guy, meaning Spider-Man of coarse. Just to make things clear Benjamin J. Grimm ain't believing what that paper says for a second, not a blasted second. The good ol' webhead would never turn into a criminal and damn it he was going to keep believing that until he was proven wrong. He remembered the first time he met him. The ol' webs for brains actually broke into building and then asked for a job. 'I figure I'm worth your top salary.' He let out the sounds of full-throated laughter. he wished he could've seen the webhead's face when Sue told him they were a non-profit organization. The kid was definitely pissed. He actually thought he could get a job by breaking into the building. Oh and the best damn part was that he actually thought he could break in here without anyone knowing. At the exact moment Ben Grimm finished that thought, he heard the sound of one the Plexiglas cages fall down to trap whoever would be climbing through the window. He didn't even turn around to see who it was. He just buried his head in his hands.
"Why has thou forsaken me?"
Author: The Suicide King.
Ravencroft a maximum-security insane asylum. Home to many so called super- villains. One of the most infamous residents is a young woman who calls herself Shriek. Her mind so warped and shattered she doesn't even remember her real name. As a matter of fact, her memories are only in fragments. Memories of her life before and after she donned the name and powers of Shriek. To make matters worse, the memories she does still preciously hold, she can't even place in the right order and she has nothing but time to think about them. Yes, all the time in the world. Try as she might, her internal battle for her sanity is all in vain. With nothing to do but think, she has no choice but to slip further and further into madness. The clothes they make her wear alone is enough to make her crazy. Pastel blue sweatpants and a dirty white T-shirt, which seemed gray next to her porcelain white skin. She ran her fingers through her midnight dark hair, which in sunlight almost had a bluish tint to it. It would in her cell too, if they actually gave her the comfort of cell with light bulbs. Her hand came down to her face. She touched the tattoo that surrounded her left eye. In a flash, the memory of her actually getting the tattoo slammed into her brain. She remembered it left half her face numb and the other in pain. Pain so intense that she cried when it was over. She allowed herself a slight laugh. Here she was, locked away thinking about a stupid tattoo, when she should be trying to figure out an escape plan. She has to be free and the only way she can be free is to take life. To feel a person's soul leave their body. It is a rush that is indescribable. To watch a man's eye's make the transition from anger and desperate fear to cold, blank and expressionless. Indeed, it is a rush that she longs to feel course through her veins once again. Though, she isn't just a crazed serial killer that kills just for the sake of killing. No, she has reason for it, a very good reason. She just can't remember that reason at the moment. Nonetheless, she feels that she must continue with her quest. To get the message out there, to spread it across the nation and whatever the message is, it must be a damn good one. She let her gaze flow upward to the security camera in her cell. She knows "Colonel" Jameson is watching. The ever vigilant Chief of Security. Soldier boy had everything handed to him on a silver platter since he was born. In short, he made her sick. Plain and simple. Yet, she knew that if it was his decision, he would execute every resident in Ravencroft. With that in mind, she allowed her colorless lips curve into a smile. She even blew a kiss at the camera. The real humor of it all is that even if he didn't wait for permission and started the massacre, he wouldn't be incarcerated, he would be awarded a medal. Maybe even a gold one. The sound of the locks on her sliding and turning open interrupted her thoughts. She quickly turned away from the door, in a vain attempt not to be blinded by the sudden burst of light. She waited until her eyes adjusted then peered over her shoulder to see five guards armed to the teeth with fully automatic weapons. She was insulted and worse she was hurt that the good doctor only sent five guards. She only was solely responsible for the riots in Manhattan that resulted in fatalities somewhere near six figures in number. She, alone, was responsible for hundreds of those fatalities she saw to personally and they only send five guards? She must've been slacking off lately.
"The doctor will see you now." Said one of the guards. Oh that voice could only be Carl's, which means the that Jameson had the night off. He surely would've seen to this himself.and he would've brought more guards. Shriek pulled herself to her feet and turned to face Carl. She looked at herself while there was still light in the room. Her clothes were dirtier than she thought and the light seemed to reflect off her almost marble white skin. She curved her lips into a colorless smile once again. It wasn't a smile of lunacy, mind you. More like a sweet smile, a smile that the girl next door would give when she sees you. She knew, however, that the effect just made her that much more intimidating.
