Summary:Flash and a couple buddies get jumped, Spider-Man saves the day Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
  |
It was going to be THEIR summer.
Chuck and Dave were looking forward to training for the fall season. The Giants were going to have a winning team this year, and it was all going to thanks to their boy, the Flash. True, he wasn't as much of a partier these days as he used to be. But he could still throw, run, and catch with the best of them.
Chuck smiled to Flash as they headed along the sidewalk to the office building where their agency wanted to talk to them about the draft. "Hey, Flash, after the meeting, you wanna head down to Black Iron Burger? They got this two-pounder cheeseburger that is heaven, really heaven…"
*
No pressure, right? Flash is in good spirits as he walks with his buddies; it's true that he doesn't party like he used to, since he's sworn off alcohol and drugs, but he's still fun to hang out with. Right? They'd tell him if he was dragging everyone down by drinking club soda instead of vodka, right? "Hell yeah, man," he says to Chuck's burger suggestion, giving a wide grin at the thought. Gotta keep the weight up, after all, right? "Hope this meeting doesn't take too long. I'm starving."
*
The problem with fans is that 'fan" is short for "fanatic." And right now, five fans who think the Giants stink on ice can't believe their eyes. Right now they are bemoaning the rough time the Steelers will have, and whaddaya know, their least-favorite quarterback and two of his defensive line are just on the other side of the street. A few whispered words, a quick run to the truck while one keeps lookout and then they are armed and ready to give their team a shot…by taking their own.
"Wait till they round the corner and head down the breezeway. Construction is blocking the sidewalk, and that is good for us."
*
Dave chuckles. "Same here." Dave was one of the bigger guys, one of the fron four, and he was built like a concrete pillar. "Mebbe I'll have TWO…ah, crud. I forgot." He points ahead of them. "They're re-paving."
Chuck grins. "Head over this way. Through the path, past the garden they got set up there, and we'll come out a block away from the front door."
*
There's always some kind of construction going on down here; one of those things you take in stride as a New Yorker. Flash takes a few quick steps forward to pull ahead of the others as the round the corner, turning around to keep the conversation going. "Two doesn't sound like much of a challenge, Dave. You could probably pack away three, easy," he jokes. "Tell you what. You guys tackle three each, and I'll buy." Yeah, the Giants' dietitian might have something to say about that, but Flash is willing to take the heat on it for some fun. "Just left at the end of the alley, yeah?"
*
Chuck nods as he points. "Just like page 12 of the playbook. Jink left, then right."
The alley opens into one of the little treasures of New York. There was an empty space here between teo of the building. Too big to be an alley, too small to make a parking lot. One of the neighbors or someone in the area had cleaned up the trash, spread seed, and made half a garden, the other half green grass, with a beaten path down the center.
Dave smiles as he sees it. "Sometimes this city…it just hits you smack in the face."
"…GET USED TO THE FEELING." The voice had come from behind. Dave turned to see two men coming up from behind, about 15 feet away. They were wearing Steeler jerseys, and were carrying a crowbar and a tire iron that were decidedly non-reg. Chuck looked to the front, and the skin seemed to pale and go slack. "Oh, screw me running…"
Another three were ahead of them. One carried a Louisville Slugger, another one an aluminum bat…and one of them held a gun.
"Well, well, well…a trio of losers," the man with the gun said.
*
"You've gotta be kidding me," Flash says quietly. The bats, the crowbar, and the tire-iron are enough to stop him in his tracks, but the sight of the gun makes his heart skip a beat. He tries to keep his voice calm, which is hard, because it's not like getting mugged at gunpoint happens to him every day. At least, that's what he assumes this is about. "Hey guys," he says a little nervously. "Sorry if we're trespassing or something.. didn't think anyone'd mind us cutting through.. we'll just move along, not make that mistake again, yeah?" He's not eager to get into a fight, or get shot. It's not like he's carrying much of value, besides a watch and maybe fifty bucks in cash. Even so, he likes the watch, and would rather keep it.
*
The guy with the gun takes a step forward. "Ain't it a cryin' shame. Here I went, thinking about how trash the Giants were, and here come three big pieces of trash. And I think we should clean up the trash, don't you?"
Slugger grins. "Yeah. That sounds like fun."
