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***
After finishing the last chord in the final song of the performance, MJ stepped forward with the rest of the cast, bowing and accepting well-deserved praise from the audience.
Her red hair was gathered in a high ponytail, and her white bouffant dress contrasted perfectly with the bright colours of her hair.
The girl was so sincere and happy that the applause did not want to end and the school hall was bursting with whistles, shouts and cheers.
And I was no exception. Watson's voice was just like her, as clear, ringing and easily overcoming octaves, allowing the girl to manoeuvre freely even in the most difficult works.
But I wasn't the only one sharing in MJ's success, her newfound boyfriend was standing next to me, almost crying, grinning ear to ear. Yes! It had happened and finally the bastion of the Peter Parker fortress had fallen to the red-haired troops.
The first date I'd arranged after the cinema had given it the necessary impetus, and for a whole month our lovely couple had been on the minds of all the students at the school.
Not a day went by that someone witty didn't try to pick on them, especially Peter, of course. Yes, poor Parker. His ordinary and boring days were once again filled with bullies and envious people, eager to take MJ away and trying to assert themselves at the expense of the "puny" nerd.
The routine of the last year of high school, especially in the run-up to the prom, to which Peter had publicly asked MJ to attend and she had agreed. Wow, it was just getting started.
We've been egged, locked in a classroom overnight, robbed, set things on fire, and just plain beaten up. But let's be honest, what chance do high school kids have against a guy who catches bullets at night and trains with the devil himself?
High odds, as it turns out.
I'm getting tired of pulling junk out of my locker. I mean, it's not just rubbish and paint and shit like that. But these sick shits somehow put a rat, used feminine hygiene products and dog shit in there. And I'm not saying it was on different days!
My rabies was unrivalled, which made all the bullies and bullies of the school suffer, even though my shoulder wasn't fully healed.
And Parker suffered even more. For the first few weeks he was bombarded with phone calls at night, but thank God it was resolved with the help of the school administration and the police.
But small nastiness, nastiness and just evil looks continued to haunt my mate, preventing him from quietly graduating from school with a baggage of romantic memories.
The most annoying thing was that MJ was not affected by all these problems at all! She just snarled with her friends at a couple of troublemakers and that's it, not like us. In general, the red-haired infestation laughed and symbolically offered her help, but quietly stood aside, allowing the males to establish the hierarchy in the pack. Women...
And it was necessary to stop the attacks before graduation, or I'm afraid at the graduation will repeat the scene from the film "Carrie" starring Pete.
Oh, so much to do, so much to do.
-Let's go see her!
Without waiting for my answer, Parker rushed towards the exit, wanting to be the first to sneak backstage to congratulate his girlfriend on her success.
-He traded me for tits, my friend. -Yeah.
Shoving and swearing, I was one of the last to leave the packed hall. To the laughter of my friend and MJ, I made my way to a couple of lovebirds who were still in each other's arms.
-Yeah, I guess I can't wait for you. -Yeah.
-Don't be jealous, Sean," Watson gave Pete a kiss on the cheek and released him from her embrace, "I know you need to keep things romantic too.
Innocently patting her eyes, the actress, now a real one, folded her arms into a little house and, scrolling in place, burst into a group of her girlfriends waiting patiently nearby and burning with curious glances.
-Ah, bye, MJ," Pete exhaled melancholically, waving until the flock of girls had disappeared around the corner, finally getting that dumbly enamoured expression out of his face, "I'm so glad. I wish I could be with her forever.
-Why are you so fucking creepy? It creeped me out.
I shrugged and moved away from Pete, giving him my most contemptuous expression.
-No, I mean...
-Starina, you need to stop doing that. Or your MJ will run away from you," I glared at Parker again, laughing from his disgruntled face, "unless you chained her to the radiator in the basement....
-Oh, shut up. You're describing a sociopathic maniac.....
-Accepting your problems is the first step to solving them. Ow! Not on the sore shoulder, arsehole.
-You don't have one! You're always beaten up, you don't know where to kick to avoid an old wound.
-We can do it without violence at all.
-Hypocrisy," Pete smacked his lips and pretended to sniff thoroughly. My favourite scent!
-Okay, joker. Let's go home," I turned first toward the house, rubbing my sore shoulder as I thought of my revenge plans, "I wish you'd been so brave with MJ.
-How do you even envision it? Punching her in the shoulder, calling her to board games and having Lovecraft reading nights?
