Spider-Man and The Renegade

Chapter One: The Pounding of One-Thousand Voices

Migraines became a new normal state. The ache of voices speaking all at once, and never caught speaking one at a time. It was a built pressure behind the eyes, forcing in a nauseating feeling that caught in the throat and stayed put. A set of pale hands grew cold and damp at the piling of voices, causing shakes and shivers to cascade their way through the fifteen-year-old's body. That same set of hands rose and held the temples of the connected shuddering figure. The pointer and middle fingers of each shaking hand pressed gently into the soft fleshy section of the teen's face. At the short-lived relief the fingers brought, the two arms that bore the hands lowered and wrapped around the small frame.

"Please, please, please," A small voice whispered, barely audible over the screams within that same head. A chorus of echoing normal thoughts, I need to buy bread at the store, but what if we're out of milk? Not a thought of the teen's own. That bitch, why's she got a boyfriend that loves her when all she does is sleep with his best friend? The eyes that sat in front of the migraine opened and peered to a set of two girls walking out of the front doors of Midtown School of Science and Technology. Out of the two, the taller, more round one looked upset, almost angry in everything she did, the other, shorter and with a similar frame to a twig looked an angry version of sultry. The glassy, pained eyes peered to the left to see a thin teacher brooding over his phone.

A hasty breath in. You can control it. A thought echoed over the others, a familiar voice. It's sweet, light tone, caused the shaking to slow. A deep breath in, to be followed by one that went out. Her own voice, I just need to learn to maintain it . The small curled up body unfurled from the shell of pain it had hidden in.

"You good, Cal?" a brash voice near screeched. She hastily looked up to see a concerned-looking boy. Calliope rose to her full height and stared with almost comically wide eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost," the boy continued. Cal gawked her mouth and sputtered a few syllables that made no coherent sentence to the human mind. The boy's dark eyes squinted and he let out a laugh.

"Shut up, Dylan," Calliope stuttered. "It was just another bad headache." She raised her hand to grab her backpack strap, finding a bare expanse of her t-shirt. She glanced down, worry filling her up again as she scoured the ground for the bag she was carrying.

Dylan cleared his throat, holding up the bag for Calliope to see. She took it from his hand and slung it over her shoulder. "Dude, what is it," he rolled his eyes up, "the third headache just this week? Maybe aliens are trying to beam you up, but your willpower is too strong."

"I doubt it," He stared her down, she looked back and began walking towards their apartment complex. "What is it with you and aliens, anyway?"

Dylan leaned his head back and let out what could only be described as a howl of laughter. "After the Battle of New York, I don't know how you couldn't blame it on aliens."

"Iron Man took care of the Chitauri , Dylan."

"Just because the Chitauri are gone doesn't mean we can't still wear tin-foil hats, Cal." They slowed for a stoplight, giving Calliope a second to turn and give a dirty look to the taller counterpart that stood next to her. He looked back and shrugged. "I'm telling you they're gonna be in fashion one day, and besides, you know it would look good with your pink hair. You can't change my mind on that bit."

Calliope laughed and shoved his side, looking up to see the crosswalk light on the walking man, they each began their walk again.

"Is this why you ask your dad to wrap your sandwiches in tin foil every day? So you can stock up without drawing attention?" Dylan gasped causing a faux offended look to paint over his features. "You can't change my mind on that." Calliope mocked. The offended look didn't leave Dylan's face. "Either way, I'm gonna use Naproxen, not tinfoil for the headaches."