Wings of Death Part One: Taking Flight
Note the reader: To all my long time readers, I would like to thoroughly thank each and everyone, of you. SMU, the last time I checked had over five hundred eighty hits. This is truly touching to me as an author, and aspiring professional writer. Sadly, I have recently been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and do not have that long to live, so I am discontinuing all of my works. And so now I leave you my fare public with the immortal words of Edward R. Murrow: Good night, and good luck.
Psyche! Hehehehe. Sorry, I just really got into the title of this story arc. But in all seriousness, I thank each and everyone, of you for even considering looking at something by me. I have also posted three other works on the sight, just check out my profile and take a peek.
On a final note, please review this story! You guys have no idea how much seeing a reader's opinion, or congratulations helps an author write and feel!
Well, now that that is all out of the way, please enjoy Wings of Death! Hmm, I never noticed that mole there before…
Peter stood naked and alone in his dark room. Peter breathed slowly and steadily with his head bowed. His mind was crystal clear, a sole thought permeating his mind. In his hands, Peter held his future, what would become his life.
The costume Peter had bought some weeks past for a hundred twenty dollars and fifty-six cents had been modified by Peter. Using a portion of the money won at the wrestling ring, Peter had purchased a large amount of black thread.
Using skills honed in Home Ec as a precaution just in case he ended up cold and alone in the world, Peter sewed a black web pattern over every red part of the suit, leaving the black areas bare. He then proceeded to stitch a design on the chest. Peter hadn't thought very hard for what to put on it, because it seemed ever so obvious to the spider-powered teen. Using a homemade stencil, Peter Parker stitched a spider shape right on the chest. And as a final touch, Peter, using a second, larger stencil, used up several spools of red thread to create a second larger spider on the back.
"This is my penance. Please forgive me Uncle Ben." Peter said as he pulled the pants of his costume up. The pants fit snugly over his calf's showing off his well, defined legs. Peter then slid the top part of the red and black suit down his head. The shirt also was form fitting, showing off his pectorals and biceps.
Finally, Peter held the white-eyed mask in his gloved hands. Peter took a final breath before pulling the mask over his head. Peter opened his eyes, now seeing with a very slightly tinted white view.
He pushed open his bedroom window, inhaling the night air. Peter leaped from the window, down to the ground below and took off, bounding over houses before letting fly a web line, which he used to swing off into the night.
And so, gone, gone was Peter Parker, and rose the hero Spider-man.
Melissa Anaya was a young Hispanic woman that worked for less then minimum wage at El Chili Verda six days a week. Her boss was a complete and total jackass that cracked the preverbal whip, any chance he got. He hated all his employees and was not afraid to tell them right to their spittle covered faces.
Melissa swore that he despised her more then any other person working there. Tonight, he had made her stay till sometime around midnight cleaning up. When she had finally been let off, she could not get a cab back to her apartment and was forced to walk home.
Most people would discourage walking around a city like New York at night. Especially in a world were gods literally walked on the Earth or flew trough the sky and seemed inexplicably drawn to New York and other major cities.
Melissa had learned this just one minute ago, that this was very true for young, attractive women. She had been pulled down a cold, dank ally by a pair of hairy paws, and held captive by four bears of men.
The tallest one, the very same one that had pulled her down the ally, had a lazy eye and one ear, the other possibly cut off in a knife fight. He held her tightly form behind, a Bowie knife pressed firmly against her jugular.
"Well, well, well! Looks like we got ourselves a cut little girl e're boys." The slim hissed in his fowl voice. He gave Melissa a lick on her cheek that sent cold shivers down her spine.
Oh god! They don't just want my money! Oh no! Agradar Dios ayudar me! Melissa screamed mentally, her heart racing with terror.
The second of the trio stepped up. He was a tall black man with scars crisscrossing his face. "Look's like she don't got much on her." He said, smiling like the devil himself.
