The Butterfly Effect: a Peter Parker Fan Fic

Part 36; Masks Aren't Forever

An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind ~ Mahatma Gandhi

"You did it," I say in awe, "you did it, you crazy son of a bitch." The wings on my back are restored to the perfect condition they were in previously.

A smug, cocky smile sits comfortably on Flash's face, "you bet I did. You owe me a lot now that they are--"

"--I have a dagger in my sleeve, a gun in my motorbike and a war inside my head. You're lucky I'm sparing your life," I hiss.

He flinches and backs away into the shadows of the dark room, petrified of me. Voices appear in the hallway, sending me into a fit of panic. Flash also hears the noise and instantly peeks through the curtain to see who it is. "It's Mr Smith," he whispers, "with a bunch of kids."

"Who the hell is Mr Smith?!" I fire at him.

"The woodwork teacher! And I'm guessing this is his after school class or some stupid club that thinks it's a good idea to meet up now and in here!" he snaps, his words filled with anxiety.

My mind runs faster than ever as potential ideas flood through. Flying out of the door with my entire suit activated would hands down be one of the worst ideas in history. Exiting this dark and quiet room by walking out with Flash beside me would be along side that. The only other option by taking that door is somehow creating an illusion, but that's where the limits come in. I can only create images of things that aren't there, not getting rid of things that are there.

"We don't have long, Garcia!" he grimaces.

All that we need is a window of opportuni--

A window.

My head spins around behind my shoulder to the lone window. It's small, but my petite body doesn't need that much space anyhow. "The window," I say aloud, intending for Flash to also hear.

I quickly deactivate the wings, Flash proceeding to the window as I do this. It appears to be stuck, the murmurs of the group getting louder as they presumably approach the door. He struggles, pulling on it as hard as he can. "It's stuck!" he grunts.

One corner of my mouth tilts upwards forming a lopsided smirk. "Move out of the way," I order him.

He obeys, immediately sliding over and nearly toppling over a few desks. The sound of keys jingling and jangling and entering the keyhole only motivates me even more. It is jammed, Flash was right. But the difference between Flash and I? I'm a freaking super human and I am the daughter of Keith freaking Stark.

The window opens within a split second. He marvels, his jaw dropping. I give him a snarky look, "don't you love it when a girl is stronger than you?"

His mouth clamps shut, too ashamed to respond.

"Why the hell isn't this door opening?" a voice, potentially claimed by Mr Smith, mutters underneath their breath. The chair is still the only thing preventing them from entering.

I climb out of the window and try to clamp it shut. Flash begins to protest, "hey, hey, hey, what about me?!"

"Well, you have to open the door for our good friend, old man Smithy there," I retort impatiently.

"What the hell do I say?!" he shouts at me quietly.

I smile, clearly amused, "you were... doing some project or something in here alone."

"What project?!"

"Use your imagination, Thompson."

And with that, I ensure the coast is clear before flying off into the clear blue sky.