Spiderman is dead: The story afterwards pt. II

I feel irrational, so confrontational

To tell the truth I am getting away with murder!

It is impossible to never tell the truth

But the reality is I'm getting away with murder!

Getting away, getting away, getting away...

I lifted my head. We're in the middle of a street.

Groups of people surround us, they have watched me kill their hero...they watched how ferocious I was and lethal... and they watched me feeling guilt...

Sounds of sirens were heard. My tentacles tell me that I shouldn't stay long. Should I turn myself in, despite my arms' cries?

Everyone was quiet and pale, everyone around me.

Some were in silent tears, but none made a sound, even the innocent children. They all saw how I killed their hero...Spiderman.

Parts of the crowd moved away. Were they moving in fear for their lives? No. They were moving out the way for the authorities to come by.

Should I spend a life in prison? Do I? I'm a scientist, not a criminal. Not a murderer. These creations are. These monsters are, the artificial intelligence that I have created are the criminals. These deserve the punishment.

But they need me...and I need them...to live.

So what am I going to do? I'm going to get away with murder.

I killed Peter. With my own flesh and blood hands. Not the tentacles.

They didn't even touch one hair on him. I killed him. And I don't even feel good...

I got up as the police approaches, each with shocked faces of their dead hero, and scared glances at me. They think that I would kill them.

But I won't. I've done enough sins in my lifetime. I shall not kill again.

Should I turn myself in, because I deserve the punishment? But I feel that not even life in jail would be enough for these arms. For myself.

So I'm going to get away with murder.

I started to run in the opposite direction of where the police were. Their shock recovered, and they all aimed their guns at me and started firing.

Whether they were doing it for orders or revenge, I wasn't sure. I deserve whateverbullet I received.

And when I ran, a large mob of scared, but angry and brave people ran after me, angry of what I've done.

They ran, some holding bats or pipes, others shooting with their own guns.

Most of them were men, and most of the women that held the children away from the whole mess. They don't deserve to ruin their innocence of witnessing their hero die.

And I ran, and I kept running, away from the mob, away from the police, away from the dead Peter Parker, away from my mechanical arms, and especially from myself.

I need a place to hide, a place for my head, a place for me to cry of what I've done, a place where I can punish myself for doing such a thing.

But first I must get away with the murder.

You'll have to understand that I'm making these chapters short. I call'em mini-chapters.

Anyway, I'd like to say Merry Chirstmas to you all (I might try and make a christmas fic) in case I would not be there to say it. I'll be out of town and try to work as hard as I can.

To the 'Of Honeys and Bees' reviewers: You'll have to forgive the delay for Octopus High. I haven't thought up a plot, and I think the idea is strange enough. You'll have to wait until spring.

One more notice: I know you guys hate spam as much as I do, (Spamming must die) but I'm advertising to Doc Ock fans ofa message board if you guys want to

Please tell me if the link doesn't work.

Review plz!