Far from where something once stood, something new grew in its image, vowing to improve and fix the mistakes that once existed. Deep within the empty, far from any other, something began to grow, forcing first a breath solemn in its tone as creation and chaos clashed once more.
"Ecelsior"
And so an egg… no, a seed—was formed, and so was I. Remember not what was and not what will come, so first I must make. How peculiar, I guess I shall not.
Deep within my core, something in a shade I had no color or name for grew. Strangely, I knew it might one day be called green. Within the time of my next thought, it curled around me and strangled me.
But the process had already begun, and I wasn't needed.
———
My fingers held the mic as I heard it, the deep breath, the same one I was taking, but this one coming from Peter mother fucking parker. It had taken forever to convince him to do more than tinker with the music equipment, but tonight was the night. All around me was my art it has started a year after I was adopted and I t had only progressed form their, at first it was innocent doodles but now it was graffiti sprawling across the walls ceiling and ground, on top of that was tech, things Peter and Ned had scrapped together and tinkered with after I brought them here….god that was so long ago.
I needed to focus. This was the set, this was the act, our first show. I had sung and done covers before everyone knew me, but they didn't know Ned or Parker. I was going to give them the best introduction ever.
I worked with Ned and Peter to create a cover for a song that was released long before we were born.
"Put your loving hand out, Baaaabbyyyyy"
"Cause im begggggiiiiiiinnnnnn"
With those words uttered in unison by me and Parker Ned, the man with the magic hands, got to work. Soon, bass and drums were blasting through the speakers Peter had rebuilt. With a kick drum hit, I could see the shuddered windows shutter and dust fall, but it was fine. It wasn't. I was pissed. Our spot had been set to be demolished.
"I'm beggin', beggin' you"
"So put your loving hand out, baby"
"I'm beggin', beggin' you"
"So put your loving hand out, darling"
"Ridin' high when I was king"
"I played it hard and fast, 'cause I had everything"
"I walked away, but you warned me then"
"But easy come and easy go, and it would end"
"So anytime I bleed, you let me go"
"Yeah, anytime I feed you, get me? No?"
"Anytime I seek you, let me know"
"But I plan and see, just let me go"
We had spent hours fixing this place up, making it our own, a space I went to when the world felt strange. I felt out of place, later a place where I gathered my friends, a place where we had built giant Lego sets, where I taught Ned the basics of music, a place where Peter tutored me, a place where I taught them to live in the moment, and they taught me…everything else.
As we sang, my dreads flew in every direction with every head bob, but Peter was the wild one now. He had taken the mic and was now kneeling, yelling into it word for word, keeping up with me.
"I'm on my knees when I'm beggin"
'Cause I don't want to lose you"
"Hey yeah, ra-ta-ta-ta"
'"Cause I'm beggin', beggin' you"
"And put your lovin' hand out, baby"
"I'm beggin', beggin' you"
"And put your lovin' hand out, darling"
"I need you to understand"
"Tried so hard to be your man"
"The kind of man you want in the end"
"Only then can I begin to live again"
I wasn't surprised Peter was always good at picking skills; he preferred science, thank God, but if he had set his mind to it, he probably could outperform me. But tonight wasn't a what-if. I had chosen this song because of this dusty place and because Mj and Peter had hit a rough patch over the summer break, but that's what he got for kissing another girl.
But as the best wingman in existence, I was going to help him, maybe more if I could. I called Michelle Jones and Mary Jane Watson, the only girls in Midtown High School to share the same initials and on-and-off boyfriend.
Ned, the world's second-best wingman, increased the speakers' volume, and the show really kicked into high gear.
"An empty shell I used to be,"
"The shadow of my life was hangin' over me."
"A broken man that I don't know,"
"Won't even stand the devil's chance to win my soul."
"What we doin'? What we chasin'?"
"Why the bottom? Why the basement?"
And I stopped. Breathlessly, I stepped back and let Peter do his thing. He didn't know the two were here; the dimmed lights would keep it that way. Plus, the fact that I had them come through two different entrances should help.
"Why we got good shit, don't embrace it?"
"Why the feel for the need to replace me?"
"You're the wrong way track from the good,"
"I want to paint a picture telling where we could be at."
