Chapter Twenty-One

Repression

Wham!

My fist bounced off the punching bag, and I attacked it with my other. Back and forth, back and forth, a pattern in my head.

Whumph! Thump! Wham!

I could feel the sand dent and slide each time I hit it, the tiny waves that move through the entire bag at each impact. Each one sent jolts up my arm, made my muscles tense and ache, and it felt good.

Knocking people out with flying trashcans felt so superficial. For once, I wanted to deal with my problems head-on, feel the pain in my knuckles and feet. I didn't want to hide on roof-tops anymore, just letting my mental strength do the work for me. It felt so satisfying just to feel something move underneath my own hand.

The tape and padding around my hands kept my skin from breaking. I had heard stories of monks, ancient warriors who would punch at the bark of trees until they could no longer feel pain in their hands. I slammed my knuckles again into the bag and winced, the muscles in my arms twinging. Ouch. That must be a lot of tree-punching.

But I sucked it up and kept going.

I had to release the frustration pent up in the past couple days. After my minor panic attack at Brooklyn Labs when no one could find Peter, he appeared behind the fire truck with camera in hand. I practically tackled him, I was so glad he was still alive. He had just been chasing Spider-Man for pictures.

I still had to admit, Spider-Man showing up at Brooklyn Labs so soon after the attack started was incredibly convenient. Had Peter called him?

Thump!

That wasn't the biggest of my problems. I punched the bag harder as they reemerged in my mind. The chains to the punching bad rocked back and forth, rattling as my hits became stronger and more powerful.

Whumph!

I hadn't spoken to Gwen in days, but it didn't take me very long to figure out that my internship at the APEX building was pretty much over with. After the destruction of the lab, loss of a scientist and then massive chaos after their AI went nuts – they probably had other things to worry about than teenagers wanting experience. Now without a job, I needed something to do in my free time. First-hand experience on the streets wasn't the ideal route to up my game, so I did the next best thing.

Taking a job at the local gym was the only thing I could do, but it paid off pretty well. I helped around, swept floors and cleaned bathrooms, made sure the doors were locked up before I left – and I could take as many classes I want, use the facilities whenever I had the time.

Thump!

But none of it helped with the fact that I might be losing my mind. Literally, I could just snap and blow up, go Hulk on everyone and tear down a borough. I was a dead woman walking.

Wham! Whumph!

"Hey, take it easy there, champ," called the gym manager, a Hispanic man known by the name of Danny. I had no idea what his last name was, or if Danny was a nickname or his real name; everyone just called him Danny. "You going for the Olympics?"

"Not Olympics," I inhaled, dropping my fists and leaning onto the punching bag as I caught my breath. Sweat beaded off my forehead and I raised a hand to wipe it off. "Just stress relief."

"Fair enough," Danny nodded, understanding. He leaned against the ropes around the boxing ring. He usually taught aspiring boxers and wrestlers; a pair of such was having a tussle on the mat right now. "I have to admit, though, I don't see a lot of girls here, especially not those into boxing."

"I guess it's not how a lot of people solve their problems," I admitted, stretching my arms before they got too heavy from exhaustion. Granted, I wasn't the only girl here, and in some of the classes I took, a lot of them were women – but they were also a lot older and bigger than me. That also meant I didn't know anyone here, which was one of the reasons why I picked this place and not the school weight room. "I know it's definitely something my mom wouldn't use."

Danny grinned, shaking a finger at me. "Ah, but that's because she's a smart lady. See, I know a lot of guys who think they need to fight through their problems like everything going against them is some sort of challenge against the universe. My dad was like that, got into a fist fight with his boss. I mean, he won, but he had another thing waiting at home for him that night. My mother ripped him a new one."

"Is there some sort of lesson you're trying to teach me?" I laughed, crossing my arms over my chest. My muscles ached at the sudden lack of movement, how I had dropped the exercise so suddenly. I wasn't really an expert on exercise and to keep up appearances I gave poor performance during gym class, so I wasn't really sure how warm-ups and cool-downs work. How long do they go? How do you tone down punches? "Fill your quota of wise advice to the youth of Queens?"

"Hey, it's a bad habit, I know," Danny raised his hands in innocence. I shouldn't have been so harsh; he was a coach after all. It was probably his job to make sure kids kept on the right track. "I've seen boys and girls in situations a lot worse than yours and see them make it out better than a lot of people I know. It's a great feeling, overcoming those obstacles, and there are different ways to do that. Just don't think you have to fight everything in your life."

