SPIDER-MAN: DARK WOUNDS

ISOLATION:

Gwen stayed home from school today, decided to see a doctor. A therapist. Can't blame her. Ben urged me to do the same. I told him I was OK, needed school to get my mind off it. Besides, this was MJ's first day at Midtown High. I was her only real friend here. She needed me, and with my only two friends out of commission; I needed her.

xXx

"locker number is 1966 :) im already there" MJ's text read. I sighed out of disappointment. Locker nineteen sixty-six was near the stairs to the gym on the first floor. No problem with that, but Flash hangs out with his 'buddies' at those stairs. The less of Flash, the better.

I tucked the phone into my jeans pocket while shutting my locker. I figured, if I was lucky, I would be able to make it to MJ's locker and back before Flash arrived. I adjusted my grip on my binders and sped down the hall. The light blue lockers turned into a smear on the wall as my feet hit the dusted, linoleum floor. Up ahead, the hallway intersected with another going the opposite direction. When I was only about twenty feet from the corner, three freshmen, each one not looking in my direction walked casually into my path. I had arrived earlier than usual and the hallways were nearly deserted. Figured I could make a few jaws drop. I jumped over the first kids head and, using the middle kids head, leap-frogged over the third one. I landed softly, still able to continue running. Behind me I heard one kid say 'Holy crap!'

Mission accomplished.

The next hallway was the lockers from fifteen hundred to eighteen hundred. MJ's locker was around the corner at the end of the hallway. This hallway had a few more people than the last and so, I decreased my speed to average high school running speed. The imaginary speed limit sign in my mind told me I couldn't go any faster. Kong and Liz were hanging out by Liz's locker. Probably boyfriend and girlfriend. Would explain all the time together.

As I past Kong, his eyes connected with mine. I felt the need to turn my head out of embarrassment for staring, but he looked back at me with a friendly grin and waved me over. Wasn't quite sure why he did it, but he did. I stopped running and cut across the hallway to Kong.

"Yo, Peter. Could you give me your cellphone number?"

"Wow! Kenny 'King' Kong wants MY number? I think I've died and gone to heaven."

"Don't be an asshole."

"Fine. 555-1962"

With a fat finger he jabbed each number into his phone and entered it. He looked up at me and smiled. "Got it. Thanks."

I smiled back and continued down the hall, waving as I neared the end of this long strip of lockers. Turning the corner, I could see MJ at the far end of the hall, her red hair an instant giveaway. Outside I could hear a bus pull up to the school. Flash lived close to the school, really close. This was probably his bus.

I was too late.

I stopped running, deciding to use the time between me and MJ as a way to plan out the conversation in my head ahead of time. I wanted to get out of her before Flash showed up. She looked over at me and smiled. I waved back, brains working overtime. She adjusted her purse and began to leisurely walk towards me, left shoulder scraping against the lockers.

"Hey!" She smiled, ending her lazy stroll over to me.

"Hey." I replied, more intent on listening for Flash rather than the conversation. "Look, we gotta-"

The door down the hallway swung open, a slow rush of students piling into the painted-brick corridors. The majority of them were wearing heavy coats, a few just wearing sweatshirts. The first of the kids were shorter than me with higher pitched voices. Lower classes. As the hallway filled, the students shoving their way into the school grew in size. Their shoulders broadening, facial hair growing. Upper classes. Nearly all of them were juniors, my age. Being so early in the year, most of us, including me, didn't have a license yet and were still destined to ride the bus to school. Very few, and I mean very few, were seniors. If you were allowed to drive, you drove.

MJ looked back at the flooding halls and back at me. "What?"

"Crap…" Flash barged his way into the school, a clump of four other jocks beside him. "It's too late."

"For what?" She looked back at the doors, most of her body twisting with her head. Her blood-red hair whipping across my face. The fragrance of peach shampoo filling my nostrils. It relaxed me for a second before my eyes locked onto Flash again. I saw Flash notice me, turning towards his pals, laughing and pointing his left index finger at me. MJ noticed, too. "Oh, him…"

"Yeah. Him."

