DISCLAIMER: I truthfully swear that Spider-man belong to that creative mastermind, Stan Lee (sticks out tongue-SPOILSPORT). I am making no profit from this, and am merely enjoying the chance to create my own version of a day in the life of such a great fictional character. Other than a few onlookers, and some unforeseen changes, none of the main characters are mine.
The smell of smoke was the first thing that hit him. It rose up in greeting like an old friend, and the only movement was his chest expanding to fill his lungs with it. He drank it in greedily, and sat in silence.
It tasted like rush hour traffic and the Italian Bakery around the corner. Sniffing, he isolated the strain of acrid smells… Then shifted again; crouching to support his weight with both hands, and caught it. And smiled, and shook his head in slight disappointment.
Ah, the oven's broken again. No dinner stop before home now, Pete.
The darkness around him broke then, as he stretched from his vigil. Bones cracked audibly, and cramped muscles ached in protest. Sparing one final glance over his shoulder, at the imposingly dark and silent structure of the West Side Jewellers; he rose, unfolding his body from the lithe crouch.
He gave up- no-one was breaking into that place tonight. And as the clock tower chimed one behind him, he shot a web onto the lamppost; deciding on one last swing before returning home. In a jog he launched himself off the roof; webs shooting out and catching grip on the stone walls lining the high streets.
His territory.
The cold breeze bit at his face through the mask as he swung down low; almost grazing the gravel before arching high again. Unconsciously, his muscles flexed and twisted, beginning the complex aerial acrobatics New Yorkers had come to know as a signature as unique as the individual performing them.
Suddenly exhilarated, he somersaulted over a set of traffic lights and caught some of the surprised looks of the motorists and onlookers, pointing at the sky as he swung overhead.
"Look, that's him. Hey, that's Spider-man!"
Yeah, Pete focused on his next swing as the world around him righted itself from the dizzying spin of the somersault. Like some dude wearing read and blue webbed skivvies, vaulting from lines of web in the sky would be ANYONE else.
Chuckling at the logic, he set down on a high rise roof neighbouring his next stop: Midtown Currency Exchange.
This too, however, was as quiet as the grave- rounding off Pete's night as the slowest all week. Not that he minded. Not at all… It would have been an enjoyable change of pace if it wasn't for a slight nagging at the back of his brain. He was mindful, always concerned-that Mary Jane was still getting used to the knowledge of his ...extracurricular activities, and worried about how she was coping with it all.
True, it had been a great deal to get used to, and his phone bill grew exponentially as, despite their best efforts to find an apartment together- the New York housing shortage was working against them.
It was then that Mary Jane insisted on nightly phone calls between them- Peter had liked the idea of moving in together, and began to voice qualms over the costs of such an idea, but one look at Mary Jane's face told him it was most definitely, not negotiable.
Doing so, probably would have invited more trouble than he'd ever faced from any villain- the late Doc Oc, and the Green Goblin included.
Actually, the pair of them combined would have produced less of a thunderstorm that would be raging at her place about now. Pete winced slightly as he recalled the last time he had been late in calling. After a particularly long and drawn out search for a missing child on his way home, his return had been delayed until the early hours of the morning.
Memory flashback
Not wanting to disturb Mary Jane, he waited until mid-morning before heading over to her apartment. After two knocks, the door was wrenched open by a very, very angry young woman, who after staring at him for a millisecond, gave him the loudest, and what was sure to be the longest lecture of his life, then tearfully made him promise to never worry her like that again.
It was the tears in the end, that clinched it- the screaming he could handle, but as soon as the tears started falling down her cheeks, Pete's battered heart took another painful shot to its core, and pulling her into the longest hug of her life, softly apologised while gently rubbing soothing circles into her tense back.
Realising how truly affected she was by the last year, he almost kicked himself for missing the now telltale signs- the long phone calls, the urgency to find an apartment together. He led her inside then, and it had taken a lot of explaining and smooth talking on Pete's part, to calm her down- and to dull his conscience as it called him every insult under the sun.
End flashback
He smiled slightly as he remembered that afternoon they spent in the park- in a desperate move, he had swung them to the botanical gardens, and watching Mary Jane's expression transform from tension to pure joy, had totally lightened up his week. Shivering slightly as a cold breeze whipped through him, he was especially thankful to have such tender moments to revisit whilst on these rounds- if only heart-warming and not the rest of his frozen self.
