Chapter 6: Flash Thompson

Flash Thompson was absolutely, one hundred percent, not crying as he was shoved to the floor of his high school's gymnasium. Those definitely were not tears of fear that were leaking from his eyes, or soft whimpers escaping from his throat. The bruises from the butts of the guns that had been brought in were not sore, because Flash Thompson was positive that this was all a dream.

The morning, up until about ten o'clock, had been normal. He had woken up, stomach growling for the breakfast his mother would have left out for him on the table in her rush to get to the hospital. His father was already on the phone with a customer, doing his best to make them happy so he could get a bigger check out of them.

"I understand, Mr. Bathers...I really do. I just think..." His father sighed as he brushed his strong hands through his hair. The peppering that had graced the locks, flickered under the fluorescent lights of his kitchen. His hand rested over the speaker, effectively silencing him from his customer. "You need to hurry and get, kiddo. You're going to be late if you don't."

Flash waved off his father's admonishing worry. He would be fine, even if he took another ten minutes. But his father was a worry wort, which was what helped make him a good lawyer. He worried until he came to a good conclusion that would please his client, the judge, and the defendant they were going against.

The teenager recalled many a time, as a child, sitting in the court room and watching his father argue his case. While standing up, his chin was held high, and he came off as confident; almost bullheadedly so. But when he sat down, Flash was the only one to notice the way he wrung his hands under the table. Or how he would grab a paper towel, and rip it to shreds until it was nothing more than small powdery flakes that would drop to the floor of the court room.

Needless to say, Flash had never wanted, and had never had to deal with something as violent as what was happening right now. He was a normal civilian; didn't see the nitty gritty of the life that was anything below upper class. And he was perfectly okay with not knowing.

He was okay driving his new Maserati around New York, and rubbing it into Peter Parker's face every time he could.

"Hey Penis!" The teenager called out to the other whilst he was stopped at a red light. The brunette glanced up, and rolled his eyes, but that didn't mean Flash didn't notice the tension. Peter usually reacted; would usually groan and still wave because he was stupidly polite. May would have throttled him if she knew. But Flash had lost her phone number many years ago, before they had separated. "What's wrong? Couldn't Tony Stark spare five minutes to drive you to class?" The spoiled teen couldn't stop the bitter laugh that escaped his mouth at the pursing of Peter's lips, or the flush that filtered across his cheeks.

"Shut up, Flash!" Another voice called out. On the other side of the street, Ned was waving Peter over. Just next to the overweight friend, stood Michelle Jones—new captain of the decathlon team. Flash muttered under his breath, revving his engine. He would certainly be hearing about it later if the glare he was receiving from her was anything to go by.

Flash had mad respect for Michelle. Was she was nonchalant about life, as he had been about his money when his father first started to bring it in. She was a leader; one of the few to actually be feared and revered in high school. She was going places, and Flash would hop on that train and follow it as far as it would carry him.

"Need a ride, Michelle?" He called out humming politely. The girl stared, shrugged simply and climbed in—much to the squawking distaste that fell from Ned's mouth.

Arriving at school had gone just as smoothly as the ride—which was, in uniform, to say silent. Michelle had been absorbed in some blog on her phone, and couldn't find even the slightest time to say something to her team mate. Flash, of course, had spent the entire time talking about Iron Man and Spiderman and whatever new article was out about the two.

"See you after school. Practice until four. Don't forget the permission slip for next week, either." Michelle shot him a side glance as she climbed out of the car. She didn't even say goodbye.

Flash sighed dragging himself through the school's hallways. It was stupidly early, and few students had shown up so far. He knew he still had at least another fifteen minutes before Penis and Ned showed up. But until then, he was left with little to do other than his homework from the night before.

He was loathe to tell anyone, but he was having a hard time with his chemistry class. Everyone else seemed to make it so easy, but every time he glanced down at the formulas, the numbers and letters would merge together and dance around on the page. It hadn't been a recent development, Flash always had some kind of a problem with his letters turning topsy turvy, or backwards at the worst of times.

Dyslexia.

It had been written on his files from a doctor, and branded on him with the mentality that he would always struggle. He had never told anyone, and why would he? He didn't need a reason to be bullied; that was the opposite of what he was doing and who he was. He had to hurt everyone else before they hurt him.

Out of the corner of his eye, marched a new student. It wouldn't be so suspicious, but very few people walked around wearing all black—and not the grungy gothic kind.

She was a shorter girl, with long blonde hair that easily made its way past her waste. The pants that she wore seemed to cling to her skin, and Flash was certainly not complaining about it. But there was something off about the backpack that she carried. It was even stranger when she glanced over to see Peter and Ned rush through the door. Her shoulders tensed and a rather dark smirk covered her lips.

Nothing new.

Not everyone was on the Peter Parker is Great train. Perhaps, he could befriend her. Get someone else on his side, so that everyone could see that the kid was a liar who wanted nothing more than attention.

Something Flash knew nothing about, of course.

But then his friend had sauntered in and slotted themselves in front of him, starting up idle chatter. Flash forgot about the smile that had graced the girls feature, and only wrote her off as someone who could see as clear as he could.

He laughed when his friend spewed milk through his nose because he was laughing so hard. And he sneered appropriately when something was said about someone that he didn't like—an increasing list with every day really.