"Should we go?"

"No, no. Let him pass." I sighed. "Running makes it worse." Flash got close, his friends crowding around each other, laughing and pointing more fingers.

"Hey, Parker!" He called, throwing up his arms. "Leave the lady alone. Not every lady is gonna sleep with you for cash!" A roar of laughter. The clap of hands. Flash continued by, not stopping once, still laughing.

I snarled, fists clenching, body beginning to turn towards Flash. MJ grabbed my arm. "No! Don't do it. He's an asshole."

My fingers loosened, teeth retracting. "Yeah, yeah. You're right." I shook my head, smiling gently. "I'm sorry."

"Ah, don't worry about it." She smirked, pulling me into the hallway with her already clasped hand. "You still have to walk me to first period English with Mr. Warren."

xXx

The sound of the electronic bell across the loud-speaker lightened my heart, and judging by the rush of feet and the sliding of desks, did the same for others. Mr. Warren's English class was more than just boring. It was brain-puncturing bad. Second period was art, a quiet, more brain-mending kind of period. I think the school purposely structured my schedule that way.

MJ and I waited for the crowd to disperse before heading out ourselves. We were thrust into the commotion of the mid-period commute. The hallway was primarily juniors, a few sophomores. MJ unfolded the piece of pink paper in her pocket. Finger tracing along the tightly printed lettering. Her eyes following not too far behind.

"Uhhh." She moaned, still reading the schedule. "I have…music. Room 420."

Ah, yay. Fourth floor. "OK, cool. Art is just below that."

We didn't make it more than three steps before my phone began to vibrate in my left pocket. I pulled it out quickly, hoping to stop the vibrating. It was actually pretty loud and most of the people nearby could hear it.

"Oh, watch out everybody, Parker's doing business. Don't disturb a self-pimp." Someone yelled out into the crowd. The hallway burst out in laughter. Even some of the sophomore's giggled. MJ placed her hand on my shoulder, a hint for me to relax.

Shrugging it off, I flipped open the phone-Ben's old phone. Ben got a new phone a few weeks ago and, lucky for me, kept the old. It's not the nicest phone and certainly not the quietest, but it works for what it is. The number was from 555-2001. It wasn't Gwen, MJ or Harry; their numbers were pre-programmed into the phone. Out of curiosity, I accepted the text. The digital block-like text appearing on screen in the blink of an eye.

"hey its kong come by room 256"

For some odd reason, this piqued my interest, "Hey, MJ. Could we make a detour?"

"I guess…" I shrugged, looking at my helplessly. "I don't know this school. You didn't have to ask me that. I wouldn't have known." She smiled.

xXx

We climbed the single flight of stairs from the first floor to the second. This hallway shared the same white-painted bricks as the rest of the floors, but the lockers bared a dark green, not blue. Only thirty feet to the left of the staircase the hallway collided with one going the opposite direction. Room 256 was only three or four classrooms down the intersecting hall.

"Come on. This way." I began to power-walk down the hall, leaving MJ to catch up. The sound of cheering and yelling emanated from down the branching corridor. It only fueled my curiosity.

"Sounds like a testosterone fest." MJ rolled her eyes at her remark.

"That's Midtown High." I smiled back, not looking at her.

We were about fifteen feet away from the corner when a familiar figure came sliding across the hallway. Flash. His feet scrambling helplessly across the linoleum flooring. Unable to stop, his left shoulder plunged into the locker, body slumping to the floor. He looked up at me in pain, a bruise tracing his right cheek, bottom lip split badly down the center. My eyes were wide, jaw loose. At first, I was stunned to see Flash getting his ass kicked…again. Kong was throwing out the order of things in the school.

