Ok…three reviews…not bad. Well, one of them wasn't a review – more like a threat (but a motivational threat, nonetheless…hehe). For anyone still following, here's chapter 7. Sorry – there's more character/conscious conversations. They're just so fun to write!
This chapter is confusing. Lots of stuff happens…I'll explain it all. Eventually.
No, I don't own Spider-Man. I admit it.
*************Spider-Man/Peter's POV**************
I left, feeling as though I was still asleep. I could still taste M.J.'s skin on my lips. I can do this "girlfriend" thing.
Somehow, I made it to my apartment and changed into a fresh spandex suit. I winced a little as it enveloped my body – my chest still hurt every now and then. Understandable, I guess. As I left I noticed a few threads of webbing hanging from the ceiling of my room… When did that happen? I strode to the window and propped myself upon the ledge. Looking down into the alley, I saw a patch of russet staining the area around the dumpster. I vaguely remembered lying down there, in unimaginable pain, seeing M.J… I must have managed to shoot some webs to get her attention.
Was that why she came? Because she'd seen the webs? Pete…man…what if…what if she hadn't come?
"Then…then I don't…" If M.J. hadn't been in my room…hey, what… "…why was she in my room?! She wasn't s – wait, I can ask her later. I need to go kick my ass." I leaped onto the window sill and swung out over the alley and adjoining apartment buildings. It wasn't until I was three or four blocks away that I realized I didn't know where I was going. The TV…it didn't say where he was. Just that building…"administrative center"…what the hell is an administrative center!? I stopped where I was. No point in swinging if I don't even know where I'm going…it'd just be wasted energy.
I sat down on the rooftops, my back to some kind of vent. With my head in my hands, I prayed my brain would remember something, anything, from the newscast that would point me in the right direction. C'mon, brain…don't fail me now…Think!
"AARGHHH!!!" I let out a frustrating scream. It was no use, all I could remember was the broken furniture and the camera going dead. "Great. Just great." I threw my hands into the air, desperate for help. "JEEZ! Why does this sh…always happening and…every time…I just…Sigh…This could be my only chance to prove my innocence, and I'm lost."
I'm lost.
"Well, I…I guess I'll go back to M.J.'s?"
Pete, why was that a question?
"I've been defeated without any fight at all."
That doesn't answer the question.
"I can't just give up! There's got to be some way…I need…find…I…a pillow. Yes, a pillow. I need a pillow to scream in so that…" My voice became gradually louder with frustration, until I was screaming at nothing. "…so thAT I DON'T KILL SOMETHING!!! AAAUUUGGHHH!!!"
Peter…you're pathetic.
"Wha…" I lifted my head out of my hands. "Oh, c'mon, I'd never really kill something! I think that--"
That's your problem. You think too much.
"Well, jeez, what am I supposed to do?!"
Dude…you've got these things called ears. Just listen.
I quieted myself, surprised by the city's sudden insipidness. I heard traffic from below, music blaring from a window nearby, sirens, and people yelling for cabs and at each other, but still nothing helped. "And the point of this is…? Ok, yeah, so I'm calm now. But I still don't know where to go."
If I had control over our eyes, I'd be rolling them. Think, Peter. You –
"You just told me not to!"
You think about the wrong things.
"You know, you're really not helping."
Remember on the news? The guy said police were on the way. Police drive police cars. Police cars have sirens. Assuming that the police are headed towards the place we want to be, we can –
" – follow the sirens! Haha!" Yes! I felt like laughing. I jumped up from the bird-crap and tar covered roof and listened for the sirens again.
Ha. Now who's spoiling things, huh?
"Oh, shut up." The numerous wails of sirens in the distance rang in my ears, and suddenly I was flying through the tunnel of skyscrapers and billboards. As I neared the site, I felt my spider-sense begin to kick in. I tried to stay out of view while surveying the area. Pieces of smashed furniture lay on the ground, as on the TV, but other than that there were only police cars and officers holding the bystanders back. No Spider-Man.
"Well, no fake Spider-Man." I leaped onto the top of the building and glanced over the edge. Two of the armed officers were guarding the main entrance, while the others had their weapons trained on various windows.
