Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-man or the Spectacular Spider-Man TV series in which this fic takes place. I also don't own Dorritoes.
Warnings: language/cussing; character death
Let the Story continue:
~Mary Jane's POV~
"Bailey, where are you? Text me when you get this," I said, flipping my cell phone shut as I marched through the lobby. I checked my wristwatch:
5:53 PM; only seven minutes left before Wicked starts.. I stopped by one of the food vendors on my way to the stairs and bought five bags of Cool Ranch Dorritoes. After wishing the salesman a good day, I headed up the steps that led to the play. I politely pushed past several people who were racing down the steps -presumably to buy some last minute snacks. I finally reached the door to Wicked at 5:59.
Got here just in time. I sighed in relief as I half-walked/half-jogged to my seat in the third aisle. I still can't believe Bailey got such great seats!
~Flash's POV~
I made sure that the play was a good thirty minutes in before I walked into the theatre room. Checking my ticket, I headed to row three, ignoring the annoyed glares that were cast my way, as I made my way down the carpeted stairs.
Stupid theatre geeks. Glare at me all you want. You know you secretly wish you were me and that I would ever even consider fucking you. I thought with a self-satisfied smirk -and rightly so, I'm awesome!- as I spotted MJ's telltale scarlet waterfall of hair and made my way to her, being quiet so as not to draw her attention before I sat next to her and, ergo semi-trapped her into the seat aisle.
"Hey," I whispered to MJ as I roughly pushed past several mold-smelling old people and scooted into the seat next to her, planting my feet solidly on the floor to impede any attempt MJ made to escape that way. I expected her to jump ten feet off the ground, the way she looked at me. The glare she shot me next would've been fatal if looks could kill.
"What are you doing here, Flash!" She hissed, keeping her voice at a low volume. She squirmed as far away from me as she could while still being seated in her seat. She sort of reminded me of a contorted, convulsing eel. And once that image flared to life in my mind, I had to bite back a chuckle. However, a smile still graced my perfect lips, causing MJ's own not-so-unperfect ones to bend downward in anger.
"What's the matter. Bailey phoned me that she couldn't come, but she didn't want to just leave you by yourself. So, kind as I am, I said I could make it," I lied, not-so-subtly laying my arm around her shoulders as I pretended to yawn loudly, which earned me more glares from the other theatre-goers.
Pansies.
"Flash. Get. Off. Now," MJ gritted through her teeth. Her eyes constantly flicked between me and the stage, reluctant to take her eyes off of either the play or me for too long. I pulled her closer to me with my arm. My muscles bulged through the tight sleeves that ended several inches before my wrist. My perfectly tanned skin matched her milky-white flesh like the sun matches the moon: both beautiful -the sun more so, of course- and lovely to behold together.
I would look so hot with her on my arm. I flexed my bulging arm muscles against MJ's shoulders, showing off my strength.
"Come on, MJ, why the anger? I know we haven't been the best of friends lately bu-OW!" I jumped up in my seat as MJ stabbed me with her cuticle clipper, the sharp point of the scissor-like tool embedded into my flesh. Drops of blood welled up from the wound and smeared the blade.
"Damn! That hurts like a bitch!" I yelled, standing up and ripping out the cuticle clipper. I threw it in the seat aisle in front of us, smiling despite the pain when it hit an old woman on the head. When I stopped looking at my wounded arm, I noticed that everyone was staring at us. Even the actors and actresses upon the stage looked startled at my sudden outburst and seemed frozen, halting the play.
"Sorry," MJ whispered as she slithered pass me, her body never touching mine. She bowed a quick apology to her fellow theatre-goers and walked briskly up the aisle. She was already half way up the steps before I pushed my way out to the aisle. Even in pain, I was still able to admire MJ's plump backside, framed in a flowing red dress.
God, I want to fuck her.
