SPIDER-MAN: DARK WOUNDS
REVEAL:
I woke up with a terrible headache. Worse than usual. Most likely an effect of the loud music at MJ's party. I slid out of bed in nothing but my boxers and socks. I rubbed my half open eyes with my left hand and spun the alarm clock in my direction.
8:12 AM
The newspaper would be here. The newspaper with my picture in it. J.J had a ton of my pictures but he's only now getting around to putting one in the paper.
I threw on a new pair of clothes before exiting my room. Ben was in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good, but at this point anything would. I hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours by now.
"Hey, pal." Ben greeted, keeping his attention fixed on the stove.
"Hey" I responded, still half asleep.
"I'm cooking waffles. You want some?"
I slid open the front door and picked up today's newspaper, kept tightly in its plastic coating. "Yeah, sure."
I ripped open the plastic casing, catching Ben's attention. "Is that today's paper?"
I nodded as I unfolded the newspaper and admired the front page. It was one of my pictures alright. My name under it and everything. It was a picture of me coming back to return the money from the other night. The headline stated "SPIDER-MAN NABS CRIMINALS, TAKES MONEY FOR HIMSELF" My heart sunk to my stomach. I was trying to fix up this city and give myself a good name, in my Spider-Man costume or not. Then Jonah comes and shits all over that. This city watches his newspaper like a hawk, eating and devouring every word he spews into these pages.
There goes my super-hero standing.
Ben noted my anger. "Everything OK?"
"Not really…" I sighed, folding the paper back up and placing it on the counter, getting it out of my sight. The mere sight of it was angering me.
"Jonah didn't put your picture in?" Ben dropped three waffles onto a plate.
"No, he did." I sat down at one of the three bar-stools situated next to the island-counters.
"Then what's wrong?" He dribbled the waffle-mix onto the stove-top and picked up his spatula again.
I dragged the paper back over to me and handed it to Ben.
Ben gave me a hard look and raised his hands in the air; one with the batter, the other with the spatula. "You know how to read."
I ripped open the paper with a sigh and read the title aloud. "Spider-man nabs criminals, takes money for himself" I smacked the paper back down in frustration. "He didn't take the money, he returned it! I wrote the whole story down on the back of the pictures…"
"How do you know?" Ben asked, tasking the last three waffles and placing them on another plate. "Were you there?"
I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. Ben placed a plate in front of me, covered in syrup with a fork beside it. "Was I there?" I repeated. "Of course I was there! I took the picture!"
Ben smiled through a mouth-full of waffle "Kidding."
I ate half of a waffle in a single bite and forced it down to continue complaining. "Couldn't we talk to him? Ya know, get him to change it maybe. A retraction!" Another bite. One waffle down.
Ben looked up at me, his mouth surrounded in syrup, his mouth half full. The room was silent aside from the hum of the radiator. I kept my ground and stared back. Without warning he burst into laughing, half choking on his breakfast. I rolled my eyes and continued eating. Two bites and another waffle was gone. Ben began to calm down, his laugh becoming a dyeing wheeze. He looked up at me innocently. "No."
My appetite died along with my excitement. I picked up my plate and let the last waffle slide slowly into the garbage. Ben had already made his way over to the sink and was washing off the various utensils he had used to make breakfast. I picked up my jacket and forcefully put it on, trying to vent as much anger as I could as quickly as possible. I walked back over the counter to retrieve my keys.
"Where are you going?" Ben dropped another plate in the sink.
"For a walk." I mumbled, heading back towards the door. I was going to the Bugle. Not as Peter Parker, as Spider-man. I was giving Jonah a piece of my mind.
"It's snowing." Ben warned.
I tilted my head slightly to the side and noticed he was right. Small, white crystals were gently floating down to the steel and brick skyscrapers and buildings around Manhattan. The sun reflecting off each individual gem as it rested smoothly on a thin coating of snow. It was actually pretty relaxing. I was going to make sure and admire this sight some more right after 'talking' to Jameson.
My trance was broken by the ring of the phone. Ben wiped his hands with a towel and snatched it off the holder.
"Hello?" Ben started, eyes darting around the room. I started for the door again, ignoring Ben's conversation. "Yes…" I opened the door and adjusted my jacket. "Oh my God! Peter!" Crap. I leaned back into the room, my legs still in the hallway. "We need to talk." Ben said urgently, holding the phone to his chest. I nodded my head as I pulled myself back into the apartment, watching Ben finish his conversation. "Yes, yes. Thank you." Ben took a deep breath of air as he placed the phone back on the holder. I studied his body for any sort of sign as to what he wanted to talk to me about. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Obviously it wasn't too urgent.