"Ya know, Carl, I'm not feeling so hot today. So, please tell the Doc I don't want to sit through another one of her therapy sessions." Carl's response was tossing a set of restraints at her feet. Shriek looked at the restraints, her smile faded to a mask of anger. What the hell? For one, she asked nicely, plus they didn't even drug her before trying place restraints on her. Her gaze shot to the guards behind Carl. She had never seen them before and they were all young. Which means they had to be inexperienced. So not only did they send an inadequate number of guards, the only one with any experience was Carl and they aren't even following the right procedures. This is more than just little insulting. She glared them, completely furious. Carl's and the rest of the guard's weapons were trained on her the entire time. Their eyes never left her. Yet, all they saw next was a blur. Whether it was that their eyes wouldn't adjust to the darkness of the cell or that she was just that fast, their eyes couldn't follow her. Next thing they knew, they were all on the ground listening to the highest pitched ringing noise human ears could withstand. Then Carl felt his side holster unbutton, he weakly peered upward to see the marble-white woman pull out his sidearm. No not a woman, a devil. He could've swore he saw her flash that sickening sweet smile again. It could not really tell because of the waterfall of black hair masked her face. She then removed the hair from her face to reveal that she was indeed smiling. The gesture just deepened his fear simply because she seemed to read his mind. While still tucking her hair behind her ears, she seemed to be saying something. He probably wouldn't have even understood what she was saying if he could hear something other than the damn ringing noise. Fear had too deep of a hold on him now, his limbs wouldn't follow his brain's commands to move. She must've finished what she had to say, because now she was only smiling again. Unexpectedly, she leaned over him and kissed him on the cheek. He had to fight down the feeling to vomit. He still kept his eyes on her. Fear would not allow him to look elsewhere. He watched her sit upright. Shriek's smile gave way to a sad expression, he saw her mouth the words 'Goodbye Carl'. Carl was finally able to force his eyes shut and as he felt the cold barrel of his own handgun be placed on his forehead, he said a silent prayer for his family.
Two weeks. Two freakin weeks and sign no sign of that lunatic. On top of everything else: the divorce, the new job, on top of everything else that self-depraved madwoman had to escape from Ravencroft and no one's seen hide nor hair of her for two damn weeks. It was enough to drive one man, in particular, insane himself. Peter Parker, former freelance photographer turned high school science teacher crouched on the edge of a run down apartment under the guise of Spider-Man. Torturing and berating himself for not being able to track down the recently escaped lunatic, Shriek. Rain poured from the sky clogging the fine tiny holes of his mesh eyepieces of his mask. It made it kindly hard to see. He always hates it when it rains and his costume gets soaked. It's not so bad until he has to home and peel it off.and then try to find a way to clean the damn thing. It's not as if he could simply take it to the local laundry mat. No, no really it's a Halloween costume. He let out a quiet sigh and swore to himself that this city seemed to only to give him an honest-to-God quiet night when wasn't looking for one. With that in mind he leaped off the roof and shot a thick line of webbing to the tallest building close enough. He lied to himself, as he has so many times before, that swinging through the city would clear his head. When in reality, it only made him focus more on his problems. For a brief moment, he wondered if he subconsciously liked torturing himself like this. A feeling of something tugging at his brain interrupted his thoughts. It looks as if he might an eventful night after all. He followed the feeling for two blocks, leading to an alleyway. He knew what was happening as soon as he was in eyesight. One man towering over a young woman half his size. She could've been more than sixteen and the man was obviously middle aged. No, he refused to call him a man. He landed in a large puddle of water right behind them, announcing his presence with a loud splash. He didn't even bother crouching like he normally does. He stood straight up, glaring at this.this monster. This is worst kind of criminal, or rather the worst kind of sinner Spider-Man always faces.the sexual predator. He always has to constantly remind himself that he has to hold back. The middle-aged man whirled around to see someone he thought he would never see in his life, Spider-Man.
"You know, I normally have some type of smart ass remark right about now." Spider-Man took a step closer to the would be rapist and all he could do was stare at the costumed vigilante in terror, allowing his would be victim to escape. No she was still a victim; she would still be emotionally and maybe even spiritually scarred for the rest of her life.