-I don't know. Maybe," I scratched my chin and pictured MJ becoming more of a geek than Parker and bantering with us about new topics, "Brrrrrr, that would suck. That's why I don't get a steady girlfriend, I have too many different tastes with everyone.
-You have a new excuse every time. And to find a girl like that... Shit, it's easier to create one yourself.
-Well, there's a reason you decided to go into genetics. M.J. could run away from a freak like that. That'd be a backup.
-Fuck you.
***
-Not bad, not bad. You're almost recovered from your injury, so I think you should be able to resume training soon.
Murdock sent me out the door without a word about the man he knew who would be in charge of my training.
It was a little frustrating, but on the other hand.... Matt didn't have to answer to me at all. He said it would take time, so I'd wait. Especially now I'm not fully conditioned, and I'm not likely to be able to do all the things Daredevil wants me to do.
Ugh, sometimes I wish I could go out on the town again. Put on my trademark cape, mask, scarf, and hat, watching New York City from a bird's eye view. Fly across the rooftops with a cat hook and bring the hand of justice down on a couple of shitheads who think they're superior.
My hands itched. My body was almost back in shape and I was already allowing myself some simple exercise in the morning.
-Long Island stop.
Getting off the bus just after the bridge connecting Manhattan and my neighbourhood, I decided to take a short walk, clearing my head. My legs carried me further and before I knew it, I had reached Greenpoint, from where I slowly made my way to the streets of Williamsburg, our local Eldorado.
However, the first couple of girls who proudly paraded past me smoothed out the circumstances of such a long journey. There were many beauties here and my masculine nature decided to make an extra lap around the neighbourhood, looking at local... Sights.
So, walking along the streets of Williamsburg, amazed by such a strong difference between neighbouring districts, I didn't notice how the sun disappeared behind the horizon, slowly driving all the inhabitants out of the streets in the direction of cosy spacious houses, where one by one the windows lit up.
Oh, it was beautiful here. Small lanterns flickered with lights, illuminating the streets, creating a soft twilight and giving hope that people could sleep well at night. A couple of patrol cars drove past me, with stern police officers glaring at me from behind their windows.
Waving hello to the "bobbies", I continued walking, occasionally taking a seat on the white carved benches decorated with the neighbourhood's coat of arms.
The last of these stops was diluted with a nicotine stick, to which I gazed wistfully and dreamily at New York, imagining that one day the whole city would look like this.
The dark noir colours I was so drawn to were receding from the place, giving way to the new, bright and joyful.
And there was something appealing about it.
A cloud of smoke slowly left my lips, gathering into a small ring. Shaking and barely holding its shape, it flew towards the road, threatening to fall apart in the occasional gust of wind. There was such a pleasant and affectionate calm in my mind that I began to track its path with interest, calculating how far it could get.
But all bets and predictions were cheekily thwarted by a girl passing by, who smashed the ring with her body. With a wave of her hand, the stranger simply walked on, but pausing for a moment, she turned to me, still sitting blissfully on the bench, already thinking of releasing a new smoke ring.
-Hey, mate," the stranger turned round with her whole body and put one hand to her side, shaking her mane of white hair, "you can't smoke here. I advise you to go to the bus stop, it won't be a problem there.
-Aha, thank you... -Thank you...
I almost dropped the cigarette out of my mouth, but my interlocutor reacted with an understanding smirk and, turning round abruptly, walked further with the most defiant gait from the hip.
And I would not argue, for the stranger was extremely attractive. Despite the semi-darkness, which only added to the mystery, she could easily compete with MJ for the title of prom queen. Tall, with full breasts, a slim waist, and luscious hips. Her cocky grin was eye-catching, but the semi-darkness made it hard to get a good look at her.
"Ugh, I'm going to have to go see Kristen right away, or I'm afraid I'm in trouble."I thought I'd described the ideal, but her beauty was the last thing on my mind.
"Okay, that's too obvious a lie, even for me."
In the second place, beauty was definitely second best. And in first place was the cloak hanging off her shoulders. A familiar old cut, a couple of patches and a rough seam on the collar. It had been altered, painted a different colour, and the sleeves must have been cut off for lack of use, but I would have recognised it out of a thousand, for I had clawed it myself after fights, sewing up cuts and holes by hand.
My old coat, altered and tidied, the same one I'd given to a frightened girl when I'd saved her from rape.
-So I'll definitely be waiting for the Punisher at the letterbox tomorrow.
Exhaling a stream of smoke into the sky, I cursed myself for inattention and over-emotionalism, for, looking at the cloak and the figure of the stranger, I had missed the distinctive features of her face. And now it was smeared in my memories as a faceless blot.