Dave stepped forward. On the gridiron and off, it was his job to protect the quarterback. "Think that gun makes you a big man? I can take you. You and your pissant friends." He grinned. "Gotcher covered, Flash."
Chuck moved to face the ones behind them. "Come on, you jackasses. You think you can make the team?"
*
So this is happening, then. Flash isn't a coward, and he's not going to run away from a fight. Of course, he hasn't really been in a fight since he got sober, but that probably just means his reflexes will be better, right? "Seriously guys?" He asks the threatening men with weapons. "Man, I mean, I love my teams too, but this is taking it to kind of an extreme, don't you think?" He lets out a little sigh, and steels himself. No pun intended. "Fine then. You're gonna try and jump three of the Giants' best, in our own town? No fucking way that's happening, assholes." This could go very badly.
*
Slugger grinned and raised his weapon, and Dave crouched as he preparing himself to get hit.
THWIPP!
And suddenly the bat was flying up, out of Slugger's hand, and into the sky…
"Wow…I don't remember seeing THIS match on the docket."
About 30 feet above Flash's head and to the left, crouching on the railing of a fire escape, Spider-Man looked down at the tableau.
Glock looked up. "S-S-S-S-" he suddenly stammers as the gun aims up at Spider-Man.
"SPIDER-MAN, jackass. Say it LOUD and say it proud." He looked down to the three Giants, suddenly recognizing Flash and trying successfully to hide it. "You guys want to see a magic trick?"
*
Flash had braced himself too, expecting the dudes with bats and crowbars to charge in. Figured Dave and Chuck would provide a defensive screen, but they wouldn't be able to stop everyone, and started planning his own defensive strategy. "Bring it on, dickwads," he mutters, just before the bat goes flying into the air above, and a red-and-black-clad local hero swings onto the scene. Flash doesn't even bother suppressing a laugh, and when they're distracted by Spider-Man's appearance, he takes the opportunity to charge at the nearest of the attackers in an attempt to disarm and take him down. Not gonna let Spider-Man fight the whole battle for him.
*
Chuck and Dave are startled by the sudden move, but they've played and trained together for too long. Your QB, your leader, goes, and you go with him.
Crowbar lifts his weapons to bring it down on Flash's head, when the crowbar leaves the field of battle the same way the bat did, out of the hand, and up, up, and away, so the only thing that comes down on Flash's head is his fist.
Dave and Chuck charge as well, but their would be assailants suddenly find themselves disarmed and facing two trained football players who make a living out of running over people. Chuck SLAMs into another man, lifting him up and nearly throwing them to the side. Dave moves on another man who suddenly realizes he has a date in Flatbush and needs to get there ASAP. He runs off as Dave crows, "See? Ain't never gonna be first-string if…"
BAM!
Spider-Man had gone after Glock, who was waving the gun around. He looked like he was trying to decide who to shoot at.
Then, as Spider-Man reached him, he seemed to decide and fired. Spider-Man had known, somehow, and lashed out at the hand, knocking the gun aside just as it fired.
It had made an odd ZIPPING sound as it flew past Flash's ear, half an inch away. He could HEAR it.
Then the gun was flying out of Glock's hand as Spider-Man webbed his lower legs to the ground. He looked around, heart pounding in his chest. "Anyone hurt?" he called out. He didn't see anyone bleeding but…he had to know.
*
Flash gets a couple good punches in before the bullet zings past his head, causing him to stumble backward. He almost died! Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, he's never felt more alive. This is is better than coke! Uh oh. "I've never been better!" He calls out in response, and dives forward again to attack the dude who was planning to bash his skull in with a crowbar before it was unceremoniously removed from the field. "Don't fuck with New Yorkers, asshole," he growls, and delivers one more solid hit to the man's face; if it doesn't knock him out, he'll at least have one hell of a headache. "Get the fuck out of here," he says, letting the man fall back to the ground before looking around again to see where his teammates have gotten to, and if there's anyone else left standing now that Spider-Man has entered the fray.
*
A few are webbed to the ground, or the wall. The others are either knocked down or knocked out. Dave ran up to Flash and grinned. "Hey! We oughtta have more scrimmages like that. Maybe Spidey can do the half-time…"
Then there was a click. Very loud in the enclosed area. Spider-Man looked and his stomach lurched.