"You wanted to talk to me?" I was trying to leave and Ben was holding me back.
"Yeah." He put his glasses back on. "Something happened at Doctor Mason's clinic…"
Otto. "What?" I walked over to Ben, holding onto the counter. "Something with Otto?"
Ben nodded slowly. What the hell happened? "He…" Died? "Escaped."
xXx
The clinic slowly came into view as I launched myself off my web-strand and into the air. I noticed the smoke emitting from the back as I started my next swing.
"Ah, shit." I cursed, getting ever closer to the crime scene.
With deadly precision, I landed lightly on the lamp post nearest to the building. Five police cruisers had blocked the area off to pedestrians. Each one empty and lifeless aside from the blaring siren lights on the roof. Police tape was wrapped around each one and further illustrated the "off-limits, don't touch" point. The police officers were wandering the premisses. Any observations they were dong had been completed by now. Perfect timing.
I hurled my body across the street and stuck to the clinic with ease.
"Hey-hey! It's Spider-Man!" An officer had spotted me almost immediately after positioning myself on the building.
"Yeah, yeah. Hey." I greeted lazily, uninterested in whatever he had to say.
The sound of metal snapping in place and the slight buzz of my spider-sense caught my attention. I turned my head back to the officer and noticed he was pointing his pistol right at me. Two other officers to his left and right were doing the same. "Freeze Spider-Man!" He demanded, not lowering his gun. "You're under arrest for vigilantism and theft."
Screw you, Jonah. "I wouldn't read the Daily Bugle if I was you." I shrugged.
"I'm serious."
"Oh, come on!" I pleaded. I wasn't in the mood for this. Any other time, not now.
"On the ground now or I will shoot!" One of the officers to his left shouted repeated him.
"But-"
"NOW!" he interrupted.
"You guys-" I was begging every second I could get.
"I WILL SHOOT!" He shouted, hardening his stance.
"MEN! STAND DOWN! NOW!" A familiar voice boomed, alarming the armed officers. Captain Stacy. Thank God.
I dropped from the wall, landing cleanly next to the front door to the clinic. "Yes, sir." The officer obeyed, holstering his pistol. He looked back up at Stacy, slightly intimidated.
"Were you men about to shoot him because of a newspaper article?" Captain Stacy sneered, pointing his left index finger at me, his mouth inches from the officer who told me to stand down. His spit splattered across the cop's face. Yet, he remained still. Looked like a military scene.
"Well, it is the newspaper, sir…" He rebutted, slightly blushing.
"Carson, you do realize this is the same newspaper who reported 'flying cows' last year, don't you?" Stacy rubbed half his face.
"Well…yes, sir."
"Go back to your cruiser with your squad. Head back to HQ, I'll meet you there." He sighed, turning towards me. He pointed another finger in my direction and curled it towards himself a few times indicating I was to follow.
"BYE CARSON!" I yelled to the officer retreating to his car. A few of the other officers around smirked and smiled.
"Long time no see." Stacy greeted as we neared the outside corner of the clinic.
"Yeah. I guess…"
"I assume you're here about the escape?"
"Glad to see the NYPD can promote the right people." He glared at me jokingly. I smiled at him through my mask.
We rounded the corner to the building and faced the wreckage.
"Oh my God…" My jaw unhinged as my eyes scanned over the wreckage.
The wall to his room had been completely blown off, debris scattered all across the area. A large circle had formed around the area where the fire had melted the snow. The room itself was destroyed as well. Anything within the immediate area was singed and burned. The rest was flipped over, broken or thrown out into the hall. Dozens of puncture holes scaled the building next to it, leading to the roof. The hole in the wall was covered by more police tape and surrounded my eight or nine officers. Most of them were conversing, a few cleaning up supplies. DeWolfe was yelling at one of the cops, infuriated and pissed.
"Yeah, my reaction as well." Stacy commented, taking a deep breath of air, his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of his breathing.
"What happened?" I pestered, craving for answers.
"Well, the security camera last showed Otto still lying in bed. Whatever happened occurred not too long after judging by the singeing of the bricks based on the last recorded time of the camera. From what we can gather by the smell and burn marks, it seems an oxygen tank ruptured due to extreme heat or pressure."
I pointed to the marks along the building next-door. "And those?"