"Wait! MJ!" I yelled after her as I ran up the steps. Too many geeks to count shot me disbelieving, disgusted looks as I ran up the steps and shouted at MJ. I flipped them the bird(1) and yelled even louder as I chased MJ out of the room, purposely slamming the door harshly in my wake. MJ was descending the stairs when I saw her. Her cell phone beeped suddenly and she stopped midway down the steps to answer it. I was almost behind her before she realized I was there. Upon seeing me, MJ quickly said her good-byes to whoever she was talking to and flipped her phone shut.
"Flash, fuck off!" she cursed, pushing me back as she headed down the stairs to the lobby.
"What the hell is the matter with you? After what you did to Peter-" MJ took a breath, her normally attractive face taking on an angry red color as fury flared in her cheeks.
"You better be glad that I only had a cuticle clipper and not a knife!" I was taken aback for a moment by MJ's sudden rage, but, when the shock wore off, I couldn't help but laugh. Naturally, MJ's cheeks reddened even more and her brow furrowed with all the tortuous promises of Hell.
"What the fuck is so funny!" she roared, walking up step by step until there was no step between us and only an inch of space keeping us apart. Everything about her was tense and her hands were balled into tight fists, seemingly crying out for a fight. I leaned into her, my lips almost touching hers. She didn't even blink.
"For one thing: you. You're getting so worked up by a pathetic little man when you should be getting worked on by me: a hot piece of ass. Puny Parker got raped, not you. So why the issues. What the hell is the matter with you?" I sneered, turning her initial question right back at her. Her eyes flashed in anger.
"You piece of shi-" MJ's next words were drowned out by a sudden, ear-piercing noise.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! The whole building shook as what sounded like explosions went off, causing the crystal chandeliers in the lobby to rock back and forth. I leaned heavily against the banister as another explosion rocked the theatre. MJ slipped from the step she was on. She saved herself from a dangerous fall only by her nails scraping against the railing, giving herself enough time to hook her arm around the railing and hang on as two even bigger explosions than before rocked the building. Pieces of ceiling plummeted to the floor, followed by chandeliers that shattered upon impact. Shards of glass shot off in all directions, scratching my cheeks and arms. I quickly shut my eyes in case some minute pieces of glass found its way into my wonderful crystal blue eyes. A moment of silence followed, punctured only by pained sobs and muffled cries.
"What the fuck!" I gasped aloud in shock as I opened my eyes to a scene of ruin. About half of the chandeliers were crushed into the ground floor several feet below. Under a couple of the chandeliers, people were twitching weakly in pools of blood. The windows and glass revolving door were shattered, leaving metal mouths with razor-sharp, jagged teeth behind. Several people -most of them food and drink vendors- were speared by long pieces of deadly glass. One such person was gasping weakly against a wall as blood flooded out around a jagged, fat shard of glass that was embedded at least five inches into his chest. The sounds of distress and pain came most heavily from the room MJ and I just left. The sound of sirens could be heard faintly in the distance.
"What the fuck just happened?" I shouted at no one in particular. MJ just stayed silent, apparently paralyzed in her shock.
~Mary Jane's POV~
The night air was cold and biting, forcing me to pull my black satin wrap even closer to my body. I was really starting to regret deciding to go with my black high heels and crimson red dress combo. I stood across from the ruined theatre. Before the firefighters arrived, several fires broke out across the building -most of them in the room Wicked was in- the smell of smoke mixing with the cries of the suffering, like the screams of the damned in Hell. I shivered at that memory, feeling clammy at the thought of so many people in so much pain with death as the only reprieve.
On the sidewalk across from the destroyed building, seemingly hundreds of people -I among them- gathered, waiting to see if anyone survived and/or if it was safe enough to retrieve our cars from the theatre's neighboring parking lot -luckily on the side not bombed. Surprisingly, not many people were hurt when compared to the two hundred or so that were in the building at the time. In fact, almost all of the casualties were from the room wherein Wicked was being played. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms as I shivered against the cold.