I shook my head, a little doubtful of his warning. "Oh, I don't know. I have to do a lot more fighting than you might think. My life can get pretty, um, intense sometimes."

"Well, I can't say I didn't try," Danny shrugged, turning back to watch his students duke it out in all their sweaty glory. "Just keep your head on straight, okay? Bring up your arm, William, up with your arm! We don't want any serious injuries here..."

Our conversation having ended, I headed over to the locker room and unwrapped the binds from my hands. Stretching my fingers to get some feeling back into them, I changed into day clothes and left the gym with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I waved to a couple people I recognized from my classes as I pushed through the heavy metal doors.

Eddie was waiting on his motorcycle in the street, as he had been doing for the past couple days now. A big grin broke out on my face when I saw him; this was a tradition that had yet to get old on me. Eddie seemed particularly excited today, and spoke immediately once I was in range. "I've got a huge surprise for you."

"Oh?" I said, not expecting this. Eddie wasn't exactly the kind of guy who's spontaneously generous for one reason or another. I tried to figure out the new thing in his life that might have brought this about, but I was drawing a blank. "What is it?"

"If I tell you, then it's not a surprise," He chuckled, motioning to the seat behind him. "Hop on. This is going to be great."

"I'll take your word for it," I replied, pulling out my helmet. I no longer felt nervous wearing it in public, as myself. And no longer did I feel anxious getting onto Eddie's motorcycle, or his crazy daredevil antics through Manhattan rush hour. Even as he gunned the engine and sped onto the street, I clung on tighter and felt adrenalin course through my veins as we narrowly avoided collision with a big rig. I actually thought it was kind of...fun!

That was another thing I never told Dr. Kindell about. I think he'd have a heart attack if he knew just what Eddie would do on the streets and me along with him. Would he consider this healthy behavior? Probably not, since every other second we seemed to cheat death somehow, yet in the back of my mind, I wondered if I was sick. It wouldn't take much convincing for Dr. Kindell to tell me so, but I tried not to think about him. He was like that teacher chaperone at school dances – not letting the kids get too close to each other, not letting them dance the way they want to. A total killjoy.

I certainly wasn't going to tell him about my fear of my impending insanity. That would be opening an entirely different can of really gross worms, a mess that I didn't want to deal with.

I figured out we were heading towards ESU pretty quick. Crossing the Queensboro bridge kind of gave it away, and with that knowledge I tried to figure out just what was going on at the lab. I felt as though I should already know – after all, Peter had made a big deal this afternoon about the alien coming to New York, something that Aunt May laughed about. She may not be a believer in alien life, but it would have been hard to convince Peter not to try and get a look at the thing that came down with the spaceship a couple days ago on Halloween.

I smiled to myself. Peter was going to be so jealous.

As we arrived, I had to keep myself from blurting out that I knew what Eddie was going to show me. Still, I was practically jumping up and down from excitement, and I had to control myself. If Eddie thought I had it all figured it out, he might not show me.

If I was this excited about secrets, it was a wonder how no one figured out I was Falcon yet. How I kept myself from blurting it out, just to spite someone, was beyond me.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself, following Eddie as he used his access card to get into the lab. He was talking animatedly, and I realized I completely zoned out for a moment when I realized I had no idea what he was saying. "...wouldn't believe how excited Doc Connors was when he heard the goo was getting sent here. He really needed it, you know, after the whole, um, reptile accident."

"Oh, yeah," I nodded as if I knew exactly what he meant, even though I was scrambling to catch up with him.

At first, I didn't understand what he was referencing, then I remembered the monster attack at the zoo a couple weeks ago. That was Dr. Connors? He must've suffered a lot to get that bit out of the media. I had only seen him on TV and in newspapers, but I still felt kind of bad for the guy. Getting transformed into a wild beast probably didn't make the list for Best Day Ever.

Through the doors was a gigantic room – much, much larger than Dr. Winter's lab, which didn't exist anymore. Everything about this place reminded me of Brooklyn Labs, which only made me feel more awkward and paranoid. Not even the police could figure out where everything and everyone all went, didn't even know what to chalk the incident under. Seeing the metal tables and scientific equipment here, with scientists in their white lab coats and plastic goggles, I wondered if the same thing would happen here. Nothing but bad luck seemed to follow me these days.

At the far end of the room was a glass bubble of sorts, but the alien life form must've been tiny, because I couldn't see anything from here.

I did notice Gwen Stacy, near a tank full of glowing eels. She stared at me, her expression carefully guarded. She didn't wave or say hello, and turned back to her clipboard before I could try anything.

