I SWEPT A DARK HAIR BEHIND MY EAR AND CONTINUED MY TREK down the school hallway, carefully watching the people around me as they interacted and made their way through the day. My arms and slim fingers had been enveloped in a large sweater and they cradled the fabric closer to my figure, a soft knit rubbing between my fingers, a reminder of what lurked beneath. For even as Emily, nothing could truly be erased, not the scars and war-wounds of battles fought late into the night, 'training sessions' with a deadly lust for blood attached to the name.

Though Inga was smart, she had made the mistake of allowing her anger to rule her in specific situations. She only dared to get physically violent when we duelled, however, and despite her care to avoid wounds that were both visible or too drastic, there were moments where one of us moved wrong and her hands fell badly against my skin, creating marks that were not necessary to be seen by the public. There was nothing unbearable about the wounds, I had experienced so much worse before and her actions were out of the moment and not from true desire of pain, but they were still visible in sleeveless tops or shortened trousers.

However, I did not mind much. The 'scratches' were high enough to be covered by a loose sweater, and I had had enough scars to know that in that case, it would only take a couple days to heal over. The pain was a welcome reminder of who I was, too, what was at stake if any failure was to be had, and achingly, brought nostalgia when I laid awake, alone at night. As though it was hauntingly, horrifyingly welcome.

None of that mattered, at that moment or on that day, however - Freya's thoughts or torments were not Emily's, a fact I would be reminded of constantly.

"Emily?"

I did not look back. There was no need to bother with the motion when her voice immediately brought recognition. I knew exactly who it was coming from. The slightly high tone gave it away, not to mention the way her perfectly kept shoes clicked on the less than immaculate floors of Midtown High School. The girl seemed to have a very specific walking pattern; click-click, click-click, click-click. Perhaps it was unintentional, or a subconscious attempt to prove something to her peers. 

She edged up behind me, her footsteps growing louder, and I finally dared to recognise her. "Hello."

Gwen did not stop for a single second. She continued to follow closely behind me, surprisingly not accompanied by Mary Jane or anyone else. In her arms a maths textbook was clutched, it's faded blue cover ringing a tiny bell in my head. Her ebony locks, braided into two pigtails, bounced with her steps. 

"Is there something wrong?"

"No." 

That was sort of the truth, even if my movements might not suggest it - a flaw I would only think of later. For, I was not mad at her or really anyone at that moment, perhaps a little irritated at the attempt at conversation, but that came with the territory and lack of desire to make any, finding no interest to communicate with the students of Midtown without a need to. And Gwen was fine, she was certainly far better than others I had met at the school, albeit jovial in a manner I could not understand, but certainly no one I could find to truly dislike. She was just no one to be interested in, not my target and no one of direct interest to my business.

And I did, actually, try to make that clear.

Still, she followed me, books clenched in her arms as she struggled to keep up. "I just want to apologise for what was said the other day, about Peter? We didn't mean anything about it, it was just...a joke, you see."

I stopped at my locker and slipped out my textbooks, finding relief in hiding my expression from her. "It is fine. I just do not have an interest in relationships, as you put it."

"Well, then we won't bring it up." She smiled innocently, meeting my eyes as I slammed my locker door shut. "Are you busy this weekend?"

Her words threw me off-guard, slightly. I was not expecting her to ask that - though really, I was not sure what I was really expecting anyways. Besides the point, though, I was curious, but already knowing I had no interest in what she could possibly ask or offer me. 

"I am not sure; why?" That was a safe answer. It allowed me to still hear the idea and prospect of plans, and if it was not something useful, I could refuse it. But if it was, there were not any plans to stand in the way.

The small girl grinned and bounced lightly on her feet. "Well, actually, we - Mary Jane and I, that is - figured you might want to get to know the rest of Midtown High a bit better. Liz is having a party on Saturday, and practically everyone's going to be there, so you can get introduced to everyone! We'll be there, so you won't have to feel awkward...I just thought you'd like to get a chance to properly be a part of the school."

I adjusted the straps on my bag, over and over again, chewing my lip and pondering the options I had left to make. "Everyone will be there?"