The third scum groped her with filth hands. "Maybe hidin' something under her clothes Spike." He said, addressing his leader.
"I do think you're right." Spike said with a wicked grin, his hot, stinky breath scarring the back of Melissa's neck.
The third scum grabbed the neckline of her shirt. "Don't worry babe, we won't hurt ya. Much."
THWEEP!
The goon felt something hit his back, sticking right on his leather jacket. "What the hell? WAH!" The goon was pulled back into the dark end of the alleyway.
Sickening sounds of flesh hitting flesh, and cries of pain issued from the shadows. The scum was thrown from the darkness, nose broken, eyes blackened, and faced swollen. He bounced on the wet ground, groaning in pain.
"W-what the hell happened to you?" Spike demanded of his unconscious comrade.
"You know, it's not really polite to grab a girl like that on your first date." Spider-man said, stepping out of the ally, cracking his knuckles.
"Who you tellin' us what to do? Huh ya weirdo?" Spike barked, pressing the edge of the Arkansas Toothpick against Melissa's neck harder. "Mortis! Kill that little bitch!"
The man called Mortis looked at Spike questioningly. "But Spike, he beat up Smasher!"
"Just shut and kill him!"
Mortis gulped and rushed at Spider-man. He swung at Spider-man, who leaned back just enough to avoid the blow. Spider-man grabbed Mortis's wrist and yanked him to the left. The web covered fighter delivered a swift kick to Mortis's back.
"Gah! Mortis shouted as pain surged up his spine.
"You know, you're lucky I pull my punches!" Spider-man quipped, pulling Mortis back in front of him. He uppercutted Mortis, sending, him down the ally. Mortis smacked down at the end of the ally, unconscious.
"And it is very impolite to hold a girl at knife edge on the first date!" Spider-man said, turning his attention to Spike.
"Back off freak, or we see who much blood this girl got!" Spike threatened.
Melissa shrieked, feeling the cold metal scrap against her dark skin.
Faster then Spike could follow, Spider-man had fired a web-line with pinpoint accuracy at the big knife. With a swift yank, the knife was dislodged from the rapist/murderer/gang leader/thief/elementary school dropout's hand.
The red and black, garbed hero caught the deadly instrument by its tip. Placing it twixt his middle, index, and ring finger, Spider-man snapped the knife as easy as you would a twig.
Spike pushed Melissa away and ran out of the ally screaming bloody murder. Spider-man dropped down from the night sky, in front of Spike like an avenging angel, or demon, depending on whose perspective you used.
"Ah come on! Are you afraid of little ol', me? I just want to play!" Spider-man said to Spike, who by now had lost all bladder control.
"Y-you ain't human! You-you gotta be one of dem Muties!" Spike screamed, feeling like he was about too loose bowel control.
"Actually," Spider-man leapt onto Spike's chest. "I perfectly human!" Spider-man delivered a pain blow to Spike's hideous visage, sending him crashing to the ground with a bloody nose.
The costumed hero jumped of the criminal's chest, and stuck (pun intended) his landing. "Oh, and Mutants are people too!" Spider-man dragged the thug roughly across the road to the ally, where he bunched the three together and bound them with layers of sticky webbing.
Melissa stared at her savior in a mixture of gratitude and fear. "T-thank you." She said weakly. "Who are you?"
"My name's Spider-Man." Was all the masked man said, before leaping into the night and swinging away on a shining rope of, web.
A few hours later, Melissa had led two cops to where the three criminals were bound. Max and Greg stood over the unconscious trio.
"Well I'll be darned!" Greg said with a Brooklyn accent. "These guys been on the wanted list for six months! Max, get 'em out of that…stuff while I radio this in."
Greg turned around and turned on his small radio. "Hey, we got Hodge Williams, Trent Benedict, and Edward Young on East Delaware. All three of 'em are wrapped up in this weird white stuff. Could you send down another car to help get these guys outta here?"
"Uh, Greg?" Max called to his partner.