Flash looked at his attacked, who was out of sight for us, before curling up in a ball. Kong came running down the hall, his jersey waving in the wind. With a meaty hand, Kong lifted Flash up by the air and bashed it into the lockers. I counted each blow Flash's head took, the sound ringing out down the hallway. His arms flailed in Kong's direction, each one skimming his muscle-bound torso. A teacher charged past me, his body lurching my shoulder forward. Another one fowling hastily behind him. Kong got one punch into Flash's nose before he was tackled by the lead teacher, his feet being swung up into the air as his body went head-over-heels. The hallway shook with trembles from his landing. The teacher holding down his wrists, the one trailing him diving onto Kong's legs.

"I'm done! I'm done!" Kong cried, as the man holding his wrists wrestled Kong onto his chest and dragged him up to his feet. The other releasing his ankles and helping Flash to his feet, blood dripping onto the hallway floor. A few splatters of blood dabbled the teacher's hand. As the teachers dragged Kong toward the main office, Kong twisted his neck back toward me. His blank stare turning into a subtle grin and nod. My face stayed stunned, the nerves in my face unwilling to cooperate with my brain. Out from the crowd I heard someone say 'First Parker, now Kong?'

"Never a slow day at Midtown High, huh?" MJ laughed, moving up beside me.

"Nope." I shook my head. "Never."

xXx

I dropped into the leather encased couch with a sigh of relaxation. My backpack lay beside my feet, the weak tip of the bag bending slightly under the weight of gravity. I covered my eyes with my left hand and titled my head towards the ceiling, my feet outstretched as far as they could before hitting the coffee table.

"Long day?" Ben noted, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah." I groaned, not moving from my surprisingly comfortable position.

"Well, I read in the newspaper today that George Stacy's funeral will be held at the New Montefiore Cemetery this Wednesday." Sip of coffee. "It's at one in the afternoon. You can go there instead of school if you want. I assume Gwen would want you to be there."

I sat up, removing my hand from my face. "Yeah, she-" The vibration of my phone stopped me mid-sentence.

"Isn't that the biggest pain in the ass ever?" Ben laughed.

"Yeah. It is." I smiled back, flipping open the phone. Gwen was calling me. "Speak of the devil." I got up from the couch and hit the green 'Send' button on the number-pad. "Hey, Gwen."

"Hey, Peter." Her voice was monotone and flat. Almost zombie-like.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no." She let out an extremely loud sigh, the speaker picking up the excess air and churning into static. "I was hoping you could swing by my house in about an hour and help me pack-up my Dad's stuff."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. I can."

"Thanks." Still no emotion. "See you in an hour."

I hung up the phone slowly. I was worried about Gwen. She seemed so distant, so gone. As if everything she ever knew or cared about had disappeared.

"Gwen?" Ben asked, cleaning out his coffee cup in the sink.

"Yeah. I'm heading over in an hour to help her clean some of her Dad's stuff up."

"It'll be rush-hour soon. I advise you get going now."

"Ah, don't worry. I'll make it."

The air doesn't get much traffic after all.

xXx

The wind whipped by my face as I cascaded down from my web-line and onto the edge of an apartment building in-between my house and Gwen's. I still had about twenty minutes to make it there. The worst case scenario was that I was about ten minutes late. That didn't make much difference. I dropped from the ledge, my right arm sending out a tether of webbing. Gripping it with both hands, I slowly swung my feet outwards, as if kicking, and propelled myself up into the air. At the top of my swing, I let go, flipping into the air. The sound of screeching wheels and police sirens shot out from the left as I stretched my left arm out for another web-line. Three police cars, sirens blaring, turned the corner sharply. All other cars in the road either stopped to admire the scene or let the officers pass. Fifty feet ahead of the group of cruisers was a pitch-black sedan speeding up ahead. Reflections of street-signs and lamp-posts giving the car a very metallic, multi-colored look.