"Well, yeah - Liz is good at getting a really big crowd. Comes with being the star of the school, right?" She carefully pulled on a piece of hair coming out of the loose bun hanging down on her neck. "Everyone likes her parties, even those who don't like parties so much..." her words trailed off with a sly, soft smile.

"Well, we will see. I might be busy."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I know I and MJ and Ned and Peter would love to see you there, and-"

"-why would you assume that he or Ned would have interest in my attendance?"

"I just think that you two-"

I slammed on my heels and spun around, my immaculate expression fading into a slight grimace. "I barely know that boy. I would appreciate it if you would not spread any idea that the Parker boy - Peter, I mean - and I have any sort of connection. Thank you."

Gwen looked shocked, as though she had not expected my sudden outburst - which did not entirely surprise me, for it was bold and out there and I had remained stone-faced before in the face of much worse. Perhaps it had to be said, but it was still extreme and upsetting, even to one not expecting the outburst.

However, she got the point all too well this time, and the eager expression fell, leaving her to stand broken and dejected to the side of the busy traffic. Her hands fidgeted against the textbook clutched tight and her lips turned down. "Right, well, if you end up wanting to come, just...text me?"

"Gwen-"

"-we'll talk tomorrow?" She waved her phone at me half-heartedly, though it was not hard to assume that there was nothing of real interest there, not enough for her to exit with. "I have to meet someone right now, sorry."

My hand flopped right back down to my side, and I stood awkwardly to the side of the hallway, not sure what to do then. While I did not want to be friends with the girl and did not like how insistent she was over that strange nonsense, I had not meant to hurt her that much - her expression alone made me feel uncomfortably bad about what I had said. It was never meant to be taken to heart, just a nudge away from me, but it had been interpreted much differently than the civilian.

It was too late, though, to care any longer. She had left, and I would not talk to her until tomorrow. She did not have a place in my day, nor would I pretend she did, for I had bigger issues to ponder and Gwen Stacey was not among any of the options on my list. Even if my heart twinged, looking at her crestfallen expression just moments before.

I spun back around, gripping my bag tightly and already planning out where I would head next. Gwen had fled from my thoughts and all I could think about then, of course, was Peter, ready to weave through the crowds towards-

Thump.

In one quick, easy blow, I was stumbling back in shock, with my bag fallen off of my thin shoulders. I had not expected anything like that to happen, any sort of blow of the sort to occur in Midtown. Even if it was from a fault of not paying attention, still there was a shock at someone vindictive enough to inflict a blow of the sort.

Laughter hit my ears, and I brushed away locks of dirty brown hair to stare at the small crowd of peers who were looking down in scorn and malicious humour, with eyes that sparkled with joy that I had become a quick victim. Their laughter was not foreign, just odd, not knowing who any of them were and knowing that they probably did not even know my first name.

I knew why they laughed, though. I knew why anyone laughed when someone fell. It was instinct, a motion to protect one's self from being the next to fall. That was not just this high school's survival instincts, that was simply survival, period. When someone fell, it was almost necessary to laugh at their pain, else you might end up joining them. Cowardly and poor fashion, but one never considered that when they were in such a position. 

They grinned down at me. All three, in a row, identically dressed and looking like they were straight out of a twisted fairy tale book that I used to read, or maybe just heard of long ago. I was clinging to the floor like it would offer some sort of escape, begging to be swallowed up whole before my doom. A pointless struggle but it was what kept me going while I pleaded in soft, broken Russian in hope my life would be spared.

I did not even understand how they had got me alone, considering the amount of heavy guard on us at all time. In my short time of being at the Academy, no one had been alone, ever. We were always being watched, from the nurses that tied and untied our hands each morning and night, to the cold stares of the woman simply referred to as 'Madame' as she taught us how to plié and how to spin and how to knock out a man with a single touch, to the inspectors who came once in a while and spoke with harsh words and tones to the teachers. We were always with someone else to avoid the threat that I faced that very moment.

Not that time, however. I had somehow made the grave mistake of being told to split off of the group, which lead to me joining with three girls who I did not want to be with, girls who hated my guts for no apparent reason except for that I was smaller and slower and softer than the others. I was an easy target for them. I guess it was only luck that had kept me alive for so long - that and the fact that we were never alone.