"But, every time I see something like this occur.I just can't see anything that's funny." This 'man' then followed in the footsteps of his prey and started to dart out of the alley, only to be pulled back by a thick webline, forcing him to be slammed into a nearby dumpster. Spider-Man heard some of the man's ribs not just breaking, but shattering. He was trying with all of his willpower to stifle his strength, he really was, but he just couldn't help it. He kept telling himself to pullback, to hold off, but his muscles would not obey these commands. He leaped over the man landing in a crouching position on the wall next to this monster. Knowing full well that the inhuman ability to walk and stand on walls would only frighten his opponent. He would've allowed himself a slight smile if he weren't so furious. The man then actually had the gumption to throw a punch at his assailant, which was caught all to easily. Hold back, hold back damn it. Again, he couldn't control his own limbs and crushed the man's hand. It would be useless for the rest of his life. He would have let out a mixed scream of pain and terror if Spider-Man hadn't webbed his mouth shut, as well as his body to the ground. Suddenly, the sound of a frightened gasp behind him stopped him from doing whatever he was going to do next. He quickly turned to see someone he really, really did not want to see. His heart froze. It took all of his strength and willpower to force himself up the building and swing away. He quickly went to the rooftop where he stashed his civilian clothes and quickly dressed and stuffed his costume in the backpack. He kicked and berated himself for losing control like that and worst of all, she saw him. She just had walk in on him losing control. Her of all people. He swore he would never act like that in front her. Never. Just when he thought he had went the entire day without having one thought about that damn woman, she actually shows up. He finally made it to his apartment and he shut the door behind him. Soaking wet he sank down and buried his head in his knees. It looks like New York gave him an eventful night after all.
"M.J."
Shriek sat on the edge of her Soho loft window. Well, hers now anyway. One unfortunate young lady just happened to be at exiting the wrong nightclub at the wrong time. Not to mention the Goth had Shriek's fashion sense, sort of. She had to cut up and modify one of the leather jackets to her liking. Oh, but she did ask her new gothic friend for permission first, but she, sort of, stopped breathing. On top of that, there were no boots that fit her. Actually, she was lucky that she even fit in the woman's clothes, period. Somehow, under the God that watched this blue planet, she was actually skinnier than Shriek. She let out deep sigh and lit a cigarette; another item borrowed from her new friend.Tammy she believed her name was. Citation 100's, great, perfect, not only did Tammy not have clothes that fit her, she also smoked some of the cheapest cigarettes on the market. She took a long drag off the cigarette and thought to herself that it was time to seriously rethink this new friendship. No, no. She couldn't do that. She couldn't just stop being friends with Tammy just because her clothes didn't fit her and she smoked cheap cigarettes. What kind of person does that? Especially after everything she's done for her: giving her a place to stay, food and clothes. She would have to say that Tammy has been the kindest person to her since they let her out of Ravencroft. Speaking of which, Shriek wondered how things were going back there. Dr. Kafka, Colonel Jameson and of course Carl. Carl had always been her favorite. He always made sure she got food and took time out of his breaks and lunch hours to sit down and talk to her. It was kind of like that father she never had deal. If for no one else she felt a lot of love for that man and hoped, no, prayed to God nothing bad ever happens to him. Though, the news has been telling all of Manhattan that she escaped. She didn't escape they let her go. Dr. Kafka herself told her she had been rehabilitated. Now what was she suppose to do? She couldn't just go and walk around New York as a normal person, not with everyone believing she was going to kill everyone in sight. She had to fight down the urge to vomit, the thought of taking life sickened her greatly. Damn it, if all the papers are saying she's a killer, then that means Spider-Man will eventually come after her. Did she truly have enough power to hold off Spider-Man until she could prove her innocence? No, she didn't really believed she did, but where could she gain enough power to protect herself. She sat there for well over an hour thinking of and dismissing ideas of protecting herself. She let out a sigh of defeat, giving up. She hated the idea but what else could she do? She lit up another cigarette and began to gaze out of the window, where her eyes met the Fantastic Four building.
"Hmm."