"What is it Max? Max what the hell are you doing?" Greg screamed.
Max, who had tried to tear the webbing, was now quite stuck against the cocoon. "Could you get out of this? 'Sniff sniff' Yuck! I think you of these guys took a dump on them selves!"
Os. Corp. Lab 31Doctor Miles Warren was a spindly man. His face was long and thin, nearly skeletal. His gray eyes were narrow slits cut into his skull. Warren's hair was short and greasy, putrid green in color. Miles' nose had a sharp hook at the tip.
Miles Warren's skin was the color of death. Ugly blotches of pale yellow flesh covered his body. A tiny scare was visible on his long chin. The scare was unearthly white, standing out on his pale flesh.
Miles wore the stereotypical white scientist lab coat. A pair of faded black pants struggled to stay up on his skeletal waist.
Doctor Miles Warren was not a pleasant person to be around by anyone's standard. To start with, his hideous features repulsed many people, and mad dogs bark at him incessantly.
Personality wise, he was exactly the same inside as how he appeared on the outside. Miles was a mean spirited, spiteful shell of a man that enjoyed frightening little children, kicking small, fuzzy animals, and conducting illegal genetic experimentation on human subjects.
Miles sat in a dark room above the operation room. His thin hands typed on the control panel, sending electrical signals to mechanical arms in the room below. With evil glee, Miles Warren watched as a diabolic metal arm descended from the ceiling.
A man was strapped to a metal slab. He was not tall, but not short, just average. A raggedy beard, unruly rats nest hair, and filth skin gave away that he was among New York's homeless. He tugged futilely at the titanium bonds, which held him in a deadly embrace against the cold, metal slab.
He looked up in horror as a crane-like arm lowered down from the ceiling. The arm was equipped with a long, metal syringe. A polyurethane tube, filled with a sinister green fluid, was visible sticking out at an angle from the bottom of the crane.
Miles pressed a button on the control panel, making the arm swivel to the left, lining up perfectly with the homeless mans immobilized neck. The arm stretched out, the needle piercing his neck. He screamed with intense pain racking his body. Doctor Miles Warren soaked up the agonized cries as if they, were, a beautiful serenade.
The needle poured the strange green liquid into the homeless man's neck. The arm pulled back, taking the blood-coated needle with it. A steady stream of green tinted blood leaked from the man's neck.
The man screamed louder as his brain began to burn. His heart felt like it was about to burst. Every single nerve in his body fired off simultaneously, nearly overloading the man's mind. Then, he went limp.
Three men in white protective suits rushed in and freed the limp man. They put him on a stretcher, testing for a pulse. That gave a thumb's up to Miles from the booth and wheeled him away.
Miles Warren leaned back in his chair, a twisted smile painted on his faced. "Let's see, I do believe that Paxton has yet to be tested. I think it's the perfect time to try sample O. Heheheheeheh, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
Unknown Location in New York CitySpider-Man gazed out over the cityscape from a perch by a stone gargoyle. His left leg dangled off the edge of the small ledge, while his right leg was brought up to his chest. The costumed crime fighter gave a soft yawn.
The sun was just coming up over the horizon. Spider-Man had been up the whole night swinging from place to place, in search of crime stop. And he did. In one night, Spider-Man had stopped one attempted rapping, fourteen robberies, seven hate crimes, two carjacking attempts, and five breaking and enterings. All those reports of crime dropping in New York, those were now officially bull.
"Thank God Almighty I don't have school tomorrow." Spider-Man, or maybe this was Peter Parker talking? His lack of school was do too an obvious cause.
The web covered hero stood up and leapt from the tall building. He shot out a web and swung away at high speed.
Peter literally crawled into his room through the open window. Standing up, he pulled off his mask and sighed. Peter's hair was matted and tangled. Peter's cheeks were flushed with blood. His eyes were blood shot and weary.