I hate to credit Flash with anything, but if it wasn't for him, I probably would have still been in there when the bombs went off and- I couldn't even finish that train of thought as I shivered again, but this time from fear of what could have been my fate. I continued to look at the wreck of the building while people scrambled in and out. The firefighters were soon done with the arduous task of snuffing out the fires and paramedics ran in almost immediately after the okay was given, bringing dead and unconscious people out nearly every minute. The street was congested with fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances. And the sound of panic and distress -the alarms of police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances- suffused the air. Suddenly, I felt tears fill my eyes, flooding over before I could stop them. I couldn't take anymore of this: first, Peter and, now, this.
Why is this happening? I thought as I pushed my way through the crowd, no longer caring who I inconvenienced; only caring about leaving that place of destruction and death far behind me. I pushed out of the crowd and leaned heavily against a bus stop for support. I quickly took my cell out of my black purse and typed in a number on speed dial. -Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ring-Ri
"Harry, come pick me up please. I just...just please come quickly." I cried into the phone, hoping he could understand me in despite of the sobs.
"Sure. Where are you?" Harry asked in that calm, reassuring way of his. And I told him.
~Flash's POV~
Damn! Damn! Damn! I repeated the word in my head a hundred times.
We were supposed to die: me and MJ! I know it! I paced my room from wall-to-wall. Even though brains weren't one of my many strong suits, I wasn't brain-dead.
There are too many coincidences. He knew we were going to be there and at what time. He must have been behind the explosions. He certainly is capable of worse. I anxiously chewed through nail after nail: an extremely ugly trait I gave up when I started becoming popular. But at that moment, I didn't care about my popularity. My life was in danger! It could end any minute!
When he finds out I'm still alive -if he hasn't already- he's going to fucking kill me! Damn! Damn! Damn!
"Flash, honey, are you alright? You haven't spoken once since you came back from that play!" I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding as my mom's voice reached me from the foot of the stairs downstairs.
"I'm fine, mom! Just trying to forget about the theatre!" I shouted back at her. Even though dad was still at work, mom drove straight to the theatre when she heard the news, waiting to drive me home.
Maybe he won't attack if someone else is here. Every other time he contacted me or paid me I was alone. So maybe he wo-
"Aaaa-" My blood froze in my veins as my mother's scream reached me before it was abruptly cut off. Silence followed.
Mom! Oh God, mom! Grabbing my metal baseball bat from the days I played Little League, I ran out of my room and headed to my parents' room, in which my dad kept his revolver. The acrid smell of smoke filled my nostrils just as I reached the door to my parents' room. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the shadows of flames leaping up the stairway. I knew that the actual flames themselves wouldn't be far behind.
"Damn!" I hissed as I threw open the door and burst into the room, headed toward my father's not-so-secret hiding place for his gun. I quickly rifled through his underwear drawer and, after checking that the gun was fully loaded with six rounds, grasped it firmly in my free hand: my left hand.
If that bastard wants to kill me, he better be bulletproof! I thought as I hurriedly left my parent's room and ran to the bathroom and the fire escape there. Smoke had began to slither up the walls and creep toward the ceiling, years old wallpaper went up like a match as tongues of flames leapt across its broad expanse. The intensity of the flames were already hot enough to cause me to sweat and the smoke was cloying enough to burn my throat and lungs. I didn't want to find out how hot it would be if they got any closer. I shuddered at that unpleasant thought as I rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind me, putting stoppers in both the tub and the sink, and turning on both of them in a weak attempt at delaying the fire. I gulped down some ice cold water and splashed it on my face three times for luck before I headed to the window and the fire exit beyond it. I unlocked the window and pulled it all the way up in one fluid motion before I stuck one leg out, then my head, then my torso, and, lastly, my other leg. I breathed in a gust of cool air that soothed my aching lungs.
"Safe," I breathed as I climbed down the exit on wobbly knees. When I reached the bottom, I stared up at my house. The fire seemed much bigger on the outside and the bathroom seemed to have the strongest flares of flame as if some monstrous demon was trying to free itself through sheer brute force alone. If it wasn't my house, it would have been beautiful.