Not that I was going to. I felt my face heat up in embarrassment and hoped everyone else took it as windburn. I hadn't spoken to Gwen in a few days – now she was giving me the cold shoulder and I didn't know how to tell her I was sorry without having to explain myself. There was no way I could do it without revealing my powers, or possibly deteriorating mental state.

Still, the strange jolt of pain in my chest and the burning sensation behind my eyes prevented me from fooling myself into thinking this would work itself out. I didn't know how to talk to Gwen yet, but I hoped inspiration would kick in soon.

Eddie, completely oblivious to what just happened between me and my (former) best friend, went up ahead towards the glass container. "This is it, the black goo from outer space!"

Up close, the alien didn't look particularly impressive. After watching ET and Star Wars, I'd figure the first time I'd meet an alien, it would come down from a space ship, or at least have vertebrae and maybe a face. 'Goo' was the right word for the thing, because I didn't know how else to describe it. A black liquid, almost oily in appearance, stuck to the side of the glass like a spider. I almost thought it had been a stain at first until it moved.

Vertebrae or not, the thing could tell we were there. I couldn't tell how, because it didn't seem to have a brain or eyes, but as I stepped onto the platform, I saw it shift. Pulsing slightly, the goo creeped across the glass so it was closer when I approached. A little freaked out, I didn't want to get closer, but it felt rude because Eddie was still kind of far away. Steeling my nerves, I walked right up to the glass. The thing must be filtering air, because a cold draft emanated from its surface. Probably to give the goo some semblance of its home in space.

"Cool, right?" Eddie asked, grinning ear to ear. He was clearly pleased to be in the presence of the alien, but I wasn't so sure why it was important. Ok, yeah, it was the first alien life form discovered in, like, ever, but the way Eddie acted, it seemed to mean so much more. Like it reaffirmed his existence somehow. I didn't know how to explain it, but Eddie looked – I don't know, relieved. "According to the Doc, it's a type of symbiote – it bonds to other life forms as a way to survive. It even responds to body heat!"

That explained why it sensed our approach, but I still wasn't sure why it was leaning towards me when Eddie was clearly the larger individual. I mean, greater heat over surface area, something like that, right? I frowned, but tried to reassure myself that maybe the convex shape of the glass was just warping its abilities.

"This is going to get ESU on the map, get our reputation back on track!" Eddie said, staring at the alien like it had just saved his life. "We'll finally get that grant for new equipment once the Connors sends out their first report on the alien."

"That's so neat," I smiled at him, and on a whim I placed my hand on the glass, directly over the goo. The glass was cool to the touch and goose bumps went up and down my arm. It seemed to shrink away for a moment, then hid behind my palm. Confused, I drew back and saw that the goo had taken the shape of my hand where it had been. It continued to pulse in conjunction to my heartbeat. "Wow, it really does respond to body heat. That is so...creepy."

"Well, that's one word for it." Eddie chuckled. "It just likes you, that's all."

I couldn't take my eyes off of the goo. It had no eyes, no face, but I felt like I was being watched. A chill crept down my back like a drop of ice melt had slipped under my jacket. I shivered and stepped away. "Peter is going to be so jealous when I tell him about this."

"You should," I took my gaze off the goo long enough to see a look flash across Eddie's face. It was almost too fast for me to catch, but I definitely noticed the darkening in his eyes, the way the smile faded from his lips. "It's what he deserves, after what he did to me - err, I mean, us. I bet he's just dying to get a good look at it – but he'll probably just take pictures and sell them to the Bugle again."

I blinked and looked away before he could meet my eyes. I hadn't quite believed Peter when he said there was something about Eddie, something dark about him, until now. There aren't a lot of people I'd wish ill will on, but Peter for taking pictures isn't exactly a crime. Okay, so he was doing it for the money, but people make tough decisions every day. I didn't blame him for it; I figured I would've done the same thing.

But Eddie...it was like watching a kid's movie for the first time in years, and suddenly you're catching all the jokes meant for adults. Only this isn't funny, and you wish they weren't there. My little crush wasn't just a crush anymore –it was mixed with longing and fear. Fear of what, I didn't know. I hoped I didn't have to find out.

OoOoO

Helping Spider-Man defuse a gang war stand-off was not Falcon's idea of fun.

While Spider-Man kept himself busy taking out and tying up bad guys for the cops to grab, Falcon made sure they couldn't drive away, upending cars and pulling out the escapees. A couple ganged up on her and Falcon brought up her arms, pleased to finally get a chance to put her new boxing experience to the test.

