Spider-Man. That's me. I'm Spider-Man. Which is cool and all, but it's not a huge help when it comes to American History.
"Why does it matter what year Benedict Armstrong defected?" I groaned, slamming my textbook shut and tossing it carelessly onto my bedroom floor. Ned, perched on the bottom bunk of the bedset, threw me a dirty glare, shaking his head in disapproval as I hung from the ceiling listlessly.
"It's Benedict Arnold," he corrected, setting down his stack of notes. "And Peter, you need to study if you're going to pass finals next week. You're barely getting by in History."
"I've had more important things to do," I mumbled.
"Oh," Ned retorted. "Like that ATM robbery the other week where you almost stopped the cops from getting the guy?"
"Besides that."
"Or the time three days ago when you skipped third period because you were convinced the janitor was dealing drugs, but he was actually just having an affair with Mrs. Johnston?"
"Hey, he looked fishy," I exclaimed indignantly.
"I think the world can do without Spider-Man for a few days," Ned replied, his gaze growing more serious. "Besides, I thought May went all psycho-aunt after finding out and grounded you or something."
"That was months ago," I said. "And Mr. Stark took her out to a nice dinner and explained the whole thing, talked some sense into her, you know. Everything's cool now. Except I can't be out past 11, but other than that."
"Wow," Ned murmured sardonically. "A superhero with a curfew. Better hope all the ATM robbers don't find out." I frowned, then snatched an empty soda can from my bedside table with a web, chucking it at Ned's head while he chuckled to himself. Slipping down to the floor, I strode to the window and parted the curtains, peering outside.
"I just don't wanna miss anything," I said quietly.
"You won't," Ned assured me, shifting on the bottom bunk. "Now come on, let's go over the Revolutionary War again." I sighed heavily, running a hand through my dark hair.
"Alri -"
Before I could finish, I was interrupted by an alarm ringing loudly from my computer. Leaping across the room in a single bound, I clicked excitedly until I discovered the source of the alarm.
"There's an armed robbery at the Wal-Mart ten blocks from here," I practically shouted. "It looks like they have a hostage!"
"Peter, it's Tuesday," Ned said with an exaggerated yawn. "Can we let the police handle it for once?"
"I gotta go, Ned," I argued, tossing him an earpiece as I stripped out of my t-shirt and sweatpants. "Besides, if you didn't want me doing this kind of stuff, you shouldn't have helped me hack into the emergency dispatch network."
"Fair point," Ned relented, abandoning the stack of books beside of him and sauntering over to the computer, where he took a seat and began clicking away.
"Thanks, bro," I murmured, smiling appreciatively as I dawned my suit. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I slipped the mask over my head, and a soft, familiar voice filled my ears.
"Good evening, Peter."
"Hey, Karen," I mumbled, giving Ned one final nod as I slid open the window and darted outside.
"A little close to curfew, aren't we?" said Karen as I propelled myself across the street.
"I have 37 minutes," I protested, slinging my body across another block as a long web shot from my wrist. "Plenty of time for a robbery and hostage situation."
"Shall I replay some audio from the last time you missed curfew?" Karen queried. There was a crackle, and then my head was suddenly slammed with the sound of Aunt May yelling nonsensically.
"Okay, okay, I get the picture," I grumbled, and Karen promptly shut off the noise.
"I'm with you on this one, Karen," came Ned's voice over the comm.
"You know," I said, "You guys could try being encouraging."
"Don't die out there, buddy," was Ned's response.
"I echo Mr. Leed's sentiments," Karen added.
Grunting to myself, I closed the distance between myself and the approaching Wal-Mart. At last, I reached the roof. Glancing to the streets below, I spotted a squadron of police cars gathering by the entrance. A swarm of cops were standing by, talking into their walkies and swaggering about with their guns bared.
"Any word from the police channels?" I asked, pressing a finger to my ear.
"There are three men and one woman, all of them armed," Karen answered. "They're in the back of the store in the electronics section."
"Okay," I mumbled to myself. "Not too bad. How many hostages?"
"Two," said Karen. "An employee and a civilian. There's a ventilation shaft fifty feet behind you, which will take you close to the electronics section."
"Thanks Karen," I replied, sprinting across the rooftop to the top of the shaft.
Removing the metal plate on top took a minute or so, then I carefully crawled down the shaft. It was cold, to say the least, and I shivered underneath my suit.
"Your body temperature is decreasing rapidly, Peter." Karen remarked. "Shall I activate the suit's heating system?"
"Yeah, th-that'd be great," I responded through chattering teeth. A rush of warmth began to seep into my skin, and I blinked, clearing my focus as I neared the end of the tunnel.
Popping my head into the open, I gazed down to find myself directly above the children's clothing. No customers in sight. Relief flowed through my veins, and I crawled into the high rafters of the ceiling with a boost of confidence.
Across from the clothing lay the electronics. As I navigated towards the section, moving carefully across the rafters, trepidation began to sink into my heart. I picked up the sounds of shouting, and I strained my ears to listen in. Peaking in between the rafters, I noticed a group of four, all dressed in black and wearing ski masks. Two, a man and a woman, were carrying rifles, while the others bore pistols. On the floor between the four of them sat the hostages.
"I've got eyes on the hostages," I murmured.
"What's it look like in there?" Ned asked. I glanced over the two hostages. There was a middle-aged, red-haired man wearing a Wal-Mart uniform, and a young girl with curly black hair and a familiar jacket. I squinted, peering closer at the girl.