Their loaded and cocked weapons. "Wow. They might shoot him."
Shit.
If they were willing to shoot who they thought was me, they'd be willing to shoot the real me, too. I quickly slinked away from the edge, never straying to far from the shadows. If my reasoning was correct, which I'm positive it was, I didn't want to be seen. At all. By anyone.
Me being seen could very easily mean death.
"Now what? If I go in, they see me. If I stay out, they see me. If they see me, they shoot me. If they shoot me, I die, and I'll never get to see that Brady Bunch marathon on TV next week. And damn, wouldn't that be a tragedy? I've been waiting three weeks to watch it." I looked around for an entrance or door, anything to let me into the building. Finding none, I instead crept my way across the roof, to the other side. To the back of the building. No cops or people back there, just a parking lot with a few empty cars and a dumpster.
And open windows lining the entire back wall of the structure.
C'mon, Pete…think about this before you do anything. You know what happens when you just do things. You always, in some way or another, end up screwing yourself over.
"Talk about an unhealthy addiction." I was practically drawn to the windows. I knew full well that thinking it over would do nothing – I was going in regardless. These moments were the ones I depended on. Life or death decisions that I made in seconds kept me going, kept my life exciting, stimulated me. I mean, let's face it…my life as Peter Parker is pretty boring. Why shouldn't Spider-Man get to have some thrills?
A web made it's way over the edge, clinging to the bottom of a windowsill. I jumped off, carefully moving my limbs so as to land just below the ledge, and pulled myself up and through the window. I was in some kind of office, with copious desks and chairs, a coffee pot, and a few potted plants scattered here and there. I saw no one.
Lucky.
"Why is it -- "
SHHH!
I rolled my eyes at myself and tiptoed silently to the door. No one was on this floor. I could feel it. Peeking out over the rows of endless cubicles, I saw the doors to both an elevator and a stairway.
I chose the stairs. No more elevators for me, thank you.
Poor guy.
My spider-sense went off again and I automatically hugged the wall. I caught the sounds of something pounding a few floors up and people screaming…
The adrenaline began to pump, and I slipped through the doorway and crept discreetly up the stairs. My heart beat like never before, and I could feel the sweat gathering under my suit.
I'm hungry.
I was walking towards feasible demise – if not for me, than for somebody else – and all I could think is how hungry I am. I get all the symptoms of fear, but no mental fear. No dreading, no panicking, no worrying about what will happen. Hell, I'd feel the same if I were walking to the dinner table to eat.
There is something seriously wrong with me.
At the top of the stairs, I approached two double swing doors with small windows near the top. Without even thinking, I lowered my middle and ring fingers and angled my wrist to cast out a thin film of webbing, and within seconds I was hanging from the ceiling, surveying the inside of the next floor through the door windows. What I saw did not make me happy. In fact, I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't allow myself to. The possibility of what I was witnessing actually happening was implausible. It scared me too much.
It scared me.
"…No…!" I could barely breathe, let alone talk; a lump forced itself into my throat, inhibiting my vocal cords. My body started shaking and I realized I needed to act. I needed to do something.
TSEEW! A laser-like noise. Suddenly, before I could do anything, the room burst into flames…
Oh my god…No…No… "NOOOOOO!"
I saw the three people in the room fly across the floor and shot a web through the doorway. I needed to get in there…I needed to save her…but it was no use. The flames grew, and I lost the ability to breathe. I could see nothing from the smoke clouding my vision, but could sense the other bodies in the room.
"Wh – cough, cough – where are you!?" Nothing. "Answer me! I – cough – need you to…"
Peter, get out of here! You're going to…you're going…
Slowly, for what seemed like the eight millionth time this week, I began to lose consciousness.
…going to not make it out, going to choke…no, choke not good…get out…find…door, find exit…
Find her…
**********Imposter's POV***********(AN: this part takes place while Peter is approaching/entering the building)
Spider-Man.
Such an original name. How did he do it? I mean, how could one be so smart as to name himself "Spider-Man"?
Ingenious.
