Arachnophobia ⇒ Peter Parker

three: a mission

     Customary to your classic horror story, I woke up strapped into a flimsy folding chair, which was not as flimsy as it appeared to be, in the middle of a stark black room.

     A flashing red light switched on and off, aiding my blurred vision to give some sense of my condition. In between flashes, I was able to stifle ill-defined images beneath the blinding cardinal light. The room surrounding me was intimate. The charcoal walls were tightly crowded and a blank white table loomed in the corner. On top of the quartz desk lay a chart that was covered in straight diagrams, all printed in heavy black ink. After realizing I was in an interrogation room, and cursing under my breath, I began to decipher the faint outline behind a double-paned window. My eyes strained to see what lay in that dimly lit room.

     How long had it been since I was last free? The minor headache and nausea that I was experiencing, minor traces of the drug that still lingered in my system, were a sure indicator that I had been here for less than a day.

    All of this was important, but I was paralyzed and unable to think straight. Thoughts flushed my mind quickly and then abandoned me as the red light flickered off, unifying my enclosure into one pitch-dark slate. I was going to need answers, quickly. Observing would be helpful, but I was fatigued with emotion and did not have the willpower to deduce the situation as it unfolded in front of me.

    I observed my restraints with great confusion. What held me down appeared to be an aluminum rope; it rested uncomfortably on my shins. My hands were bound behind my back in... I wasn't entirely sure since they were behind my back. This was a situation that my combat skills nor my savviness could get me out of. What options did I have?

    Above me was a video camera that peered downwards on my frail figure. Assuming that my every moment was watched and my every word was listened to, I uttered something of the means that I was awake.

    Soon enough, I hear a click as the door at the end of the space latched open. A dark figure walked through, growing larger and larger as it neared me. My breath hitched. The incandescent light flooded his body. His dark eyes deepened to a heavy crimson. The man etched forward, his force washing me in a flood of bitter, icy air.

    "Isaac?"

    "Amalia?" He asked, before cutting himself off with a bellowing laughter, "Why so sad?"

    "Cut the act. Where am I?" I said, attempting to assert dominance. I clasped one hand in the other, trying to shield my jolting fingers. I asked this question knowledgeable of the fact that it most likely wouldn't be accompanied by answers. However, asking it gave me reassurance. It made me feel like I was at least doing something to try to escape the confines of that room. Maybe it was the change of scenery or the underlying threat, but I felt light-headed. Why had I been brought here? It all happened so suddenly that my mind didn't have time to register all of it.

    "I've been looking for someone like you. A person with both the brain and the bronze. Once I spotted you, I knew you were perfect. So, after a bit of persuasion to your old boxing gym, I got you to relocate. Easy really. I tend to forget how gullible regular humans can be."

    "What do you want?" I shouted, sounding more aggressive than my intention.

   "Your skill. I'd like you to go on a mission for me," He related sinisterly.

    "Let me guess, I don't have a choice."

    "Not unless you value the lives of your immediate family and best friend." With that comment, I shrunk. How was it possible for someone to command so much veracity? I bit my lip and my gaze shifted downward. Water droplets began to collect in my eyes as I wondered why I had gotten into this mess in the first place. Oh, that's right, I didn't. Repulsion was all that I felt.

    "Why? Why drag me in?" I croaked.

    "That's a vague question. You see, I asked the same question when I was first forced chosen. Soon you'll realize the truth in our argument. But you won't truly understand until you feel the adrenaline of seeing fear flash through a superhero's eyes. No one has the power to take the security out of a superhero's gaze. At least, no one else."

    "Why include my family?" I questioned sternly. Though thousands of questions were consuming me, I could only utter very few of them. I was out of place, even if I was here for 'business'. I found myself gaping into this man's eyes; an endless vortex of paralysis consumed my every intention of movement. His pupils appeared as if they were beacons, calling malevolence. His presence caused anyone surrounding him to stiffen. Even though I had been around him for quite some time now, I still couldn't shake my horror.

    At my question, amusement danced in his eyes. He eyeballed me up and down as if I was uncharted territory. He smirked and answered, "I find that torture doesn't work on the selfless."

    A hysterical string of laughter left my mouth uncharacteristically. It exited before I could stop it. Ironic that he only talks about torture in a physical nature. As if the thoughts of your family and friends leaving you isn't something that could terrorize you. I stared up at him, my face covered in blood from the punches I had received earlier. My hair was cemented down with the trails of sweat that had clung to it.

    I closed my eyes, hoping that this whole situation could disappear. With one last heave of air, I pushed my head upwards. Preparing to make a final statement.

    "I hate you," I seethed. Repulsion coated my words, causing spit to emit from my mouth.

    "Do you? Because I have the feeling that you need adventure. That secretly, you need a thrill, a change of plans. A change that I'm willing to provide," He said, catching me off guard. A gasp left my pursed lips. Quite possibly, because I had been hiding this from myself. In the back of my mind, I had hoped it wasn't true. Him saying it aloud surprised me. Not only because the words sounded truthful when said aloud, but because of the flutter it caused my stomach to feel. He was right, and that was the only reason why he had control over me. This man knew the truth, and that terrified me more than any of his previous statements.

    For the first time, I felt truly naked.

    "So," I paused, unsure that these words were leaving my own throat, and not someone else's, "Where do I begin this mission?"

    He smiled, victory glinting in his eyes, "Queens. You're going to take a trip to Midtown High School, to check up on my dearest enemy."

    "And who exactly is your dearest enemy?"

    "Queen's very own loved and adored, Spiderman," He mischievously clarified, "Known to his friends as Peter Parker."

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Had wayyy to much fun writing this. Did you have as much fun reading it? I would appreciate it if you would let me know by commenting and liking my story below! My next post will be in two days!