Peter Parker ▹ Spider-Man | imagines

caught

Warning: mature language and content
third person
word count: 6,730
12:31 am | at first, you did this for the thrill — now you do it for him

The air outside was crisp against your skin. Cold and fiery all at once, shadowy and inviting in all its corners. You loved the time the sun went down, because it was like you: dark and misunderstood.

You remembered why you started doing what you do. Something about taking what others didn't deserve, something about using what others didn't want you to use, something about letting things out that weren't meant to be released made you feel powerful. The adrenaline you got from leaking secrets, the rush you felt when taking a young woman's jewels, the breath you lost from hot wiring that guy's Audi: it was all because you loved having something over them.

By day, you went to school like a good girl, getting decent grades and staying under the radar. By night, your small frame and eagerness for trouble got you into more situations that you could count. With the police, with other criminals, with civilians, and then with Spiderman.

Spiderman was the ass-kicking hero you always saw on everyone's phone at school. They all loved the way he round up the bad guys. They all loved the way he saved that poor couple, the way he pulled that little boy out of the way. Every time you heard another story about him you wanted to throw up with annoyance. He was making your job harder every night, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep him at bay.

On the contrary, the thought of someone after you always had you feeling light on your feet. You enjoyed the chase. You loved watch Spiderman launch those webs at you, and you loved to hear him growl when he let you slip away. But everyday both of you learned more and more about each other and what each could do, and it was getting harder to get away from him and it was getting more difficult to fight him off. Soon, you were afraid, he would catch you.

Spiderman always intrigued you. Something about his instinct to do good with his abilities than to do bad always made you curious. If you could do what he could do, you couldn't imagine how unstoppable you would be. But then again, that's why you didn't have them. With those kind of powers, the chase wouldn't be fun. Life would've been utterly boring trying to do what you do.

That night, you were walking away from a job. It was an easy one, but unfortunately you had to knock out a watchmaker for it. In the watchmaker's possession was a diamond Rolex watch, and now it was in yours. In the shop for repairs by six in the evening, in your hands by twelve in the morning. You had it in the pocket of your belt, and your heels made gentle but tough noises as they hit the pavement. You needed to get to low ground before your good buddy showed up. You spotted a potted whole in the middle of the road, and you reached into your belt for a device.

You grabbed the heavy iron cover with it, pulling it out from the pavement and shining a flashlight down. Running through the sewers wasn't the funnest part of the job, but it was how you managed to escape Spiderman several times. There wasn't any swinging going on down there, and you could outrun him in a pair of stilettos if you had to.

You lowered yourself slowly, hearing the slow drip of water, and the smell of dirt and mold and garbage filled your nose. You pulled a black bandana over your nose and mouth; your mask only covered your eyes.

You grabbed the heavy iron cover, yanking it back into place. You shined your flashlight brighter, sticking it into your mouth as you lowered yourself down from the ladder. It was quite a ways down, but you were comfortable with the journey now. You heard something bang against the cover above you. You looked up, the light shining at the top. You noticed nothing, but suddenly something grabbed the back of your calf and pulling you away from the ladder. You braced yourself for the hard landing on your back, but instead you felt like you fell into a stiff hammock. The flashlight rolled out of your mouth. You spit out, attempting to get up, but you were stuck to something. Everything was. Your legs, your arms, all stuck to something, and you couldn't get up.