I had curled up into a small ball at that point, body tensed and braced for impact, waiting for their fists to nail at my tiny body and bash me to pieces, pieces too small to be put back together. They were taking their time to pull me apart, though I subconsciously recognised that that could be the point.

"отбросы, посмотри на Меня," the one hissed angrily, ripping my arms up so that I was sprawled on the floor, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. She held me still so that when the punches hit my body, I couldn't coil and squirm for relief. Her broken fingernails dug rivets into my arms.

Garbage. Garbage, look at me. She had called me garbage. Hot tears stained my cheeks and chin, rolling off my face and leaving a small puddle on the stone floor underneath me, probably mixing with the blood now dripping off me too. I was garbage to them, and I did not belong there. I was too small and too weak, and too emotional to be worth much as a warrior. I should be swept up like the rest of the garbage that littered the otherwise polished grounds of the Red Room Academy.

The laughter would not stop, stinging my ears even as the blows did, worse perhaps. It echoed and flew about me and coated me in red-hot shame even more than the tears dripping or the blood pooling from my nose and broken lip. It never stopped, there was no end - just non-stop chuckles at the sake of my own wellbeing.

I finally opened my eyes, feeling as though I had been there for aeons - although, judging by the fact that the crowds were only now pushing over down the hall, it had been mere seconds of my own emotional torture. They had lost interest, just like the three girls had all those years ago, and would now go about their days until they found new prey. I had lost the battle, and I had not even chosen to fight in it.

Although, maybe not. I scaled the fleeing crowds to figure out just who had shoved me out of their way, my eyes quickly landed on a group of girls laughing and wandering off, long legs stepping confidently and proudly. It was not hard to establish that they had been the ones to cause the scene, and certainly not difficult to follow a process of elimination and figure out by the size and how far away they were away from me just who had pushed me.

I should not try anything. I should not start anything, I should not grab her bag and whirl her around, I should not demand her explanation as to why she oh-so-casually threw me to the ground without a care in the world, and I should not ignore her answer and start a fight to establish my dominance and strength. My fists should never make contact and my hands were not meant to rip her to shreds, dealing a vengeance cooked up for years and years at that point in time.

However, the voices of the three girls from all those years before nagged at me, goading me into a sense of hot-headed anger and cold-hearted hatred towards the group of insolent idiots who dared to "accidentally" strike such a volatile target. And, without listening to the other voices in my head and making a smart, level-headed decision, I drew the attention of the crowds once more and stomped over to the group of giggling girls.

"Hey!" I yelled, gripping her bag and pulling it back so that she was forced to whirl around and acknowledge my presence. "What the hell is your problem?"

She was smaller than me, with a thinner frame and hips that she rested an arm upon as she looked at me, her dark eyes glaring daggers at me as she spoke. However, even though I was a head taller and threatening her indirectly, she kept a steady cool, flipping silky smooth hair out of her face and sending a little smirk back to her posse. "I'm sorry?"

"Why did you push me? Why would you do that?"

Another girl emerged from the group of girls that hung behind my opponent like a large, dark shadow, a girl who wore an expression of worry rather than one of anger and spite. She gripped her friend's arm and tugged, begging her to come back and keep walking. "Sally, it's not worth it. Just come on."

She didn't budge. "Look, I didn't push you, kid. You were in the way, and I guess my shoulder accidentally hit you. My bad."

"Liar," was my hissed response, spat at her face with a fire I didn't know I still possessed - a flame that would in no doubt leaving me smoking and charred afterwards. My hands were claws at my side, sharpened with my desire to make her bleed as I did years and years before. "You're a liar, a horrible and desperate one at that. You meant to push me down. You were trying to start something. But, that is your fault at that. I would tear you to pieces before you could make a single move, you got that?"

The girl, 'Sally' according to her friend, looked frightened for a moment there. However, her steely glare was restored quickly and she stepped forward, forcing me to fall backwards. "Careful with what you say next, new girl. Don't overstep your boundaries."

"иди к черту," I spat at her, proud as she stepped back in disgust. My fists had risen and they were seconds away from drilling into her body; I would have her down in seconds, clawing away at the exposed flesh and crying a victory in my name. "You will not threaten me-"

"-What the hell is going on here?"