I threw my next web-line behind me, the change in direction twisting my body sharply towards the chase ahead of me. This thread of webbing was lower on the building than the last ones, and because of this, I ended up swinging only two or three feet above the cars below before arching upwards toward the sky. It gave me the extra speed needed to catch up. Continuing my pursuit, the car ahead opened the sun-roof, a man with a flat-head and nice suit pulling out an old tommy-gun and firing recklessly at the three cop cars nearby.

Hammerhead.

The cop cars began to swerve back and forth to avoid the hail of gun-fire. The lead tire of the middle cruiser burst, the car skidding in multiple directions before diving left into a light-post. The force of the impact cracked the base of the light and sent it hurtling down atop the car, roof indenting immediately. The sirens still blasting, both turning signals lighting up to alert traffic to ignore the crash. Two officers, one from the driver's seat and the other from the passenger seat, emerged from the wreckage unharmed. I swung past, my intention on catching up to Hammerhead.

I had both forgotten and lost any leads on Hammerhead, it was nice to see him reappear so enthusiastic for an ass-kicking. Up ahead, the road made a T at the end of the road where the only two options were left or right. The sedan slammed on the brakes and began to make the right. The car overshot it, its back ramming into the hood of a stopped car in the opposite lane. The crash caused Hammerhead's car to slide back and forth for a second before regaining its ground and speeding behind the buildings to my right.

I came down from my web and onto the roof of the back police car. I was close enough to the car where my landing made no sound. My ability to stick to surfaces helped to stay on top of the cruiser as it made the same wide-turn as Hammerhead did. Pulling onto the new road, the sedan came back into view, moving just as fast as before. The car's sped up, wind chilling my arms and neck. They caught up to Hammerhead, one car on each side. Slowly, they began to push in on each side, barricading him in, preventing him from turning. Hammerhead was smart, I knew that. I also saw the problem in the police's plan. Before Hammerhead could act, I leapt from the police cruiser to the sedan. The even speed between the two cars made it equal to that of a standing jump.

Not even half a second after I landed on the car in pursuit, Hammerhead came to a screeching halt, the two police cars slamming into each other and flying out in opposite directions. The one on the right went hurtling up onto the sidewalk, the lip of the sidewalk lifting the car into the air and into a store window. Glass sprayed the innocence nearby; sound brought the street to a stand-still. The other cop car stopped itself in-between the two lanes and continued left towards Hammerhead. The sedan had already began backing up and was preparing to make a sharp right turn to face the opposite direction.

I crawled down the side of the car, pressing my chest against the it as another car came rushing towards us. When the coast was clear, I continued onto the bottom of it, my back an inch from the skin-shredding pavement. The axle for the front wheels was within reach. I was planning on breaking it, forcing the wheels to stop.

What could go wrong?

My left hand reached out and grasped it, my fingers curling around and touching my palm. With all my strength, I yanked downwards, the axle snapping on the right side by the wheel as opposed to in the center. The wheel flew outwards and into the road. The front of the car on the right side hit the pavement, sparks jumping up and dancing in the late-afternoon light. The orange specks skipping along my face and shoulders. The speed of the sedan combined with the uneven road and missing tire caused the car to swerve sideways. The side with the missing wheel caught a pot-hole in the road, the car flipping up and into the air. I held on, chest against the bottom of the car as it rolled and bounced across the street. The world a spinning blur of colors ahead of me. The horrible sound of screeching metal and broken glass roared out in my ears. The car stopped on its side three spins later and ever so slightly titled onto its roof, leaving me exposed.

I rolled off and onto the street, head spinning, stomach queasy. I pulled myself up onto my knees, my arms shaking uncontrollably. The door on the opposite side of the car broke open. A man, hidden by the car, pulled himself out and ran in the opposite direction of the approaching police lights and sirens. I looked up at the unbroken door as it snapped open. The man's legs came out first, dressed in expensive shoes and clean pants. I rushed over to his struggling frame and ripped him out of the wreckage by the legs. His head was round with combed back, greasy black hair.

