How to kill Peter Parker

Chapter Eight

My back was against the wall, a hand on my throat choking me. 

"Now, Spiderman, your death has come. All of the attempts you've made to save the city are worth nothing. You are nothing. You're a worthless, sad, lonely piece of meat who thinks he's doing what's right but in reality, everyone hates him. Hear that Spidey? Everyone hates you!" 

I force back the tears-both from sadness and lack of breath. I can't even make out a word as he tightens his grip on my throat. The grip of my hand around his wrist tightening along with it.

"Why do you even try? What's the point? Everyone's gonna die anyways. Trying to make yourself happier? Your sad depressed self? I mean, even Mary Jane thinks this. Come on Spidey, just give up on it already." He says, but still, I can't move. I can't do anything. He has me above the ground has he chokes the life out of me. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing for this to stop. Wishing for someone to help me like I help all of those people in alleys at midnight when a robber is trying to steal their wallet. Why won't someone save me when all I do is save them? Am I really worthless?

"And you know what the best part is, Spidey?" He smirks. I manage to open my eyes to see what he's doing. He takes his mask off, but all I can do is widen my eyes. I can't even gasp at the sight before me. The recognizable scarred face leans closer to me. "I've been under your nose the whole time." He whispers, then I'm thrown to the ground.

The man in the black armour stands above me as my vision goes to black. 

Friday 
5:26 A.M

I wake up, sweat covering my forehead, heart beating a million miles a minute, and my eyes watering. I touch my throat to make sure it wasn't real, and I begin coughing at the thought. I run my fingers through my hair as I still struggle to breath.

I haven't had a nightmare in years. 

I stand up from my bed, legs almost giving out from shaking so much, and I make my way to the bathroom. I flick on the light and look at myself. There's red circles around my eyes, my lips are dried and cracked, and my hair is greasy and a mess. I wipe away tears that escaped as I turn on the faucet and splash my face. 

What if the nightmare is right? What if the man in the black armour really is that creepy guy Wade Wilson? What if... what if...

I turn off the faucet and take a large breath. At least the nightmare is over and I'm not in the grasp of... whoever that was. I turn off the light of the bathroom and walk out. Once I get back into my bed and grab my phone from the nightstand, I check the time.

5:31? I might as well stay up and not risk another nightmare. Plus, I have to get up in half an hour anyways. Speaking of Wade Wilson, it looks like he approved my follow request on instagram. I open up my phone and go to his account. He only has 7 followers? He might have trust issues, which is surprising seeing as how he was so outgoing just a few days ago when I saw him at the taco bar. 

I scroll through his page and- damn he has one hot bod. I notice a light blush on my cheeks but shake my head. Are you serious Peter? You don't even know him! He's creepy as fuck too! But yet I keep scrolling. 50% of the pictures are just pictures of his chest. I guess he must be prideful in his muscles- and I don't blame him if I do say so myself. I wonder why the pictures are so light though, and appear to have some kind of beauty filter on them. Well, whatever it is, it's still hot. Just as I was about to shut off my phone, it vibrates. 

I got a message. 

The message was a DM. From... Wade Wilson. I gulped but opened the message. It read:

'I thought you hated me!' 

'What does that mean?' I replied. 

'Well you said you wanted to stay away from me, you thought I was a creep, etc etc...' He texted. 

'Well... I changed my mind I guess.' I texted, hopefully he'd buy it. 

'Huh.' Was all he said back, and I closed my phone. It was already almost 6, so I decided to start getting ready for school. 

Saturday 
3:07 P.M

Another meet-up with Deadpool about the man in the black armour. Within the last week, we've met up a couple times, and discovered the location of where the man's staying after a little spying. Deadpool and I decided to go to his location and take him down before he can attack anybody else. 

"Pool, remember, please don't kill him. Once we have him down, let me web him up, okay?" I ask. He sighs but nods. Lately he seems to be actually willing to try not and kill anybody. At first he was reluctant, but the more we hung out, the more he's actually tried not to kill anyone. 

We head out to find the man in the black armour. 

Saturday 
4:11 P.M

"You know, there's more names in the world than 'Man in the Black Armour', why don't we come up with a genius name for him? Hmm black licorice? Nahh. Black Mamba? Nope, too snake-y. Oooh! How about Kylo Ren?!" Deadpool fantasized. 

"Focus Deadpool." I said as we sat crouched on a roof adjacent to the building the man in the black armour- or "Kylo Ren" (I have to admit, he kind of does look like Kylo Ren, just without the silver in his mask)- was staying. Right behind the building was a lake, it was big and beautiful and stretched far. But we're in the part of the city that most people don't go to. The abandoned part of the city. The part of the city where crime is the highest. 

"You ready webs?" Deadpool asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."