***
Felicia Hardy smiled proudly at her own thoughts as she adjusted the cloak that had fallen off her shoulder. The little pampering had brought a whole sea of emotions, it was so nice to see the surprise on some guy's face, gazing at the neighbour's houses.
Over the long period of rehabilitation she had managed to get over her fear of men, at least as long as she had her little treasure with her.
Wrapping herself tightly in her cloak, practically squeezing herself into it, wrapping it around her body, the girl flew further and further away in her fantasies, but she kept on the road.
In her dreams she had silly pictures where the deformed and idealised image of her saviour carried Felicia in his arms, gave flowers and travelled the world with her, kissing her in the most romantic places.
They twirled in a dance until finally her tall, broad-shouldered beau pressed her against his mighty chest.
Through his constantly moving Rorschach test mask, she could see his glowing blue eyes coming closer and closer. And then, in the very finale of this dream, he would finally remove his mask, spreading his golden curls over his shoulders, flashing a white-toothed smile.
His perfectly straight chin was lowered, his captivating lips whispered caressing words in the ear of the girl in love, and then their lips came together again in a kiss.
-Ah," Felicia trembled, and with difficulty snapped out of her fantasy, realising that she had reached home behind her reverie, "one day.... Someday I will find you, my sweet saviour.
The daughter of the Hardy family whispered these words under her breath and smoothed the hem of her cloak, adjusting the bunched-up clothes and reappearing in her chic and serious appearance, which did not match the previous picture.
The doorbell rang a tune from an old Christmas film through the house. The jingle of the bells was pleasant and soothing, and the excited Lydia Hardy, who had once more let her daughter out of the house, came to the door in not so bad a mood as usual.
-Hello, Mum," Felicia ran up the ornate stairs, wiping her boots on the mat, wrapping her mother in a hug, "I'm back.
-And I'm late.
-Well, nothing's wrong," she shook her head nonchalantly, and walked around her sternly frowning mother to visit the kitchen, "do you have anything to eat? I've been so busy I've forgotten to eat.
Lydia Hardy had a lot to say. Accustomed to being an imperious and strong woman, managing large funds and assets, she did not tolerate insubordination, but ... It was different with her daughter. After the kidnapping, her little girl had struggled to recover, which had cost mountains of money, nerves and specialist time, as well as adding to her grey hair. The doctors achieved an admirable result, but they were never able to separate her from the cursed coat of an unknown "hero".
Not that the woman was ungrateful for saving her own blood from the clutches of scoundrels, but now Felicia could not even go out without this piece of wardrobe. The first impulses to simply throw away the old rag that smelled of cheap cologne were crushed by doctors who insisted on a milder option.
And Lydia Hardy had to listen to them. The coat had been converted into a fashionable cloak, though most of the stitches, patches and other little things could not be concealed, which made her teeth grind as she saw it.
And she saw the cloak often. Tangled out of the embrace of nightmares daughter began to leave the house very often, to lead an active sports life to prevent a similar tragedy in the future.
And Felicia brazenly took advantage of her condition. Cunning, shameless asshole constantly came late, missed calls or generally ignored the requests of her mother, only occasionally allowing her to take her out into the light or to important events.
Instead of meetings with business people, heads of corporations or politicians, her daughter preferred the company of sweaty poor martial artists. At least she didn't make a fool of herself when they put a guard on her, and that's bread.-Fuh, come on Lydia, breathe in and out, - calming herself, the head of the family followed her daughter, pulling a neutral expression on her face. A difficult conversation was looming ahead to get her daughter into Harry Osborn's birthday party, the heir to the corporation of the same name, and she had to omit some of Felicia's liberties to make the matter work. - Oh, I feel like I'm gonna have all these doctors looking after me soon. Well, here we go.
And while the two women of the Hardy family were exercising their wit and the intricacies of verbal battles, where one was twisting like a frying pan and the other was methodically driving the prey into the net, a lonely boy from the bench was fleeing through the night streets from a police patrol for throwing a lozenge at the feet of an officer. Cursing everyone and everything, because just a few minutes ago, goosebumps ran down his back, warning him of trouble.
(Don't panic, I'm not going to turn Felicia into a crazy yandere. I just wanted to add some pepper to her character, because she usually has the same character traits in all fics, i.e. playfulness, mischievousness, and sass. I'm not going to get away from that stamp myself, but with a little something extra).
***
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