Chuck had picked up the gun. It was almost puny in his hands, but his finger was on the trigger and it was aimed at the head of its former owner.
Dave looked and saw it. "Aw, JEEZ, man…Chuck, put it down…"
"He almost shot Flash," he said, his voice shocked and furious at the same time. "He almost KILLED HIM." He took a step closer. "We're supposed to look after the QB! You take the opponent down!" He took a deep breath. "Well, he ain't gonna take down MY QB. Not if I can help it!"
*
"Whoa, Chuck, put the fuckin' gun down," Flash yells at the man, scrambling forward, but he doesn't outright charge his friend. "I'm fine, dude, we're all good.." He calms his breathing as best he can, and his heart rate will follow suit. He'll approach slowly; the last thing he wants is to get Chuck even more amped up. "You can't do it, man. I need you on the team, not in jail." He looks at Spider-Man, and then at Dave, and then back at Chuck. "Just.. let it go, man. They learned their lesson. And you guys get to be heroes for saving my sorry ass off the field this time." He gives Chuck a hopeful grin.
*
Chuck seems almost on the verge of crying, which all the scarier for a big imposing guy. "I…I can't let him go…" Chuck says, brokenly.
"…Chuck?"
Chuck's eyes go from Flash to the guy in the red-and-blue long johns. "Spider-M…" He swallows.
"Chuck? I get it. You want to do what's right. But you pull that trigger, and the only place you are going is bare rooms and locked doors. You got to be there for your team…and your quarterback, right?"
Chuck's face crumples and he nods. Spider-Man steps forward. "Listen to your leader, Chuck." He holds his hand out. For a moment, no one seems to breathe.
And then Chuck drops the pistol into Spider-Man's hand and goes to his knees. Dave immediately runs over to him.
*
Flash is right there too. "Good man," he says, putting a hand on Chuck's shoulder. He looks up at Spider-Man. "Thanks for being here, Spider-Man. We'd be.." Well, dead, in Flash's case, it seems like. "A lot worse off if you weren't watching out for us." Us regular folks, he means, not himself specifically. "Anything you need, just ask, man. We owe you."
*
Spider-Man turns to face Flash, and Flash sees the pistol is already coated in a few coats of webbing. It's not going to be hurting anyone else anytime soon. "Happy to help. Listen, your friend there…you'd better get him counseling. He's going to get all torn up and twisted up in his head over this. No reason to bring up the gun to anyone but a private shrink." He looks to Glock, who is glaring at them. "No sense having one bad day ruin his entire life…"
*
Flash nods, "I hear that," he says simply. One bad day can do a lot of damage. A couple bad years, even more. But Flash knows some good therapists. He's done the legwork in the last couple years. "We'll give you a minute to get clear, but I gotta call the cops and get these assholes taken care of," he says, motioning to the webbed and concussed attackers. "For what it's worth, we'll try to get you some good press for a change," he says with a smirk.
*
Flash IS different. For a moment, he has the almost suicidal impulse to pull off his mask, to how him it's Puny Parker all along…but it passes as soon as he is aware of it. What would be the point? What would it help?
"Just don't mention the gun. I'll take it with me, and that guy over there is not going to risk getting pulled up on a weapons charge. And his friends will…play ball, as it were. They may have lost, but I think they know the score. Thanks for the head start, though."
He fires a webline to snag the edge of the fire escape. "Be good, guys," he says with a wave, and then he just…VAULTS up and over the edge of the building.
Chuck looks up, seeming to be something closer to his original self. "Wow…whaddaya think we'd do if we had Spider-Man playing for us?"
Dave chuckles, sounding a little relieved. "Win the Super Bowl, that's what. Right, Flash?"
*
Flash makes a little 'zipping' motion over his lips at Spider-Man's comment about the gun, and gives another nod as the hero jumps up and out of the scene. "I think we'd be looking at a whole new style of football," he jokes. "A lot more acrobatic, and stickier," he says with a smirk. Flash pulls out his phone, and dials the police. "Hi, yeah, Flash Thompson here. Yeah, that one. I'm at the corner of.." And he goes on to detail his location, and a general overview of events. Cops will be on their way, statements to be made, and media attention to follow. All in a day, apparently.
*