Realm of Nightmares

Web-swinging would have been much faster, but it wasn’t like Spider-Man could exactly carry five people while traversing across the city with one arm. So the five cops, plus their new vigilante addition, crammed into the backseat of someone’s SUV, its key still in the ignition, and took off toward the sanctum. The group huddled into the seats, with Officer Collins driving and Nelson riding shotgun. They kept the windows down, as requested by Spidey, who wanted to keep lookout should anything occur. Nelson didn't see the point, but he'd observed already that Spider-Man was a pretty anxious guy. And the sense of danger looming over the streets of New York probably wasn’t helping. 

"So, Spidey..." started Officer Roberts.

The hero turned swiftly from his position hovering out of the window, probably unsuspecting of the sudden noise. "Yeah?"

"What's that theory you mentioned? About why we're the only ones awake?"

"Oh that," he said, "so those spells I talked about? The ones Strange used right before Nightmare got to him? I think one of them was some kind of protection spell, to keep me from falling asleep like everyone else. It was like this huge dome that spread from the circle of ingredients he created on the floor.” He gestured with his arms. “Plus, the spellbook he was using had the word scutum in bold on the front. Scutum means shield in Latin."

Nelson, at this point, had turned around so that he could hear better and potentially help Spidey figure some things out. But when Latin was mentioned, he lost a bit of hope. "Latin? Where'd you learn Latin?" he asked. 

"Uh...school?" The vigilante answered hesitantly.

"You still in school, kid?" asked Officer Gilbert.

"Um...I just have a really good memory." He waved his hands dismissively. "Doesn't matter, we're getting off topic."

"So you think this...shield that Doctor Strange made is keeping you awake? But, why us?" said Officer Roberts. "Everyone else is asleep and havin' some kind of freakish nightmare, and while I'm grateful we're not in that situation, it concerns me that we're the only ones awake. Did Strange do that on purpose?"

"I have yet another theory about that," said Spidey, who reached forward and grabbed Nelson's hand off the shoulder of the passenger seat. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal an old, worn watch with golden patterns and leather designs. The material formed a sparkling frame around the actual clock, and twisted underneath itself to protect the glass on top. Complicated symbols covered the band and seemed to glow in the dim lighting.

"I didn't know you wore a watch, Nelson," said Roberts, the wind from Spidey’s open window blowing her blonde hair into her eyes.

"What's so special about it?" asked Officer Collins.

Spider-Man lifted the man's hand so that the symbols on the side could be better seen. "Look, here," he said, pointing to a circular mark on the band. "This symbol—it was on Strange's book. The one he used to protect me from Nightmare."

Nelson turned his wrist around so he could see the markings. He was quite confused. "These...I- I thought it was just a watch. These shapes weren't here before."

"Where did you get this watch?" asked the vigilante.

"It was a gift from my grandma, when I turned 14. My grandma was somewhat of a magician, and my parents never let her near me, not until she was diagnosed with cancer. I only really knew her for a year, and right before she died, she gave me this watch for my birthday. I've worn it ever since.".

"Your grandmother was a wise woman. I'm guessing this watch protected you and your friend from Nightmare's spell, creating a miniature version of Strange's shield," said Spider-Man, his voice full of amazement.

"You're guessing?"

"Yeah...I'm guessing. I'll have to ask Strange about it."

Nelson, despite the knowledge that Spider-Man could be totally wrong, brought the watch to his face and uttered a silent thanks to his grandma.

"Is this it, Spidey?" asked Collins from behind the wheel, who had stopped the car in front of a broken and still-breaking building. Cracks littered the walls and the front doors had fallen off their hinges. Even in the dim moonlight, Nelson could see that every window had shattered and left shards of glass beneath its sill. The upper left corner of the building had an entire wall completely missing, the bricks that had created it lying in a pile on the ground. 

Spider-Man sighed. "Sadly, yes."

Everyone got out of the car and started toward the broken door, carefully placing their feet and stepping over mounds of rubble. Once he reached the door, which was now an empty frame, Spider-Man shoved the heavy, collapsed wood out of the way with ease and headed inside. The group followed in his footsteps, Officer Stanley gawking at the hero’s strength. 

The grand lobby of the sanctum opened up before them, still magnificent despite the many damages it had sustained. The ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling was miraculously still intact, save the few shards and jewels that had fallen from it. The staircase banner had broken to bits and there were so many holes in the wall Nelson could see into three rooms at once. He was surprised the ceiling hadn't caved in. 

"This way," said the vigilante. The officers followed him up the many steps.