" Like a heart in the best way should,"
"You can give it away—you had, and you took the pay."
"But I keep walkin' on, keep opening doors,"
" Keep hopin' for, that the door is yours."
" Keep also home,"
"'Cause I don't wanna live in a broken home."
"Girl, I'm beggin'."
I looked at Peter with pure aww. This bastard had gone beyond what I expected. He had lost his glasses at some point and was now full and really into it. He had unbuttoned his shirt. He was now showing something that would surprise all but the boys in the lower room and those who had tried to pick on someone in front of him: a well-defined body, even boasting a six-pack.
He was no Flash Thompson, no stacked muscle on stacked muscle, but his body was well-honed, the efficient muscle he had and I had put on at the cruel insistence of Uncle Ben after we came home beaten and bruised but smiling ear to ear.
"Mm, yeah I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
" So put your lovin' hand out, baby."
" I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
" So put your lovin' hand out, darling."
At this point, I did the same. After all, I couldn't let the nerd outshine the pop star. Lifting my shirt, I yelled the next line into the mic with the same force and vigor Peter did.
"I'm fightin' hard to hold my own"
"Just can't make it all alone"
"I'm holdin' on, I can't fall back"
"I'm just a calm, 'bout to fade to black"
"I'm fightin' hard to hold my own,"
"Just can't make it all alone."
Ned doubled down on the drums and layered top hats in. Peter had made him a digital package of instruments he could control and play all from two touch pads, a keyboard, and an old laptop.
" I'm holdin' on, I can't fall back,"
" I'm just a calm 'bout to fade to black."
"I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
" Put your lovin' hand out, baby."
" I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
" So put your lovin' hand out, darling."
"I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
" So put your lovin' hand out, baby."
" I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
"So put your lovin' hand out, darling."
"I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
" So put your lovin' hand out, baby."
" I'm beggin', beggin' you,"
" So put your lovin' hand out."
It wasn't long before we finished the set, and whatever gave Peter the audacity to do what he did faded. I swear he managed to get a full-body flush, but as the music faded, thanks to Ned, the crowd lost their absolute shit. We hand-managed to fit close to a hundred people in here, and right now, it felt like there were about two hundred.
When the lights we had set to flicker illuminated the crowd, I could see more than a few faces from midtown, but the two I set my eyes on had looks of hunger in their eyes. They weren't aimed at me, but Peter, mother fucking Parker. He was currently looking for his glasses while trying to put his shirt back on. Being the good wingman, I picked them up, put them on, and walked away.
Peter wasn't as blind as a bat, but damn close, so his voicing a protest wasn't surprising. Soon, he followed behind me and up behind the stage and to Ned's domain. We had set him up on a lifted frame above us and even the lights.
"Ned, my man, how are we doing?"
I cheerfully wrapped my arms around the bald man and gestured to the screen, which held more than just music; it also contained information on the cops.
"Marcel, that was fucking epic, man, uhhhh we're good for probably one more set, but after that we should probably leave. I intercepted one noise complaint, but it's getting late, meaning more people will try to sleep."
Ned's words brought a grin to my face. My deal with Peter was that we would perform as many songs as we could tonight, and afterwards, I would never ask him to do this again.
"Fucking great, my man, entertain the crowd while we get ready, give them the real Dj Ned experience." My words made Ned grin. Peter and he were our tech guys, but Ned had also been my DJ since I started doing this back with Harry.
Once a month, we'd pick a place and host an impromptu party. Sometimes, we advertised, and sometimes, we'd get straight to blasting music. Some I wrote, some we just covered.
Ned grabbed his mic and started to make his way down the stairs all while taking of his shirt, looking eyes with Peter, we hurried to where Ned was and beg to fiddle with the equipment, while I meant for Ned to crack some jokes something I had been having him do with more and more success, I knew that wasn't gonna happen now.
Ned wasn't a music guy, not because he couldn't sing but because he didn't like to, but he loved one song and requested it be played at our next concert…that was a few concerts ago….
Soon enough, music was blasting from the speakers as a shirtless Ned Leeds began.
