Layla had just got home from her 9 to 5 job. Exhausted and excited to just cuddle up on the couch and watch TV for the night. She was so sick of her high-stress, low-paying job. If she had to deal with one more rude entitled customer today she feels as if she would have snapped. Luckily, tonight she was going to stay in and relax, forget about the customer that screamed at her today for something that was not her fault. When is it ever the customer service person’s fault though? Yet, somehow they still get the brunt of the storm.
She grabbed herself some leftover pasta, warmed it in the microwave, and then sat down on the couch with her legs curled to one side. After placing the bowl on their coffee table she grabbed the remote right beside it. She turned on a rerun of The Big Bang Theory that was on and then took a breath and sunk into the soft material under her.
She was enjoying her stress-free night when suddenly her TV flickered. She frowned but hoped it was just a momentary glitch. A moment later though the screen went pitch black. She fiddles with the remote, trying to turn the TV back on but nothing happens. She was about to get up and check the television itself when the screen lit up on its own.
She wasn’t sure what she was seeing at first and squinted. A dimly lit room was on the screen and in the middle was a lone chair. Someone was in said chair and it took her only a moment to link together the red suit with the vigilante known as Spider-Man. His head was down, resting against his chest.
Layla stared, unsure what was going on. Why was this on her screen? Did she accidentally change the channel? Her phone is going off beside her and she tears her eyes away from the hero to pick it up and see what is going on. Her messages are full of friends texting asking if she is seeing what they are. One wrote about how every screen in Time Square went dark and then flickered back to life with the horror movie-esque scene that was currently in front of her.
“That’s quite rude you know.” An eerie voice brings her attention back to her television. “Sleeping in front of your audience.” The next thing she sees is water being thrown on the unconscious vigilante. He gasps awake, choking on some that made it into his mouth past his mask. “That’s better!” The disembodied voice says.
Spider-Man seems to look around, probably gaugeing where he is and what’s going on. A moment later his gaze lands on a spot off-camera. Presumably, the person who trapped him in the chair. The eye lenses in his suit narrow, “What do you want?” He asks once he’s caught his breath.
“I want New York to see just how pathetic its hero really is.”
Layla calls up her best friend Lucy, her fingers finding her contact easily without looking. Without tearing her eyes away from the scene in front of her. As soon as she picks up, Layla speaks immediately, “Are you watching it?”
“Yes,” Lucy replies without needing further information as to what it is.
“I’m scared for him.”
Ever the logical person she is, Lucy assuages her worry, “Me too, but if this is being broadcast to all of New York, the police and the Avengers must know and are finding a way to get him out.”
“I hope so.” Layla was still watching the scene unfold and that’s when the villain finally decided to make an appearance on screen. He had a ski mask over his face, all she could tell was that he is tall and lean. He stands over Spider-Man menacingly creating a shadow over the hero.
“It’s time for New York to see how pitiful you truly are, and once that is proven, you will step down.”
Spider-Man’s head strained to look up at his captor slowly before responding, “I will never abandon my city.”
Layla smiled, rooting, of course, for the vigilante, but that smile dropped faster than rain in a heavy storm when she saw the knife suddenly in the man’s hand. “Oh god, what is he going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy’s whisper came through the phone.
“Yes you will,” the man said right before he quickly brought the knife across Spider-Man’s chest creating a gash.
The hero grunted at the pain and blood started to seep from the wound turning his already red suit to a darker shade. “Why are you doing this?”
The man rounds the chair leisurely as he says, “The entire city idolizes you, but you’re a fraud. You save whoever’s convenient, but what about all the rest?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You weren’t there!” The man screams as he brings the knife down once again, this time across the vigilante’s stomach. This was followed by a small yelp of pain.
Breathing heavily Spider-Man asks, “Where?”
“To save my daughter!” He yelled before once again his hand came down with another slash of the knife, this one across one of the hero’s thighs.