After greatly debating turning in for the night, Pete suddenly became aware of the stillness of the street. Totally peaceful. Completely unnerving.
I know it's late, but nowhere in New York is entirely devoid of noise- no question 'bout it. Something is wrong. And that means that I should be picking up somethi…Hey!
His spider-sense hit the back of his neck like a wave, and his body reacted instantly; vaulting backwards over the side of the building, into the high shadows of the alley below.
With palms and feet clinging easily to the rough surface, his nerves stretched out against the silence that pierced the night. From this perch the entire street was visible, and the streetlamps caught the dull glimmer of the costume's eyepieces as he turned to survey the rest of the alley.
It took several seconds to realize that the small blinking pairs of eyes that stared back unblinking belonged to five rats who, seconds later, turned their attention back to the contents of the overflowing trash cans crowding under the rusted fire escape.
Urgh, there's a pleasant surprise for anyone ballsy enough to use that rusted death-trap!
But there was that noise, so faint even Pete found himself straining to hear it. Shifting weight, he concentrated, brow furrowed behind the mask, as he had done minutes before…searching for the elusive strain. That sound which gradually rose in tempo as he felt senses sharpen, and then saw rather than heard, all the combined whispers of the night.
As it grew louder, a composite set of multiple mental images took shape- and a crazy surround sound slide show shot through his brain. The scratching noise of hungry rodents searching through the rotting garbage behind him, hardly pausing to glance up.
The scene shifted suddenly again-fading out to a driver three blocks down, blaring the horn angrily, checking her wristwatch impatiently.
Pete shook his head, frustrated, searching; angling it toward the apartment building right next door to the Currency Exchange. Gathering all his concentration into one instant, the vision blackened, his movements stilled as the hyper-fast images slowed, revolving around and around until…Stop. An image whiter than the others…
And there it was! An innocent sound- on its own-but Pete never relied on just the five senses to gather information. And his spider sense was throwing multiple images of flashing metal scraping against each other like sparks.
Pete's vision
The sick gleam of dull metal moved- sailing through the air in a downward arc, and striking its target with intent accuracy. Pulled back again, for another blow, more forceful than the last, connecting with the smooth surface and shattering it, sprinkling down in chinks of broken stone.
A sculptor! Doubtful, considering the hour and the way his sixth sense was hitting overdrive. But what, then?
Stifling a sigh, Pete resigned himself to the irony of the situation, and swung down to the Bank roof, his spider sense growing in pressure at the back of his skull.
Through the bank skylight, Pete watched as two thieves, obviously inexperienced, continued to hammer away at the thick marble wall that separated them from the safety deposit boxes, with little success.
Pete's anger almost gave way to amusement as he continued to watch the scene below, as one man threw the chisel down in frustration, and turn his stocking-ed head towards his accomplice, voicing the utter hopelessness of the plan, which Pete guessed to be, a bypassing of bank security and the complexity of the vault door.
He certainly had to concede the point, as he strung a web through the now-open skylight, moving silently to hang upside down behind the pair, as they continued, oblivious.
Great. Why do I always get the pathetic criminals on my watch? Must be karma.
He waited, patiently, and after several moments he rolled his eyes to keep from laughing out loud. Cursing loudly, the larger of the two dropped the hammer to the floor, earning him a slap from the other, as the noise echoing loudly through the deserted building.
At that point, it was all Peter could do to stop himself from cracking up, and he felt his ribs strain from the silent effort of reigning in the great gusts of laughter that threatened to give away his position. If I hadn't seen it, there's no way I'd believe these pair ever made it this far without tripping security.
Unbidden, his thoughts drifted, back to Mary Jane, and that bloody phone call he was yet to make. Realising just how close he was to being dismembered when he got back, sobered up Pete's mood instantly. Hi honey! Sorry I'm late-I was held up by a robbery- by New York's most Bumbling, incompetent, stupid robbers- yeah, Mary Jane'll believe that one. Oh, yeah, it's definitely karma!
Checking the lateness of the hour on the large clock positioned over Beavis and Butthead, on the wall they were so intent on, Pete decided that enough was enough. He cleared his throat. Loudly.
They turned around slowly, their eyes widening beneath the thin fabric of their masks, as they finally saw the biggest glitch in their plan, hanging upside down behind them. Noting the well known red and blue stretch costume with rising desperation and dread, the pair jumped as the figure suddenly waved cheerily in their direction.