"Next…wear underwear." Peter mumbled to himself, shifting on his feet as the costume began to ride up on him. Peter shuffled over to his bed, dropping his mask on the dusty floor. He snuggled under the thin blankets, curling into a fetal position, feeding off his own body heat.
Only three seconds later, Peter learned that his Spider-Sense, did not work that well when he was asleep.
SWOOSH! THUMP!
"Time to get up Peter!"
"Wha-Ahh!" Peter fell of his bed in shock. Tangled in his sheets, Peter timidly poked his up above his old mattress, hiding his costumed body.
Aunt May stood in the door way dressed in a semi-casual suite. "I decided that we shouldn't let Uncle Ben's…passing, interfere with our lives. He would have wanted us to stay strong. So get dressed and I'll fix you some breakfast."
Aunt May walked out of Peter's room, presumably to the kitchen. Peter banged his head on his bed. "I get already! I messed up! We do torment me so?" Peter's answer was as follows:
"Peter hurry up and get dressed!"
A few minutes later, Peter had taken off his costume, put on his underwear, got back in his costume (which was much warmer around his nether regions), put on his school clothes and scurried down the stairs, not wishing to anger Aunt May.
"So, what will it be Peter dear?" Aunt May asked standing in front of the old range.
"Eggs and bacon." Peter yawned, plopping down unceremoniously in the wooden chair.
May put down a few strips of pig meat and cracked open the hard albumen of two eggs, letting the insides plop down on the hot skillet. "I figured as much, so I preheated the pan. Well, today I'll be hitting the job market. I all ready have an interview with a small law firm this morning."
"As a lawyer?" Peter asked, still not entirely out of his zombified state.
"What? No! As a secretary for them. They're called Murdock and Nelson Law Firm I think." May said, flipping Peters cooking eggs.
"Ahh." Peter mumbled softer, his mind being pulled back into the realm of the Sandman.
"Peter! Stay awake! My goodness gracious, did you get any sleep at all last night?" Aunt May asked as she placed Peters cooked breakfast under his nose.
"Yeah," About three seconds. "Guess I just didn't sleep well." Peter picked up his fork and devoured his eggs in a few bites. Peter duplicated this act with his three strips of fried hog flesh.
"My, my, aren't you a little carnivore." Aunt May said jokingly. "Well, do you have your books and everything? Good, your bus will be here soon."
Peter nodded and rushed back up to his small personal space. He quickly gathered up his book bag, slung it over his shoulder, and rushed out the front door. Peter, as quickly as he could, rushed to the bus stop. Thankfully, a good deal of stamina came with Peter's powers.
The superhero skidded to a stop, right next to MJ, who looked rather surprised by his presence.
"Peter! What a surprise! I didn't think you would come today." The red head said to Peter.
"Yeah, well, we decided that Uncle Ben would rather continue on with our lives then stop everything." Peter said. And by 'we' I mean Aunt May. Peter added mentally.
Mary Jane smiled, "Well that's good. Listen, Pete, I'm really sorry about your Uncle."
"Don't be, its not like it's your fault." Peter turned his head away, a feeling of intense disgust coming upon him.
That's when Peter saw it, out of the corner of his eye. The small newspaper vending machine displayed this morning's paper with the headlines:
MYSTERIOUS 'SPIDER' SAVES LIVES!A singular thought crossed Peters mind. Crap.
MIDTOWN HIGH SCHOOL 7:58 AMPeter sat uncomfortably in his chair. The whole classroom was abuzz with talk of this mysterious new superhero called Spider. Apparently, the woman he had saved from those three freaks had gone to the cops, which was a good thing. She had also told them of who had saved her. Unfortunately, she had gotten his name wrong.
Peter had wanted to keep a low profile when he was Spider-Man, not wanting the media to get wind of him. But he supposed it was inevitable. Peter just wished she had gotten his name right!
"Peter, good to see you!" Gwen said to her boyfriend as she sat down across from him. "I um, didn't expect to see you back so soon."