Not Hammerhead.

I dropped him onto the ground and peered over the car. Hammerhead wasn't in sight. He was gone.

Angry and still a little dizzy, I picked the crawling man up by the neck. "Where is he?" I growled into his ear.

"Wh-who?" He stammered, shaking violently in my grasp.

"Hammerhead."

"I don't know. He musta ran off!"

"Not good enough. Te-" The cop car came stopped directly behind me, the sirens turning the upside down sedan red-n-blue. The doors opened to the cruiser, a man in his mid-thirties emerged from the passenger seat wearing standard police garb, a woman in higher ranking clothing with long brown hair emerged from the driver's seat. Jean DeWolfe. Both of them pulled pistols out of their holsters and aimed them at the two of us.

"Freeze, Spider-Man!" She ordered, walking towards me, gun extended. "Put the man down on the ground and put your hands above your head!"

"But I-" The man I was holding swung his elbow back into my nose, throwing my body off-guard and allowing him to escape my grasp. His feet hit the ground and pounded away from the three of us. "Bitch!" I cried, as my eyes adjusted from the blow to the face.

"Don't move, Spider-Man!" DeWolfe repeated. "After him, Ray." She titled her head toward the other officer. He nodded and ran past me after the escaping criminal. The crash had hurt him and he was half limping, half running. Ray would catch him in no time.

DeWolfe continued near me, gun still aimed at my head. "I'm the good guy!" I shouted.

"The police are the good guys." DeWolfe shot back.

As she approached I noticed her badge now had the title 'Captain' imprinted on it. "No…" I shook my head. "You're captain?"

"Funny how these things work." By now she had stopped a few feet in front of me. "Turn around, keep your hands in the air."

"Don't do this." I begged.

"Turn. Around."

"Please."

"Now!" She shouted.

"God dammit!" I shouted back, throwing out both my hands, encasing her gun in webbing with one and her eyes with the other.

"My eyes! Jesus, it stings!" She howled, dropping the useless gun to the street and bring both her hands to her eyes. Her arms yanking on the webbing with all her strength. I darted to my left, in the direction of the closest building. At the spot where the pavement met the sidewalk, I jumped up onto the side of it, running up to the roof with both my arms and legs. "Ray! Get him!" DeWolfe demanded from behind my webbing.

"I got him!" Ray assured, firing off two shots in my direction. One hit the window below me, entering the building. The other cracked the bricks to my right. I leapt over the molding around the top of the building as three more bullets soared above me. I moved to the center of the roof to make sure I couldn't be hit by any shots, or seen by DeWolfe and Ray. Catching my breath, I sat against the water-tower next to me.

Nothing there went according to plan. Not that I had a plan. Hammerhead escaped, his partner got away from me without giving me any information, and the police are now full-force after me. Could it get worse? Suddenly, I remembered why I was out in the first place.

Gwen.

I pulled my phone out hoping I wasn't too late.

5:48 PM.

I was supposed to be there almost ten minutes ago. Plus, I had a thirty minute swing still.

I had screwed up. Badly.

xXx

I sprinted down the street, lungs working overtime. Gwen's house was in sight. If I could somehow explain it to her, everything would be OK. I hoped it would be OK. Two police cars were parked in front of her house. They would be for a while. The entire police force was scrambling to make ends meet and keep Gwen safe. Having your captain butchered without notice isn't easy to recuperate from. As I got closer, I noticed two officers guarded the door. I assumed the other two were at the back door.

"Name?" The one on the right questioned, taking a step forward.

"Uh, Peter Parker." I answered through heavy breaths, stopping at the top of the steps. "Gwen's expecting me."

"You're a little late…" The one on the left stated.

"Yeah, don't remind me."