Midtown High, so this is where the Spider went to high school. One young woman stood just outside of that very same building. She cursed herself for being there. She had no right to invade on Peter's life, especially not now. Well, that's half of what she thought the other half of her felt obligated to talk to him. To try ease her friend's mind. She also wanted to know what was up with this morning's headlines. At first she dismissed the entire story simply because the Daily Bugle is publicly known for it's one sided reviews on Spider-Man. Then she read the article in the Daily Globe and it said almost the exact same thing: SPIDER-MAN ATTACKS INNOCENT BYSTANDER. Both of the papers said that the bystander would be crippled for the rest of his life. She had to hear an explanation and had to hear it from Peter himself. She wondered briefly if it could be because of Mary Jane leaving him. Damn it, why did it have to be so windy today. She cursed at the weather one more time before trying her best to pull her snow-white hair back into a ponytail. She couldn't stand having her hair in her eyes. Maybe she should get a haircut. No, on second thought, she was sure she would kill herself later. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself before going in. What if Peter doesn't have a good explanation? What if he's just turned into a killer? She shook the thoughts out of her mind immediately. Peter wasn't a killer. As a matter of fact, he's always giving her the power and responsibility speech. She let out a slight chuckle; if she had to listen to him give speech, again she would have to claw his eyes out. The school was almost ungodly dark inside and the office wasn't in the front like it should be. No, it just had to be directly in the center of the damn place. Another thing that bothered her, it was too damn quiet, then again, it is class time. She finally made it to the 'front' office. The secretary was an elderly lady about, say, sixty-something. Mrs. Wallace is what the name said on the desk. Oh, and the bitch didn't even notice someone was standing in front of her desk. She wasn't even working; she just sat there and read some Wal-Mart porno book. Yep, this Mrs. Wallace was definitely beginning to make her blood boil.
"Excuse me."
"Yes?" The old bitch didn't even look up.
"I would like to know where Mr. Parker's room is located and if he is available to take visitors at the moment."
"If you give me your name I'll page his room on the intercom." Yep, Mrs. Wallace was definitely making her mad. She had to fight the urge to not just punch the old bat and look Peter's room herself.
"Wait just a damn minute," she really did try to stifle the anger in her voice, she just failed miserably. "That doesn't give me either one of the things I asked for."
"Yeah, well." Mrs. Wallace finally looked up and stopped her sentence dead in it's tracks upon setting eyes on this woman's face. She felt that she's definitely seen her from somewhere. She just couldn't place where.
"Well," She set her book down and eyed the woman suspiciously. She also took the time to regain her composure, not much fazed her in her in her old age. "If you give me your name, I'll page his room and see if he's there or not. Then, here's the tricky part, I come back here and tell where he's room is."
That's it she'd had enough. Her face turned to deep crimson red, she's going to have to deck this old bat and look for Peter's room her damn self. Well she was, if the voice of her old friend hadn't stopped her first.
"Felicia?" He said it in an almost quizzical manner. Felicia turned to see 'Mr. Parker' leaning on the edge of the doorframe of the office. She almost burst out laughing. The thought of Peter being a teacher. She really felt sorry for those kids. They probably had to listen to the responsibility speech every day.
"Felicia.you mean Felicia Hardy?" Ahh.sweet recognition.
Great, just great, just friggin perfect. Stretch has some new gizmo he just has to show off to the police, Suzie has to support Reed and Flame Brain's probably out with some damn woman, but what about him? No good ol' Ben Grimm can't go any damn place cause someone always has to stay and hold down the fort.so why does it always have to be him? He let out a horace sigh. It was probably better this way anyhow. A fella can't even buy a watermelon without some brat running up to him and start asking him if he's a mutant. He grabbed a copy of the Daily Bugle. The headline seemed to jump out and smack him in his face. He immediately began to read the cover story like a madman. After reading it about two or three times he finally set the paper down and no matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn't help but feel kind of sorry for the poor guy, meaning Spider-Man of coarse. Just to make things clear Benjamin J. Grimm ain't believing what that paper says for a second, not a blasted second. The good ol' webhead would never turn into a criminal and damn it he was going to keep believing that until he was proven wrong. He remembered the first time he met him. The ol' webs for brains actually broke into building and then asked for a job. 'I figure I'm worth your top salary.' He let out the sounds of full-throated laughter. he wished he could've seen the webhead's face when Sue told him they were a non-profit organization. The kid was definitely pissed. He actually thought he could get a job by breaking into the building. Oh and the best damn part was that he actually thought he could break in here without anyone knowing. At the exact moment Ben Grimm finished that thought, he heard the sound of one the Plexiglas cages fall down to trap whoever would be climbing through the window. He didn't even turn around to see who it was. He just buried his head in his hands.
"Why has thou forsaken me?"