"Tell me about it." Peter said, feelings of guilt once more rearing their ugly little diseased head.
"Hey, how about me and you go out after school and do something together?" Gwen suggested, trying to comfort her boyfriend.
"Sounds good." Peter sighed.
"All right class!" Called Professor Hamilton, "It will be time to start class right abouuuuuttttttt-" BBBRRRIIIINNGGG! "Now."
HALLWAY 8:32 AM"Parker!"
Peter sighed, hearing Flash's voice from behind him. Peter turned around to face his harasser, noticing with peaked interest that his spider-sense was not going off.
"What do you want Flash?" Peter questioned the jock that he was infinitely stronger than.
Flash Thompson stared down at the scrawny orphan. Flash took a deep breath and said, "You're pretty tough Parker. I respect that."
Peter looked at Flash with total confusion. "Wha?"
"Listen Parker. I'm really sorry about Uncle. For you to be able to come back here so soon, you are lot stronger than me." Flash admitted.
"I think we already established that little fact Flash." Peter told Flash dryly.
Flash chuckled, a wiry smile on his brutish face. "Yeah guess. You know, you're only the second person to give me a concussion."
"Some one else has given you a concussion?" Peter asked the jock, shocked.
"Listen, I gotta go. Class ya' know?" Flash walked away, tailed by his duo of flunkies.
Peter felt a pang of concern for his tormenter. What had he meant, 'second person' to give him a concussion. Peter closed his locker and hurried to his next class.
After school, Peter phoned Aunt May to tell her that he wouldn't be back till later that night, because he was going out with Gwen. Of course, that wasn't all he was going to do tonight.
Now, Peter and Gwen were sitting together at a Dairy Queen, enjoying a chocolate shake and butterscotch shake, respectively. The restaurant wasn't very busy, discounting the six employees, Gwen and Peter, only four other people were in the restaurant.
Peter slurped up the last of his shake, sucking up the last trace amounts of ice cream and butterscotch. Gwen was only halfway down with her ice cream derived drink.
"You wanna go see The Bug 3 this Friday?" Peter asked, tossing his cup into the garbage can behind him without even looking.
Gwen scrunched her face. "Ewe, no! I hate anything remotely bug related! Fly's, roach's, spider's, ugh! Hate them all!"
"Oh, never mind then." was Peter's response. In his mind, this was how it went: NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Of all the animal related super powers to get, I get powers from something my girlfriend hates! Which was then followed by intense (internal) crying.
"So, what'd you think of Dr. Connors quiz?" Gwen asked, swirling her straw around in the thick chocolate ice cream.
"Brutal!" Peter said.
"No kidding! I think I missed half of them at lest!" Gwen said with a sigh.
"Ah, don't worry," Peter started, "I sure y-"
Peter was cut off as the blaring whine of police sirens echoed eerily through the streets. A Porsche, followed by three police cars flew down the street at high speed. Peter tensed up.
Let the police handle it, I'm on a date! You do remember what happened last time don't you? Yeah but, come on, they handle stuff like that every day! You made a pact to protect others. That lunatic in the car could hit somebody! He may have already! Fine, I'll go.
This mental war lasted only one quarter of a second. Peter stood up from the table. "Uh, Gwen, I need to go."
"Why? What's the matter?" Gwen asked Peter.
"Uh, I just remembered, I need to do…something!" Peter said hurriedly, as he rushed out of the Dairy Queen.
"Peter wait!" Gwen pleaded trying to go after him, only to find him vanished to have vanished in thin air.
Angelo Fortunato careened around a corner, narrowly avoiding a mailbox. Angelo Fortunato was the son of the late Don Fortunato. Don Fortunato had been one of the biggest bosses on the east coast, just bellow Silvio 'Silvermane' Manfredi, who in turn, was just below The Kingpin.