Both of us whirled around to stare at the approaching man, one I recognised to be the same idiot who somehow had the privilege to run the school. He was breathing heavily when he ran up, and paused a split second to catch his breath, but did not let up his angry glare directed mostly at me. "What is going on here?"

Before I could rack my brain for an answer, I was interrupted by 'Sally', "we were just talking, sir. Just friendly banter, you know?"

Friends. Did she think me crazy? We were not friends, nor did I ever want to consider us anything similar to a comradely bond. She was nothing more than a simple schoolgirl - I wanted none of her outstretched affection. "Actually, we-"

"-were just getting to know the school a little bit better." Her fingers rested on the cold skin of my forearm, and I clenched my jaw to resist the urge to rip them off. "Sorry for the racket though; you see, we got into an argument over football. Emma was just saying how much she loathed American football as compared to what she thought was a sport. Were we being loud?"

He groaned and mentally debated his position, eventually losing to himself and giving in. "Alright, then, sorry. Just keep it down?"

The girl's smile was brighter than a thousand fake diamonds glinting in the sunlight, making me wish I had the right to punch her in the mouth and break all of her perfect teeth. "Of course. I apologise for her misbehaviour."

My misbehaviour, as if I had been the one in the wrong. This girl would have to pay for her snide remarks later, if only I had the option of duling hatred as it would be done in the Red Room.

The man, who I noticed in complete distaste was beginning to develop a sweat mark directly underneath his ill-placed tie, sighed and shrugged. "Just keep an eye on her, Sally. And Emily, listen to these girls. They'll help you adapt to this new environment, and I don't want anything bad to happen."

"Yes, sir." I bowed my head - though, not in humiliation, but to hide the anger clearly written all over my face. "I apologise."

The second he was out of earshot, however, I shot my head up to glare at the sly girl, who was looking prouder than a primped chicken at this point. "What are you playing at? We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend. And I did not do anything."

"Wow, guess you really do need some help. I just saved both of our asses - you're welcome by the way - so you shouldn't be complaining. Besides, why would I want to be your friend?"

"You said-"

She stepped the tiniest bit closer, now growing more and more confident with the newly-found power over me. "Look, Emma, I don't know what your deal is, I don't know what you're playing at, but I don't care. Just leave me alone."

It took all of my strength not to grip her perfectly pressed shirt collar and slam her to the ground, just like I had been taught at the Academy. "It is Emily."

Once again, her taller friend stepped forward, this time succeeding in pulling her away from my face. "Come on, Sally; let's not start any trouble."

Sally's expression didn't change, nor did she stop her snide glare until necessary. "Goodbye, new girl. Be careful where you step, alright?"

Even as she left, and the crowds subsided and left, the anger did not leave my body. Instead, I leant against the pale wall in the hallway and breathed heavily, clenching and unclenching my fists. Trying to withhold and dig down the painful anger tearing apart my body in the desire to reap the revenge I believed to deserve.

Though I did not know her apart from our new encounter, I despised that girl already. She was just like those girls, all those years back, who would prey on the weak and manipulate situations in their power to ensure their victory when necessary. They were petty, and sly, and cruel, the wolf in perfectly pressed sheep's clothing.

However, I could do that too, and ten times better. I could play that game if they wanted me too, and I could win that game. They had no idea who they were up against.

I'd just like to say this now; please don't give any Spiderman Homecoming spoilers. I don't care if it's the best movie you've ever seen, or you got the chance to see it with Tom Holland himself - I'm not interested in hearing you tell me what happened before I can see it. I have to wait a couple weeks to see it, until I can at least take out some money without being totally broke, and I'm not exactly eager in knowing everything before I go. Thanks.

 [ update; I did see the movie, obviously, but don't leave spoilers - there are always people who haven't. ]

Also, please note now that this story is not going to take place in Homecoming anymore, but instead, it will sandwich in between CACW and the new Spiderman due to the closeness of this book and the new movie coming out. There will be a different villain and different storylines, but hopefully, it will somehow connect back to Homecoming because I love this story and would love to write a sequel to it. We'll see, though, where Freya takes us!

Also, thank you to cookedcranberry for this beautiful trailer that you see up top!