"What do ya think that other spell was for, Spidey?" asked Officer Gilbert.

He continued climbing the steps, but looked back to answer. "Uhm...I'm actually not sure about that one. Though I think it has something to do with the box Strange pulled out." Nelson, from his position at the back of the group, observed the way Spider-Man’s shoulders hunched over. He seemed to curl in on himself, his muscles constantly tensed, his torso very slightly leaned over in pain. Spider-Man must have been a master at hiding his injuries. His voice was quieter and rougher than what would be expected from the vigilante. He seemed almost apologetic in all of his dialogue, like a kid showing his parents the mess he had made. Officer Nelson wondered if he felt any responsibility for all this. He shouldn’t. 

"That black box?"

"Yeah."

Once they arrived at the common area Spidey had described in his story, the officers took a moment to breathe. The air felt thicker up here, more dense. But that might only have been because of the dim lighting that seemed to shrink the size of the room. 

"Man, Roberts, am I gettin' old." Collins chuckled, still catching his breath.

Brenda laughed. "It's just some stairs, Steve."

"Yeah, about a thousand of ‘em."

Nelson stepped over a pile of rubble and pulled out his flashlight, seeing as most of the light bulbs had been shattered and now that they weren't right under the chandelier, barely any light could reach them. He glanced at Spidey, who was leaning over the remnants of the banner and surveying the downstairs, probably still on edge after what had happened the last time he was here.

"You need a light, man?" Nelson asked.

"No, no I'm okay," he said, tapping on his mask lenses. "Night vision." 

Nelson had always found the lenses a bit disturbing. They were plenty expressive, as were Spider-Man gestures and voice patterns. However, in cases like right now, when he was still and more quiet, the blank, white lenses could be a bit disconcerting. 

Nelson almost turned fully away until he caught the hero wrapping his hands around the back of his neck, pulling forward. He drew in a deep breath and tensed his shoulders. The kid was obviously exhausted. And stressed. Probably a hellish mixture of both. 

"You know, Spidey, we will fix this," he offered. 

Spider-Man turned around and dropped his hands. "I hope."

"No, we will. Really. If Strange could do it once, so can you. Plus, you got us."

He took another breath. "Thanks. It's just...I've grown up here you know? This city, these people…it's always felt like mine. And once I became..." he gestured to his suit, "...I've always felt an obligation to protect it. And this time, I couldn't."

Nelson related to him a bit. Obviously, he cared a lot. And though his ways weren't always exactly lawful, Spider-Man tried his best. And boy was it working. Crime rates had gone down astronomically since the web-swinger showed up. Yet most people continued to call him a menace, a monster, a hindrance to this town. They yelled at him to let the cops do their job. And some cops agreed. They thought Spidey got in the way of their holier-than-thou, weight-of-the-world, crap. Nelson felt guilty for ever letting Spider-Man think everything was his duty. His fault. All while being yelled at by the same city he worked so tirelessly every day to protect. 

"Listen, kid. It's not your responsibility to protect everyone. That's impossible. You ever need help, just...call us. Alright?"

He nodded, relaxing his shoulders just the slightest. "Yeah…yeah okay. We gotta get moving. This way."

The officers followed him into a dark, narrow hallway, where the beams of their flashlights revealed the drops of blood covering the hardwood floor. It was the hallway from Spidey's story. 

Before he could take another step, Nelson felt an arm in front of him.

Spider-Man had both arms out, stopping the officers from moving another inch. He grounded himself and froze, still as a statue, staring intently at the end of the shadowy corridor. His mask lenses squinted, almost sending a shiver up Nelson’s spine. Definitely disconcerting. "Something is coming," Spider-Man whispered.

A faint rustling could be heard from the door in the back left. A large shadow appeared, getting closer and closer. Fighting the urge to run, he looked over at Spider-Man, and was confused when he let out a sigh of relief. Regaining his more leisurely stance, the hero stood up to face the mass in front of them. 

A red cloak.

"Hey, buddy!" The vigilante reached out his hand, and the cloak seemed to shake it, floating up and down almost excitedly.

"A...cape?" questioned Gilbert.

"It's a cloak, but yes."

"No way!" exclaimed Stanley. "That's Doctor Strange's cape thing!"

"Cloak."

"Right, sorry, cloak. I didn't know it could do that!" Stanley began circling the thing, reaching out and running his hands along the fabric. The cloak shied away from his touch, but the officer didn't seem to notice.

Spider-Man looked questioningly at Nelson, who smiled and said, "He's a bit of a fanboy."

"Mhmm."