There was a hitched breath before he gritted out, “Please explain, I want to understand.” through the pain.
Layla watched as Spider-Man genuinely asked for more information. He could have screamed right back. Called the man insane, which it seemed he might just be. But instead the vigilante wanted to understand more. Link a reason to this outcome.
“Spider-Man is known for saving the people of New York, but where were you the day she died?!” He screeched, this time stabbing the knife into the hero’s left shoulder. A scream of pain followed.
“Oh god,” Layla breathed out.
“It will be okay,” Lucy assured, but her voice betrayed her palpable worry.
“I don’t…know what you’re…talking about.” Spider-Man said breathlessly, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Of course you don’t, you weren’t there!!!” The man screamed as he yanked the knife out.
After a moment, in which the vigilante caught his breath, he spoke, “So, you blame me for something I wasn’t even present for?”
“You should have been!!” The knife pierces his other shoulder and the hero lets out a short scream.
“This guy is insane,” Layla tells Lucy in a horrified high tone of voice.
“I know, I hope someone gets there fast, Spider-Man is losing a lot of blood.”
Layla switches her focus from the entire scene just to the hero, and that’s when she realizes, the only parts of the Spider-Man suit that are still the bright red it is meant to be are his left leg and his mask. The rest have turned into a darker crimson than the rest.
The man walks behind the chair, bends down, and whispers into Spider-Man’s ear, “You decided she wasn’t worth saving when you didn’t show up.”
“I’m sorry, truly I am,” the hero says breathing heavily, his words slowing down just a bit, “but I can’t be everywhere at once.”
The man walks back toward the hero’s front. He puts his hand around the shaft of the knife still embedded in the vigilante’s shoulder, “Then don’t call yourself a hero.” he said, his voice was unsettlingly calm. He then yanks the weapon out.
Spider-Man cries out and lets his head fall forward as his shoulders go up and down with each ragged breath. “I don’t know what you want from me.” He admits in a weak voice.
“I want you to admit that you are not the hero you claim to be, and I want you to hang up the suit once and for all.”
Spider-Man lifts his head, with what looks like a good deal of effort, “Let me understand,” his voice is broken by intermediate wheezing, “You want me to stop being Spider-Man because I failed to save your daughter.”
Again, Layla was in awe that the hero was even willing to humor the man who was literally torturing him. Like if he talked enough he might just be able to get the guy to listen to reason. Or, maybe the vigilante was just stalling for time.
“That’s exactly correct.” the man replied.
“If I do th’t more innocent p’ple will die… I w’ldn’t be there to save ‘em.” Spider-Man was slurring his already slow words, his head wobbling with the effort to keep it up. “You do un’rstan’ th’t righ’?” The hero takes a moment to catch his breath, each one coming out shakily with a slight wheeze. “Isn’ the death of an in’ncent the reas’n ‘ou did this?”
“He has a point,“ Layla almost jumped at Lucy's voice, forgetting for a moment that she was on the phone. Her attention was so wrapped up and tangled in what was happening right in front of her eyes that for a moment she couldn’t even feel the phone against her ear.
“You lost the right to save anyone else when you didn’t save her!!” The lunatic screams right in the hero’s face, his back to the camera.
Layla saw the man’s arm come up before bringing it down fast, followed by a feeble scream. She couldn’t see what was happening as the villain was blocking the view of the hero. “What happened?” She asked, even though logically she knew that Lucy was watching the same thing she was and thus wouldn't know.
“I don’t know,” Lucy said, her voice trembling a bit.
They both watched as the man slowly straightened up and walked away giving view, once more, of the vigilante. Layla tried to figure out what the man did, but Spider-Man was hunched over so much of his body was indiscernible. “Oh god, his hand.” Lucy’s words had her eyes immediately scanning the hero’s hands. And sure enough, the handle of the knife was visible, the edge had disappeared right through Spider-Man’s right hand and into the chair near the metal restraint around his wrist.