The first guy had his pants half-way down to his knees and a skullcap that almost covered his eyes. He jumped out at her, hoping to tackle Falcon to the ground.

But she dodged and shot out her fist, giving the man a tremendous right hook as he turned around to attempt another go. The impact spun him on his heel and he crumpled to the tarmac, out cold.

In Falcon's personal opinion, seeing that should've made the other gangbangers run for their mommies, but it only made them angrier. Deciding that two heads were better than one, a duo of skinheads jumped on Falcon, each grabbing one of her arms.

They pulled opposite ways, trying to pop her arms out of her sockets.

Falcon yanked but they had a good hold on her – so she planted her hands on each of their chests and concentrated.

Fwoom!

Air coiled and compressed around her hands. Falcon held it until the pressure in her head turned her vision spotty and black. When she released, the grip on her arms vanished as both skinheads were launched in either direction.

"Whoa!" Spider-Man swung overhead, catching them both in two nets of web. "That had to be at least twenty yards!"

"Thanks," Falcon said, rubbing the side of her head. The amount of pressure that had built up left her a little dizzy and fazed. Still, it was much better than the last time, where she almost passed out trying to stop an out-of-control subway train. "I've been practicing."

With most of the gangbangers either running for their lives or strung up in sticky nets, Falcon considered her job done here. Still, she wanted to finish what she came here for, "Hey, know that alien that was sent to ESU labs the other day?"

Spider-Man dropped beside her, checking under the car to see if there were any more bad guys lurking around. Falcon's radar didn't detect any, but maybe his spider sense was sharper. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I saw it." Falcon grinned as he jerked up, spinning to look at her in surprise. "Up close."

"What?" Spider-Man took her by the shoulders, shaking her a little as if the very idea had him desperate for more. Her head bobbed back and forth as Spider-Man demanded, "How? I've been trying to get a good look at it but they won't let anyone in. Did you break into the lab or something?"

"Knock it off," Falcon pushed his arms off of her, taking a step back before Spider-Man could tackle her and interrogate for more information. "I had friendly access. I, um, know someone who works there."

"Yeah, so do I!" Spider-Man hooked a thumb at himself and for a minute there was still silence as they stared at one another. The silence was amplified by the deserted street and low moans of the captured thugs. Spider-Man deflated, dropping his arms to his sides and tried to backpedal, "Um, I mean...who?"

She found herself a little disturbed that perhaps Spider-Man knew someone she knew. Did that mean she knew him, too, as his alter ego? Falcon frowned but decided it wouldn't hurt just to tease him a little more. "None of your business."

Spider-Man was about to retort when his cell-phone went off, playing Itsy-Bitsy Spider. Falcon stared, speechless, as he backed off with a finger in the air of the universal signal of 'one moment, please' before withdrawing the phone from somewhere on his waistline and answering it. "Uh, hello? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Falcon still couldn't pull her eyes off of Spider-Man. The ring-tone, the cell phone – it looked so familiar. But where had she seen it before? The theme tune, she was sure this wasn't the first time she had heard it. But where? And when? More importantly, who?

Spider-Man raised an arm and swung away, still chatting away with whoever was on the other line (they were having a heated discussion on shawarma). Falcon watched him go.

She had decided not to follow him, an uneasy feeling in her gut.

Falcon didn't like all these little coincidences towards Spider-Man's alter ego. Did she know him, somehow? Falcon kind of thought his voice sounded familiar, but one time she mistook an actor on TV for her mother, so had written off the experience as her brain being weird. But now that she really thought about it this time, she wondered if she really did know Spider-Man.

But then who could he be?

It was far-fetched to think that out of six million New Yorkers, in all five different Boroughs, she actually knew the guy behind the mask. What were the odds of the Big Apple's two superheroes actually knowing each other (but not knowing it) in their civilian lives? It sounded too crazy, too impossible to be true.

But Falcon couldn't help but wonder whose face was behind it. She felt like it would be so easy to just jump Spider-Man right now, while he was distracted with his call, and rip his mask off (maybe even do it with her mind), but Falcon wasn't stupid. The consequences of such an action (and learning Spider-Man's ultimate identity), might backfire in the worst possible way. Falcon wasn't sure how it would turn out, but she watched enough movies to know that the curious never prospered. More than likely, they ended up dead.

Still, Falcon wasn't writing off the idea entirely. In the back of her mind, she promised herself that if someone's life was on the line, or if times were desperate enough, she will find out who was behind that red-and-blue mask.