Tarantula (Spider-Man)

NY Debut

       Valerie waits for the bus on a deserted street up from the company warehouse. While just old enough to drive, she knows that one accident as a minor could mean damaging her insurance for life, and besides, driving on the freeway back to the city isn’t another stress she needs to compile on herself right now. The rest of the workers wave goodbye to her as they all walk to their luxurious cars out in the parking lot nearby. Just as she feels that all of them have left, Hayden approaches her,

“Hey Valerie, how about I give you a ride today? You certainly deserve it.”

He never offers a ride unless there’s something amiss, and today has certainly led to a twist in events,

“Alright.”

She follows him down the grassy hill to a dirt parking lot, which is in stark contrast to the employees’ high-priced cars. Not that all of the employees are actually very wealthy, its more of a means of status. She gets into Hayden’s BMW, the leather seats bouncier than she anticipated, and the inside having that distinct car smell.

He starts up the car and Valerie buckles her seatbelt, “So, New York it is?” he asks, refusing to allow the space to be filled with silence.

“Yep. Hard to believe we’ll be leaving the warehouse.” she remarks.

“I know. It’s cool to say during interviews, ‘you know, we invented our AutoRevive devices in a dingy, rusty warehouse that we rent for two hundred a month.’”

She chuckles sarcastically, “Well, I’m sorry you don’t get to brag on national television anymore.”

“I don’t brag, I’m informing the public about our products, which you don’t appear to be doing much of. Most of the tech world doesn’t even know what you look like, they think I’m the boss.”

“And that’s how I like it.” Valerie admits wholeheartedly. “I prefer working behind the curtain to getting up and presenting some kind of slide show.”

Hayden smirks, “You’re just camera shy.”

“...perhaps.”

 

   Hayden drops Valerie off at her house in the suburban neighborhood in San Francisco. They wave goodbye to each other before he speeds off, and Valerie walks up the steps and takes out her key to unlock the door,

“I’m home!” she announces, taking off her shoes.

Her heart sinks when nobody responds, but she continues by running upstairs to her room, a small room only made to look smaller by the amount of stuff crowding it. There are rows of stuffed animals, most of them worn and tired from time. She drags out a travel suitcase tucked away in her closet as well as a carry-on backpack. She knows she’ll have plenty of time to prepare for the trip, and money hasn’t been an issue since her company’s first success, but this already felt like the final goodbyes. She looks around the room she practically grew up in. Her eyes fall on the paint stain she made painting her rudimentary robot made out of a toaster, some copper wire, and a chain of Christmas lights. Naturally, her parents were ecstatic, but not from her creation, from the fact that she might’ve set the house on fire.

“Are you home Valerie?” a female voice calls from downstairs.

Valerie runs down the upstairs hallway to the staircase, “Yes Mom, I’m home!”

She nods firmly, “Good.”

Valerie scurries down the stairs as her mother turns around and begins walking down the downstairs hallway, “Hey, Mom, guess what? My company is moving to New York!”