"We have no idea." His voice was full of disappointment. "They sure aren't bullet holes unless the Hulk purchased a handgun." He let out a huge yawn, stretching out his whole body for the extra effect.
"Long day?" I joked. It was only 9:30 AM.
"You know it." A quick yawn. "Well, I got to meet Carson and his team for a debriefing at HQ." He turned to leave but came back almost as quickly. "I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Thanks."
I looked at him confused, not that he could tell. "For what?"
"For…everything. I know the Bugle gives you crap and most of this city probably hates you now, but don't give up." He patted me on the shoulder and left. Just like that.
I fixed my attention back on the crime scene and noticed that DeWolfe was smoking a cigarette by the dumpster. Might as well make a move now.
xXx
I pulled myself down the building slowly and silently. DeWolfe was finishing off her smoke below me. When I was close enough I sat upright to the wall, my back against it.
"Ya know, some people would say they prefer the smell of the dumpster to your cigarette." I quipped, leaning my arms on my legs.
She jumped for a second, her stub of a cigarette falling from her fingers and onto the snow-dusted pavement. Her left hand used the dumpster to hold her up as she regained her bearings. "Oh, it's you." She sighed, wiping her hand on her pant leg. She turned her attention back to me and looked me over from head-to-toe. "Ah, so you decided to ditch the 'hobo' look didn't you?"
"Things happen."
She coughed into her hands stared hard into the center of the accident. I looked from her to the crime scene and back. "What do you want?" She probed, furrowing her brow.
"Just checking on my biggest fan."
"You should know that I don't like your kind."
"You should know that I was joking."
A blank stare covered her face and hid her emotion. "Funny." She began to walk away, trying to escape our conversation.
"Why DO you hate me, anyway?" I wondered, hopping off the building and following her on foot.
"I don't need to back-up my opinions, do I?" She hissed.
"I don't need to wear tights and risk life and limb for you either. Yet…"
Her feet stopped and her head hung low. A white puff of air escaped her lips as she let out a sigh of defeat. She double-backed on me and met me face-to-face. "I hate you because of what you are doing to this city."
"Cleaning it up?"
"Infecting it." Ouch. "You super-hero types instill hope and peace. People may say they hate you but in reality all they really want is a hug from their favorite hero and a balloon to match. We feel out of place and dependent on you. Once you're gone, people will crumble, unsure on how to fend for themselves and the city will rot. It will be an empty carcass of its self. A shell." The words stung mostly because of the raw hatred in her voice. "Did that answer your question?"
"Yeah…yeah. It did."
"Good." She turned her back on me and headed for the building. "Go home. Do your homework or something."
xXx
"Am I really infecting this city?" I traced the roof to the Daily Bugle for a third time. When I had to think and I had no one to talk to, I would talk to myself. "No. I'm a hero…right?" I sat against the air conditioning unit, my head in my hands. I had planned on bitching to J.J., but my plans were blown out the window by Mrs. DeWolfe's kind words. I stood back and admired the sight of New York. The Daily Bugle was just three blocks from the Empire State Building, giving me a great sight of the island. The snow only added to the effect. "I'm too paranoid." I decided, smiling to myself. I let gravity take me as I fell off the edge of the building, the wind whipping past my face, the sound of rushing air soothing me. At the last second I connected a web-line to a nearby building and swung inches above the civilian's heads. One of them touched my leg with his hand. "Hands off the merchandise!" I called back, releasing the webbing and soaring through the air.
In an instant my spider-sense went off, the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up, the bottom of my skull on fire. In mid-air, I turned one hundred-eighty degrees to face the danger but was caught by the neck and thrown three hundred feet to a nearby skyscraper. I landed head-first, rolling over my right shoulder to cushion the fall. The speed I had gained sent me off my feet and spiralling onto my back.
"What the hell just happened…?" I mumbled, pulling myself onto my feet.
"Hello, Spider-man." The voice was gravely, but somewhat high-pitched, as if they were constantly laughing. I looked upwards, towards my attacker.
In front of me stood a dark, muscular figure floating on a bat-shaped metal glider. His skin was a dark, scaly green. He wore deep purple gloves and boots, each torn at the top as if ripped by dogs. A shredded poncho-like cloth draped his body and was held there by his shoulder and a leather belt around the waist. It was colored the same as the boots and gloves and went down to his knee level. A second one, only going to his lower chest covered his upper-body and doubled as a hood. His face was hidden beneath the cloak, but I could still make out a pair of sharp, white teeth and piercing red eyes. A satchel, matching his belt, crossed his right shoulder and hung limply on his left side.
