Wanted: The FanPeople Love Greg

Camping Ch6

A/N as always, Greg, Mike, and FABAE belong to ShyCourage

"Just two hours ago, I was blown away by how smart you are," Greg laughed with a shake of his head. "And now this?"

"Yes," Spider-Man confirmed, as he plucked a little plank of wood from his foot. "I do a lot of stupid things, Greg. I thought you'd caught onto this. And, for your information, I did something worse during that game, if this headache is anything to go by."

Greg glanced Michael to find him just as equally confused as he was. "What does a headache have to do with anything?"

"Tends to be the first sign of a sensory overload," Spider-Man shrugged. "If I'm lucky, it'll pass while we sleep tonight. The only problem is that my luck is crap."

Once again, he was met with confusion. Michael sighed, "No one knows what you mean, Short-Stack."

"Well, I have enhanced senses, right? Sometimes they get extra enhanced. Like, to the point things are overwhelming, and it hurts. Long story short, I probably triggered one back when I decided to listen for your hearts."

"That sucks, man," Michael frowned.

"It shouldn't be one of the bad ones, so it's fine," Spider-Man shrugged.

"What are the bad ones like?" Greg asked as he sat down next to the teenager.

"Don't worry about it, Greg."

"I want to worry about it."

"Just don't, okay? It's nothing I can't handle."

Greg gave him a look. "I might have believe you if I hadn't heard you talk about GSWs the same way."

Michael glanced between the two. "Does Spider-Man frequently get shot?"

"Multiple times a week," Greg deadpanned. "Sometimes multiple times a day." The older officer turned back to the vigilante. "Quick change of subject, but has your metabolism caught up with you yet? You hungry?"

"I could go for dinner," Michael said, despite knowing that the question wasn't directed towards him. Something told him that his mysterious friend was being grilled, and the officer knew that that was never a fun time. "I'll get a fire going." Michael left to do exactly that.

"If he's hungry, then you've been starving for hours," Greg frowned. "You need to say something, Kiddo. It's not healthy."

"You should listen to him," FABAE chirped.

Spider-Man just shrugged. Xander walked over. "Charles suggested a campfire story contest. You guys in?"

"Of course we are," Greg said, giving Spider-Man a look that told him everything: we're not done talking about this. "You good to move near the pit, Spidey?"

Spider-Man glanced at his feet. He'd basically finished pruning them for the small wooden spikes, and he trust that his healing factor would push any remaining out. "Yeah."

As the duo settled in, Charles took charge. "Okay, who wants to go first?"

"I can," Brian said, moving his attention from Michael, who was stoking the fire. "This one is called Yellow Ribbon. There was this girl named Jane who always wore a yellow ribbon around her neck. It didn't matter if it matched her outfit or not, she always wore it. Growing up, she had a neighbor named Johnny, right? Johnny asked her a lot about her ribbon, but Jane refused to tell him. When they were teenagers, Johnny decided that Jane was pretty cute, so he asked her out. On all their dates, she'd wear a yellow dress to go with her yellow ribbon. It occurred to Johnny that they had a very strong relationship, but she still wouldn't tell him. It annoyed him, but he had to get over it. Eventually, he asked her to marry him. They started a family and grew old together. Still, Jane never took off her ribbon. Jane was on her deathbed when Johnny asked about her ribbon again. She gave him a sad smile. 'Okay, Johnny. You can untie it now.' So, he did it. He untied the ribbon. And then, her head fell off."

"I didn't see that coming," Charles commented afterwards. "Who wants to go next?"

"I can," Greg volunteered. "Basically, these two boys, Jack and Jake, were going to a dance, right? On the way there, they spot a girl hitchhiker. They pick her up and notice that she's very pretty. After getting an address from her, they decide to take her to the dance with them first. They all go and have a great time. She gets a bit cold, so Jack gives her his jacket. They drop her off at her listed address, but they can't really see much because of how dark it is. The next day, Jack tells Jake that he never got his jacket back from the girl. The boys drive back to the address she gave them only to see that it was a cemetery. As if that wasn't creepy enough, they can see Jack's jacket draped over one of the graves. They go to retrieve it, but pause to read the grave. The girl it belonged to had died in a car crash when she was sixteen. She'd been dead for ten years exactly the day of the dance. Jake pulled out his phone and looked her up. She looked just like the girl they'd spent the evening with yesterday."

"Spooky," Charles said, faking a shiver.

"I can go next," Spider-Man offered. "In the 90s, this chick named Ariel went camping near this mental institution called Willowbrook in Staten Island. She saw these counselors take campers to this creepy shack. Y'know, all smeared with blood and stuff, right? They told the kids this story about this boogeyman type named Cropsey. They said that Cropsey was this really respected community member who went insane after his kid died while at that very camp. Like any insane person would do, he ran into the woods, vowing revenge on the campers. The kids believed that this guy would come after them if they didn't behave, so it was disregarded as a scare-tactic by most people. But, it wasn't hard to believe, honestly. Kids were actually disappearing from the area! Turns out, this guy by the name of Andre Rand - a janitor, I think - was convicted of kidnapping and first degree child murder of a kid from Staten Island in, like, 1987. Later, he was convicted for a 1981 kidnapping, too. Now, he's serving two sentences of 25-years-to-life. He can get parole in 2037."

Charles blinked. "That's a true story?"

Spider-Man nodded. "My girlfriend is into this sort of thing. The urban legend is obviously false, but Rand is the base for it."

The group shuddered, and Michael finally took a seat, satisfied with his work on the fire. "I can go next."