Coughing loudly, Spiderman jolted them out of their stupor. "Ahem. I assume you gentleman are not here to make an after hours deposit. So until I see some paperwork, you'll just have to come back later, and wait in line forever like everyone else." Smirking underneath the mask, he waited for them to either run, or charge him. Inevitably, they always did.
However, after several long moments, Pete was slightly surprised to see neither figure moved so much as a step, as though they had become rooted to the marble floor they stood upon.
Oookay! That was easy. Jumping down into a crouch, he moved towards them, arms outstretched-intent to web them to the cracked wall, and leave a nice little package for the bank personnel to find, in a few hours. Be nice to go home and…oh jeez!
As the crowbar swung again, Pete flipped back to avoid the blow, giving himself over to instinct, his anger rising, all patience gone. He was so caught up in his thoughts he had almost missed the blur of metal rushing towards his head, and once again, he offered up thanks for his spider sense as it sent him flying backwards, out of harms way.
Butthead, holding the crowbar like a club, and grinning as Spiderman vaulted backwards, ran towards the costumed figure, relishing in putting the weapon through our hero's head.
Sighing yet again, Pete turned to greet the morons that had effectively, ruined his evening. Trying to run him through with a crowbar was nothing different, but so help them if they caused Mary Jane even more worry on his part (for which he conceded, that he was not entirely without blame).
Pete tempered his anger, by reminding himself that stupidity was not grounds for wiping the floor with anyone- and with one punch he levelled the oak tree as it barrelled towards him. He hit the round hard, and remained there, unmoving.
Beavis winced, as he heard, more than saw, Spiderman's fist connect with a sickening crunch, into his friend's face as the idiot had, unthinkingly, tried to ram one of New York's most notorious superheros. But all thoughts instantly turned inward, as Spiderman turned, ever so slowly, to stare at the cowering robber, only a few feet away.
"Hey, hey…We're sorry man. Just needed the money- didn't harm nothing. Honest! You gotta believe me!" He was babbling now, reading with mounting terror, furious tension in the costumed man's frame that even now, stalked towards him like a foreshadowing of his own doom.
Spiderman stopped. "You're scared?" Beavis nodded violently in agreement, not wanting to piss off this character with anything that could be read in incompliant.
Still, he almost wet himself, when he saw the chin fabric of the mask stretch in what had to be a wide smile.
"Good. Because of you and you're pathetic attempts at robbery…or wildly successful attempt at marble chiselling, I am in such incredibly deep trouble that you, in all your moronic intelligence, cannot even begin to comprehend."
Spiderman's in trouble. That's gotta be some world class shiiiiitttt! Beavis's thoughts rendered dead, as soon as Pete took a menacing step forward and suddenly webbed the man in place. Doing the same to the downed accomplice, he shot a string to the ceiling and was in the process of climbing out the skylight when, Moron number One found his voice again.
"Kidding right? Spiderman scared of something!" Visions of dread filled the man with renewed fear, but he continued, "Another big ass mother like Green Goblin gonna pop up?"
Pete just wanted to sleep- but the man looked so white that he wasn't sure that he hadn't accidentally webbed the guys face. Grimacing at the memory of his previous foes, he answered. "No!"
"No," Beavis squeaked, now fully graduated from terrified to scared shitless. "What's worse that that crazy son of a…" He suddenly stopped, not really wanting to know what horrors were lurking out there- worse than what the city had seen before.
Spiderman looked pensive for a second, and his reply rang down through the building to the guy webbed to the marble floor, seemingly unintelligible waves of fear rolling off the man. Hmmm, wonder how my Spidy sense picked that up…Never mind!
Then in a swift acrobatic move, he was out the opening and disappeared into the night. Silence rang throughout the building- broken only by Beavis's ragged gasps as he stared up at the ceiling, brow wrinkled in confusion.
To the empty silence of the building, he voiced his opinion of what he believed the crime-fighter's reply, his voice almost cracking with the combined pulls of relief and self doubt.
"What…did he just say…Women?"
Sorry- it loaded with some grammer errors. Reposting it was a pain in the butt! And if you're reading this then you either skipped to the end (shame in you) or you finished it! Hooray-the next chapter may be a while but, a little thing called life is slowly killing off my muses!
Well, I'm off to buy Muse Insurance...and finish this wacky tale (I hope ;)