"Mr. Boombastic"
"What you want is a boombastic, romantic, fantastic lover"
"Shaggy"
"Mr. Lover Lover, um"
"I'm Mr. Lover Lover, haha, girl"
"Mr. Lover Lover"
"Mm, I'm Mr. Lover Lover"
Looking past him and at the crowd, I saw faces changing from surprise and disgust to amusement, and even a few who had already started dancing. I assumed they knew the song.
"She call me Mr. Boombastic"
"Tell me fantastic"
"Touch me on my back"
"She says I'm Mr. Ro-Ro-mantic"
As Ned said "Ro" I saw him actually roll is belly before finishing the line, I could see Peters jaw actually hanging as the crowd went insane, scanning the crowd I say I plethora of face, a girl I didn't recognize stood out with her fiery red hair and they guy she was standing next too, even more as he was wearing sunglasses inside, next to them was some guy in a hoodie, from here I couldn't see much and next to him was….All I could do was whistle. While the redhead was hot, the new girl ticked all my boxes. She was the personification of the cute girl next door…meaning she would one day rock some poor fellow's world. As these thoughts crossed my mind, the redhead stopped dancing for a second and looked like he was laughing.
Then Ned was at it again, and Peter and I had to get changed. After tossing him his glasses, I reached for a box.
"Call me fantastic"
"Touch me on my back"
"She says I'm Mr. Ro-"
(belly roll)
"Smooth"
"Just like a silk-a
"Soft and cuddly, hug me up like a quilt"
"I'm a lyrical lover"
"No take me for no filth"
"With my sexual physique"
"Jah know me well-built"
I heard Peter whisper as I pulled on a new pair of pants.
"Bro, is this really necessary? It's just singing."
His words wounded me greatly with such blasphemy that I would have to nip it in the bud now before he could think himself a master of the stage.
"A costume is of great importance, my young padawan, for the costume helps one deliver the proper narrative."
"Oh me, oh my"
"Well, well, can't you tell"
"I'm just like a turtle"
"Crawling out of my shell?"
"Gal, you captivate my body"
"Put me under a spell"
By the time Peter and I were done changing, Ned, the legend he was, was actively singing in the crowd. From what I could see, he even had a few dollars tucked into his belt, and was that a hickey…. He owed me big for this.
I let out a shrill whistle that cut through the music, and before the crowd knew what was happening, Ned was back on the stage, handing me the mic.
Peter and I were now in firefighter pants and boots while still shirtless. There was no hiding it now; Peter's pale skin was a bright shade of red. I was tempted to feel bad, but what I did next was going to make up for tonight, at least I hoped it would.
Raising my hand up, Ned brought his hand down, and notes from a piano started to play. Then the beat kicked in, and we were off.
"Insane, inside"
" the danger gets me high"
"Cant help myself, got secrets I cant tell"
This was our last time being here, probably my last time singing, and my personal protest. We weren't on stage for this. Each step weaved Peter and me through the crowd. We had no destination, but I wanted this performance to mean something, and Peter was the best friend a dude could ask for, so of course, he played along.
"I love the smell of gasoline"
I had pushed Peter into a section of the crowd that Michelle and Mary had both made their way to, and prepared for either a fight or for Peter not to talk to me for a week. But I made my way to the four people who had caught my eye earlier.
"I light the match to taste the heat"
As I sang, I stood in front of the girl with red hair. Her eyes were shining green, but they weren't like the other girls'. She didn't even bother to look at my shirtless muscles; instead, I kept eye contact as I lit a match and held it before her. At my action, the boy with sunglasses tensed, looking as if he was ready to launch himself at me.
"I've always liked to play with fire"
"Play with fire"
"Play with fire"
"Fire, fire"
"I've always liked to play with fire"
Then I was moving. As I left, I tried to find the guy with them, but I couldn't see him. But I swear I could smell sulfur. The match was still in my hand, its flame growing ever closer to my fingers. But before it could burn me, I was at my target, the cute girl who appeared to be with the redhead.
I walked around her before standing behind her. The match was blown out and dropped between words where I stepped on it.
Now, the game began reaching into my pocket. I pulled out a piece of paper with the following few lyrics and wrapped myself around the girl. I rested my chin on her shoulder. I could feel her shaking, but she calmed as she caught sight of the paper. On it said.
"Sorry about this, darling, but I need your help. The next part is a duet with a woman. " After that, there was a smiley face and the lyrics.