I shook my head with a smirk, amused by my own sarcasm, and turned back to my task at hand. Robbing was easy. And fun.
And to think, all this time, nobody had every framed the guy before.
People are idiots. It was so easy, so simple…as long as I didn't slip. Which wouldn't be hard.
I turned to the woman I held prisoner in the otherwise deserted building. I laughed inside as she cowered and shook in the corner.
"Please…please just d-don't hurt me!"
"Now, what makes you think I'm going to hurt you, lady? I just want some answers."
And I want them answers now. If I don't soon find out who he really is, then I'll never find him. He'll find me, and then everyone will know…
I was pulled from my thoughts as a woman from the office entered the room, seeing me and my victim. She let out a scream, her eyes huge with fear, and started to run away. I didn't want her to run away. I wanted her to play with me.
"Hey, hey, now…come back, I won't hurt you." I leaped over to the door and grabbed the woman from behind. She began to scream and kick as I pulled her through the doorway.
"Get away from me, you beast!"
"Beast? Me? Spider-Man?" I tried my best to look innocent, then gave up and let out an evil laugh. "Sit down, lady. Don't try anything tricky, you hear me!?"
"I heard the news! You've turned bad!" The woman, who I now noticed was older than the first, was not being cooperative. She stood back up, and again ran towards the door. "Help! Someone help!"
"WHAT did I say, lady!? Sit the hell down!" It took a minute, but I finally triggered my "web shooters" and pulled her for a second time into the room. I attached her to the wall with the goopy stuff and watched as she tried to wriggle her way out of it.
"You…you…UGH! You horrible creature!"
This woman was quite bothersome. I stood above her, threatening her with an office chair held high above my head. She trembled in my shadow.
Suddenly, I noticed the window, and the numerous cops lined up a few floors down. I noticed that they were looking up. That they saw me. That they had weapons aimed at me. My eyes followed the red laser scopes to the red dots upon my chest…
TSEEW!
Then, I became aware of screaming women, fire, pain, and finally, nothing at all.
*********M.J.'s POV**********
Sigh.
I sat at home, eating breakfast. I had tried to pick up the events on the news, but since the Channel 6 camera had been crushed, no one else had tried to catch the action. In any case, I'd left the TV on just incase.
The dippy eggs and toast just weren't hitting the spot. I couldn't concentrate on anything other than Peter and his safety. It wasn't that I doubted him or his abilities.
I doubted everyone else.
Everyone thought he was a criminal…how could he possibly make out alright?
Because he will. Stop worrying, M.J..
I rose from the table and pulled out my U.S. History homework. I had a huge debate to prepare for, and knew nothing about Hamilton and Jefferson. I needed to study. I'd be killing two birds with one stone – getting it done, and keeping my mind off Peter. Hopefully.
*************(Time passes)*************
I closed the hardcover book and rested my elbows upon it. I would do ok on the debate. I'd read the chapter several times, taken notes, even checked online for references…I could do this. I pulled my Calculus book out of my knapsack on the ground next to me and started on next week's assignments. Nothing like working ahead, right?
Jeez…this is hard. Where's Peter when you need him?
I began to worry again. I gave up on the colorful graphs and numbers and laid my head down on the book. I started to think about him. Everything about him. He's…perfect. Well, no. But perfect enough for me. Definitely.
Damn him, why's he have to be Spider-Man!?
Before I could catch myself, I fell asleep at the table, resting my head on the books and binders. The phone ringing woke me up about half an hour later, though. After realizing what the noise was, I stood up and walked sluggishly to the phone in the living room.
"Hello?"
"…" I heard no voice, only breathing on the other line, and became curious…
"Hello! I know you're there…who is this?"
"…M.J…I…" I knew that voice.
"Pete? Peter, where are you? Are you ok?! Why are you whispering?!"
"Shhh…M.J., listen…I'm ok. I think…but…"
"Peter, stop. Tell me what's wrong. I know something's wrong, just tell me!"
"M.J. I love you so much."
"Tell me!" I was becoming frustrated. I could tell from his voice something was wrong. He was upset.