I entered the living room, a cool gust of air rushed past my face. Yellow police tape blocked the path to the kitchen. I ignored it and headed for the stairs. Gwen's room was the first one on the right. The last stair creaked as I pulled myself up into the upstairs hallway. It was painted a dark green with a recently vacuumed, grey carpet. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on Gwen's door.

It took a few seconds before she swung the door open toward her. She looked at me for a second with no emotion. I smiled at her hoping to get a reaction. Her eyebrows dropped, the edges of her mouth remaining still. "Glad to see you showed up."

"I…I'm sorry." I dropped my head. "I didn't mean to. I-"

"Lost track of time."

"No. I-"

"Got stuck in traffic."

"No! I-"

"Always excuses, Peter!" She turned away from me, leaving her door open. She headed over to her bed and sat down on the striped red-n-white blanket. Her hair slightly pink from the bright painted walls.

I followed her, stepping onto the polished, wood floor. "There was an accident on the way down." I explained. "The cab got stuck…"

"Traffic." Gwen sighed.

"Yeah…I guess." My foot skimmed a cardboard box on the floor of her room. Most likely a box of Stacy's stuff. "I see you already packed up…" Gwen didn't answer. She stared at the wall across from her for a few seconds. As I began to come closer she began to cry. She buried her face into her hands, body shaking with each sniffle. I rushed over to her and placed my arm around her back. She pushed me away. I was stunned. "What's wrong?"

"Leave." She demanded, not looking at me.

"Leave? Why?"

"Leave!" She screamed, facing me. Her teeth pressing against each other, tears tracing the shape of her face.

I got up and headed towards the door backwards. "I didn't mean to be late!"

"I don't give a shit, Peter!" I left the room and entered the hall. She placed her hand on the door. "It's always excuses with you."

"There was nothing I could do about it!"

"I can't trust you! If I can't trust you who CAN I trust?"

She was hysteric; she wasn't the same Gwen I knew. "It won't happen again. I promise."

She looked at me for a few seconds, face stern and angry. "You're right." She sighed. "We're through."

And she slammed the door in my face. Leaving me broken-hearted and helpless in the hallway. My legs began to shake and I found that I couldn't remove my eyes from her door.

Gwen Stacy had broken up with me.

I needed to do something. I couldn't end it like this. Even if she didn't take me back, I needed her to understand. I knew the risk in what I was about to do, but I didn't care.

It was necessary.

xXx

I landed quietly on the roof of Gwen's home, making sure the police didn't see me. To them, I was just as bad as The Goblin. It angered me to think that I was on the same level as that bastard to these idiots. Still, I continued along the roof, crawling on my hands and feet to avoid detection. I reached the gutter and looked over. Gwen's window. I swung my body over the gutter and on the wall with the window. Her blinds were almost fully down, exposing just about an inch and a half of her room.

I was gonna unmask in front of her. I was gonna show her my one true excuse. I was gonna make her understand. This would probably be my last time at the Stacy home. I needed to make it count. I peered through the open space of the window at Gwen. She sat in the same spot she did when she yelled at me ten minutes ago. An open box lay astray on the bed to her left. She was examining her father's old standard police outfit. Looking at her changed something in me. Her god-like hair flowed from her head, her beautiful, blue eyes glittering with pain. The slender shape of her body slouched on her bed.

Gwen had become isolated. She had thrown the rest of the world out the window when her Dad died. I couldn't stand to see her like that. She already didn't trust me. Her finding out I was keeping this secret all those months would only destroy her more. Even if it didn't, she would have to worry about my safety every waking moment. And what if she blamed me for not stopping The Goblin? What if it made her hate me more? Her knowing wasn't a solution. It was a problem.

I couldn't hurt her anymore. I loved her too much to bestow this responsibility on her.

I climbed back up the house and onto the roof. I had lost Gwen. It felt terrible, but hurting her more would destroy me. I ripped the mask off my face and wept. I stayed there for almost an hour.

I needed to make this one last time at her house count.

That's what I did.