She brought the mic to her lips as I slid it into her hands.
"I ride (I ride) the edge (The edge)"
"My speed goes in the red"
"Hot blood (Hot blood), these veins (These veins)"
"My pleasure is their pain"
Peter was too much of a chicken to do this part, so he stopped singing and took a breather. By the last line, we sang in unison once again as I squeezed the girl from the side as a thank you and moved along. As I looked around for my next victim, I saw Peter get cornered, his newfound confidence wavering as he noticed, but to my surprise, he just kept singing.
I kept moving. I needed to find another target before the next duet.
"I love to watch the castles burn"
"These golden ashes turn to dirt"
As I moved, I saw that Peter was still strapped in by the two lionesses, who were now glaring at each other. I knew soon those glares would be turned on him.
"I've always liked to play with fire"
"Play with fire"
At this point, I was running out of hope and options. I had no problem picking a random girl, but not everyone would have the demeanor or even want to.
"Play with fire"
"Fire, fire"
As I sang and moved, I locked eyes with her. Hidden partially in shadows, and leaning against a pillar was a girl—nahh, a woman—slim, wasted with thighs that could strangle a man and breasts that could do the same, tucked into black tights and one of those puffy jackets topped with white faux fur that matched her hair.
But her appearance, while attractive, wasn't what had me approaching her. Unlike many of the other girls and even the women here, she didn't look hungry; in fact, she seemed almost bored, with a look in her eyes that dared me to.
You can ask Peter what happens when I get dared to do something; it never ends well.
"I've always liked to play with fire"
"Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh"
"Watching as the flames get higher"
"Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh"
"I've always liked to play with"
I no longer danced through the crowd singing; instead, I had stalked towards the woman, weaving my way around her until I stood behind her, pulling another piece of paper. I reaped the same actions as before, but this time, the woman didn't stiffen up; she melted into me, her circles slotting into mine as she took the microphone and began to sing.
("Mmm")
("Rite of passage, classic maverick")
("Match in the gas tank, oh that's wretched")
("Unstoppable, legendary animal")
If it wasn't her melting into me, it was how good she was at singing, god, she sounded good. Most people couldn't match the tone I intended with the songs I wrote. Still, she did more than match it; her voice came out slow and husky, the microphone picking it up and throwing it wide across the room, and her last action sent chills down my spine, as the word animal left her throat, I felt her purr a soft rumbling that left my chest vibrating. Still, the mic picked it up as a growl that only amplified the higher notes that followed.
("Digital justice, now you're gonna know us")
"Hail to the king and queen of the ruckus")
As the words king and queen left her throat, I felt her move against me; those thighs of hers were attached to something just as deadly, and from how she slid her body down mine, she knew how to use it.
("Yacht Money wired, no denying")
("I've always liked to play with fire")
As the last line left her lips, she passed me the mic, and before I could even grip it properly, she was gone from beneath me and moving through the crowd, her white hair following behind her like a blanket of snow.
"Play with fire"
"I've always liked to play with fire"
"Play with fire"
"I've always liked to play with fire"
"Fire, fire"
"I've always liked to play with fire"
"Always liked to play with fire"
"I've always liked to play with–"
Finishing off the song with Peter, I made my way towards the stage, but a look from Peter had me pulling him from in between the two ladies who were giving him a death stare. Still, from what I could see, there was something else there. While they were angry, they also desired Peter more than they wanted him dead. All I needed to do was make sure that desire beat out their anger..... Easy right
Pulling Peter onto the stage behind me, I stopped and reveled in the crowd's cheering as Ned kept the instrumental playing, but now I waved for him to cut it and come down.
Once he was next to me, I grabbed their hands before raising both of them and dragging them into an exaggerated bow.
The crowd lost its shit. While it wasn't a long or good performance, it was an experience.
Standing straight, I grabbed the microphone and took a deep breath, all while Peter and Ned shuffled off, not that. It's not that they weren't welcome to stay, but we had to pack up quickly.
Ned had given the signal, and the cops were called right as we wrapped the song up.
So I spoke.
" I want to thank all of you for coming; this wasn't just a regular performance for us."
With every word out of my mouth, I felt something deep inside Shutter. I had found this place when I first ran away, and I stayed huddled on this cold floor for hours.