He took a deep breath before continuing, which was good – otherwise, he'd have run out halfway through the sentence. "He was there and I went there and she was there but the thing exploded and I went in the fire and now they got me I was unconscious and they caught me and I get one phone call but don't come here you can't let them know I know you."
"Whoa, whoa, Peter, slow down, breathe…who? Where are you?"
"The imposter. He was there. They shot him, he's dead. But he had her, he had her! When they shot him, the room…it…it exploded, I had to go find her, she was in there…but I couldn't breathe, the police came, they found me and took me. I don't know where she is, they won't tell me. They said I get one phone call. I shouldn't have called you, M.J…I'm so sorry…whatever you do, you can't come down here. You can't. Then they'll know."
I was speechless.
He became quieter than I'd ever heard him. "M.J., what do I do?"
"Peter…I…I don't understand. You're not making sense! They shot him? The imposter? Is that what you mean?"
"Yea…yes. The imposter. He's dead. I--" I heard gasping noises and coughs coming from the line. "--I think."
"Peter…I'm coming to get you. Tell me where you--"
"NO!"
"Who is there with you?" If somebody knew he called me…if someone took his mask off…oh, my god…
"I…no one. I…oh man…I feel sick…I think…I think they drugged me…needles…I don't…don't feel to well…no one's here, I'm alone…metal room, bars, tied up…gave me phone, left…I-I…ow…!"
What is going on?! "Peter!"
"Wha…"
"Does anyone know?!"
"I…don't know…I don't think…M.J., I can't…can't…jeez, what the hell…OW! What the hell…did they…did they put in me…oh…wait!…" His voice gradually faded, as though he became farther from the phone. "No! Wait! I'm…I'm not done! Give…give it…"
"Excuse me, ma'am?" A deep, gruff voice came on the line, with Peter still talking in the background.
"What did you do to him?!" I was so confused…so, terribly confused.
"Who are you, ma'am? What do you know about him?"
"I – I won't answer that! You – you can't find out who he is, please, I'm begging you…he's innocent. He was framed! He --"
"Ma'am, please. Calm down, now. We have no intention of revealing his identity to anyone, but if he wants to get out, his bail needs to be paid. We have the guy who framed him down here…as well as two women injured in the blast. Now if you--"
"Who? Who were the women?!" Pete had kept talking about a 'she'…
"We're not sure yet. They're under a doctors care right now, being treated for their injuries. Ma'am if you could please come down, we would appreciate it. It would be totally confidential."
"I…P-Spider-Man. Is he ok?" M.J., watch what you say, girl!
"He's fine. He wouldn't cooperate, so we had to sedate him. He's perfectly fine, I assure you."
I let the question churn in my mind. If I went down, I could get Peter out. But then…then people would know I know Spider-Man…
But I have to get Peter out.
"Ok. I'll be down."
"Thank you, ma'am. We'll be waiting for you."
"Can…can I just talk to him again before we hang up? Please? It's important."
"I'm really not supposed to, but…yeah. Keep it quick, ok?"
"Thank you so much!" I heard a few shuffling noises, then Peter's heavy breath registered on the line. When he finally talked, he was whispering.
"No, M.J….no. You…no."
"Shhh…You can't keep saying my name. Is that guy still there?"
A moment of silence… "Sort of…"
"Listen, Pe-- listen, if you're going to be sick, take your mask off. I don't care if any one sees. You can't die. Ok?!" If Peter got sick in his mask…well…the image entering my mind did not make me feel any better.
"Tied up…can't reach."
Tears began to form in my eyes. I had to get off the line and down there as fast as I could… "Peter, I'm coming down. Don't worry, I won't let anyone know who I am. I'll wear a disguise, somehow. I'll be down. I…I love you."
"Did…did you eat breakfast? Eat…you need…eat something…and wear…wear a jacket…it's…it's sort of chilly out…" I smiled inwardly as the tears rolled down my cheeks. Always protecting me…always.
"I'm coming."
"…ok."
CLICK.
I pulled a tissue off of the coffee table, wiped my eyes, and headed to my room to change.
Wow, this plot just keeps changing, doesn't it? I have no idea where I am going with this…
Review!
