Spidery Sparks (An Amazing Spider-Man Fanfic)

Spidery Sparks- Part 1

The dinner table is silent. None of my sisters are talking and my dad isn't bothering to speak to any of us. He and my mother just got into another fight over the famous Spider-Man. My father is convinced that his intentions are dark, yet my mother thinks he means well. At this point, I have no clue what to think of the masked man in a unitard.

For the past few months, all of my friends have been buzzing about this mysterious hero. At least three times every week there are stories of a masked man in red and blue stopping small acts of crime such as car robberies, gang fights, or car chases throughout New York City. One night there was even a crazy man running around Times Square with a gun that this vigilante somehow managed to stop.

A good handful of his "victims" in the beginning of his career looked the same, however, with long blond hair. My father thinks he was searching for someone, and that his only motive is revenge and as soon as he finds who he's looking for he will disappear. My mother swears she saw him on TV wave to a little kid on the street as he swung by, so she thinks there is genuine good in him.

Although many adults seem to argue about the morality of letting this guy literally swing through the streets, the biggest buzz within my senior class has been his identity. All of the footage of him has confirmed that he is a young man in terrific shape, but it's hard to say his age. Many reporters are trying to see where he goes when he leaves a crime scene, but he always moves too fast and it is impossible to follow him. It seems that he really doesn't want his identity known. Some kids swear they know who it is, but it's usually just an attention grab. Although it's extremely possible he could be walking around the halls of my high school as a student, I doubt he would have time to attend class with all that work he does out in this crime driven city.

I am snapped out of my thoughts as a rapid knocking sounds on the door. My father sighs and stands up from the table, clearly grateful for an excuse to leave the awkward silence around the dinner table, and trudges to the front of the apartment. I take another bite of my food and listen as closely as I can to my father's conversation. His voice is hushed and I can't make out who is at the door. A few moments later, he returns to the table, his face ghostly pale.

"They're evacuating our street. Let's go, throw on a coat and get in the car," he spits rapidly, tugging my chair out. My sisters exchange worried glances with me until I finally speak up.

"Why? What's happening?" My father lets out an annoyed sigh as he pulls on a jacket.

"None of your concern. All you need to know is that we need to leave," he grumbles, checking his pockets for his phone and keys.

I decide not to argue right now and throw on a sweater over my blouse while simultaneously slipping on my black converse. My mother eventually joins us in the mud room and hands my sisters their warmest coats. None of us talk, too worried to think of anything to say, and when we are finally all ready, we exit the apartment without any further discussion. Our hallway is filled with other families evacuating. I make brief eye contact with my neighbor, a girl I go to school with. She looks extremely scared, so I give her a shy smile. She returns it and her eyes dart away as she follows her mother into the stair well. A few flights down, we reach the bottom floor and rush out the front doors of our building, trying to keep our family together in the large mass of people. Once we're successfully in the outside air, my father turns to head towards our parking garage but I am stopped in my tracks by what I see when I finally look up from the ground.

Three cars are flipped over and lay carelessly along the side of the road. There is a giant crack running along the black street and debris lay everywhere. I don't hide my gasp as what appears to be a bolt of lightning shoots horizontally down the street and hits one of the cars, causing it to catch fire. My father yells at us to duck, and we do, just in time for the car to explode.