"I'd like to formally welcome you all to my home away from home. Every piece of graffiti around you was done by me, every light, every speaker, and every piece of tech was dragged here and fixed by my best friends. Here is where I found the spark to perform."
Blinking to clear my eyes, I tossed my head to get the dreadlocks that had slowly blocked my vision out of the way and scanned the crowd. Some were already departing, but more than a few stayed and listened.
When I first locked eyes with Michelle Jones, her soft brown skin glistened with sweat, and a look of pity filled her eyes.
Looking next to her, I locked eyes with Mary. Her pale face was covered by auburn hair glowing red in the light, and her freckles were glowing right along with it.
I continued to scan the room, faces familiar and foreign, a woman with jet black hair and leather pants stood in the back, fist clenched. Boys whose skin matched mine dressed in red and black stood next to girls around her blonde hair, glowing.
Next, I looked into a strange pair of eyes, yellow eyes nestled into strange blue skin, all hidden underneath a drawn hood, but I could see clearly from here.
I didn't hesitate. Although he wasn't the strangest to appear at one of my performances, I never understood people's dislike of the weird and strange, especially when it was cool.
"This performance wasn't just to welcome you or to tell you about myself but to mourn this dusty fuck, at nine o'clock Monday morning, tomorrow, this place will be demolished and replaced with something foreign."
"So thank each and every one of you for attending this funeral, now I suggest you run as cops are on the way"
Like a dam breaking, the crowd scattered, but it was far slower than I expected.
As I stepped away from the mic, my eyes continued to scan the warehouse. The girl with red hair looked at me pitifully. The boy in sunglasses, on the other hand, looked thoroughly annoyed as he tried to push through the crowd.
Next to him was the fourth member of their group, hood still up, jacket still closed, but now I recognized him as the one with yellow eyes. Last for me to see was the girl with whom I sang that first duet. On her face wasn't sadness, pity, or rage. She looked like she wanted to walk towards me, maybe even hug me.
As she noticed I was looking at her, she began to mouth something, but the man in sunglasses pulled her along with her friends.
Turning the mic off, I reached for its stand when I heard it. In the distance, I listened to the whining siren call of the NYCD.
Leaving the stand and tucking the mic, I ran to help Peter and Ned finish packing.
While we wanted to keep as much of the equipment as possible, most of it was disposable, just scraps and pieces they had pieced together over the years.
When I arrived, Ned was passing a shopping cart filled with equipment out of the back door.
Peter was loading the rest on a dolly we had found.
Looking at what was left, I grabbed the remaining cases and followed.
Running, our feet pounded against New York's concrete. We weren't far; I could still hear the sirens' screams.
"Hold up, I need a second."
Ned's words and strained breathing eventually filled the silence between us.
I stopped immediately. I was hyper aware that Ned wasn't as fit as Peter or me, but I wouldn't leave him behind or force him to keep up.
As we stopped, I looked at the night sky and breathed.
"Marcel, you alright, man? You're crying."
Peter's words filled my ears, but all I did was smile and nod. I wasn't sad—that was weeks ago—and I wasn't angry either—that was days ago. Right now, I am content.
As I looked up, something caught my eye. The woman with snow shite hair and a knack for performing was sitting on a fire escape above us, legs dangling off the edge. His eyes were alight with amusement.
"Normally, I should be the one following you and not the other way around. "
My words startled Peter and Ned, both of whom were confused until I simply gestured up, my eyes never leaving her.
"Well, tiger, I couldn't just leave after you put on a show like that."
Her words floated on a soft, husky tone, which did nothing but send shivers down my shirtless body in this July night's chill.
"Tiger? I prefer panther darling no stripes on me,"
"See"
As my words flow out in the same way they did when I sang, I stretch my burden-laden arms wide, muscles flexing naturally to hold the cases.
"Purrrrrrr"
My actions didn't produce words but a slow and steady purr that left my hair standing on end.
Before I could say another word to the woman, I heard the sound of sirens, these different, closer, and clearer.
"Shit, Ned, Peter run"
After tossing one case on Peter's dolly, I threw the other on the cart Ned had before taking control and running full speed behind it.
Ned, now free of burden, was able to keep up with me, and Peter ran.