"Impulsive boy!" A perverse laughed chilled my back while my front was warmed by the fire in front of me. I quickly turned around -gun raised high and bat swinging.
"Now, don't be so rude! Put such weapons away! Or I will have to punish you again," a figure in a green goblin mask and a purplish uniform laughed maniacally. The nose of the green mask was long and crooked. The figure sat atop some type of mechanical glider, equipped with rocket launches on the sides and turrets for machine fire. I looked at him in fear. This was the same voice who had paid me to rape Puny Parker, to tell Harry about it, and to unknowingly lure MJ to her death. Even though under normal circumstances I would laugh at and ridcule someone dressed so clownishly, but this wasn't ordinary, that man wasn't ordinary. I lifted my gun so it was pointed directly at his face. I praised myself for not having my hand waver, for not showing the panic I felt inside.
"Why did you do this? I work for you! So why?" I asked, my voice cracking in my fear against my will. The green goblin laughed.
"Why not? You were fun when you useful and entertaining when you were so eager to rape Puny Parker! Ha! But you failed me. You let that Mary Jane woman escape and that is not very fun or entertaining at all," The goblin's demeanor immediately changed from one of gaiety to one of rage.
"I will kill you, but before then, I have to ask: 'Why were you so willing to harm Pete? It was fun truly, but why would you hurt him?'" The goblin's voice wavered between anger and curiosity and childish, sadistic glee.
"He was always the perfect one, the proverbial teacher's pet and the one all the parents adored. He needed to be taken down a peg and I was the only one willing to do it," I said proudly, stating the truth as well as buying myself time while I got up the nerve to shoot him.
Why can I rape someone, but killing someone else is so much harder? Pull the Goddamed trigger, you idiot!
"That's all? How typical," The green goblin yawned, bored with my answer. His glider drifted closer to me, his eyes barely taking in the pistol in my hand.
"Put that thing down. If you was going to use it, you would have alrea-" -BANG!- The sound resounded throughout my backyard as I squeezed my eyes shut and squeezed on the trigger. When I opened them, I saw the green goblin lying on the grassy tuft of my backyard, his glider still floating in the air but his body several feet away from it.
"Hello? Hello?" I called out nervously as I crept swiftly over him, gun held at the ready. Red ooze splattered his mask from the bullet hole.
He's dead! I did it! I did i- I felt something tear through my legs and then my chest. I crumpled to the ground, my face staring up at the night sky in more shock than pain. The moon was half full and obscured by stars. The sounds of the three bullets that pierced my body came to me afterward, like a dream that was merely an afterthought of something that occurred in real life. I heard the crunching of leaves under feet and a silhouette looked down at me.
"Damn, Flash! I just had that one programmed with my personality, too! Do you know how much it's going to cost to fix -or God forbid, replace- it?" Someone sighed in exasperation and there was the noise as if someone was ruffling a hand through hair.
"Oh well, at least it worked under some idiot shot it in the head! Luckily the CPU wasn't there so I can still get some good data from it to improve it," that same someone -no, not someone; I know that voice- said again. The sound of a gun cocking could be heard, but for some reason I couldn't muster up any fear.
I wonder if this was how thos people at the theatre felt while they died? The clouds covering the half-moon began to drift away, allowing more light to bask the yard. I could see the person's white teeth as he smiled down at me in a cruel, sadistic smile as he pointed the muzzle of a gun at my face.
"Bye Flash." In that moment, the moon was completely clear and my would-be murderer's face was as clear as day.
"Os-" -BANG!-
(1)flipped them the bird: give someone the middle finger.
All reviewers are welcome(that includes you, fiery flamerz! XD). And remember if I have any spelling and/or grammar mistakes please inform me.
Now onto important stuff! The plot thickens! Mwhaahaha! I was thinking about just revealing the orchestrator behind the whole plot -Peter's rape; etc.- in this chapter, but I decided against it since I still want some mystery surrounding the identity. Even though some of you have probably already figured it out.
And good news! I plan to update again either the week after next or the week after that.
Love you!
02/26/2011 (about 3:23 AM)