"Uh, wow. I-I don't know what to say." He was threatening and silly at the same time. A tug of two completely different emotions.
"Why say anything?" He grinned. "Mr. Parker."
My heart stopped. My name. This psychopath, this guy I've never met before, knew my fucking name! My blood turned cold and I could feel my brain tense at the very thought of him knowing my name.
He noticed my insecurity. "What's wrong, Peter?" His glider spit out two gusts of flame and he began to circle me. "Did you really think your dollar-store mask was going to save your identity? Please."
He was taunting me, laughing in my face. Despite my better judgement, I let it get to me, the anger in my chest rising up and clotting like a disease until I couldn't take it anymore. "What do you want?" I hissed, clenching my fists.
"Aw, is little Petey trying to act all tough for me. If I didn't know better, I would say you were trying to put on a show for Gwen."
Bastard.
I leapt at him, my hands grasping at thin air as he spun ninety degrees. His gloved hand caught me by the back of the skull and tossed me in the direction of another building. This time, I went head first into the building. The glass broke on impact, spraying out into the office. A woman screamed. Someone else was yelling orders to get to the elevator. A cubicle stopped me mid-tumble. I used it to get to my feet, one of the plastic walls breaking off in my hands. The hum of an engine sounded by the broken window. My attacker hopped off his glider and onto the rugged floor.
I threw a strand of webbing at his face, his reflexes getting him out of the way in time. Before he had a chance to move again, I hurled the piece of cubicle at him. He went head over heels and onto his back. I took the chance to cover him in webbing, hoping it would stop his movement. I rushed towards him, hopping to end it quick. With ease he snapped the blanket of webbing and was back on his feet before I had a chance to reach him. I slid to the side dodging a punch from his right arm and ducked under a left hook following it. I sent my fist into his stomach, pushing him away.
He reached into his satchel and lobbed two pumpkin shaped objects at me. Each one left a trail of flame as they headed in my direction. I dove out of the way of the first one and vaulted over another cubicle to avoid the other. The first explosion ripped through the air, the second sending me and the cubicle across the office towards another row of windows. My head was ringing and my lungs were ablaze. The foot of my assailant planted itself to my chest, pinning me to the ground.
"Bit of a cliché, isn't it?" I coughed under his weight.
"The Goblin is no cliché." He snarled, picking me up by the neck, his foot releasing the pressure. Goblin. I was being attacked by a man named 'Goblin' who knew my name. Typical.
I swung my legs out, both of them snapping his head back, hand releasing. I dropped to my feet, massaging my throat for a second. When The Goblin had steadied himself, I wrapped his chest in webbing and jumped out the nearest window. Both of us were sent out into the chilling, winter air. Broken glass danced around us as we plummeted down towards the street. In the time between jumping out the window and falling, he had somehow managed to rope himself towards me and had gripped my neck again. I sent a fury of punches into his chest, creating a bit of space in-between the two of us. My foot rammed into his chest, breaking his grip on my neck. Knowing we didn't have much time until we hit the ground, I connected web-line to the office building and swung away.
The Goblin's body dropped to the ground and landed onto a parked car. The windows broke outwards, car alarm blaring. A couple of people screamed as the doors fell to the floor. I released the webbing, falling to the ground. Smoke poured out of the open hood and into the air. I limped over to The Goblin's body, traffic stopping to admire the wreckage.
My eyes widened at one of the most unbelievable sights of my life. The car shook and was lifted into the air. The Goblin was fine. More than fine, he was holding a Subaru above his head!
"No way…" I gasped.
He chucked the car in my direction, but not at me. It was headed toward a group of pedestrians who had stuck around to watch the show.
I raced the car, sliding over the hood of another parked car by my hip. As I landed, I shot a gob of webbing at a nearby light-post to my left and darted right, towards another post. The webbing stretched out into a net above their heads. A few of them had the brains to run, but there were still a handful who were too scared to move and resorted to 'standing fettle position.' The car hit the net, bounced twice and stopped. The pedestrians underneath looked up with caution and celebrated their lives.
I looked over at The Goblin and noticed he was gone. He had disappeared during my bout of heroism. I was pissed, tired and hurt, my costume was dirty and cut and there was a mad-man on the loose who knew my name and friends.
A man in his mid-thirties rushed over to the car urgently, fear in his eyes. He looked at the license plate and screamed. "MY FUCKING CAR!"
I grinned from ear to ear beneath my mask. "Shit happens, man. Shit happens."