My heart stopped.
"Oh no..." I said. "No no no...'
"What is it?" Ned inquired, his voice spiked with panic.
"It's her, Ned," I replied in a rushed tone as terror shot through every inch of my body.
"Who?" Ned shouted. "Please tell me it's Jennifer Lawrence. That would be so hot."
"It's MJ!" I hissed, my voice starting to tremble.
"Michelle?" Ned screeched. "Are you kidding me?"
"What do I do?!" I asked to no one in particular.
"Well you can't let her die!" Ned answered. "She's the Decathlon Captain! We'll suck without her, and I need to get in as many extracurriculars as I can."
"Although Mr. Leed's priorities are a bit skewed," Karen broke in, "I agree that you should offer your assistance as soon as possible in ending this dilemma."
"Alright," I whispered. "I"m going in."
I sneaked noiselessly across the rafters, drawing ever closer. I could feel sweat dripping down my forehead underneath my suit, although I wasn't sure if it was from the heating system, or the pressure that had suddenly crashed into my pounding skull. As I paused directly above MJ and the rest, I finally caught on to the words of her captors.
"The cops are gonna storm this place any second," the woman was saying in a nervous tone, her words muffled ever so slightly underneath her mask. "We should just go. We'll get enough cash with all these devices." My eyes swung to the left, and I realized the man and woman with the rifles were both hefting large, bulging bags across their backs.
"That idiot manager will be back with the money from the safe in a minute, Cat," one of the men with a pistol growled. He suddenly reached towards MJ, grabbing the collar of her jacket and yanking her backward. Her face was etched in fear, but she remained silent as he jammed the business end of his pistol against the side of her head. "And if he plays any tricks, then we'll give these tiles a makeover with the girl's brains. I think red would add a nice bit of color, don't you think?" A wave of anger shot through my body like fuel as the man and his cronies burst into laughter, and MJ squirmed uncomfortably. Without another thought, I swung silently from the rafters, hovering just a few sparse inches above the man's head.
"If you ask me, I think yellow would be a better choice," I said, struggling to keep my voice calm.
The man whirled around, and was greeted with a thick web splattered across his face. Squealing like a newborn piglet, he began scraping away the webbing. I launched an aggressive kick into his stomach, sending hims sprawling to the floor, his gun clattering loudly onto the tiles.
"Then again," I continued, shrugging nonchalantly as the other three turned towards me. "I'm not much of an interior designer."
In the blink of an eye, the men sprung towards me while the woman attempted to gather the bags of stolen goods and keep a gun trained on MJ. Still dangling from the ceiling with one arm, I kicked off from a nearby stand, then shot a web around the two men as I spun in a tight circle around them. Stuck together, they shouted angrily as I snatched their weapons and deposited them by the first man's pistol.
Wal-Mart Man was making a run for it, and the woman let the employee run into the clothing section as she struggled to carry both of the massive bags while forcing MJ alongside of her.
"Hey!" I shouted, latching a web onto a pillar just ahead of them. "Why don't you try these electronics!" As I swung past, Karen switched to a personal favorite web-combination of ours, and I zapped the woman directly in the back. Electric tendrils zig-zagged across her torso, and she burst into a fit of convulsions, collapsing to the ground. "Yeah!" I exclaimed ecstatically, pumping a fist into the air in celebration.
Then, I face-planted into the pillar. Not my best moment, I admit. I slid to the floor, my face flaming brighter than the outside of my suit.
"Wow," an all-too familiar voice said from behind me as I picked myself off of the tiled floor. "So graceful." I gulped, trying to look casual as I spun around to see MJ dusting herself off.
"Are you ok?" I asked, my embarrassment forgotten as I noticed a bruise already swelling on the side of her face. I started forward, then stopped myself, clenching my fists as I cleared my throat. "I mean, they didn't harm you?"
"You could at least try not to sound like a prepubescent, Peter," Ned's voice teased in my ear.
"Nothing serious," MJ answered, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied me through narrowed eyes. "Do you remember me, Spider-Man?" she queried, her tone almost taunting. "D.C.? Washington Monument?" I swallowed the lump in my throat, pretending to appear shocked.
"Oh, D.C.," I said, chuckling lightly and waving the comment away. "Yeah, that was... that was nothing, really. Glad to do it."
"Um-hmm," MJ murmured, raising an eyebrow. "Well, you should really be going before the cops get here."
"Right, yeah," I replied, glancing upwards towards the rafters, shooting a web to the nearest beam. "Have a nice night M-" I coughed, correcting myself. "M-Ma'am. Have a nice night, ma'am."
"Hey," MJ called after me as I raised myself into the air towards the ceiling. "Thanks," she said, and I glanced down in time to see a rare smile light up her face.
"Y-yeah, no problem," I stammered, giving her a thumbs-up before scurrying back up to the rafters.
My heart slammed in my chest as the leftover adrenaline pumped through my blood.
"Sounding a little nervous there, Pete," Ned commented through the earpiece. "Don't get me wrong, she's cute and all -"
"Shut up, Ned," I riposted. "MJ's a friend. I... I just didn't want her to get hurt."
"Uh-huh," was Ned's response. I rolled my eyes, and didn't say anything else for the remainder of the journey back home. I re-entered my room through the window just as the clock struck 11 o'clock.