"Hey, guys! Quit it!" The boy yelled, running away. He kept running, down the streets, down the alleyways, down to the piers. And they followed him, chasing him, tracking him down. This gang, which consisted of about 4-6 guys, always picked on him, jumping him.
And the boy, he would always come home, being beat up. He'd go home, and he would make up excuses to his mother, like that he was ran over a bike, or fell from the steps, or anything like that.
This boy was always a dork. Skinny, and bony, he couldn't even raise a finger to fight back. Not when a bunch of bulky guys attacking him at once. He was always picked on by everyone. His mom pampered him, his dad beats him, there was this small kid who would take his lunch money, and the teachers hated him. He does okay in school, getting only B's. He always did what he was told. But he couldn't stand up for himself. He was too weak.
And as usual, the boy would have to take the subway home, only to cross this gang that makes him their number one target. And he would try to outrun them, sometimes hide, hoping that a cop or even Spider-man would even rescue him. That rescue never came, no matter how loud he screamed.
He ran up towards the Hudson River, where the ran-down warehouses and broken-down piers go. He ran over the sidewalk, yelling for help, wishing he had a bike or anything.
"Guys!" he screamed back to the gang, "leave me alone!"
"Pipsqueak! Come o'er here so we could pound ya!"
The boy grew tired and weary. He wanted to stop, he wanted to collapse. These bullies were like machines. They never sweat. They didn't look even tired. They each had smug looks and evil smirks.
The boy huffed, slowing down. Don't stop, he thought loudly, they'll kill you!
The gang members speeded up some more. They were catching up.
The boy became slower...and slower...
...until they caught him.
"Ha ha!" they laughed. "Loser!"
"Dammit!" he yelled. They picked him up, lifted him by the collar. They were high school football players, taller than him. He was only in the 6th grade. "Put me down!"
"Naw. We got better plans for you!" The leader smirked, looking around the beach. He spotted a large, burnt out and broken pier. An idea surrounded his mind. He whispered to the other gang members; each began snickering.
"Guess what kid? We got a surprise for you!"
The boy hated surprises.
They brought him to the pier, pier 56. It doesn't stand like the other piers, with the whole area covered and turned out to be debris. Some of the walls still stand, though. But the building looked as if it came from a fire.
The boy gasped, fear surrounding him. He knew what Pier 56 was. It was the former hideout of Doctor Octopus, the same super-villain who killed a handful of Doctors, robbed a bank, and nearly killed a trainload of innocent people. He heard rumors of ghosts, though he doesn't believe in them.
But, being stuck in such a situation, he'd believe anything. That Pier wasn't a safe place to be in, whether because of ghosts or that the building looked as if it could collapse any minute.
"Hey man! This is not cool!" the boy kept yelling, screaming. "You wouldn't want to do this! Please! Stop!"
They ignored him, laughing. They were inside the pier. The bullies cornered the boy.
"This is the end of the line, kid," they threatened. Once let go, he began to try and make a run for it, but failed miserably.
"Hey! Stay where you are!"
"You're gonna get it now!"
The boy kept kicking and screaming. But it was useless. These guys had more power over him. They kept laughing.
"What to do now?" the leader thought out loud.
"Hang his shirt up on that hook up there!"
"Put him on fire!"
"Burn this place down and lock him up!"
The boy did not like this at all. He wanted to run. He began screaming louder, for help.
"Shut up, kid!" the leader punched him in the nose. The boy fell to the ground, his nose bleeding.
"Hey, let's do all of those!" the leader suggested. The gang members seem to agree.
"No," the boy began to protest, "you're not going to—"
"Get 'im!" They knocked the boy to the ground, kicking him, beating him, and punching him. As if he never had enough bruises already.
"Hang 'im!" They lifted his whole body, having his shirt being caught up in a hook that caught up on the wall. The boy kept screaming though his beaten up and black-eyed face. His voice never did any good.
"Take out the lighter!" one of the guys took out a cigarette lighter, flames bursting out. The boy stopped screaming long enough to stare at the fire with fear. He kept whimpering. The gang smirked.
The guy with the lighter looked to the leader, who nodded. He approached up to the boy, who was now struggling for his life.
He approached up slowly.
The lighter was so close towards the boy's shirt he could almost taste it---
The gang member dropped his lighter, the flame gone. A gust of wind blew each and one of their faces. The boys were silent. Everything became silent.
Then a large shadow rose over them, from behind the boy. The boy's heart was pounding loudly, and he gulped. He stayed quiet, with the gang members staring at the thing that was causing this shadow. They seem to fear it, shaking in their knees.
A fierce voice came from the creature. The boy dared not to look back.
"Leave him alone." The voice snarled. The tall football players gulped loudly.
What? It's standing up for him? This wimp of a kid?
Then, the boy could see it from the corner of his eye, hovering and crawling, creeping towards the bullies. These snake-like monster things. They made metallic sounds, but it didn't match the heavy breathing that creeped from behind the boy. Some of the bullies began screaming. That was a big mistake, with these metal-like snakes shrieking. And they shriek so loud, the boy's ears felt like bursting.
And what these bullies do? They ran, and they ran like Hell.
This boy felt that he would never have to see them again. But what of the creature behind him? He felt alittle afraid, but somehow he felt safe. He knew who this was. But he wasn't sure.
The snake-like metallic things lifted him up, placing him back on his feet again. The boy brushed dust off his shirt, his head still down. He wiped the blood from his nose, sighing. His mother is going to hear this.
But the boy didn't forget his savior. He still felt afraid of looking at the creature.
But that creature never spoke again. This bothered the boy, having him to look up.
The creature was still there.
He had cold, menacing brown eyes. They looked so empty. So dark. His face so pale. He was so tall, wearing a torn-out trenchcoat. He looked...human? The boy couldn't be sure. He looked supernatural.
His eyes were the most disturbing. They were haunting, so spooky, so...lost. The boy gulped. He would've smiled at this...man, if he wasn't so ghostly...
The boy realized that he really was a ghost.
The ghost didn't even smile. He was frowning, all the way. No hint of happiness. No hint of gladness. He seems sad and angry...even in regret as well.
The boy nodded. "T-thank you..."
The ghost nodded back.
And the boy started running, running as far as he could. He never turned back. He was late home, his mother would be worried. His father would be angry. Those guys wouldn't jump him anymore though.
He never turned back, fearing that he would disturb this ghost's loneliness.
He knew the ghost was lonely.
That ghost was Doc Ock.
That was a sight to see.
Well, how's that for a one-shot? Review, ol' friends of mine!