The vigilante had yet to uncurl, but what was more worrisome was how low his head hung. However, what was even more alarming overall was the growing puddle of scarlet beneath the chair. “Wakey wakey Spider-Man.” the guy said tauntingly. Still, the hero did not move.
Layla felt the stinging sensation of pin pricks in her eyes as they welled up. Worry for the vigilante slid down her face as she prayed for the hero to get up. “Is he…” She couldn’t finish her question and Lucy didn’t seem to want to answer. Both willing to grasp blissfully at denial.
“Oh come on hero,” the man teased. “You’re just proving my point.” He sneered in disgust. Once Spider-Man still did not respond he walked back over, still giving room for the camera to capture the scene. He grasped the hilt of the knife and with one quick motion, he withdrew it. The hero still did not react.
A pit of dread seemed to lodge itself into Layla’s heart the more this played out. But, when Spider-Man did not respond to the pain, that pit seemed to burn its way through her like acid, dropping further and further towards the ground. The man seemed to become agitated by the lack of reaction, and yet determined to get one, as his arm came up again, this time aiming toward the other hand. Layla squeezed her eyes shut, knowing this could be it if it wasn’t already too late. Any more blood loss could certainly lead to the death of Spider-Man.
Her eyes flew open though at the sound of an explosion, she heard Lucy gasp on the other end of the call. Smoke overtook the room so Layla could not see the entire scene. What she did see was a blur of red and gold wizz past the camera.
Iron Man. It had to be. A moment later there was a commotion of several overlapping intelligible sounds before something hit the lens of the camera and it went down, the broadcast cutting out abruptly.
What happened? Did he live? Did he get rescued? Is he dead? What happened?!
Neither Layla nor Lucy spoke, each one had no idea what to say. And most importantly, neither knew what happened. Neither had the answers they wanted. Neither of them knew how to move on from this without at least some kind of closure. Layla knows it's kind of stupid, she had no personal connection to any of this, but she couldn’t help it. This was the vigilante who put his life on the line consistently to help strangers without a second thought. No one knows who he is, but for all she knows Spider-Man could be a parent, a spouse, and he was most definitely a child to someone. Still, he would give all of that up for someone he has never met and will likely never meet again. Spider-Man is truly a hero and no one in their right mind would believe otherwise.
“Maybe he got there in time,” Lucy finally said, her voice filled with uncertainty.
“Maybe,” Layla said sadly, tears still silently slipping downward.
______________
There was no news on the hero and whether he lived, and yet life went on. Layla still had to get up and go to work and pretend that everything was normal. She had to walk around not knowing, although she hypothesized just as the magazines speculated about the hero’s well-being. She checked newspapers and magazines even if what they most frequently printed were false claims. For weeks it was nothing except the occasional Possible Spider-Man Sighting. But each time there was no photographic proof and no more than one eyewitness account.
It was about three weeks before actual news was delivered to the public. Every news outlet reported: Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, Confirms Spider-Man Is Alive. Layla took a breath she’d felt like she’d been holding since the first flicker of her TV. He’s okay.
____________
Layla believed the articles, but any doubt she might have had, disappeared a little over a week later. She was walking to the subway after she just got off work. Her head was down as it was sprinkling and she didn’t have her umbrella. She was about to turn down the street the subway was on when she heard someone shout “Spider-Man!” Layla immediately turned and looked up despite the drizzle.
And a little ways in front of her she saw Spider-Man flipping in the air and releasing another web to catch him. He was coming towards her and she had a sudden burst of confidence, “I’m glad you’re okay Spider-Man!” She called out. She’s honestly surprised at herself for being so bold.
The hero looked in her direction from above, the white lenses in his mask focused on her. “Thank you!” He shouted back as the momentum of the web flung him higher and he did another flip. Layla likes to think it was for her. She couldn’t stop smiling.
Spider-Man was okay.
She couldn’t wait to tell Lucy!