Helping Hand (TASM)

Times Square

Times Square, renowned as one of the most famous, and the busiest, places in New York. Tourists flock there to see all the spectacular lights and screens spanning the area on a daily basis, and many revel in its magnificence. Except, only, for one little boy.

To this little boy, the place was nothing more than a frightening mixture of noise and chaos. Bodies slammed into him as he tried to push himself through the crowd in a panic, his small hands pushing and tugging at people's clothes as he manoeuvred around them, eyes darting this way and that, with wide-eyed franticness. As this young boy was experiencing any child's worst nightmare come true. He'd lost his mother.

"Mummy!!" he screamed, distress cracking through his voice, as he continued to search and search through the crowd for a familiar face, only, he wasn't having much luck. "Mummy!" he tried again, small glassy tears beginning to form in the corners of his big, brown eyes.

Off to the side of the area, hanging around near a dark wall - and unbeknownst to the boy, was a group of three, scruffy looking men with beer bottles in hand. They had unfortunately caught sight of the child in distress, and were talking amongst themselves, slapping each other on the arms in some form of agreement, before they started to make their way forward out of the shadows.

"Mummy!" the child said, bumping into someone. They cursed at him, and he stumbled slightly, looking back at them in fear, before continuing to make his way through the swarms of people, looking for a small needle, in a large haystack.

But luckily for this little boy, he was not alone. As sitting on a dark ridge on the side of a building, was crouched a small figure, who also had eyes on our friend - eyes that were following his every move intently, along with those of the junkies, who were now slowly walking up after him. If one looked closely enough, they might just be able to make out the slightest tint of red and blue against the blackness of the night, and the faint twinkle of large, reflective, bug lenses.

"Mum!" the boy cried one last time, before slouching to the ground in a heap, the palms of his hands burying into his eyes, as he began to weep, hopelessly.

There was the slight whoosh of wind, and the faint pat of feet hitting the ground, before the boy felt a gentle hand placed on his arm.

"Hey," sounded a soft and gentle voice from in front of him, and he looked up.

"Are you okay?" the voice sounded again, but this time emerging from none other than the red and blue form of Spider-Man, crouched before him, head tilted to the side slightly, in a look of almost curious concern.

The boy just curled up into a tighter ball, and began to cry again. "I've lost my mummy!" he said, in tears. "I can't find her!" he panicked.

"Hey. Hey it's alright, everything's alright," Spidey responded, shifting closer and wrapping his arms around the boy's quaking form. He shot a silent look over his shoulder in the direction of the three junkies, who all looked at each other in doubt, before beginning to back away.

Spidey pulled his arms a little tighter around the boy protectively. "You're going to be all right, you're gonna be fine, ok? We'll find your mum, I'm sure she hasn't gone far," he comforted.

The boy looked up into his masked face, "We will, are you sure?" he asked, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

Spidey chuckled. "Sure we will," he said cheerily, and was rewarded with a slight smile. "What's your name buddy?" he asked, changing the subject.

"David," the boy happily answered.

"Well, David, how would you like to have a ride on a web hammock, courtesy of your Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man?" Spidey asked, picking the boy up under the armpits and lifting him so he was sitting on his shoulders. The boy giggled with joy.