Don Fortunato had been killed just a month ago in a highly reported on public assassination. He had always enjoyed lunch at a certain little restaurant on Sunday afternoons. A rival boss took advantage of this. Four armed, gunman busted into the restaurant and emptied fifty rounds each into Fortunato Sr.
So, it then fell to Angelo Fortunato to lead the family. Angelo however, was not a naturally born leader. He was constantly on edge, very paranoid, and not that bright had somehow ended up in a car chase with the cops.
There was suddenly a heavy thump on the roof of his car. A red, web covered head poked down over his window shield, staring him face to face with huge white orbs. "Hey, didn't you see the speed limit?" The Masked man shouted.
In a panic, Angelo pulled his gun and fired two rounds through the windshield. The red masked head had vanished before the first shot had been fired. Angelo began to sweat. "Were did he go? What was that?" He simpered.
"Oh wait! Its on your grill!" Shouted the red masked man. He flipped down on the hood and smashed his fist through the window and pulled Angelo from the driver seat. Standing on the hood of the Porsche, with Angelo in one hand raised above his head, Spider-Man showed an incredible amount of flexibility by stabilizing the car with a single foot on the steering wheel.
Spider-Man stretched out his arm, flipping upside down and fired a single, long strand of webbing that spread out and formed a great 'net' that caught between two lampposts, creating a massive web.
Peter had learned he could control how the webs formed or dispersed by adjusting the pressure he put on the small white nub on his palm, and the tension in his muscles, would create different effects with his webbing. He also found out, that like a spider's web, its tensile strength was proportionately, if not stronger then steel.
Spider-Man jumped from the hood of the car, which careened into the wide web. Each strand shrieked in protest as the several ton vehicle, slammed into it, forcing it backward. The large trap web snapped back, the Porches still firmly secured.
Spider-Man, still in mid-air flung, Angelo at the web. He screamed in absolute fright. The mob boss smacked against the web, which shuttered. The web stretched back and forth rapidly like a trampoline. With each motion, Angelo Fortunato felt his stomach come ever closer to his mouth.
The hero landed gracefully on the pavement. He stood up, admiring his work.
"FREEZE!"
Spider-Man whirled around to find three police officers with their guns draw and pointing them, at him.
"What? Oh come on! I just caught that guy for you!" Peter protested.
"Down on the ground now!" The cop ordered again.
The web-slingers rage boiled. "This is unbelievable! I'm out of here!" Spider-Man leaped into the air and swung away.
"Should we pursue him, sir?" one of the officers said.
"No, lets just get that guy down. Max, climb up on the car and try to get him loose." He said.
Max did as ordered, and climbed upon the trapped vehicle. He reached over to try and unstuck the failed mafia boss. Unfortunately, Max was once more entangled.
"Um, chief? I'm stuck. Again. Uh oh! I think this guys about to!"
"BBBLLLAAAGGGHHH!"
ADRIAN TOMES APARTMENTAdrian sat in an under stuffed armchair, reading the morning edition of the newspaper. "Hm, So Angelo Fortunato was captured by that new superhero? Well what a shame, I was truly hoping to taste his blood on my claws." Adrian lamented, folding the printed article.
Adrian got up from his poor excuse for a chair, stretching his arms and legs. He walked over to his happy puppy picture calendar and smiled.
"Just a few more days. But boss man never said, I couldn't stretch my wings a little first." Adrian hissed with a wicked smile. Adrian popped open a large trunk at his feet. Folded up neatly, black helmet placed on top, was suit. With a wicked smile, Adrian pulled it out from its hiding place, ready to have a bit of fun.
OH YA! NEW STORY ARC! Adrian Tomes dons the VP-001 suit he shall introduce himself to the Big Apple, only to meet the new kid on the block. Plus: Peter needs some extra cash. All he needs to do is get a few shots of Spider-Man aka himself. Simple right? Wrong! Next Chapter: Wings of Death Part Two: Cry of The Vulture!