Basically, Flash continued like a normal student. And why wouldn't he? No one at Midtown High seemed to be unhinged. In fact, because it was a genius, child prodigy type school, everyone seemed to be rather down to earth. They thought before they acted, and even though they still made those dumb mistakes in which teenagers do, they really were a good lot of students. The worst detention that anyone had really gotten was because of pranks gone too far, or for being tardy. There were few fights, and mostly everyone got along.

Flash didn't like Peter Parker, but he never would have wished for the kid to bleed out while he fought a shooter hand to hand.

He heard the screams first. Students raced down the halls shrieking in terror as the guns were pulled out. A substitute teacher, the girl from breakfast. A few tiles fell down from above their heads as several armed men jumped down from there. How the hell they had managed to hide up there without falling through really confused Flash. He hated the thought of closed off spaces. It made his stomach bubble in ways that stung the back of his throat.

"Peter Parker!" A voice called over the intercom; it was deep and gurgling, as if the person speaking was choking on their own spit, or had swallowed their tongue. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

"Dude," Ned hissed from a few rows in front of him. The class all turned to watch Peter stand and square off his shoulders. "No!"

"Sit down, Mr. Parker!" The teacher snapped rushing to lock the door and pull down the blind. "Flip your desks students and get into the corner!" She turned on the brunette who had pursed his lips and was looking around. "That means you too, Peter."

"I can stop this," Peter spit glancing down at Ned. He reached into his backpack tugging out two small bracelets that Flash certainly didn't recognize. "Call Mr. Stark."

"He won't answer!" Ned panicked, his voice squeaked near the end.

"Leave a voice mail. Code word, Hydra." Peter clenched his jaw glancing back at his bag, debating on something. Flash didn't miss the look, something about the way Peter steeled himself terrifyingly familiar.

"Peter," Ned whined, flinching as the door was kicked in. Parker lifted the hood of his jacket, sliding it on over his head and tugging the sleeves down to cover his bracelet.

"Everyone stand up!" A rather burly man hissed. His biceps were definitely larger than Flash's head, and the way that he held the gun had everyone standing quickly so as not to piss him off. The girls were already crying, and even a few of the other boys had tears building in their eyes. None the less, they did as he demanded; standing and leaving the safety of their desks behind. "Leave all technology behind. Anyone found with a cell phone, or any communicative device will be shot. Single file." He turned to the teacher, glaring down at her with piercing blue eyes. "Take them to the gym."

She nodded silently, ushering her students out, cringing every time there was some gun fire. Peter fidgeted heavily with the bracelets inside of his hoodie. Flash wanted to point them out to the guy, maybe save Peter some pain. But he kept his mouth shut.

No body said anything as they marched towards the gymnasium. Someone in the background screamed as another gun was fired. The voice died out quickly, turning into a quiet gurgle. Someone, behind him, was having a panic attack. Their chest rattled with each breath, and Flash was positive that there were tears streaming down their cheek.

"Keep going," Peter whispered to Ned behind him. "Make sure everyone gets to the gym safely. When you're there, get everyone under the bleachers." There was silence, before Ned seemed to nod—Flash had deducted such, from the crinkle of Ned's wind breaker. "Good. It's going to be okay."

Just like that, Peter darted down the hallway. He was a lot faster than Flash had ever given him credit for, and a lot dumber too. The teacher squeaked reaching for him, before deciding it would be better to remain silent. No need to alert the gunmen to the loss of a single student.

"What is Penis doing?" Flash hissed as the guns were aimed at them.

"Get in there. On your stomach, face down. No talking!" Another man shouted. He stood by the door watching to make sure that everyone was following orders. Above the mass of students, stood several other gunmen, all aiming their guns from higher positions on the bleachers. Ned flinched, tears falling from his.

It all seemed to hit Flash at once. There was so much that was going on, that the panic which had settled in Flash's chest seemed to explode in a bomb. He collapsed and grasped his hair in his hands before he began to sob whole bodily. His shoulders shook with the violent tears, his face was red from the strain of the blood vessels.

"On your stomach!" A voice barked from behind him. The butt of a gun slammed just between his shoulders, sending the boy sprawling. The man raised it again, more than willing to bring it down in between his blades once more, but the weapon was jerked away.

"Hey! That's not nice!"

Flash glanced towards the new voice and paled at the site of Peter Parker climbing up the wall of the gymnasium, gun dangling from his left hand.

"Also dude, guns are so not allowed on school property!" The cockiness. The stickiness. The webs.

Flash had seen far too much that day. But it all seemed to click.

Spiderman. Peter fucking Parker, was Spiderman.

All guns turned and aimed themselves at the kid in the corner.

The glass from the window on the eastern side of the Gym exploded in a rain of glass.

Everyone was distracted, except for the blonde Flash had seen earlier.

There was a shot.

Peter fell from the ceiling.

A sickening crack.

Flash vomited up tears and bile and fear.

The world exploded in a rainbow of vibrant colors and explosions.

Flash didn't come too until he was home again, resting in his bed. He had been catatonic since the whole thing. Midtown High was shut down for two weeks, giving the students a chance to relax, and deal with what had happened. Peter Parker had been hailed a hero. Iron Man made a speech.

But all Flash could think of was Peter Parker as Spider man, and all of the times Flash had said anything remotely cruel to him, because Holy Shit, he could have kicked his ass.

-----------------

And that's its it for today peeps! Again, make sure to go to Forthelore on A03! And check out their profile!

I'll most so more chapter maybe late today or tm!

See ya'll later my Spooder Demons!~ 🕸🕷🕸😈