Not So Amazing, Vow
Sep. 17th, 2014 08:26 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsSpider-Man decides to make it his mission to bring Jumbo Carnation's killer to justice.
“Dude, turn that off!” Miles moaned, burying his face in a pillow. “That’s gross. Who the heck posts pictures of a murder scene on Tumblr?”
The photos of the dead, mutilated body disappeared from the screen and were quickly replaced with several gifs of corgi puppies. “You can’t be this squeamish, man,” admonished his best friend and roommate Ganke from his seat by the computer. “What would Tobey Maguire think?”
“You can’t keep using that as an excuse. He was just a Spider-Man movie. I’m the real Spidey.”
“I still wonder if you could make webs . . .”
“Not part of my mutation. We’ve already been over that.” Miles tossed aside the pillow and sat up on his bed. “But why were you looking at those pics?”
“Dude, a murder happened. A mutant murder! This is like prime Spider-Man material. You gotta solve it!”
Miles looked at his best friend like he’d grown another head, an even weirder mutation than this Jumbo Carnation guy’s four arms. “Spider-Man, not Batman,” he reminded Ganke.
“Batman solves murders all the time and he’s just a whiny rich white pussy,” countered Ganke, always the Superman stan. “You can totally do it better. Come on. Your stock would go way up if you found a murderer!”
This was crazy talk. Miles always appreciated Ganke’s votes of confidence but this way going way above and beyond what he’d ever done. “I can’t,” he said, focusing on the corgis and not the images burned into his mind of the broken, bloody body of the man who looked a little bit like Señor Crúz, the lifelong bachelor who lived next door to Miles’s mother’s parents. “This . . . this is something the cops actually need to handle themselves.”
But Ganke wasn’t deterred by Miles’s reluctance. As usual, it only seemed to spur him on. He minimized the corgis and brought up the New York Times article about Jumbo Carnation’s death. It was a rather meager article, buried away in the back of the print edition.
“What good will that do?” Ganke asked. “So they bring in one murderer. This is a hate crime. Catching one bad guy doesn’t solve the problem. You’ve gotta go deeper to root them out. Spider-Man can do that. Carnation was black, gay, and a mutant. You’re two-point-five out of three.”
“Bro.”
Ganke ignored the annoyed response to his teasing. “You can be the symbol who stands up and says ‘We’re not gonna take this!’ You avenge Jumbo Carnation and prevent anyone else from being another victim. Look at these comments here on this article. Half of them are saying he’s a thug and got what he deserved, and the others are saying that something needs to be done. They’re even calling for you because they believe in you, man.”
He wasn’t lying. Miles scrolled down the comments and, ignoring those filled with slurs, saw quite a few asking for Spider-Man’s help. He’d stood up to the criminals of Brooklyn and even to the cops themselves on more than one occasion, when they were sacrificing their responsibility to help people in favor of harassing them.
Ganke spoke nice words. Strong, too. Miles couldn’t help but admire his friend’s passion even if it was Miles’s butt on the line and not Ganke’s. Maybe this was a cause for Spider-Man to take up. What would Tobey Maguire do? Definitely not puss out on this opportunity to save lives.
It only took Miles a minute to suit up and sneak out through the window so he could climb up to the roof of his dorm. Another minute later and a new video was posted to Spider-Man’s Vine account. No exciting shots of him leaping several yards in a single bound as he parkoured through Brooklyn, or incapacitating a few particularly stubborn street thugs. Today was just a simple message.
“An icon in our community was murdered last night,” he growled, “I’m going to find who did this and make them pay. I swear it.”
“Dude, turn that off!” Miles moaned, burying his face in a pillow. “That’s gross. Who the heck posts pictures of a murder scene on Tumblr?”
The photos of the dead, mutilated body disappeared from the screen and were quickly replaced with several gifs of corgi puppies. “You can’t be this squeamish, man,” admonished his best friend and roommate Ganke from his seat by the computer. “What would Tobey Maguire think?”
“You can’t keep using that as an excuse. He was just a Spider-Man movie. I’m the real Spidey.”
“I still wonder if you could make webs . . .”
“Not part of my mutation. We’ve already been over that.” Miles tossed aside the pillow and sat up on his bed. “But why were you looking at those pics?”
“Dude, a murder happened. A mutant murder! This is like prime Spider-Man material. You gotta solve it!”
Miles looked at his best friend like he’d grown another head, an even weirder mutation than this Jumbo Carnation guy’s four arms. “Spider-Man, not Batman,” he reminded Ganke.
“Batman solves murders all the time and he’s just a whiny rich white pussy,” countered Ganke, always the Superman stan. “You can totally do it better. Come on. Your stock would go way up if you found a murderer!”
This was crazy talk. Miles always appreciated Ganke’s votes of confidence but this way going way above and beyond what he’d ever done. “I can’t,” he said, focusing on the corgis and not the images burned into his mind of the broken, bloody body of the man who looked a little bit like Señor Crúz, the lifelong bachelor who lived next door to Miles’s mother’s parents. “This . . . this is something the cops actually need to handle themselves.”
But Ganke wasn’t deterred by Miles’s reluctance. As usual, it only seemed to spur him on. He minimized the corgis and brought up the New York Times article about Jumbo Carnation’s death. It was a rather meager article, buried away in the back of the print edition.
“What good will that do?” Ganke asked. “So they bring in one murderer. This is a hate crime. Catching one bad guy doesn’t solve the problem. You’ve gotta go deeper to root them out. Spider-Man can do that. Carnation was black, gay, and a mutant. You’re two-point-five out of three.”
“Bro.”
Ganke ignored the annoyed response to his teasing. “You can be the symbol who stands up and says ‘We’re not gonna take this!’ You avenge Jumbo Carnation and prevent anyone else from being another victim. Look at these comments here on this article. Half of them are saying he’s a thug and got what he deserved, and the others are saying that something needs to be done. They’re even calling for you because they believe in you, man.”
He wasn’t lying. Miles scrolled down the comments and, ignoring those filled with slurs, saw quite a few asking for Spider-Man’s help. He’d stood up to the criminals of Brooklyn and even to the cops themselves on more than one occasion, when they were sacrificing their responsibility to help people in favor of harassing them.
Ganke spoke nice words. Strong, too. Miles couldn’t help but admire his friend’s passion even if it was Miles’s butt on the line and not Ganke’s. Maybe this was a cause for Spider-Man to take up. What would Tobey Maguire do? Definitely not puss out on this opportunity to save lives.
It only took Miles a minute to suit up and sneak out through the window so he could climb up to the roof of his dorm. Another minute later and a new video was posted to Spider-Man’s Vine account. No exciting shots of him leaping several yards in a single bound as he parkoured through Brooklyn, or incapacitating a few particularly stubborn street thugs. Today was just a simple message.
“An icon in our community was murdered last night,” he growled, “I’m going to find who did this and make them pay. I swear it.”
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