Suddenly, the cloak floated higher and wrapped itself around the vigilante's shoulders, hanging loosely. 

Spider-Man chuckled, observing himself in the sliver left of a shattered mirror. "This'll take some getting used to."

Stanley perked up. "Yo Spidey! Love the new look. I thought Doctor Strange was the only one who could wear it?"

Still inspecting his newest clothing addition, he said, "Guess not. But I-" The cloak pulled away from Spidey's shoulders and slipped under his feet, turning into something of a magic carpet and carrying the hero down the hallway and through a door on the left. The officers caught up with him and stepped into the room.

The door had been thrown off its hinges and broke in two pieces, which were smashed up against the far corner. The whole right wall was blasted out, revealing the empty streets and starry sky. Every bookshelf and dresser no longer held its shape, crumpled into a mass of rubble on the floor. And unconscious in the corner was Doctor Strange, twitching restlessly, probably stuck in a nightmare just like everyone else. 

Spider-Man stood by his side. "His heart is racing. If we don't act quick, he could literally die of fear."

“How’d you know?” asked Roberts.

“I can hear his heartbeat.”

Before the officers could comment on that odd talent of his, Spider-Man dropped to the floor in search of something. 

"Okay, so...something about a black box?" asked Gilbert.

"Yeah, this one right...Uh...." He dug under the rubble and gestured for the others to help him. Once the group had made a big enough hole to see to the floor, they stopped looking. 

Spider-Man stood up. "No, it- it was right here."

"Is this it?" asked Brenda, who pointed to a bright, blue, glowing box on the floor. It twitched and jumped around, thumping against the hardwood. 

"No this box was–” He stopped, moving toward the box that seemed to contain something alive with the way it jumped around. Peering at the markings on the top, he picked it up and struggled to maintain a grip on it. "This is the box. It has the same symbols and same keyhole shape. Only it's-"

"Blue."

"The exact same color as Strange's second spell. It was this...glow that engulfed him and then disappeared. I think...now I know what that spell did."

"So Nightmare is...in the box? In a tiny...wooden crate?" asked Collins.

"No, this can't be an ordinary box," said Spider-Man. "These symbols..."

Officer Gilbert grabbed a book from under a pile of rubble titled Symbols and Hieroglyphs of the Mystic Arts. "Here." He flipped through the pages, scanning back and forth. Spidey held up the box, gripping tightly to the sides to keep it still. 

"There."

It was a c-shaped marking, with lines above it and below it and surrounded in triangular patterns. The two symbols, one in the book and one on the box, matched to the last detail.

Collins scanned the two paragraphs following its image, tracing one line after another. "Apparently it's a symbol for containment, to guard and restrict the most powerful of beings. But a downside is that those beings can still cause chaos within their containment, and some have been known to escape."

"Wait a minute, Strange told me about this box," said Spidey. "This is where he kept Nightmare the first time, until he gained the right resources to defeat him. But Nightmare broke free, and came back stronger..."

"So he can break free again," said Brenda.

"We have to defeat him, but if we let him out now, he'll just put us to sleep...or worse," said Nelson.

Spider-Man set down the box and stepped back, the crimson cloak settling itself onto his shoulders. "We have to go in."

“Are you crazy? We can’t go in there! Who knows where that box leads,” exclaimed Collins.

“It’s the only way. Defeat Nightmare, put a stop to his spells…before anyone literally dies of fear. If we bring him back here, he’ll just be more powerful. We have to go in.”

The officers nodded, some hesitantly, afraid and uncertain, but ready to take the risk for the sake of their city.

"But you guys realize, it's going to be scary. Scarier than anything you've ever faced. He's called Nightmare for a reason." 

"We can do it, kid. We got you." Nelson finally felt that rush again. The one he'd always get when walking straight into danger. He hadn't experienced it for a while, what with Spider-Man being around to stop the worst of the crimes and even scare criminals away from breaking the law in the first place. He hadn't felt so needed in a long time, and though it was terrifying to say the least, Nelson was happy to do his job. He was happy for the chance to help this vigilante, too. Maybe take some weight off his shoulders. 

"Alright, let's do this."

Before Spidey could take a step toward the box, his cloak floated toward a long, baton-looking weapon, covered in amber jewels. The cloak wrapped it up and presented it to the vigilante, who took it in his hands with obvious confusion. "Okay..." He used his webbing to strap the long object to his side. 

After the cloak situated itself back on his shoulders, Spider-Man looked up at the officers. "Ready?"

"Ready," repeated Nelson.

And when the box was opened, he was sucked into eternal nothingness.